Happy December the first to everyone. Eirual is very happy, as she can finally listen to Christmas music :) For anyone looking for updates to Mirkwood Elf, don't expect any soon. Sun Queen and Ivory Moon have gone on a trip for the next few days, putting a slight damper on the writing process. Don't worry about this story however. Updates shall continue at the regular times. Enjoy the chapter.

The only Nightrunners left, Eirual

Cheerios and Crazy People:

Soundtrack: Don't Let Me Get Me (Pink)



I never win 1st place
I don't support the team
I can't take direction
And my socks are never clean
Teachers dated me
My parents hated me
I was always in a fight
'Cause I can't do nothing right

Everyday I fight a war against the mirror
Can't take the person staring back at me

I'm a hazard to myself
Don't let me get me
I'm my own worst enemy
It's bad when you annoy yourself
So irritating
Don't want to be my friend no more
I wanna be somebody else

So doctor doctor won't you please prescribe me something
A day in the life of someone else

I'm a hazard to myself
Don't let me get me
I'm my own worst enemy
It's bad when you annoy yourself
So irritating
Don't want to be my friend no more
I wanna be somebody else




Adam awoke to the customary rattle and crash of someone in an unfamiliar house attempting to find something and still remain quiet. He was rather confused as to how he had managed to wake up in his own bed with no memory of how he had gotten there. He hoped this wasn't going to become a habit. Waking up with a pounding headache and a vague recollection of being attacked and beaten to a proverbial pulp too many times was a good way to ensure the future employment of many expensive psychiatrists.

The rattle from the kitchen intensified. A rather loud crash was immediately followed by a string of indistinct words, nonetheless identifiable as cursing. More worrisome to Adam, however, was the sudden silence.

Not too worrisome though. Paranoia ran amok in Necropolis citizens, especially the cops. Anyone who was *stupid* enough to go to sleep unarmed would, more than likely, never wake up again. As much as Adam enjoyed his rest, it wasn't on his top-ten list for a permanent vacation spot.

His bedroom door swung open. Adam had just enough time to be thankful that he was very lax in oiling the hinges before he started to move.

"Gnnmorphing Afem..." Adam had to give the guy credit. Not many kept talking when a cop shoved a gun up their nose. Even fewer people could manage to sound cheerful at the same time.

For Mark's part, he couldn't decide which was funnier. The fact that Aragorn was threatening him with a gun up his nose, or the fact that he could now pound him into a greasy little puddle. Actually, he wasn't sure if he *could* beat the ex-king, but it would sure be fun to try.

"Who are you? And what the *hell* are you doing in *my* apartment?"

Then again, maybe not.

"Hi. I'm Mark Brand. We met at Legolas' place. Are you feeling better? I made you breakfast."

Adam glanced down at the contents of the tray. He *thought* that the bowl contained cereal of some sort. He wasn't really sure.

"Look, I made *Cheerios*." He seemed very proud of this accomplishment. "Please don't shoot me. I *know* that you're a healer and all, but it would hurt a lot, and I'd get blood in the carpet, and you really don't want to spend the rest of the day cleaning blood out of your carpet, do you?"

"Shut up."

"Oh. 'kay. No problem. I can do that. Shutting up is not a problem. See, this is me shutting up. Pip, I mean Peter, always says that I babble too much, and that I..."

Adam just stared at the rocker, incredulity creeping across his features. Inarticulate babble continued wash over him, but Adam wasn't really paying attention anymore. It suddenly occurred to him that the *polite* thing to do would be to remove his gun from Mark's nose.

"Breakfast?"

Mark nodded in encouragement. "I brought asprin too. It might help after the beating that the Lady Arwen gave you. Oh, and before I forget to ask, how are you feeling, Aragorn?"

Adam tensed again. "You're another one of those bloody lunatics, aren't you!? *Leave*. *Me*. *Alone*. I am not the person you all seem to think I am. I can't help you. Placing your trust in me is like bungee jumping with cobwebs."

Mark set down the tray, and sat Adam down on his bed. Flopping down next to him, he leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Officer Gordon, may I call you Adam? Great. Now, let me tell you a little story. Once upon a time there was a king of Men. His name was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, son of some guy whose name started with Ar... and so on, blah blah blah, I can't remember the rest. Not that it matters. At any rate, his great great to the billionth power grandfather fucked up big time. Three thousand years later, Aragorn was still beating himself up over this. He was convinced that he would be responsible for the entire world breaking up like a jigsaw puzzle just because he was from the same bloodline. Now, how *stupid* can you get?"

He seemed to want an answer, so Adam hazarded a guess. "Pretty stupid?"

"Exactly."

"I still can't help you Merry. I hurt all of you. I hurt her. I won't make the same mistakes again. Never again..."

" Aragorn, I..."

"I TOLD YOU I'M NOT THIS ARAGORN PERSON! I CAN'T *HELP* YOU!!"

To his complete surprise, Mark started to laugh.

" You really *are* insane, aren't you?" Adam fought the urge to see *exactly* how far up Mark's nose he could make his gun go.

" No. I'm not insane, although a number of my old friends seem to have formed this opinion lately. You guys haven't started a club or anything, have you?"

Adam found he had no answer to this. He shook his head, wondering what he had done to have his life screwed up in this manner. // I bet it's because I wrecked Barry's car when I was 17, and blamed it on Finn.//

He realized that Mark was speaking again, and tried to focus.

"...so you're truly out of it, I think. You're: 'I can't help you Merry' one second, then 'Who the hell are you?' the next. It's like, first you're Adam, then you're Aragorn, then Adam's back, the stubborn bastard. You're there, then you're not there, then you're there, then you're not there-"

"Huh?"

Mark waved his arms towards Adam, looking pleased. "Look, see? You're gone again."

Adam had a very strong urge to just get up and leave. At this point he was fairly worried about Alice. His last recollection of her involved great amounts of pain, coupled with the vague memory of being beaten off the walls several times in rapid succession. He decided to voice this worry:

"Look, I'm sure this is all very interesting, but I need to go make sure my partner is okay."

"Lady Undómiel? Oh, she's fine. She's over at Legolas', I think."

"Why am I not reassured somehow?"

As Adam made a move for the door, the ground decided that it was going to take on properties similar to a wave tank. It lurched.

Mark caught him by the shoulder before he hit the floor. "Hey, take it easy." Steering Adam back to his bed, he continued the earlier conversation as though nothing had happened. "Besides, she really beat the crap out of you. I'm not sure if a visit from you is quite what she needs at the moment. Or exactly what you need either. She gave you quite a concussion." He continued to prattle on as he tucked Adam back into bed.

The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was: "Anyway, I drove you home last night. Your keys are on the dresser, but I'm not sure if they'll do you much good. I forgot about the parking regulations around here, so your car's been impounded. It shouldn't cost *too* much to get it back. Sleep well."

// Stupid hobbit....//