Title: Reflection
Author: EV
e-mail: EVLYN827@cs.com
summary: POV: Brian deals with his guilt.
Spoilers: Season 1-episode 22 and Season 2-episode 1
Disclaimer: I have no claim to the characters--just the voices that live in my head.
Thanks: To Debi--who understands my apprehension at plunging forth into unfamiliar territory.
And to Michael Easton, who's book of poems, Eighteen Straight Whiskeys was an inspiration to write a POV fic.
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I still feel dirty. The glass feels cool against my forehead, a welcomed relief from the sweat inducing atmosphere of Babylon. You look the same. Same as last night--and the night before. You look peaceful lying there. The imagined warmth of your hospital bed is a stark contrast to the coldness of the cement. I still feel it. I still see it--see you lying there. You can't remember--I can't forget. The blood stains have vanished from your pale skin, the traces of violence seemingly washed away. I still feel dirty.
I should have known. I should have seen this coming. Bad news. I didn't think when I saw you that night washed in the glow of the street lamp that I'd be looking at you again...like this. I saw you as a conquest--another notch in the Brian Kinney belt of honor--nothing more. It's never been anything more--for me. After all, better men than you have not been as fortunate. Other men? Other boys. You're were a boy. I was a man. I am a man. I should have known.
Blame me for what's happened to you. Your mother blames me. What is it that you wanted from me? What can I give you? Sex. A fuck. Your first fuck. Entrance into the "boys club". If not me--than someone else. Someone else would have fucked you. That's not special. But it's become special--to you. To me? If I hadn't seen you that night, outside of Babylon, some other predator would have shown you the way. Would he be standing here now instead of me? You picked me. Or, I chose you. I can't remember. You wanted to be fucked and I gave you exactly what you wanted. But not this. You wanted the best...can't blame you. Blame me.
Nothing stops it. Life goes on. The "munchers" saw to that. A part of Brian Kinney will live on forever through him. Do you remember the night he was born? You celebrated with me. That was the night you were born--into this life. Born into this living hell. This nightmare that I created for you. The denial that you live with at home. The confusion that you live with at school. The fear that you live with on the street. The possibility that things will change. The hope that ignorance will end. The reality that life does go on. Regardless. Nothing stops it.
Damn it. You're tossing in you sleep again. Tossing and turning on store bought pillows. Dreaming? Are you reliving that night over and over again while you sleep? I do. Nightmares befall us all. I know. I see you in my dreams-- I see him coming after you. But, there is no time--he is moving to fast and you are too far away. I run. But, there's no time to stop it. I hear the crack of the bat. I wake up sweating, unable to breathe. I prefer to fall asleep that way. If I held you, would you settle? Would you feel comforted by my touch or would my presence be a reminder of why you are here? Damn it.
I need nothing. Neither should you. I need no one. Neither should you. Grow up for Christ's sake! Stand up. Be a man. Be a man without me. That's what I had to do. But you're just a boy aren't you? I have a child. I have a son. I take care of him. I write a check. I don't DO boyfriends. I told you that--from the beginning. I don't DO relationships. I never lied to you. Why am I here? I'm here because I think you need me. I'm not your occupational therapist. I'm not your trauma specialist. I'm not even your God damned mother sitting there holding your hand. I'm here because I can't fix this with money. Is there a difference between wanting and needing? Do you need me or do you want me? I have what I want. I need nothing.
Do you know that I'm here? The lights are dim. The darkness gives me comfort. Content with not having to say anything. I can see you--watch you. You can't see me. It's better this way. If you knew--you'd think the wrong thing. You'd think that I wanted to be here. I don't. You'd think that it means something. It doesn't. I know that it doesn't. Do you? I thought that I was the best thing that could have happened to you. Maybe you are the best thing that has happened to me. It hurts for me to think about you. I can't explain the pain. It's new to me. I know that I'm alive. I feel alive. I watch you sleep--every night for the past six weeks. Do you know that I'm here?
I want you to be strong. I need you to be independent. I want to give you back your youth--your childhood. I want to give you back your life. Your own life, not mine. I took your sweet dreams and gave you back nightmares. There is no substitute for holding in the pain. Sometimes I think you know why I do the things I do. Do you know that I miss you? Okay, I said it. I want to see you happy. I want to see you smile. You turned and smiled at me in the parking garage. Then I knew why Debby calls you "Sunshine". I want you to be better. I want you to get better. I want--------you.
Author: EV
e-mail: EVLYN827@cs.com
summary: POV: Brian deals with his guilt.
Spoilers: Season 1-episode 22 and Season 2-episode 1
Disclaimer: I have no claim to the characters--just the voices that live in my head.
Thanks: To Debi--who understands my apprehension at plunging forth into unfamiliar territory.
And to Michael Easton, who's book of poems, Eighteen Straight Whiskeys was an inspiration to write a POV fic.
_______________________________________________________________________
I still feel dirty. The glass feels cool against my forehead, a welcomed relief from the sweat inducing atmosphere of Babylon. You look the same. Same as last night--and the night before. You look peaceful lying there. The imagined warmth of your hospital bed is a stark contrast to the coldness of the cement. I still feel it. I still see it--see you lying there. You can't remember--I can't forget. The blood stains have vanished from your pale skin, the traces of violence seemingly washed away. I still feel dirty.
I should have known. I should have seen this coming. Bad news. I didn't think when I saw you that night washed in the glow of the street lamp that I'd be looking at you again...like this. I saw you as a conquest--another notch in the Brian Kinney belt of honor--nothing more. It's never been anything more--for me. After all, better men than you have not been as fortunate. Other men? Other boys. You're were a boy. I was a man. I am a man. I should have known.
Blame me for what's happened to you. Your mother blames me. What is it that you wanted from me? What can I give you? Sex. A fuck. Your first fuck. Entrance into the "boys club". If not me--than someone else. Someone else would have fucked you. That's not special. But it's become special--to you. To me? If I hadn't seen you that night, outside of Babylon, some other predator would have shown you the way. Would he be standing here now instead of me? You picked me. Or, I chose you. I can't remember. You wanted to be fucked and I gave you exactly what you wanted. But not this. You wanted the best...can't blame you. Blame me.
Nothing stops it. Life goes on. The "munchers" saw to that. A part of Brian Kinney will live on forever through him. Do you remember the night he was born? You celebrated with me. That was the night you were born--into this life. Born into this living hell. This nightmare that I created for you. The denial that you live with at home. The confusion that you live with at school. The fear that you live with on the street. The possibility that things will change. The hope that ignorance will end. The reality that life does go on. Regardless. Nothing stops it.
Damn it. You're tossing in you sleep again. Tossing and turning on store bought pillows. Dreaming? Are you reliving that night over and over again while you sleep? I do. Nightmares befall us all. I know. I see you in my dreams-- I see him coming after you. But, there is no time--he is moving to fast and you are too far away. I run. But, there's no time to stop it. I hear the crack of the bat. I wake up sweating, unable to breathe. I prefer to fall asleep that way. If I held you, would you settle? Would you feel comforted by my touch or would my presence be a reminder of why you are here? Damn it.
I need nothing. Neither should you. I need no one. Neither should you. Grow up for Christ's sake! Stand up. Be a man. Be a man without me. That's what I had to do. But you're just a boy aren't you? I have a child. I have a son. I take care of him. I write a check. I don't DO boyfriends. I told you that--from the beginning. I don't DO relationships. I never lied to you. Why am I here? I'm here because I think you need me. I'm not your occupational therapist. I'm not your trauma specialist. I'm not even your God damned mother sitting there holding your hand. I'm here because I can't fix this with money. Is there a difference between wanting and needing? Do you need me or do you want me? I have what I want. I need nothing.
Do you know that I'm here? The lights are dim. The darkness gives me comfort. Content with not having to say anything. I can see you--watch you. You can't see me. It's better this way. If you knew--you'd think the wrong thing. You'd think that I wanted to be here. I don't. You'd think that it means something. It doesn't. I know that it doesn't. Do you? I thought that I was the best thing that could have happened to you. Maybe you are the best thing that has happened to me. It hurts for me to think about you. I can't explain the pain. It's new to me. I know that I'm alive. I feel alive. I watch you sleep--every night for the past six weeks. Do you know that I'm here?
I want you to be strong. I need you to be independent. I want to give you back your youth--your childhood. I want to give you back your life. Your own life, not mine. I took your sweet dreams and gave you back nightmares. There is no substitute for holding in the pain. Sometimes I think you know why I do the things I do. Do you know that I miss you? Okay, I said it. I want to see you happy. I want to see you smile. You turned and smiled at me in the parking garage. Then I knew why Debby calls you "Sunshine". I want you to be better. I want you to get better. I want--------you.