Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Surprised?


The Deep End

Imagine walking down the hall at night and seeing the shadow of your legs. Now imagine that your eyes are glued to the floor because you're afraid that if you look back at them there might be more than just your shadow. Mirrors are exactly the same; you're afraid to look in them because you might see someone else's face looking back over your shoulder.

Imagine, if you will, that you don't let your feet stick off the edge of the bed and you don't stand too close to counters because you're afraid the next thing you'll feel is someone's hands grabbing your ankles.

Imagine only walking on tiles that are diagonal from each other. Of always putting your right foot on the fifth step no matter what. Of only stepping on the ferns on the floral rug.

Imagine hearing two people talking in the kitchen when you know there are only two people in the house and you're the only one awake.

And now imagine that's the way you've lived the last 10 years of your life.

Now I'm not saying that it's anyone's fault and I'm not saying that I've had it rougher than anyone else. In fact, I've had a pretty good life, all things considered. The only thing unstable in my family was me. They were all supportive and really nice about it. But they blamed themselves and they shouldn't have.

It was my brother who got me this job, pushing papers at the local DAUC branch. DAUC is Defense Against Unnatural Creatures, but I don't really know what they do. I just mail things to who they need to get to. And they don't even get mad at me when I come in late on Thursdays and never come in on the 13th or 31st at all.

They say I'm doing better. I can't really tell, but I guess I believe them. I've stopped seeing as much, which they say is a good thing. And he doesn't talk to me anymore. They say that's good too. But I think it's just lonely.

But he isn't even real.

I think.

I think that's what I think.

It's what they tell I should think.

So I think that way.

I think.

It's like when I watch the stack of files in front of me. Sometimes they'll just be sitting there, like paper should. Other times they'll start rearranging themselves and I'm the only one who notices. They shuffle themselves around so that I can't find the one I'm looking for. And if anyone else tries to help they get themselves back in order so that no one believes me.

They're tricky, those files.

The pills they gave me are supposed to help. I guess they do. They say they do. But sometimes I just get the feeling I'm missing something. Kind of like if you went to bed and dreamt in color and woke up to a world of black and white. Just black and white and gray. Then out of the corner of your eye you think you see a splash of red or yellow. So you turn to look at it.

But it's just gray.

And black and white.

It's that kind of thinking that makes me twitchy. It makes me realize that the second hand of the clock down the hall isn't very steady. It speeds up sometimes and then it slows down. And time goes with it. It's a kind of feeling you get, the one where you just want to walk out the door, get on a bus and go where ever it takes you. But at the same time you're scared to move. Because there's something watching you that you know you should be able to see, but you can't. And it's just waiting, waiting for you to slip up.

That's how I felt when I left work today. Jumpy. I felt eyes on the back of my neck all the way home. I turned around and walked backwards for a while. But as soon as I turned back around I felt them again.

I tried telling myself that there wasn't anything there, just like they told me to. It didn't work though, because there was something there. I knew it. I couldn't very well lie to myself and say something wasn't there when it was. But I tried.

I don't know what made me do it, maybe it was a combination of the eyes and the creaks of the floorboards, buttonight, when I was sitting at home on the sofa, I made the decision not to take my pills.

I went to bed.

Then I woke up and he was standing there. I didn't actually see him, I never have, but I knew he was there. And he was talking.

"So Race, I see you've decided to rejoin the living." He had a calm blue voice with shards of red and orange. I had missed it without even knowing I was missing it.

I tried to get up to walk over to him, but I was tied to the bed. I wasn't surprised. It was just like them to keep me tied up at night.

Before I could answer he was gone.

The room was warmer than it was before.

And the gray had hints of blue.


AN: This is an AU story (which should have been kind of obvious by now). I don't have much to say about it. But I like it. Of course, I have the added benefit of knowing where it's going.