Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. The characters and the song.
This version of the song is written and performed by Paul McCartney.
Maybe I'm Amazed
baby, i'm amazed at the way you love me all the time
and maybe i'm afraid of the way i love you
maybe i'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time
you hung me on the line
maybe i'm amazed at the way i really need you
He revved the engine and the bike hummed and whirred and vibrated. He relished the feeling of familiarity of the tremor of the machine beneath him.
It was certainly better than the uncertainty and doubt he'd been feeling lately.
He stopped at a crosswalk and waited for a couple of pedestrians to cross. It was dark, but he could see the silhouette of urban ruins. Ruins he'd helped to create. Ruins that had been the start of something for him.
Ruins that had wrecked the one good thing in his life. They were ugly and he didn't want to look at them anymore. He was relieved when the crosswalk was clear and he could speed off without a second thought to them.
That wasn't true. He'd always give them a second thought because he'd always have doubts about the decision he was making. The decision he'd made to throw the bomb and to lie about it. And then to finally, finally, when things were getting good and he knew he couldn't lie anymore, tell the truth. The truth was what did it. If he'd only kept his mouth shut none of this would have happened.
He couldn't blame it on telling the truth. If he hadn't done it to begin with, if he had listened to her and not burned down the recruiting office he wouldn't have been in this position in the first place.
He hated that he'd lied to Meg. Now he did, anyway.
He hated that it bothered him.
baby, i'm a man, maybe i'm a lonely man baby, i'm a man He concentrated on the roar of his bike, hoping it would drive away the thoughts of Meg. They were painful.
who's in the middle of something
that he doesn't really understand
and maybe you're the only woman who could ever help me
baby, won't you help me understand?
Stuff like that wasn't supposed to hurt a guy like him.
He knew why it hurt, too, he just didn't want to admit it. So he didn't let himself think the word.
It wouldn't go away; the regret he felt, the pain in his chest, the fact that he missed her. None of it would loosen its grip on him. Hadn't for days.
It was why he'd tried to talk to her in school. It was why he'd yelled at her and called her a hypocrite. It was why he'd crashed her brother's wedding and uttered the word, that damned four-letter word he'd been avoiding like the plague.
But the shocked look on her face and the violent reaction of her uncle Pete just reinforced the reasons he'd been avoiding it in the first place.
"I just thought you should know... I love you."
He was so stupid.
maybe i'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time maybe i'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song
maybe i'm afraid of the way i leave you
right me when i'm wrong
maybe i'm amazed at the way i really need you
Flexing his fingers over the handlebars, his hands were suddenly filled with the texture of wool. Powder blue wool. Warmth. And then, silk. Golden strands of silk.
What was happening to him? This was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to hop on his bike and take off with out a second thought to any of it. He wasn't supposed to feel guilty about leaving his mother. He wasn't supposed to worry about how Meg was taking his disappearance, or if she even knew. He certainly wasn't supposed to be remembering the feel of her or what it felt to kiss her.
And suddenly his mind was filled with images of that night. That one perfect night they'd had before he'd gone and screwed up everything.
He needed to get the hell out of Philadelphia and meet some brunette or redhead who could take his mind off Meg Pryor.
He didn't know where he was going, all he knew was that he was going. And he was going fast. Breezing through a red light, hoping he wouldn't get caught by the cops, a thought occurred to him.
He could always go to California.
Thoughts of California brought him full circle to thoughts of Meg. He didn't want to think of her. It hurt too much. And it wasn't supposed to because he wasn't supposed to care.
He'd wanted to go to California for a long time. He'd invited Meg because he liked her – loved her – and wanted her to be with him. But he'd been planning on leaving since before he'd met her. And he wasn't going to let her ruin this for him.
Making a decision, he turned his bike around and headed west. He passed his house, the Pryor house, and barely turned his head. He smiled.
California, here he came.