Disclaimer: In case we're not clear on this, Joss owns the Buffy-verse (we really need a better word for it than that), I'm just tresspassing on an unwatching corner of it.
Lonely Letters
Chapter Four
By IceWing (icewing@one.net)
Hey Bud,
I wish I was there for you right now, instead of being locked up in here. Hell, that's not really too hard to imagine I guess, but I really wish I could be there. Sounds like stuff is tough in the SunnyD. Don't know that I'd really be any good at helping you face what's bugging you, but I really wish I could be there to try.
If its any help, death follows us all. That was something I learned as a kid in Boston. Shit happens to good people, and we all check out sooner or later. I think the biggest things are how you live your life and how you face death. People remember you, not always for what you did, but how you did it and how you treated those around you. You mentioned sometimes wanting to put the blinders back on, trying to become one of the unaware people out there who live in their hoo-hum worlds. You think I'm a hero? I heard one time that heroes are called that due to circumstances beyond their control. I can tell you point blank I'm no hero. When my first watcher died, I tried to run from it all. I came to Sunnydale to try and get Buffy to handle everything because I was scared. Not of dying, well, not really anyway. But like I was saying, I tried to run from it. Hell, Buffy did the same thing from what little I was able to find out about your guys' pasts. Maybe it's a lineage thing. We had our fates seriously fucked with the day that we got stuck being what we are. There's no choice there. A Hero, a true hero, makes a decision to do what they do. If they see somebody about to get plastered by a truck and they sacrifice themselves to push the other person to safety, that's a hero. Somebody who puts themselves in between a bullet and an innocent, that's a hero. Our line aren't heroes. We don't have any say. The Scooby Gang, now they are heroes. They step up to the plate when by all rights they should have run screaming for safety. But instead they take part of the Slayer mantle and hold the line, fighting when they know damn well that one of these day's they're going to catch a fatal blow. But that doesn't stop them. See what I mean? Heroes, every one.
I think I was rambling there. Yep, I was. Back to what I was talking about. You choose to fight the darkness, you choose to protect the innocents. For those who really know you, that's what they will remember. You could ignore reality, become a sheep again, but in your heart, you are doing what you know is right, no matter how tough it can be. And sometimes it will be a cast iron bitch. Tell you what though, I get out of here, I'll join you for that patching the dam exercise.
Speaking of which, I guess I should probably fill you in on what's going on around this lovely resort facility I have found myself in. Things are going pretty well. I managed to get my GED, thanks to some help from the counselors here. Believe it or not, this wild child is actually working towards a college degree. Granted there's not a whole hell of a lot to do around here otherwise, but I think maybe I could get into this whole studying thing. Some of its actually applicable to my line of work too, although I really have to pick some weird courses to get the few gems I've found. So far I'm taking Western Civ., Eastern Civ., Latin (Believe it or not!) and a remedial math course. I always sucked at math, and even growing up a bit hasn't changed that.
I think that what I hate most about this place is how lonely it is here. Everybody is jockeying for power and position. Its like some kind of never ending rat race. The cons are constantly scheming and manipulating. The screws (guards) are always watching, seeing who they can pit against each other and also taking advantage of us cons whenever they can. God are they sadistic bastards. I feel bad for some of the girls who catch their eyes. Its creepy sometimes. I can feel their eyes on me, both the cons and the screws. But they know better than to mess with me. I got into a fight, a bad one, early on. I don't know if you know it or not, but there are pretty tight gangs in prison. Within a couple of weeks of my arrival here, one of the queens of the prison, and I don't mean a cross dresser by the way, decided that I was going to be her little bitch. Needless to say, I disagreed. And I told her what I thought of her, her offer and did so rather loudly. A few days later, she and her enforcers caught up with me in the yard. Pulled a shiv on me and tried to introduce it to my vital organs. Obviously, she failed, and I ended up breaking both of her arms as a thank you. Which, of course, brought the guards down on me like a ton of bricks. Nothing I could do but curl up in a ball and hope nobody decided to shoot me on principle. The week in the hole gave me time to recover though. The bruises were pretty deep. Interesting side note about my line I discovered. If we are in total blackness for extended periods of time, we, or at least I, am able to access, or at least use, some kind of bat-sonar kind of thing. Not real useful in an eight foot cube, but maybe somebody else would have use for it. Let Giles know so he can add it to his books.
Anyway, after that little incident, the cons left me alone and, as long as I keep my nose clean, the screws don't hassle me too much. Guess they don't want to run the risk of me getting mad at them, being able to take care of myself and all.
Kinda like life. There are so many people out there that are basically bullies. You stand up to them, get a determined punch through, and they bolt. Much like the demons you and I have to face sometimes. Fears are like that though. You get up the guts to stand and face them, they sometimes turn into so much smoke and just disappear. Other times you do have to go toe to toe against them, and yeah, they may get a couple of licks in, but at least you have a chance to beat them. All that you achieve by turning tail and running is that when they do finally catch up with you, is that you're tired.
~ sigh - You know, there were times in Boston where I would have killed, mostly figuratively speaking, to have a roof over my head, something warm to eat scratch that, something to eat, period. Now, I have those things and realize that I'd trade it all to be able to walk around outside, to stand under the stars, under the sun, without these walls and chains around me. Freedom is something that you really don't appreciate till its gone. But I'm paying the piper for what I did. Doesn't mean I can't miss the outside.
I miss the stars. You can't see them to well from the city, too much ambient light (that's school girl talkin!). Anyway, I used to lay in the park sometimes at night and just stare up at the heavens. Wonder about what was up there. Then reality always reared its ugly head and destroyed that moment of serenity. Its been years since I've looked at them, I just realized that. Another thing I lost somewhere along the way. It's a long list and it only seems to get longer. But sometimes at night I can see a couple of them through the window of my cell. Maybe I'm learning to dream again. Some of the nightmares are fading, but there's still so many. How does Angel do it? How can he even look himself in the mirror. Oh, never mind, dumb question~ Laugh ~
Well, I guess that's about it for tonight. Sorry if I rambled on a bit, but I think it mostly makes sense.
Hope to hear from ya soon.
Your Friend,
Faith
