The Boxer (Other Side of Schwarz V)

This is more of a songfic than a ficlet. The song is 'the boxer' by Siman & Garfunkel. As I'm sure you guessed, this is the last one, Crawford's fic. Let me know if it's any good. The point of these ficlets, is to get a handle on the personalities of Schwarz, and their pasts. But it is also about how they don't know each other very well.

~oOo~

It is odd, how listening to the radio sometimes has you listening to a song where the words can describe your life perfectly. I turned on my radio, and listened. I would never hear the end of it if Schuldich found out that my radio is set to American classic rock. But, no-one ever really knows another, even a telepath.

I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocket full of mumbles, such are promises
All lies in jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest

But back to the song. I remember as a child, before Esset found me, that I had always like this song. My family was not wealthy, although not quite poor. I found that song very apt. But, I didn't want to talk of that. I do know how the others see me.

Well I left my home and my family when I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers in the quiet of the railway station, running scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know

Mein Furher, the German calls me. The boy thinks I am cold, emotionless, the madman calls me a coward. I don't know, am I? I won't get involved with a losing fight, I don't see the point of needless bloodshed. Does that make me a coward? And why does that accusation cut me as it does? If I truly was a cold as the boy thinks, I could shrug off the accusations

Asking only workman's wages, I come looking for a job,
But I get no offers, just a come-on from the whores on seventh avenue
I do declare, there were times when I was so lonesome I took some comfort there

I didn't think that I was sensitive, but that is one accusation that stung a little too much. I think I'm getting weak. Schuldich is out again, whoring himself to the masses. He always comes back stinking of stale perfume. I always thought telepaths shunned physical contact, but Schuldich seems to crave it.

When I'm laying out my winter clothes and wishing I was gone
Going home, where the New york city winters aren't bleeding me, bleeding me, going home

And Nagi. That boy. If I had know then what I do now... my visions failed me then. I saw that he would be necessary, but I have caused more trouble. The only thing that makes the idea better, is the fact that leaving him on the streets would have been crueller.

I cannot figure Farfarello out. Schuldich assumes that I know all about our mad irishman, but I don't. He is a challenge. The other part of it is, he was the only member of Schwarz that I did not select myself. The elders chose to put him with us after he showed a favourable reaction to Schuldich.

In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade,
And he carries the reminders of every bloke that laid him down
Or punched him till he cried out, in his anger and his shame
I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains

A boxer... that song, I have known it most of my life. I was a boxer once, a champion in the junior division. I wish now that I hadn't been. My success in the ring was due to my prescience, I would prefer now that I had lost every match, then Esset would never have noticed me.

I wonder if the others ever wish for the moon?

~oOo~

good, bad, appalling? Let me know.


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