Perhaps Goodbye is Wrong...

By Kourin Lucrece

Disclaimer: Look, if I owned it, would I be an author of fanfics?

Author's Note: More of my little fic! This chapter is Roger, the next will be Mark. They are both dealing with "What You Own". After that, who knows? Read on...

~*~Roger~*~

On the road again, just can't fucking wait to get on the road again... Yeah, right. What the hell am I doing? I don't even know what state I'm in at this point, but thank God it's warmer than New York.

It'll probably take me about a week to get to Santa Fe, I figure. Assuming that Santa Fe is where I want to be. God these past twelve hours have sucked. The funeral, the argument, Mimi... All of it is just playing over and over in my head. Fuck.

The whole drive so far I've had Mimi's eyes haunting me, I can't get them out of my mind. And I've found that no matter what else I'm running from, I can't hide from those eyes. It really surprised me when I found her there, listening. Why did I leave? Maybe Mark was right and I am running out when I shouldn't.

No! He's wrong! The filmmaker can't see anything, for all he 'observes' everything. He's so fucking wrapped up in his denial that he'll never see. I'm the songwriter, why is it that I see Mimi everywhere I turn?

No matter how much I tell myself that this is for the best, I know that I'm making a mistake. But tighten your shoulders and don't let go, right? I have to go through with it. Who knows? I may find whatever it is I'm looking for in Santa Fe. I'll just sit here and ape content, enjoy myself as much as fucking possible.

The road is just starting to fill with morning traffic now, I'll probably pull off at the next rest stop and relax for a bit. If I can relax. Her eyes are still pleading with me, begging me to take her back. I want to, Baby, but it's too late.

Exit sign, shit I almost missed it. I pull of with a screech of tires protesting the sudden movement and a honking of horns behind me. I pull shakily into a parking space and just lean back, closing my eyes.

Without my guitar for comfort, I try to imagine the chords of Musetta's Waltz. But instead, chords seem to form of their own accord. Shit! I can think of my song, what I've been looking for all along. It's her; it's Mimi! Her eyes...

Maybe this trip was worthwhile after all. Suddenly, I'm not so tired. I pull back onto the highway, the song forming further in my mind as I go. Baby, I know you can't hear me, but this is for you. I've found my song. I'll write it and then it's all yours.

Just wait. We're living in America, but I can affect this millennium. I'm not alone, Baby, 'cuz I know you're there.

~*~*~*~

What do you think? I know that I made Roger out to be kind of odd, but I like it! (Another really short one, but I altered lines from both Your Eyes and What You Own in there, didja notice?)