Paper Trails: Last to Know
by BJ Carlson
NOTICE: As of today, my muse is an out of control felon bent on stealing any sound sleep I might bother to attempt. If it is seen in your area please shoot to kill. Or if you MUST return it to me (careful, it bites), I'll be the one alseep with my head propped against my computer monitor.
For the record, this is the second in the 'Paper Trails' Universe. What's good for the Gander is good for the Goose, say's I. WARNING: Disturbing themes and general morbidity. Rated R for langauge, anxst and adult situations.
Feedback to carbre@uswest.net
"Have you ever wished we could be two ordinary people with ordinary lives."
Bright Lady that’s what you flonquing said that day, didn’t you? Wellthat or something close enough to it that my brain tagged it as the above. Whatever it was kicked off a kind of an instant translation of something so elementary and blasted IMPOSSIBLE in our world that my brain all but shut down the minute the words hit my verbal cortex.
I mean Oath, Dom, a NORMAL LIFE? Since when have either of us had any idea on this planet, or in this time stream, what that was supposed to mean?
A normal life makes about as much sense to us as the act of walking on water.
After all, we’re not exactly stereotypical in any sense of the word. Neither of us have ever come anywhere near to that term from the day we were hauled kicking and screaming into this world. I mean, from genetically manipulating mad scientists and clones all the way down to the complete and total blank slate you’ve managed to pass yourself off as, we just don’t HAVE the common back history. Our biographies are enough to give most listeners a *hernia,* woman. Suffice to say we've never been into playing 'remember when.'
An ordinary existence requires a common past, after all - and the last time I checked, we didn't have a shot in hell at having one.
And it’s no better with the lives we've chosen or had thrust upon us: I’m the fanatical mutant messiah who’s spend my life racing around tilting at windmills that aren’t as fanciful as the general world would think. And you? You’re sometimes deviant, sometimes hero, generally *pigheaded* mercenary and self philosophizer that’s been just as willing to kill for money and fight for adrenaline as you were to give both of the above up trying to defend ideals you’re not totally sure if you believe in yourself. We've never had typical dreams, typical childhood's. We’ve seen more and done more and regretted doing more in our lives by the time we were supposed to be headed for college or grad school then most every other citizen of this planet will ever see or understand in their wildest dreams.
We’re shadows, Dom. We’re flonquing mutants. We’re by genetic makeup predestined ABNORMAL.
But you still stood there and you asked me if I ever wondered about being average. A question totally out of the blue that fell on a frozen silence. I think my jaw probably hovered somewhere between locked in speechlessness and resting comfortably on the ground as I stared back at you. You actually stood there naked scalped and shivering in shock, looking somewhere halfway between ready to sue the universe for malpractice and ready to collapse like a puppet without anymore of its strings. A *normal life* Dom. You had the *gall.* To wish for things we supposedly had no hold on...
A normal life. I think I'd have sooner have fielded a request for a snow day from the equator.
And then you just walked away. And until today I never understood it. I remember feeling as if I were standing in concrete - my boots not totally cemented, but heavy enough I just didn't have the energy to climb out of the hardening muck. I watched you mutter words about space and balance, and my head howled any number of protests as the whole gist of what was happening failed to settle into the functional part of my brain...
We were both exhausted and dazed - home from the battlefield. Only your enemy was something I never got the chance to really label. I was looking for the calming sanctuary that normally helped me heal my wounds: I found a sieged cathedral where you were trying to scrub an theun-named blood off the walls.
What's a normal life anyway? A family that loves you? Well I've got that, I suppose...even if the one I inherited happens to be convoluted enough to make an agnostic reconsider his position on praying. Scott and Jean may not have the faintest idea what they should be doing with me, but they're there...and they certainly care, even if they're not sure how to show it.
We've got the kids too, Dom - we achieved and odd kind of parenthood, even if the tikes aren't exactly classifiable as little, and have a penchant for blowing things up.
...and we always had each other at least. How many others out there could say they never felt afraid of being completely alone?
But then, maybe we are alone now. Even with this damn bloody psi-link. If we are, we've managed to pull off something that's pretty flonquing impressive in the worst possible kind of way. To be linked in this bond that's so fundamental - to share dreams and yet to not be able to see them - to not see each other. I used to know when you had a flonquing HEADACHE, Dom: I'd try and coerce you into taking Tylenol. I didn't know all your secrets, maybe, but I always figured what you showed me was at least what I needed if I was going to be there for you.
I believed those were the agreed upon rules. I *counted* on them.
At least up 'til today.
You see, we were partners - as in on the same side. You were my best friend: the one I let get away with stealing my favorite weaponry. I knew where that elusive tattoo of yours was placed, and you were the only person in this century allowed to live after you found out how ticklish I was on the back of my knees. You were the only one who really knew the detailed stuff about my mission - even if you claimed trying to keep it straight always gave you a migraine.
And I knew about those nights you couldn't sleep, and felt a strange kind of honor when you let me be the one to re-brew the coffee.
We've never been flonquing normal, Domino. The fact that that's the name I call you is indication enough of that fact. We didn't fit the stereotypes of a typical couple - we spent too much time threatening to shoot each other, and then wasted too much mental gauze trying to patch each other up after the fact.
We were just US. You and me. Certainly not perfect but probably the brightest spot in either of our lives.
...And we were *together.* When both of us were at stake, we always shared in the costs to the best of our ability.
The lights from above are burning my eyes - I can barely see the holograms coming at me anymore. The sweat rolling off my forehead and down between my shoulder blades is like liquid fire - when did the rest of me get so cold?
...We were TOGETHER dammit, Domino! Didn't you get the memo? We didn't flonquing lie when everything we were was at stake. I shouldn't have had to watch you go, or find out you lost our child over a year and a half latter after the fact through flonquing, god-damned *dream!*
Yeah, I know now. Congratulations. You managed to keep it under wraps almost eighteen friggin' months. It took a nightmare so bad your mind was practically imploding on itself to make me violate this distance you've kept between us and go and try to calm you down.
...Oath, Dom, what in the *hell* have you done to yourself? I don't think I've seen you respond this badly to anything in years - not even after Tyler. Do you have any idea what it's like to try and soothe someone screaming so loud in their own head you can see the telepathic backlash erupt? Forty five minutes before I got your heart to reconsider the possibility of arresting from the strain, and even then, you still didn't want to wake up.
You were flonquing PREGNANT. Well that would explain the normality tangent. Funny, how even in the middle of this existence we could have overlooked something so basic. Though come to think of it, that isn't even quite right...you've always been too blasted religious with your precautions to consider this a simple slip up.
...You know, I had to wonder about that sometimes. You said it was because with your powers, playing easy either way didn't fit...
Well the law of averages says no birth control in fool proof...and we proved long ago we were never any flonquing good at abstinence.
A baby. Oath, we were going to have a *baby.* A mix of you and me...if that wasn't a kick to the gut. I can only assume it happen right after that thing with Kane and Vanessa...emotional backlash with you always came out in the offbeat ways.
Yes, I KNOW you said you made your peace. And I believe you, even if you were, predictably enough, feeling less than chatty about the whole thing.
There was something strong and tense in you though...even then, you were unusually hungry for touch.
Oh come on, you don't think I know that by now, Dom? I'm a flonquing telepath. And even if I weren't the signs would take a blind man to miss. After you've come to peace with something, you get grabby - if not, to be macho-istically frank, downright head shatteringly amorous.
Yeah, I've taken advantage of that fact on many occasions - but what reasonable man in my place wouldn't have done the same? Those times are some of your brightest moments, Dom. When your guard's down far enough you get pretty close to what a suicidal man would call giddy.
Your pain makes you so heavy, Dom. You don't realize how much lighter everything grows when your finally ditch it.
You weren't giddy that day coming off the PACRAT, though. As far from it as was conceivable. I may have been ready to fall over on my own feet from exhaustion and relief you and the kids were all safe, but I could sense that much at least. Your shields were locked tighter than a bank vault. I assumed it was just an instinctive shock reaction from what had just happened...
But you didn't want to be touched either did you, Dom? Those shields were so deliberate I'm surprised your brain didn't flash "I have a secret" every seven seconds...
Oh Bright Lady, you flonquing stubborn, hurting idiot why couldn't you just have TOLD me?
Blood on the walls. I may never be able to enter a public bathroom again without puking. I can practically smell the iron in the air - it burns like sulfur against my nostrils. I can feel the cold metal of the stall against my back. There were three of us in there - don't you know there had to be?
Miscarriage. I hadn't even managed to get home in time to learn I might get to be a father. You had to say hello and good-bye within the same span of chaos.
I fought off Bastion and his henchmen alone, while you saw hatred make its own delivery.
A baby, Dom. You lost our baby. And you won't be able to tell me you didn't know about it either: I saw that too. I felt the cramps...saw the numbness in your eyes as you sunk down on the tile and told yourself there was no point in crying. How long did you know? Just long enough to love it? Or maybe long enough to admit you weren't ready for this...but that wasn't going to stop you.
Did you finally manage to say the word 'mom' without freezing from the shock, only to have the title suddenly ripped back away from you?
Either way, you tried to stuff it all inside somewhere. You ran away to chase ghosts and missing sentinels, while I watched the jeep drive away and tried to make sense of it. I picked up weary feet to go inside, only to find an equally abrupt good-bye demanded of me for the kids.
You went into nowhere, and I went to New York. Where I managed to bury myself in necessary missions and causes that kept me too busy to think about you.
You erected a grave site of silence, but never invited me to the wake.
Did you come to New York to finally tell me the truth, Dom? Is that why your went off like a like fuse with almost no warning of the detonation. I was rambling on about rediscovering myself - about how we'd lost sight of our own humanity - was that like salt smashed open-handed into the wound?.
If you hadn't been so angry...and I hadn't been so shell shocked. Would you have found a way to force the words past your lips?
Would you have let me hold you then for the simple purpose of comfort, then, rather than in a frantic rush to get you to the hospital?
A year alone Dom. How did you carry this? I've had it ten minutes, and have to force myself to breathe. I reek of sweat and helpless fury...the kind that comes when you know hindsight may be clearer, but still leaves you stuck in today with no way to ease the pain.
I always thought someday we'd find a life together, Dom. I never expected a life would find us.
We were going to be parents for a moment in time...and then it just...went away.
Huh. The program's stopped. I didn't notice. Look at me...pitching at ghosts - well I guess that's fair. This pike in my hand may not give anyone any lasting pain, but it's also not exactly offering you or me any relief.
Besides, more flonquing pain is the one thing we *don't* need. You've managed to leave yourself in shreds with the amount you got.
As for me, I think my heart just got ripped out.
And I was the last one to know.