Title: I Could Still See the Postcards
Author: Roguester
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own Travis, Lily, Ray, or Bridget. But I think the devil does.
Recommended background music: Let Me In by Save Ferris

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Chapter 4: Knowledge is Power-less

(Bridget)

We have to talk. I can't believe he just said that. I just can't.

And I have to look everywhere else – my wall, my bed, my toes... everywhere else besides my computer screen. Because that email I just received? It's... it's all wrong. This whole thing is just wrong.

I mean, doesn't Ray know that nothing good can ever come after 'we have to talk'?

But I've got to hand it to him, though. He sought his path, found it, and took his chances. His intentions were good, but his luck was severely lacking. Of course, luck is nonexistent insofar as one's ability to make his own decisions. But even though Ray did make his own decision, fate still found a way to... well, screw him over.

So apparently Ray finally told Lily how he felt about her. And supposedly Ray stormed off because Lily had nothing to say to him. Apparently, they made a semi-scene in the hallway, causing all the bystanders to, supposedly, be late for their classes.

And apparently Ray will be fine, but Travis said that it's Lily who he's worried about. Apparently that's the case. Apparently.

And it's interesting how I know all these things. Every two days Travis sends me an email, telling me something new about his circle of friends. And through our correspondence, I gain new knowledge that somehow brings me closer to him. I hold onto this knowledge hoping to someday achieve a sense of contentment: that I'd be grateful to have learned so much, and yet be thankful that I'm learning still.

Like, I know that Travis' first friend at Roscoe was Robbie, and that Robbie has been friends with Ray and Lily ever since he was a kid...

I know that Ray has an odd taste in food and that he has an older brother named Tim.

I know that Robbie lives with his mom and that his dad is deceased.

I know that one of Lily's favorite bands is Pavement and that she ran for class president last year.

I know that Lily once had a goldfish, but Ray flushed it down the toilet.

I know that Lily has a pink bandanna, just like the one I wore the other day.

I know that Lily has a small scar on her elbow from the last time she went rollerblading.

I know that Lily used to like Fast and Dirty, but not anymore.

I know that Lily's a musician and I know that she's driven. I know that her mom's name is Simone and I know that her dad's name is Philip. I know that she's an only daughter and I know that she secretly wanted a brother. I've learned all the things that is to know about her and yet I question if I'm grateful to be learning still.

I read Travis' email for the third time and hit the 'reply' button. I type: Dear Mr. T, I miss you more and more each day. I can't wait to see you and your friends again.

Delete, delete, delete.

Do I really want to send him this response? Should he really subject himself to this blackhole of empty words and endless psychobabble? My mind is clear and my intentions are direct, but my hope is futile and my attempts are now useless. Who was I to assume that my presence can pull Travis out of his current life and conveniently place him back into our shared past? Who was I to belong in a place that's entirely his?

In all of my life I've known three things to their very basic form: I know Buddhism, I know philosophy, and I know Travis Strong. But Travis Strong knows Lily Randall, and therein lies my problem.

Because I've received plenty of postcards from Travis these past few weeks – all of them displaying beautiful sceneries from all over the world. But it doesn't matter how many more postcards I get from him because they're all going to be post-dated from Roscoe this year. Just Roscoe. Always Roscoe.

Roscoe, where his friends reside. Roscoe, where his new life is. Roscoe, always Roscoe... a place synonymous to bandannas and pink hair and Lily Randall, who is his home away from me.

I set my eyes on the computer screen again and now I know what to do. I type: Dear Travis, I already know that Lily has a pink bandanna...

I type: You told me that three times already...

I type: But I know something else that you don't...

I type: She used to have a huge crush on you.

And the tears are stinging my eyes now, but it's too late to wipe them away. For the final time, I typed Love always, Bridget... and I clicked send, send, send.

(to be continued...)

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A/N: I know some of you are asking, "Why? Why didn't she kill Bridget off?" Well, my lovelies... I didn't kill her off because I'm not that evil. I may be bitter, but I'm not that evil. Nevertheless, I made up for it by cutting this chapter shorter than the first three. I hope everyone's okay with that. And also, you might notice that I put up my "recommended background music" on the heading. Download the song. Listen to it. Then after you read this fic, you may want to make yourself a soundtrack. Fun times.