[Memories and trust. Two things. The l-word makes for three.]
I'll piss. That's it.
[Larry squints from the light, from the stress. He's steeling himself. His Spanish is passable. Passable is gonna need some help in this emergency. The engine dies and the buzz goes on in his skin.]
I love you. Hear me? We're gonna be okay.
[Unsolicited it sounds better to his ears. Still there is no way of knowing.]
[He said it. Of course he said it. Of course he feels the same. Because those years still feel like yesterday. They're back here in this world, this time and place, but not completely. Instead of saying words back Freddy leans over enough to place a kiss on the corner of the old man's mouth. He wasn't aiming for it, he's just too ill and weak to really make it a proper kiss. You don't forget all that time in one blink.]
[A kiss is a kiss. That one word is something that makes a bold cop go quiet. It's a truth that the old man has come to accept. That's how Freddy is. Nerves, tiredness and general black feelings can't be touched by the meaning of his mouth pressing to his face.]
Okay, tough guy.
[One deep breath in. One deep breath out. Larry gets out and makes is way to the other side to help Freddy out.]
[Freddy's got a small meal in him, something bland and hardly delicious, but good enough. He can't have anything that might provoke his belly into going nuclear, he can't even have a cigarette but he's already smoked one against doctor's orders. As if Doctor Juan is going to care, they're never going back to that hospital. Freddy's already sure for a little while they won't be seen in the same place twice. This motel hell is only temporary, a blessing and a curse. He's sitting up in the bed because it feels better than laying down. How he's going to sleep without exhaustion to black him out is going to be the real test. They have painkillers with them, he's tempted to take enough to knock him out for a couple hours.]
The TV sucks.
[He comments to break the silence. It's all in Spanish and there's no bizarre intergalactic space porn to discover either.]
[Larry's counting out the money in the can. He was trying to be quick about it. They still have American dollars. They're still plenty good down here. Losing patience, and concentration once again, he folds the bills into the clip again and then washes his face.]
How's that?
[The walls are thin enough. And they may be among the few ready to exchange in English. Both of em have had their fill of eats. Except the old man doesn't have much of his appetite. Larry goes over to the television. The towel is still around his bare shoulders and he gives the top of the tube an open handed whack.]
I thought it said we'd have cable.
[Television is not the only topic they have about to discuss. There is only one bed in this room. It feels smaller, like they're still in some ant farm universe.]
[Freddy insists, caramel green eyes widening when a big paw gives it a whack. If Larry breaks the TV then they really won't have anything to fill the silence, even if it's in another language. Yeah he may or may not be avoiding that other stuff despite being in the bed they may have to share.]
[He's itching for a cigarette but feels guilty each and every time for lighting up. No fumar means no fumar for Freddy, except he's already done so. Smoking makes a smoker want to smoke.]
[Sigh. He knows he knows. Just busting your chops, old man, can't blame a kid for ill-timed humor. At that question Freddy sort of shrugs.]
I'm okay. Sore. I can't expect it to be a walk in the park.
[He's got a healing belly wound and they're out of the US and on the run and oh there's that whole alternate fucking universe for three fucking years thing.]
[The other choice is to say silent, act like strangers.]
Fuck if I know how.
[He shakes his head. The road and sun have made him weary. But that doesn't mean he's gone off topic.]
It's a lot to think about. I mean, we were full established.
[Now they're at the bottom. Below the bottom. NO diamonds. Except they still have what's important right? The old man said that word back there right before Freddy had to be surrounded be doctors and nurses.]
[Freddy says with that frustrating level of doubt and skepticism. He can't help it. He was a fucking cop again, complete with partner, they had their own place, Larry was keeping a low profile, they had everything. Now they have nothing but their lives and probably a manhunt for them. What will his mom think?]
...We can't tell anyone, you know. We'll get locked up. [The kid doesn't have it in him to laugh at the idea of it being so real they could plead not guilty by insanity. Who would believe them anyway?] That was three years, Larry.
[Three years down the goddamn drain. Why did they get to have it? Who decided to pull the plug now?]
[That was what they always had said it would be. But Larry never took much stock in what it all meant. What were words to an experience he would never know or so he thought. After three years he was starting to believe that there was a chance they would never see home again, even for all his efforts to prepare while within the City's sanctuary.
The bed creaks as he shifts his weight.]
We can't tell a soul. I know that.
[A secret between the two of them, another secret.]
Who would believe? It's seems like a fantasy.
[A rock and roll fantasy of theirs they built and built in the chaos. Now it was all memories. Their apartment, the cars, the motorcycle, the bygone toucan, their modest wealth...]
[Freddy says in quiet agreement, almost defeat. But how can it be defeat when they're sitting here together? If anything it's a setback, a really big fucking setback. Maybe if Freddy tells himself that over and over he'll be convinced to feel guiltless.]
Who guessed I still wouldn't get to go back home, huh?
[Horrible horrible joke but he tries to laugh anyway.]
Sort of a second chance, I guess. Or just a way we can really go about it without having to pick up and start over.
[In the conventional sense. Except here, on the other side of the border with all of their problems it hasn't felt the same. Fuck, old man. What do you want? It's early. And his belly is mending too.
Larry sighs.]
Before anything happens, I want to tell you that if you feel different... then you feel different. And I don't regret a fucking thing.
[Oh Dimmy, Dimmy Dimmy Dimmy...Freddy has to look away, not because it sickens him or anything like that. He just doesn't want Larry to see him weak and confused.]
I don't know how I feel...
[It's the truth. How he feels about Lawrence Dimick doesn't change, but where they are now, the time and place, that changes the game. Aliens and witches and other bullshit in the city were terrorizing threats, yet here in their true time and place, Freddy feels like he has so much more to lose.]
But I don't regret it either.
[He adds. Another truth. How could he regret it? How could he regret not just Larry but people like Ferguson and Eames and many others, even his not-quite-a-toucan companion. Belatedly the kid notices his finger is missing the weight of a shiny man's ring.]
[Hah even now the old man doesn't let up on his feelings. Of course Lawrence Dimick is upfront and blunt about it. As if Freddy couldn't already guess.]
I can't talk about that right now.
[He blurts out, brows furrowing. Larry has to know there's much more at stake here for Freddy Newendyke. Lawrence Dimick knows no other kind of life, of course he can put his all into one person. It's not the same for Freddy, he has another kind of life, one he probably can never ever get back.]
Not now.
[Don't make him do it, Dimmy. Talk about the casino, talk about Jimmy his protege, talk about that one time they were women (twice for Freddy), anything but that.]
[Knowing what he knows about Freddy having a badge, a family and a duty he isn't prepared to hear that. It might be out of his own fear or great want for a reassurance that this is what they both want. Brown eyes look down as his fingers lace then unlace. He nods. No words yet. His fingers comb through his hair, still a whisper of gray showing not yet ready to be coated for a deceptive, youthful shade of brown.]
[Is it not enough for you that he came with you, Lawrence Dimick? Is it not enough that he's sitting on the same bed with a patched up near life threatening wound on his belly? Thank god he didn't need a transfusion. Just because he can't put words together about it doesn't mean he thinks he's been kidnapped. If Freddy could articulate anything at all ever he would be angry at Larry's huff.]
How long was I gone?
[Freddy asks, ignoring any spikes of resentment in the old man's tone. He's sure they didn't split at the same time, because when Mr. White shot his old friend it seemed like something snapped in him. Everything played out exactly as he remembered until that moment. Freddy could have changed things too, he could have used his knowledge to do something about the boot, but he didn't. He didn't attempt to change anything (perhaps the city instilled a fear in him after all).]
[No, it's not enough. Because he's running low on everything he's got right now. Buck up you old sack of shit. They are here, aren't they? He's not dashing to a phone to rat you out..]
You were gone for 'bout three weeks.
[Tensions boiling up past a point he felt he could handle. It was like Larry was shot out of a barrel of a gun into the moment as well. Mr. White again, Joe shouting and Eddie whining like a stuck pig. They were already gone to him before, they would be once again. How did it somehow still hurt?
[Do you have to, Dimmy? Goddamn the temptation is sickening, but Freddy doesn't want to flirt with death so soon. He looks away from the cigarette but not from Larry himself, which is very hard to do, for your information.]
Long time.
[He remarks the obvious. Painfully obvious. Stupidly obvious. You shouldn't have said it at all, Newendyke. Then he blurts out.]
I'm sorry.
[For leaving the way he did. For not wanting to talk about certain things. For being a cop.]
[If there is any sort of respite to have, it's at his lips unlit. He flicks his lighter open then shut.]
Yeah.
[Two days were too long, and then he thought that three were far too long. And when it kept going? Well. That goes without saying.]
It's not like you wanted to cash out so soon.
[Right? And even though he is pulled down in the undertow of darker, more selfish emotions Larry knows that Freddy would never have left without him and if he had to, if he knew it would not have been without a goodbye. That is what he's apologizing for, he figures. It's too late to apologize for being a cop. Far too late.]
I dunno why you had to still get stuck in the gut.
[Or he still had to shoot Joe. Now he clicks the lighter open and lights.]
Not like you wanted any of it to happen like this. Y'don't need to be sorry.
[Freddy's not going to address the hint of implication in Larry's words. It's true he'd never leave without a goodbye, if he ever wanted to leave at all.]
I don't know...maybe it was meant to be, you know? Like fate or something.
[Like them still finding each other as their own real company. First it was when Freddy got shot, then it was when they were blasted off to some god forsaken alternate dimension, now it's here in a shitty Mexican motel. Of course they're only talking about his bullet hole.]
[Bullet holes not the ones in other organs. Ears are open and he's trying to keep his tired, fucked up mind too. Larry inhales. When he exhales he keeps it away from Freddy. Delicate condition and all.]
Or maybe it was the price we had to pay for it all, you know? Seeing as all the good shit we had, it couldn't have been for free.
[Even with their work and time put in. The City was all about hidden dues to be paid. Freddy had to spill his blood, the old man had to either do that or someone else's. Maybe that's just it.
They're not gonna talk about love tonight. Just the fact. So what if he did, Dimmy. Is it going to truly make him feel any better to know what's riding on their successful run? That's what you call pressure. Is this worth it for Freddy?]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-06 11:39 pm
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I'll piss. That's it.
[Larry squints from the light, from the stress. He's steeling himself. His Spanish is passable. Passable is gonna need some help in this emergency. The engine dies and the buzz goes on in his skin.]
I love you. Hear me? We're gonna be okay.
[Unsolicited it sounds better to his ears. Still there is no way of knowing.]
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Okay, tough guy.
[One deep breath in. One deep breath out. Larry gets out and makes is way to the other side to help Freddy out.]
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The TV sucks.
[He comments to break the silence. It's all in Spanish and there's no bizarre intergalactic space porn to discover either.]
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How's that?
[The walls are thin enough. And they may be among the few ready to exchange in English. Both of em have had their fill of eats. Except the old man doesn't have much of his appetite. Larry goes over to the television. The towel is still around his bare shoulders and he gives the top of the tube an open handed whack.]
I thought it said we'd have cable.
[Television is not the only topic they have about to discuss. There is only one bed in this room. It feels smaller, like they're still in some ant farm universe.]
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[Freddy insists, caramel green eyes widening when a big paw gives it a whack. If Larry breaks the TV then they really won't have anything to fill the silence, even if it's in another language. Yeah he may or may not be avoiding that other stuff despite being in the bed they may have to share.]
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I was trying to help.
[The picture jumped. That's about all.]
Are you doing okay? Any pain?
[He's itching for a cigarette but feels guilty each and every time for lighting up. No fumar means no fumar for Freddy, except he's already done so. Smoking makes a smoker want to smoke.]
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[Sigh. He knows he knows. Just busting your chops, old man, can't blame a kid for ill-timed humor. At that question Freddy sort of shrugs.]
I'm okay. Sore. I can't expect it to be a walk in the park.
[He's got a healing belly wound and they're out of the US and on the run and oh there's that whole alternate fucking universe for three fucking years thing.]
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[Coming forward he takes a seat on the bed and rubs his hands together. No smoking. Not yet.
For a moment he watches the TV like it holds interest for him. It doesn't. Just glow and noise.]
...I can't believe this is happening. This is us. We're here.
[He turns completely with his back to the tube and facing Freddy.]
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I know.
[Dumb. That was a dumb thing to say. He averts his gaze because he can't find the right words.]
I don't know how. Who knows how.
[Nobody does, nobody will, ever.]
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Fuck if I know how.
[He shakes his head. The road and sun have made him weary. But that doesn't mean he's gone off topic.]
It's a lot to think about. I mean, we were full established.
[Now they're at the bottom. Below the bottom. NO diamonds. Except they still have what's important right? The old man said that word back there right before Freddy had to be surrounded be doctors and nurses.]
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[Freddy says with that frustrating level of doubt and skepticism. He can't help it. He was a fucking cop again, complete with partner, they had their own place, Larry was keeping a low profile, they had everything. Now they have nothing but their lives and probably a manhunt for them. What will his mom think?]
...We can't tell anyone, you know. We'll get locked up. [The kid doesn't have it in him to laugh at the idea of it being so real they could plead not guilty by insanity. Who would believe them anyway?] That was three years, Larry.
[Three years down the goddamn drain. Why did they get to have it? Who decided to pull the plug now?]
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[That was what they always had said it would be. But Larry never took much stock in what it all meant. What were words to an experience he would never know or so he thought. After three years he was starting to believe that there was a chance they would never see home again, even for all his efforts to prepare while within the City's sanctuary.
The bed creaks as he shifts his weight.]
We can't tell a soul. I know that.
[A secret between the two of them, another secret.]
Who would believe? It's seems like a fantasy.
[A rock and roll fantasy of theirs they built and built in the chaos. Now it was all memories. Their apartment, the cars, the motorcycle, the bygone toucan, their modest wealth...]
....makes you feel a little empty.
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[Freddy says in quiet agreement, almost defeat. But how can it be defeat when they're sitting here together? If anything it's a setback, a really big fucking setback. Maybe if Freddy tells himself that over and over he'll be convinced to feel guiltless.]
Who guessed I still wouldn't get to go back home, huh?
[Horrible horrible joke but he tries to laugh anyway.]
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[A smile but it is grim, rueful even.]
Sort of a second chance, I guess. Or just a way we can really go about it without having to pick up and start over.
[In the conventional sense. Except here, on the other side of the border with all of their problems it hasn't felt the same. Fuck, old man. What do you want? It's early. And his belly is mending too.
Larry sighs.]
Before anything happens, I want to tell you that if you feel different... then you feel different. And I don't regret a fucking thing.
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I don't know how I feel...
[It's the truth. How he feels about Lawrence Dimick doesn't change, but where they are now, the time and place, that changes the game. Aliens and witches and other bullshit in the city were terrorizing threats, yet here in their true time and place, Freddy feels like he has so much more to lose.]
But I don't regret it either.
[He adds. Another truth. How could he regret it? How could he regret not just Larry but people like Ferguson and Eames and many others, even his not-quite-a-toucan companion. Belatedly the kid notices his finger is missing the weight of a shiny man's ring.]
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I feel tired.
[Enough to comb his hair back and try not to make more waves here in the land down under.]
That much is clear.
[He was hoping for more positivity. Something to help him keep going. Freddy is only a person, of course he would be caught up in his own head.]
...I want to keep going.
[Softly.]
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I can't talk about that right now.
[He blurts out, brows furrowing. Larry has to know there's much more at stake here for Freddy Newendyke. Lawrence Dimick knows no other kind of life, of course he can put his all into one person. It's not the same for Freddy, he has another kind of life, one he probably can never ever get back.]
Not now.
[Don't make him do it, Dimmy. Talk about the casino, talk about Jimmy his protege, talk about that one time they were women (twice for Freddy), anything but that.]
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Fine.
[It's a tight, controlled word. Huff.]
What do you want to talk about then?
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How long was I gone?
[Freddy asks, ignoring any spikes of resentment in the old man's tone. He's sure they didn't split at the same time, because when Mr. White shot his old friend it seemed like something snapped in him. Everything played out exactly as he remembered until that moment. Freddy could have changed things too, he could have used his knowledge to do something about the boot, but he didn't. He didn't attempt to change anything (perhaps the city instilled a fear in him after all).]
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You were gone for 'bout three weeks.
[Tensions boiling up past a point he felt he could handle. It was like Larry was shot out of a barrel of a gun into the moment as well. Mr. White again, Joe shouting and Eddie whining like a stuck pig. They were already gone to him before, they would be once again. How did it somehow still hurt?
He's getting a cigarette out after all.]
I waited for you. I didn't believe you were gone.
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Long time.
[He remarks the obvious. Painfully obvious. Stupidly obvious. You shouldn't have said it at all, Newendyke. Then he blurts out.]
I'm sorry.
[For leaving the way he did. For not wanting to talk about certain things. For being a cop.]
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Yeah.
[Two days were too long, and then he thought that three were far too long. And when it kept going? Well. That goes without saying.]
It's not like you wanted to cash out so soon.
[Right? And even though he is pulled down in the undertow of darker, more selfish emotions Larry knows that Freddy would never have left without him and if he had to, if he knew it would not have been without a goodbye. That is what he's apologizing for, he figures. It's too late to apologize for being a cop. Far too late.]
I dunno why you had to still get stuck in the gut.
[Or he still had to shoot Joe. Now he clicks the lighter open and lights.]
Not like you wanted any of it to happen like this. Y'don't need to be sorry.
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I don't know...maybe it was meant to be, you know? Like fate or something.
[Like them still finding each other as their own real company. First it was when Freddy got shot, then it was when they were blasted off to some god forsaken alternate dimension, now it's here in a shitty Mexican motel. Of course they're only talking about his bullet hole.]
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Or maybe it was the price we had to pay for it all, you know? Seeing as all the good shit we had, it couldn't have been for free.
[Even with their work and time put in. The City was all about hidden dues to be paid. Freddy had to spill his blood, the old man had to either do that or someone else's. Maybe that's just it.
They're not gonna talk about love tonight. Just the fact. So what if he did, Dimmy. Is it going to truly make him feel any better to know what's riding on their successful run? That's what you call pressure. Is this worth it for Freddy?]
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