Badlands
By Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band
Lights out tonight; trouble in the heartland.
Got a head on collision, smashing in my guts man
I'm caught in a crossfire that I don't understand
But there's one thing I know for sure:
The first time the power went out, Henry put it down to an annoying technical hitch. When the electricity company said his lines had been cut, he had paid a visit to Jake Jareau. Predictably, the sonuvabitch had laughed. The second time his truck picked up a puncture in town, he decided the people he had grown up with were children. The third night in a row that the police cruiser buzzed his house, Henry decided he needed to leave.
It was never going to end and, really, what did he have left to stay for? Sometimes those that were thought brave were just the ones too scared to run away.
Girl, I don't give a damn about the same old played out scenes
Baby, I don't give a damn for just the in-betweens
Honey, I want the heart, I want the soul, I want control right now.
You better listen to me, baby
Henry Sheridan pulled the door to his parents' house closed for the last time. He would always have the memories. He leant against the hood of his Ford 55 truck and took one last look at the place he had always called home. He remembered tossing a football with his grandfather because his father knew nothing about sport; he remembered his mother taking photos of him learning to ride his bike; he remembered his father teaching him the value of words; he remembered sitting on the porch, making fun of the latest high school crush his best friend had….
He shook his head. Those memories were to be packed away in a box and forgotten. Henry straightened up and pulled the driver's door open, resolute in his decision to leave it all behind. Life in the State of Independence was too painful for him now. For three months he had waited for a phone call, a visit, anything that told him he hadn't ruined everything. It never came. Twelve weeks of silence had taken their toll on his pride. It was time to move on and leave all this – leave her – behind.
Talk about a dream, try to make it real
You wake up in the night with a fear so real
You spend your life waiting for a moment that just don't come
Well, don't waste your time waiting
Washington was not East Allegheny. It was terrifying – exciting, but terrifying all the same. Senator Thompson had called personally to offer him a job. The lady had class, Henry had to admit, and ideas.
His first week in the nation's capital was a blur of introductions and late nights in the office reading position papers. The senator's staff had made him feel welcome but he still felt like an outsider. The boy with no college degree, no experience in politics, putting words into the mouth of the party's rising star. It was a world away from namelessly writing remarks for minor politicos.
On Henry's birthday he had refused any attempt to celebrate, instead choosing to leave early and go home. He woke suddenly to the sound of his phone ringing. After hunting around unopened boxes, he answered brightly when he saw the familiar number of a Quantico line.
"Henry Sheridan."
"Are you seriously sitting at home moping?"
Henry sunk back down into the sofa and sighed. "Should you be making personal calls from an FBI line?"
Emily chuckled, "Probably not. Call it a follow up on a case. Official business."
Henry stayed silent.
"Hawk 'n' Dove in ten?" Emily asked, sympathy lacing her voice.
Badlands, you got to live it everyday
Let the broken heart stand as the price you gotta pay
Keep pushing til it's understood
And these badlands start treating us good
After hanging up, Henry changed into something that didn't scream 'I came home from work and sat by the phone all night' – he was meeting a profiler, after all. He wasn't sure if the agent was taking pity on him because he had let slip it was his birthday, or because she needed to get drunk.
The semi-regular meetings with Emily were the only link Henry allowed himself to his old life, to Jennifer.
Working in the fields, Hell you get your back burned
Working 'neath the wheels, til you get your facts learned
Baby, I got my facts learned real good right now
You better get it straight, darlin'
Henry rubbed at his eyes and blinked at the clock: three am. Looking at the legal pad in front of him on the desk, he saw that all he had there was one terrible paragraph about child healthcare provision and a note from his assistant telling him to sleep. He stretched his arms and reached over to pull a binder from the shelf to his left. Somewhere in the pages was the sound bite he needed to get the senator some coverage in the press.
He thought about the little boy he had never met. He wondered if he ever got the football jersey. He wondered if he was blonds like his mother, had her blue eyes, her smile. He let his head fall into his hands; he needed people around to keep his mind focused on the job. Henry briefly considered making a play for the 'worst boss in the world' award and calling his assistant back to the office.
He turned the first page of the binder and began reading. After a few paragraphs, he began to write:
"Laissez faire is not an option. We are the greatest nation on Earth, this should not be happening here. Nearly 1 in 10 of our children is without health insurance. 1 in 10…"
Poor men wanna be rich, rich men wanna be king
And a king ain't satisfied until he rules everything
I'm gonna go out tonight, I wanna find out what I got
The party was in full swing. Henry had lost count of how many drinks people had bought for him. The senator had, quite simply, kicked ass in her debate. He didn't think it was down to him but wasn't going to let good liquor go to waste. He looked across the room and saw the senator's chief of staff reenacting her demolition of the cantankerous old bigot who had wanted to argue gay marriage with a lesbian.
This is what his father had taught him; this is what words could do.
Well, I believe in the love that you gave me
I believe in the faith that can save me
I believe in the hope and I pray
That someday it will raise me above
Henry had never been particularly religious, but every once in a while he would find himself in a church. This house of God was resplendent with its Christmas nativity. He sat near the back, eyes closed and head back. He cracked an eye when he sensed a presence settle next to him.
"Something troubling you, son?"
"Someone."
The priest nodded sagely. "Trying to forget her?"
Henry wondered, not for the first time, about the omniscience of God..
The older man smiled and pointed at the picture Henry was gripping tightly. "That man isn't you."
Henry stared at the picture. Emily had given it to him in a moment of weakness. It was taken in a park, he didn't know which one; a man holding his son while Jennifer looked on, smiling at the blonde haired boy.
These badlands, you gotta live it everyday
Let the broken heart stand as the price you gotta pay
Keep pushing til it's understood
And these badlands start treating us good
It was getting easier. He slept better now; the sleepless nights waiting for a call that never came were behind him. He had a standing lunch with the senator where she would mother him and make sure he ate at least one green thing a week. His drinking sessions with Emily involved less drink and more politician-bashing, he didn't ask about her and Emily didn't volunteer any information.
For the ones who had a notion, a notion deep inside
That it ain't no sin to be glad you're alive
I'm wanna find one face that ain't looking through me
I wanna find one place; I wanna spit in the face
Henry Sheridan had a life. And it didn't revolve around Jennifer Jareau.
Of these badlands, you gotta live it everyday
Let the broken heart stand as the price you gotta pay
Keep pushing til it's understood
And these badlands start treating us good.
"Pick up, pick up, pick up." Emily chanted into the phone as it rang and rang.
"Sheridan." He answered sleepily. It was the middle of the night; if the senator was rewriting her speech he was going to nail her hands to a desk. A writer could only take so much editing before he developed a complex.
"You need to come down to GW."
"The where? Who is this?"
"It's me. JJ's in the hospital, George Washington Hospital – she's asking for you."