What should one do when there is work to be done? When there are projects to be a-doing, and artwork to be created…why! One must write a fanfic of course! A little different than my other QL fics, I think, and thusly I hope you enjoy.
Just One More
The first one was for her.
For that warm smile, and the even warmer embrace. The way he used to hold her, and how they kissed, boy how they kissed! When he would whisper stories into her ear, and she would laugh.
That beautiful laugh. A sound, that when heard, he would forget everything else. He would twirl her in his arms, they would dance, they would hold each other close. Promising. Promising to be together.
The first one was for her.
For he left her, and she left him.
Each one breaking their promises.
It had been years, years, and years, atop of more years.
But even then, whenever he saw those flowers. Those blasted calla lilies, he would see her smile, hear her laugh, smell her perfume, touch her smooth silky skin, and taste her lips.
And he would need that drink.
The first one was always for her.
-o-O-o-
Those that followed were for all those old, and achingly familiar yet quickly fading faces. Those faces of the ones he had lost from early on; his father, Trudy, Lisa, Chip…
Sometimes he would drink to those he hurt. To those who hurt him.
Sure, why not drink to them too?
What did he care?
He needed the drinks, and he wanted reasons. Not that he needed them.
No, he had plenty.
-o-O-o-
There were times the drink was for victory. For success, and the reward of a job well done.
Occasionally there were those times.
Those times when a drink was just a drink, and there was laughter and friends, and he didn't need to depend on it so much.
Those times were rare and few.
-o-O-o-
Most of the drinks, he had to admit with guilt and shame, were for himself. It was pure selfishness that he drank. He drank to forget, to be free, and to escape memories. To escape those burning eyes, the quick grip of pain that had his gut tied up in knots. He drank to forget how quickly his life was fading into nothing.
He was a coward, escaping deeper and deeper. Hoping that no one would find him and take him back into that horrid world filled with pain. With that pain…
The drink was helping him achieve his dream, of drowning in his grief, and never resurfacing to pay witness to how he had achieved to destroy himself.
Most of the drinks were for himself.
He would raise the glass and press it against his lips harshly and swallowing with an eagerness of soul.
And the hot liquid would burn down his throat, one after the other, and he would forget everything else.
He would forget everything.
Including the man he used to be.
-o-O-o-
His last drink was for him.
For that man he calls a friend, though even that word doesn't describe what the kid means to him.
The kid with those eyes of innocence, and the heart made of solid gold. The one kid who took him, and put back hope and faith into his soul. The kid he had hated at first, for even attempting to save him. He was so close in ending it, he was so close on forgetting everything, losing everything, and have not a face care for him.
But one did.
He took him in and straightened him out. He gave him company and loyalty. He gave him a reason to look at himself better, and to help the kid out.
He actually helped someone, and remembered all the talent that lay in his grasp. He began remembering the man he was, and more importantly, the man he could be.
The kid had a dream, and allowed for him to share it. Together they were partners, leaning against each other whenever they needed to, and he had to admit, sometimes he felt as if he needed the kid more than he ever needed him.
Together they were partners, and together still.
They still share that dream, only he dreams for something more.
He dreams of the day his friend will come back home.
Because he still needs him, he stills needs someone to talk to, and Verbena was just not cutting it. She can't talk about sports or quantum physics the way you could kid.
I need you kid, otherwise here I am doing the thing you hate. I'm drinking for you, you the person who told me I didn't need it because I had you. Where are you? You aren't here, but here…here is old Jack Daniels keeping me company.
He's hoping that maybe, maybe this enough to bring him back and scold him like he used to.
As he ages, the dream seems to be slowly fading with each passing day. But it was his partner that taught him to never stop dreaming. To keeping hoping, and look where it took him?
His best buddy was traveling through time, because he had dreamed hard enough.
Well, he could dream hard enough too.
This last one is for you kid.
I promise you, if I step through that door, and you're there…
I promise you, if I find you again, if I hear your voice just one more time, if I can just see your smile…
I promise you.
This last one is for you.
Fin.