orangetoughguy | logging iv

Not me, kid. Not me.

[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.

[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.]

[The ring is on the old man's own hand as though it never left. A very unsettling but oh so true indication that it is like they had not left at all.]

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.]

Edited 2013-11-13 09:06 (UTC)

[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.]

Fine.

[It's a tight, controlled word. Huff.]

What do you want to talk about then?

[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?

He's getting a cigarette out after all.]

I waited for you. I didn't believe you were gone.

[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?]

I've been saying that for years.

[Freddy remarks, a little more in a joking manner than any way else as if to draw attention to the fact that he did spend three years with Lawrence Dimick. He may not want to talk about that right now but he did spend years with him and doesn't regret it. If they can make it four years...well, he'd like to. But how? That's what he doesn't want to talk about at all.]

[Nod, nod. Puff. Puff. Funny words from a funny guy, a grin is pulling hard on his mouth. Larry doesn't outwardly give too much away.]

I'm hard headed. Maybe heard of hearing.

[Or he was. Might be is. His body feels a little off. And not because of the miles put between the United States and south of the border. Larry taps ash and studies the other man's mug.

Years. They spent that together. No one can take that away. A night with conversation on business wouldn't do that, right?]

I think you hear fine.

[Freddy shakes his head. He could be implying something but it could just as well be an assurance to the old man that his body's not as old as he thinks it is. Without another thought the kid puts a hand on the other man's shoulder, touch solid but not gripping.]

Thanks for taking care of me.

[You know that he cares, right Dimmy?]

[A nose rub and a nod. Pathetic doesn't look good on anyone. And even if he was trying to play it cool with self depreciation, he is on the road to full out sulking. Nothing beyond repair has gone down. Freddy's touch even in the stifling air of the motel is a welcomed contact.]

You're welcome.

[A tilt of his head and it's more wavy brown close to honey blonde. Cigarette smoke of the second degree might help the patient's need. Maybe.]

You know I would one way or the other, right? I'm there for you.

[And the old man has privately decided that would be the case too if they part. If. If. If.]

Yeah. I do.

[Honey blonde isn't quite as floppy and nice as it usually is but he brushes against undyed graying brown anyway.]

I'm here for you too, okay?

[Freddy insists. If he could guarantee the old man's safety he would but he can't and that's a hard pill to swallow. Even harder now that he's in Larry's boat. Could Freddy claim kidnapping? Easily. But would he? No.]

Okay.

[More smoke hits the air from his Chesterfield. The box is almost spent. He's been going through a pack and a half, working close to two. Better cool it or else he might get himself a trip to the hospital too. Then what.]

That puts me more at ease, partner.

[The air practically buzzes with words White wants to say. Questions of why it can't be a night to talk about exactly what page their on. There will be another night if they plan just right.]

Tomorrow we're going to head inland. After that, I say we hit the coast. We don't have to keep a tight schedule but we're going off the beaten path. I'm sure they'll check tourist routes.

[They--the cops, maybe even the FBI. Who the hell knows. Larry talks softly, his own voice feels soothing like this isn't the fate of their freedom under discussion.]

You're the man with the plan.

[Freddy insists, not because that puts Larry's hands on the wheel and thus all accountability with him or anything. Nevermind how if caught that's probably how the authorities would spin it in an effort to hide the fact this man betrayed his own. They're a media circus in the making. They cannot be caught.]

I've never been out this far into Mexico. I don't know the place. Shit I barely know the language.

[This is the kid's way of telling the old man he might be fucking useless out here in the wild fucking west.]

[Plan he says.]

Sorta. I'm just trying to keep us adaptable.

[Adaptable, calm. Important things so as not to get caught. Larry's been running for so long, he isn't going to get sloppy when the stakes are so high.]

And that's alright. Don't kid yourself thinking everyone hear speaks it like a pro. You'll catch on eventually. Some things go beyond language. You got the right eyes and ears to take in the right information.

[People pointing. A meaningful gaze. Any sort of a law enforcement person on the move the old man hopes. It takes one to know one.]

[Freddy nods.]

I got'em peeled.

[He points at his own peepers, caramel sour apple greens. Maybe, he thinks, those years in the city were meant to be preparation for this. They have three years and a cache of future knowledge to their advantage. To their disadvantage, no smartphones or internet. Freddy wonders if they're better off faking their own deaths.]

And you can be the navigator too. I might speak the the mother tongue in these parts but I usually go to the coast first. We will later.

[Referring back to the rural route. His cigarette is burning away fast. Laying nearby in the room and thinking over the next step is not entirely calming. There's nothing like finding reassuring partnership for the journey in those green peepers.]

If everything goes smooth, down the line we can leave to go someplace else.

[To give one more bright star to reach for. Larry hopes that would mean they could go together.]

I haven't looked at the map.

[Freddy says, more so to joke about his qualifications as a navigator at the moment rather than anything else. He's so banged up he might not be the best but driven to stay alive with his old man he'd be efficient.]

I want to go some place else.

[The kid nods, reaffirming something he still can't quite put in words. That life in Los Angeles is gone, if he's honest about what he's doing now he'll never ever get it bad. He doesn't deserve to wear the badge anymore. But that doesn't mean Freddy can't take what's left and turn it into something good.]

We've had better, we don't need to be stuck in a dump like this forever. [See, old man? He's talking about the future. The near future sure, but it is the future.]

I got a few. [Wait a sec while he stubs out his smoke. While looking away it is easier to say...] I actually didn't take much of a look. Maybe over breakfast.

[After some sleep and a clear head.]

That's the main goal. Start from the bottom and work our way back to the top.

[Pat, pat on him.]

I have some money put away. We can get it tomorrow. It'll help, that's for sure.

[Maybe one more night in a low grade motel before more clothes and better accommodations. Larry rubs his heavy brown eyes.]

You think you'll need to check in with a clinic within the next four days?

[To check his healing process. He can tell that Freddy's energy is still low. He's not the ghost bleeding out on the ramp but that doesn't mean he is race ready. They have to keep moving. Otherwise the old man would insist that they take a week or two to allow the kid a full chance at recuperating.

Even though they should be listening to the radio or watching TV, Larry can't bring himself to. Not yet. Right back to the bygone year. Same old shit. Besides, who wants to hear what they're saying about either of them if the story goes this far south. He still stares blankly at the television as he makes himself more comfortable on the bed.]

Probably. Just to be sure, you know?

[As a police officer he'd do the same but insist he's fine and let the onus be on his partner to drag him in. None of that now, Newendyke.]

I don't want an infection, not out here. [With no state of the art City General to fix it.] Good money?

[What makes money 'good' is open to interpretation. Freddy asks, going backwards in Larry's words. He's already comfortable in bed, as comfortable as he can be, and watches the old man make himself at home on the same mattress. Nothing doing, nothing they haven't been doing for three whole fucking years.]

I don't want you with an infection. You got nothing to amputate there.

[All those vitals at his torso and middle. Infection would be a nightmare, as though death isn't to be considered. Oh it is. Now more than ever. Here you die. That's it. No rejuvenation, no restart like a video game.

Would death take them to the City again? Larry doesn't want to find out. The cleaner they used for the sheets--hey at least they clean here--reminds him of a hospital. Sanitary and stifling.]

Good money. [He repeats.] Cash. No bank involved. Things I kept stowed away.

[The old man had wanted to retreat south after the heist. Now would be a lousy time to try and find the places he was scouting to live. They were more toward Baja anyway.]

logging iv

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