The August Challenge 2004 (the Song Challenge): offered by Jen Brooks: Write
us a story inspired by a song. I don't know about anybody else, but I have a
whole list of tunes I associate with the boys and their adventures. Let's compare
Magnificent soundtracks! You don't have to use the lyrics in the story -- we're
not looking for song-fic here -- but please do include the lyrics at the end
of the fic, with due credit. You honestly want to know what music plays
in my head while I write… oooh scary… far too many to admit. The monkey
is working overtime even though this is just a small scene. A sequel of
a kind to “undone” This lovely AU belongs to Mog. The lyrics
of the song are below. 9/5/04
He couldn’t even look at himself as he passed the mirror in
his front hall, not stopping even when he heard the keys to the Jag skitter
off the small table and clatter on their way down to the floor. Ezra didn’t
know how it had happened, but somehow a piece of him had slipped away today.
He forgot the most important rule, that it was all a game. Only the game was
deadly if he didn’t take care to remember the rules. It was hopelessly
intertwined games and rules, rules for the kind of games that he had been playing
since he was a child, talents and skills that had been honed by Maude.
What could he possibly say, Standish knew he had slipped up and had lost
the upper hand, he had never seen it coming. So no explanations were given.
There was no defending his dismal performance so he walked out. Away from
the very people that mattered most. It wasn’t easy having co-workers;
no they were friends that he could count on. But Ezra couldn’t talk,
so he failed.
Failed again
World weary Ezra Standish shuffled into the living room slow treading across
the wooded floor boards until he was in front of his liquor cabinet. Fumbling
slightly as he poured a tumbler of whiskey not bothering to set down the bottle
as he gulped downed the fiery liquid.
Today was no different childhood training took over when fate twisted cruelly
out of his favor. Self preservation kicked in and he fled. No matter how he
tried Ezra never seemed to be able to slip away from his mother’s influence
or the memories. Childhood memories that had long been purposefully buried,
hidden away but were brought back into sharp focus, ironically after an eye
injury. Ezra couldn’t explain what was bothering him, what had happened
when he wasn’t so sure himself. Letting out a pent up sigh Standish
set both the glass and bottle down, although drinking himself into oblivion
was tempting he knew it would only make matters worse. Ezra knew he needed
to think clearly now more than ever as he sat heavily down on the couch.
Memory was a funny thing sometimes it played tricks on a person so he wasn’t
sure if what he remembered was true.
One thing was for sure that for better or worse Maude was his mother and
life with and without her had been interesting. Interesting was how one of
his many ‘Aunts’ referred to the unhappy events that most sane people
would consider tragedies, as in never dull always interesting in one way or
another. The aunt had been right about that. Ezra resisted the temptation
to rub his eyes.
The pain of his recently healed injury was not forgotten. The doctor had
given strict orders to the care of the corneal abrasion which despite his
usual distain for the medical establishment he dutifully followed. A small
snort slipped out. Sanchez’s god seemed to have a twisted sense of humor.
When Standish was unable to see clearly he was able to see clearly with his
mind’s eye. Memories were all he had of his childhood, mementos and photographs
being few and far between.
Exhaustion crept over him and Ezra sank farther back until he was resting
his head on the sofa allowing his eyes to slowly shut soon he was drifting.
Though mentally cringing over the day’s events Standish shoved the unhappy
thoughts aside trying to do what had to do all day long, relax. Picturing
a peaceful image of walking through a lush green meadow along a well worn
path under a deep blue sky filled with puffy white clouds, the relaxation
technique seemed to be working until he felt something drip down his face.
Wiping at the warm wetness Ezra drew away his hand from his neck revealing
blood smeared fingers, startling him as he tried to find its source the world
turned red.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bolting straight up Ezra wiped his hands lightly over his face before staring
at their smooth palms before turning them over to look at well manicured digits,
unmarked and ordinary.
He wasn’t sure that he was awake. The light had faded as day turned
to twilight giving the dimly lit room a surreal quality. Taking a steadying
breath he stood up squinting at the mantel clock. A quarter to eight. The
answering machine clicked startling the already unnerved man. Tremors coursed
through tense muscles. Blinking several times Ezra tried to compose himself
as he stared at the red flashing light before lightly treading across the
floor and playing the messages desperate for anything that would dispel the
lingering tendrils of the disturbing dream. Stopping short as he reached out
to touch the machine not expecting to see the dark traces of blood on his
hands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Water gurgled as it rushed down the sink’s drain as Ezra scrubbed at
his hands as a single light illuminated down the hall barely dispelled the
shadows. Unnerved by what he had seen or thought he had seen, Ezra continued
to scour his flesh as he stood shaking by the kitchen sink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time Ezra finally settled back onto his couch with a hot cup of coffee
clutched in both his hands, every light in the townhouse was lit. He idly
stared at the answering machine, its red light was still flashing nothing
unusual in that in fact everything seemed ordinary and in place but Ezra couldn’t
shake off the disconcerting feeling brought on by the incident. Even in the
glaring light he wasn’t sure, his heart its pace only just beginning
to slow still thumped audibly in his ears.
How he hated it, them, the memories that haunted him, why now? Well the truth
was he knew it was the very reason he hated hospitals.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The world seemed so far away to the five year old as he sat up in the large
bed hugging the shaggy bear tightly to his chest. Ezra didn’t dare move.
He was afraid to, he knew he wasn’t supposed to cause trouble but some
how he had again. The boy had tried to be good and failed, so he did what
he thought would make up for it.
Children should be seen not heard.
That’s how it went. So he stayed quiet and as still as he could. There
would be no thumb sucking like other children, no, Mother would not approve.
The bear had been given to him it would have been impolite to refuse. Besides
it made a good pillow for his cast, all were very sensible reasons for clinging
to the fuzzy brown toy. He didn’t have to talk to the doctors or the
nurses, they were strangers and if he tried really hard he wouldn’t fall
asleep and dream. Ezra was getting good at pretending to be dozing. He didn’t
want them to poke him with another needle but what he really didn’t want
to do was dream.
Dreams of blood
Where he was frozen with feet of lead
Unable to escape as the door swung open revealing white walls splattered
in red.
Red soaked carpet under bloodied pajamas
A flash of a steel blade
Then he would wake drenched in sweat just before…
No he didn’t want to dream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ezra Standish never told anyone what had happened on that night so long ago,
about what he had seen and what he had done. That part of him remained, hidden
like so many others.
Some things were hard to forget and even harder to talk about. Ezra knew
wishes were wasted on wanting to be different. He couldn’t change the
way he was no more than he could change the twisted path of his life. Or the
memories and the pain attached to them. He couldn’t talk about them but
he never forgot.
The coffee cup went flying shattering on impact sending the liquid spattering
down the wall. Standish raked rigid fingers through the hair on his scalp
before kicking the coffee table flipping it as it flew across the floor. He
wasn’t going to go through this again.
He was off the couch, after a brief moment of searching located the keys
to the Jag and was out the front door heading into the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The A.T.F. offices were nearly empty, despite the late hour when the phone
rang it was quickly picked up off its cradle.
“Larabee…” Chris’s raspy voice answered. He had spent
the better part of the day on the phone trying to track down the location
of his wayward agent, was surprised to hear Wilmington on the other end of
the line.
“Chris, I found him…” Buck Wilmington’s hushed tone was
barely audible as he spoke.
Larabee understood none the less and the tension flowed from his muscles
as he relaxed his hold on the receiver. “Buck, where?”
“He just showed up and at the moment is sleeping on my couch.”
Wilmington’s soft words mirrored Chris’s own bewilderment and relief.
“Did Ez say what happen?” Chris knew the question was a futile
one but asked it all the same.
“Nope, didn’t say a thing. Matter a fact he almost seemed…”
“What?”
“Blue… can’t explain it really.”
“Keep an eye on him Buck. I’ll let the others know.”
Chris didn’t immediately hang up the hand set instead he listened to
the dial tone mentally running the events of the long day through his mind.
Something had gone wrong but he was at loss as to exactly what it had been.
All he knew for sure was something was up with Ezra and he was going to find
out what it was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ezra listened to Buck hang up the phone, staying still as the man draped
an afghan over him before tiptoeing off into the kitchen.
No Buck, he thought, blue doesn’t cover it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Figure .09
Nothin’ ever stops all
these thoughts n’ the pain attached to them
Sometimes I wonder why this is happenin’
It’s like nothin’ I can do would distract me when
I think of how I shot myself in the back again
‘cuz from the infinite words I can say i
Put all pain you gave to me on display
But didn’t realize instead of settin’ it free i
Took what I hated and made it a part of me
It never goes away
It never goes away
And now
You’ve become a part of me
You’ll always be right here
You’ve become a part of me
You’ll always be my fear
I can’t separate
Myself from what I’ve done
Giving up a part of me
I’ve let myself become you
Hearin’ your name the memories come back again
I remember when it started happenin’
I see you n’ every thought I had and then
The thoughts slowly found words attached to them
And I knew as they escaped away
I was committin’ myself to em
n’ everyday
I regret sayin’ those things ‘cuz
now I see that i
Took what I hated and made it a part of me
It never goes away
It never goes away
And now
You’ve become a part of me
You’ll always be right here
You’ve become a part of me
You’ll always be my fear
I can’t separate
Myself from what I’ve done
Giving up a part of me
I’ve let myself become you
It never goes away
It never goes away
It never goes away
It never goes away
Get away from me!
Give me my space back you gotta just
Go!
Everything comes down the memories of
You!
I kept it in without lettin’ you
Know!
I let you go so get away from
Me!
Give me my space back you gotta just
Go!
Everything comes down the memories of
You!
I kept it in without lettin’ you
Know!
I let you go
And now
You’ve become a part of me
You’ll always be right here
You’ve become a part of me
You’ll always be my fear
I can’t separate
Myself from what I’ve done
Giving up a part of me
I’ve let myself become you
I’ve let myself become you
I’ve let myself become lost inside these thoughts of you
Giving up a part of me
I’ve let myself become you
Linkin’ Park
Meteora 2003
