Disclaimer: I do not own, nor will I ever own, Rocky Horror. That belongs to Richard O' Brien.
Sort of a character-exploration of Columbia. She's kind of a strange character (I know MOST characters in Rocky Horror are, but she's probably the strangest HUMAN.) and I got thinking about where she might have come from, why she wanted to leave, and why does she stay at the castle. Fic is rated T for all the reasons you'd EXPECT a Rocky Horror fic to be rated T. This is a three-part fic, by the way.
Enjoy!
Columbia was never a person who was easily satisfied with things.
At least, she hadn't been then.
A lot of the time, it's kind of difficult to remember the time that existed before she met Him.
But Columbia didn't just appear out of thin air, after all. She had to have come from somewhere.
The problem was, though, that it was never anywhere that people knew or even cared much about. She didn't live in the middle of nowhere, exactly, but to her, it might as well have been. She was the sort of person who craved excitement, adventure, and those were the things that people like her just were never going to have. It wasn't fair or particularly encouraging, but it was a fact, and people accepted it.
Except for Columbia, that is.
Sure, she had dreams and ambitions, who doesn't, but she knew that she just didn't have enough of it. Columbia was a firm believer in the phenomenon of it. It was the quality that only certain people possessed. And it wasn't beauty or talent or brains or anything like that. After all, those things exist in every person, even if it's only the smallest amount. Nobody said that life was fair, so it made sense that people got different amounts of that sort of thing.
No, it was the rare thing that some people have that just allows them to take whatever they want, has everything, simply by being themselves. She could name a ton of rich and famous people who didn't seem to have a spark of talent or originality, but they could still wrap people around their little fingers without much effort at all. You could call it luck, or charisma, but Columbia always figured that it was simply a combination of these things, some kind of special power that only some could have. And everyone else?
Well, they were just helplessly pulled in the undercurrent. If people who possessed it were comets, the people without were their tails.
Columbia knew pretty much that she was one of those people who awes, envies, reveres it, but it's not a thing that she will ever herself own. But still, she didn't want to be a nameless, faceless nobody, somebody who stumbled blindly through things, constantly tripping on the trials and obstacles of life, until eventually they just stop trying and settle into the kind of bland, mild harmony until they finally stop breathing.
No. What Columbia wanted was to latch onto those people who did, and could, take the world for everything it had, fuck the consequences. Feelings are contagious, after all, and for Columbia, she existed for the crazy rush of emotions that seemed to constantly plague her being.
Her parents (although she could hardly remember them now) were seemingly constantly exasperated with their daughter and her strange obsessions. They were the kind of bland, dull, ordinary people who know they have a limited lot in life, but are content to take it.
Columbia hated that. Hated their complacency, although she sort of understood it. But more than that, she hated their expectations that in time, she too would eventually succumb to the kind of bland boredom that had become their lives.
Even though she was damn well aware of her lack of talent or drive, Columbia knew there had to be more then what was in front of her.
So one day, she just left.
No explanations, no arguments, no farewells. She just shoved a few things into a bag, put on her favorite outfit, complete with make-up and left her house key on the table. Then she walked out of the door, knowing that she would never go back.
She didn't hate her family. She just wasn't like them, couldn't be like them.
She had no concrete plan, wasn't travelling in any specific direction. All she knew was that she wanted to get out of that house, get out of that one-horse town. Get out of her going-nowhere existence.
Somewhere, she knew she was being stubborn and stupid. That she could end up dead or drugged or one of the many other horrible possible things that could happened to a girl like her, wandering the world by herself. But she knew that whatever came her way, she was going to take it and run with it. Because, to Columbia, she knew that if she couldn't be extraordinary, then she'd settle for being with somebody who was.
Then, she saw Him.
Columbia had been mooching along the dusty road, her stomach lambasting her for not thinking to bring food. Her feet hurt; her shoulders ached from carrying her bag for however many miles. The worst part, though, was her head, and how it kept telling her to go back, go back. There's nothing out here for you. Nothing.When she looked up at the approaching gas-station, she could see a dirty pick-up truck vibrating outside the store. The smell of the truck's exhaust and the petrol made her feel dizzy and a little light-headed, but she approached it anyway, since a store meant food.
Oddly, she saw nobody except the cashier when she stepped inside, but she was so distracted by the brightly-colored packages, the fluorescent lighting and the smell of the cashier's coffee that she quickly disregarded the thought. Columbia wasted no time in buying as many sweets, snacks and processed foods as she could carry. She left the store, a lollipop in her mouth, when she glanced in the direction of the truck.
Leaning against it was...well, she wasn't entirely sure how to go about describing the person leaning against the side of the truck. But he was staring at her with hooded, piercing eyes that made her automatically slow down her walk. She could see a tattoo peering out from the sleeve of his coat, which was so long it nearly reached his ankles, but she could see very pointy black boots peeking out from beneath them. The man smirked as Columbia stared at him with a stunned expression and winked roguishly.
That's when Columbia realized- this man, whoever he was, had it.
And if this wasn't fate, then she didn't care what it was. All she knew was that this person, this man, was the furthest thing from ordinary one could get.
Like she was magnetically pulled from her spot just outside the gas station, she stumbled towards the alluring figure, barely noticing as some of the snacks she was carrying fell from the pile in her arms. The man did not seem at all surprised that she was approaching him, only slightly amused. His smirk took on a somewhat lascivious air.
"Hello," he drawled, eyes starting at Columbia's feet and slowly making a voyage up her body. Even though she was still clutching an assortment of snacks, she felt like he was X-raying her. It was incredible how one simple thing could make her feel so exposed and naked.
It was exhilarating.
"Who are you?" the man asked her now, pushing himself off the side of the truck. Columbia vaguely noticed a blonde figure at the steering wheel, but her attention was only on him for less than a second before her eyes snapped back to the man in front of her.
"Columbia," she said. It rolled off her tongue.
"It's a pleasure, I'm sure." the man crooned, and she bit back a giggle, though her cheeks turned slightly hot. "Where are you going, then, Columbia?"
"Nowhere." she said, grinning so hard her cheeks ached a little.
One eyebrow arched.
"Really?" he asked, as though her reply fascinated him. He indicated the truck with an elegant jerk of his head. "Well, we don't know where we're going either. So, why not come with us?"
It was so simple that she didn't even hesitate.
"Okay," she replied, like it made no difference to her, but her eyes shone and she couldn't keep the ridiculous grin off her face as she promptly tossed her snacks into the back part of the truck and climbed in, skinny leg swinging over the side. The man followed suit, his movements languid and relaxed.
"Go," he ordered the driver imperiously, with a careless flick of the wrist. No sooner had the word left his mouth when the truck roared into life, pulling out of the gas station and speeding out onto the open road.
Columbia watched the gas station shrink until it was out of sight, then she sat down and turned. The man was lounging as casually as somebody can lounge in the back end of a pickup-truck, head tilting back as the remaining beams of evening sunlight shone on his unruly black hair. Columbia pulled the lollipop out of her mouth, relishing the small smack as she did so.
"Hey, what was your name?" she asked him.
He opened his eyes and looked her way.
"Frank'N'Furter," he said, a smile full of a delightful wickedness. "But you can call me Frank."
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