Thanks to enough reviewers, this story will be posted in its entirety (well, maybe minus one pointless chapter). Thank you for your time.
And a special thanks to Yeyana Valentine and Teya Yashitoda, without whom this chapter would not have been posted! (And yes, I'm going to thank you every chapter.)
Disclaimer: I don't own JTHM, Squee, or any of these songs.
Note: This is it. The last chapter. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you all!
Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums,
Part Eight:
Runaway Train
He was walking. Walking with only his guitar for company. He wished it wasn't like this. He was searching for someone; living on a train to train basis. (And he didn't pay, of course.) He was tired, so tired that sleep wasn't even possible. So he kept walking. Occasionally, on the trains there were other people like him, wanderers with a life all their own. He could never keep his secrets, those of his many lives, but they never called him crazy. They understood.
He'd promised himself he wouldn't cry.
He could never keep his promises, it seemed.
There was no one there, no one to help him. Sure, they listened and they understood, but they weren't able to help him. No one could. He was in this too far, this never-ending quest for love and liberty. And there was no way out. It seems he'd really done it this time, led himself so far astray that there was no getting back on the tracks.
The next train was coming.
There was no going back. His life was going the wrong way in a right way world. He should've gotten where he was going by now, but where exactly was he headed? Somehow he was stuck in the middle of it all, neither here nor there, living nor dead. He had to remember to smile, these days. Nothing was worthwhile anymore…
How did he get to be so jaded?
Nothing about life was a mystery anymore…
He knew things. Things the rest of the world couldn't even fathom. He'd been to heaven and Hell, and come back to tell the tale… Repeatedly.
Rain.
He turned his face upwards, letting the drops cleanse his soul. He felt as if he were drowning in it, drowning in the clarity of it.
He had a ticket for a runaway train, and he knew it. You couldn't see it, but it was there. A stain on his otherwise immortal soul. Maybe he'd get some rest after all this. Everything was the same, no matter when he was. Night flowed into day, the earth revolved in the heavens, the moon went through its phases… and the stars. Ah, the stars… Dying and being born, absorbing everything around them, burning in the sky.
He couldn't believe in anything but stars.
He'd bought his ticket for the runaway train. From where, he knew exactly. The first night his Destiny broke through his window… And now he was walking again. But not for long.
Next train comin'.
There was a girl.
Wide hat tilted over her eyes, with a green hippie skirt, black tight shirt, and huge black buckled leather boots. She was asleep.
"What took you so long?"
…Or not.
Nothing mattered now. Nothing but her.
Love. Such a strong word, but not strong enough. Nothing was ever strong enough.
Strong enough to last through the ages, strong enough to break all bonds.
They laughed, echoing the thunder with their joy.
A little out of touch, some might say a little insane.
It was easier than dealing with the pain anyway.
None of that mattered.
---
Their first son was born in the summer, one year later.
---
Train to train, never looking back, tearing up the track with the enormity of their love. It burnt in their veins, burnt in the stars, their smoldering dreams.
Runaway, but it always seems the same…
---
They would keep getting reincarnated until they got it right, no prejudice, no murder, just them and life.