Bent
By Guardian Angel (eyes_only1@yahoo.com)
Spoilers: "Red"
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Logan angst.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…wish I did! ;-)
Author's Notes: Ugh. Well, you'd think that since I have three other fairly major stories in the works, I'd be satisfied with that…but this just wouldn't leave me alone. I honestly don't think it's my best work, but hey, since no one else decided to tackle this little scene, I felt like it was up to me. ;-) Enjoy, for whatever it's worth…
*****
If I fall along the way
Pick me up and dust me off
If I get too tired to make it
Be my breath so I can walk
Can you help me I'm bent
I'm so scared that I'll never
Get put back together
I started out clean but I'm jaded
Just falling
Just breaking the skin
Matchbox 20, "Bent" (No, I did not include all the lines…These are just the most
appropriete)
*****
Long after Bling left the room, I stayed, watching and
re-watching the tape. As many times as
I've seen it, I still cannot get over the fact that the tape makes it seem like
it happened to someone else. Like it
wasn't me.
Then
I look down, and see my useless legs in the wheelchair. And I know it was me. Dammit.
Maybe
Bling is right; maybe screaming would help. I just can't bring myself to lose control in that manner. After all, my vocal chords are one of the
few things that I still can control.
Why
do I do this to myself? Why do I force
myself to watch the tape of that fateful day so much?
Why? Maybe because I'm starting to forget what
it's like to walk. To be able to run,
or stand up, or sit down. All those
simple things you take for granted. It
only happened a few months ago, but it's all starting to fade. It seems like the Logan Cale who could walk
is another person, and he's dead. Now
it's just me, the bent and battered man, a shadow of my former self.
You
know, you never think that it could happen to you, that one day you'll just
walk outside, and everything will change. Maybe you're just going to the store for a pint of milk and some bread,
maybe going to see your girlfriend, maybe trying to save the world, like I
was. You don't realize that one moment
has the power to change your entire life. Until it happens.
I
had everything. Looks, charisma, power,
wealth. A mission. People used to look up to me, say
"There's that man, Logan Cale. He's such a good person." I
could see the admiration and joy in their eyes. Now they look down, and all that I can find in their gaze is
pity. "There's that man, Logan
Cale. Such a pity to see a handsome man
like him, wasted in a wheelchair." It hurts.
Not
that I do all of this for the thanks, or the gratitude. It's not like that. It's just… my mission, I guess. My own holy grail, something to fill the
void inside me, make me feel like a real person. It's a link to humanity, something to keep me from becoming the
stale old rich hermit who lives in the penthouse.
I
know that I can still accomplish plenty while bound to this chair, that I'm far
from useless, but it's just not the same, dammit.
The
doctors and Bling all tell me that I'll be able to walk again someday. Can they really be sure? I know I'm not.
It's
hard to be optimistic about something like this, when I'm already forgetting
what it's like to walk.
I
know that at least I'm lucky enough to be able to support myself. So many people would be out of a job if they
were suddenly crippled, the majority of the jobs in the country right now are
manual labor. And I know it could be
far worse. I could be completely
paralyzed, a vegetable for life, or even dead.
But
still, even with all of this knowledge, a part of me can't help but ask.
Why
me?