By "Painbow"
Summary: Post "Not Fade Away"; angst; PG-13; that's really all you need to know...anymore would spoil it...
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
Far, far away. That was the thought that consumed him...far, far away.
Since that day he'd picked up his bag and never looked back. He'd left LA and put as much distance between him and the city as possible. He never stayed for very long in one place. If he did he knew he'd get involved...and he'd made a promise. He would never get involved again.
He knew he was running, being a chicken, but it didn't matter. He'd leave it all behind. Far, far away...
He bar hopped. He knew so much alcohol wasn't good for him, but he didn't really care. It was the only thing that was good for him, that dulled the pain. The only thing that took him a little farther.
He paid for drinks with a song. One song could usually get him a glass of something...anything. He didn't really care what he drank. It was all the same, wasn't it? It all dulled the pain that lived inside him. He'd started drinking months ago and he didn't intend to stop.
Well, it wasn't all the same. At one bar he'd been offered a Seabreeze. Local specialty apparently. He'd picked up his bag right there and left. Seabreezes were something else he'd given up, something else to escape from.
He wasn't sure where he was anymore. The only rational part of his brain that hadn't been muddled by alcohol told him that if he didn't stop running soon he'd run out of continent...almost a comforting thought. He could run right into the water and let the waves wash over him...let the sea breeze take him. He laughed humorlessly to himself.
The current bartender, who looked vaguely like all the others, gave him an odd look. Lorne just raised his glass.
"Hit me," he said, impressed at his clarity.
Someone on stage was singing Marvin Gaye and Tami Terrel. Pretty awful stuff, at least their rendition...and their future...Tough times ahead, he thought and took another sip.
He wasn't sure why he always gravitated to Karaoke bars. It reminded him of everything he was trying to leave behind. But maybe it also reminded him of a time before...before his life had been hijacked when he was just "the Host."
Someone new entered the bar. He didn't move, just stayed hunched over his drink while the poor unfortunate soul on stage continued to ruin a classic.
The warbling came to a close and the someone new took the mike. Lorne heard the first strains of Queen permeate the bar, and a voice he half recognized began to sing.
"I've paid my dues, time after time..."
Lorne tensed, his hunched shoulders straightening a little.
"...I've done my sentence, but committed no crime..."
How? He thought. How'd he get here?
"...And bad mistakes, I've made a few. I've had my share of sand kicked in my face, but I've come through...'
And they mean to go on and on and on and on, thought Lorne. They'd found him.
"It's a small world after all," he mumbled into his drink. How he didn't know. He didn't care. It didn't matter that he'd asked them to leave him alone, to never come looking. They had, and that meant he'd just have to run farther. Far, far away.
"...We are the champions- my friends..."
Lorne put a fiver down on the bar for his drink and picked up his bag. He was gone, out of here. The briny depths were starting to sound like a really good idea.
"...and we'll keep on fighting, to the end..."
But he wouldn't. He'd fought and loved and lost...and all that other crap. All he wanted now was a good bar, a good drink, and a good song, and no one who knew who he was.
He walked out the door and heard the song come to an abrupt end. He walked faster, hoping to disappear into the city streets before his past caught up. He remembered his advice to Fred so long ago...You haven't run far enough...
A hand clamped down on his shoulder. He stopped cold, shoulders tense.
"What?" he asked without turning.
"Hey, man," said Gunn's voice. "I just want to talk."
"Yeah, well I'm all talked out."
"We made it," the man behind him continued. "We won. It was hard, we nearly died, but we made it. Coulda used you, bro." Gunn sounded reproachful. "There's more trouble brewing and—"
Lorne turned, facing one of the people he left behind. "I don't want to know Gunn. I don't want to know about the battle or the new apocalypse or what happened to Wolfram and Hart. I don't want to know." He looked Gunn in the eye, the first person he'd given a straight look to since that day. Gunn took a step back.
"I stopped caring the day Fred died and I stopped pretending to care since...Lindsey. I'm done." He sighed and looked down again. "I'm not a champion, never was."
Lorne turned and began to walk away. Form behind he could hear Gunn pick up the song he'd interrupted with his hasty exit.
"and we'll keep on fighting to the end..."
Lorne stopped walking. He'd seen it, what was going to happen. He hadn't wanted to, but he'd let his defenses down and he knew. The Senior Partners weren't done. They'd been insulted twice and this time there was no chance for a miracle...there would be no dragon to slay. Only death.
Lorne stood in the street struggling with the images he'd seen, the grim reality of Gunn, and everyone else's, future. It was a time for heroes.
He straightened his back, lifted his chin...and kept walking. Running out of continent didn't mean running out of world. There were still places he could go. He hadn't run far enough yet, not nearly. If they could still find him, if his past was still catching up, he'd have to try harder.
He heard Gunn yell his name, but he didn't stop. He never would. When he reached the harbor he got on the first boat heading out of the New World. He didn't ask where it was headed, didn't care, just so long as it was far, far away.
End