I own nothing, of course. *sigh*
And I'd like to dedicate this to my dear friend, Anna. Thank you so much for your continuous support!
I hope you like it :) All of you! ;)
Chapter 11: The Fifth Interlude
Lost
I hear footsteps overhead
And my thoughts return
Again
Like a child who's run away
And won't be coming back
Time keeps passing by
As night turns into day
(Dream Theater; Endless Sacrifice)
ooOOOoo
A lonely man stood in the middle of a vast, barren room with the simple, beige-greyish walls around him and a cold floor under his feet.
A huge rectangle opening in the wall before him allowed the last reddish beams of the setting sun through. A mild evening breeze was coming along. However, his face was turned to the floor. His eyes were closed, as if meditating; and a tiny furrow marked the point between his eyebrows. Thick, black hair fell in his face, covering his sight like a dark curtain.
He was of a very lean, but well-built figure. His slender arms with precisely carved muscles and a metal chain around one wrist were tense; the hands plunged into the pockets of his jeans. Those were loose, deliberately tattered here and there, and together with a pair of perfect white sneakers and not too tight, not too loose grey t-shirt shaped his overall roguish look.
Suddenly, the young man sighed. Lightly, as a blow of the gentle breeze.
Shiro Nakamune was a thoroughly calm being. He kept mostly to himself, trying to avoid as many unimportant matters around him as possible, although he was always aware of what was happening. He was not inert; he just did not want to get involved. Simply and as a whole, he would describe his existence as peaceful. Sure, the people who knew him would disagree. And yes, they would be most likely right, since Shiro was practically leading several lives at once.
Why?
First of all, Shiro was an artist. He loved drawing, but his ultimate love had always been music. And it always had intrigued him that his parents had never understood this simple concept. No, they had not. And thus, he had been forced to become an outstanding, brilliant student of particle physics at MIT. Yes, forced at first, but somehow… he had come to like it. Almost as much as he liked poker sessions. Because poker sessions meant money to him. And money meant possibilities. And last but not least, he was an addict. An absolutely devoted addict to his car, his precious Mitsubishi Lancer Evo VIII. Pitch-black, with venomous-green rims. His precious Miko.
He sighed again. The car stood just a few feet away from him, but today he refused to look at it. Because his usually cold blood went boiling just at the thought of the huge scratch on the door.
But it was not all that had bothered him that day. First was the morning incident in the lecture room. He had fallen asleep, yes. In the first row, okay. And maybe he had been snoring a bit… But come on, what had been all that fuss about?
And then the lunch. The course he had chosen had been rather disgusting, not to mention he had spilled some sauce on his favorite Loudness t-shirt. Then the shocking realization he had completely confused the days in which the homework should have been sent. And finally, the most terrifying, heart-stopping discovery of the scratch.
Well, all in all, Leonard had most probably named it just a few hours before. This day was totally fucked-up.
Shiro drew in a sharp breath, raised his stare up, to the ceiling, and chewed on the inside of his cheeks.
Today, he was not calm. Actually, he was very far from that. But what to do with it? There was such a rage inside him that even taking a seat behind his drums felt annoying.
No. He felt like destroying something. Yeah, throwing some huge electronic device out of the window could help. Strange feelings, really.
In the end, he exhaled slowly, hung his head and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He sat down, lighted one, took in a lung-full of the tasty smoke, breathed it out and watched it mix with the orange sunlight. And so he just sat there, letting the taste roll on his tongue, allowing the raising smoke to take away his anger. In the end, he took the last drag and focused on the skyline before him: the setting sun casting long shadows, coming through the windows… Perhaps he finally understood why Leonard inclined to sit in the wide window, just watching this scenery. There certainly was something about it.
And there certainly was something about Leonard staring into the vast space like that. He always seemed like looking for something. A lost home? Yes, most likely. It was a sad true. And even more painful that there was not even a hint of a memory of that in his head.
Yes. Leonard Wednesday. Such a stranger. Such a riddle.
But well, Shiro loved riddles. The more complex, the more challenging for him, and the more entertaining. After all, he always needed to keep his unusual intellect occupied.
He never told Leonard about it, but ever since they had met, Shiro started working on solving this intriguing puzzle. And the more Shiro got to know his friend, and the more they experienced together, the more he felt he was coming closer and closer to something great, something unimaginable, something enormous that was waiting for him just to reach out and unveil.
Leonard was the strangest, the most fascinating person Shiro had ever met. His personality… everything about him was so unclear, so ambiguous. Leonard was an enigma altogether. Quiet, observant and watchful. Distrustful. But in contrast, he was giving an impression of a good person, yet at times it felt as though something dark were always looming over him. And his mind, brilliant and bright, was stunningly quick. His memory was outstanding - the load of data he could remember after perceiving them just once was enormous; not to speak of his ability to analyze and solve problems, and not only the purely logical ones.
And it was not everything. Not at all. Leonard's appearance alone, his look, his raven hair and twinkling green eyes, his pale skin – everything felt so strange, so unearthly. But still, too perfect. Like his voice. The way he could speak… Yes, there was another thing that rather troubled Shiro. Because he was quite certain that Leonard understood Japanese.
Yeah, maybe.
No, most likely.
And what about this extraordinary memory loss? It had lasted rather too long, hadn't it? Yet, there were the utter headaches and depressions that would hit Leonard from time to time… They seemed to come always after some disappointment, or whenever Leonard felt he was close to something from his past. Like back then, when he accidentally addressed Bret as "Thor". All those weird things flowed through Leonard's life, leaving him deep in thought, closed and frowning.
Yet again, he was never able to stay sad and silent for a long time. Especially when in a good mood, he was overly cheerful, sly and teasing. That was the real Leonard Wednesday. Mischief personified.
Mischief personified.
Shiro chuckled to himself. Well, if Bret was Thor, then…
His heart sped up.
No.
Shiro loved Norse mythology. He had read all the related books many times over. And as a child, for a million times he had wished Loki was real and took him once to a journey full of his tricks and riddles and adventure.
But no. There was an infinitely small probability that there was a place called Asgard somewhere amongst the stars. Let alone its random inhabitants falling down to Earth and forgetting about who they used to be.
Yet… Yet!
Shiro chuckled again, covering his face with his hands. Leonard had been found in the middle of nowhere, right? 'It was like I had fallen from the sky,' he told him once.
But… Shiro did not believe in supernatural beings, after all. No, Leonard was no Loki. It just was not true. However, if there were someone close to the god of mischief, it would be Leonard. Certainly.
Finally, Shiro glanced at the smoldering cigarette end. Then he turned it in his fingers and with a few swift movements, he drew two sings on the floor before him.
"Shiroi kuro." He said, smiled slyly to himself and flipped the stub out of the window.
"Yoshi!" He breathed then, jumped on his feet and ran out of the room. Next instant, he was back with a paper and a piece of charcoal.
Why have I never drawn this view before? He asked himself shortly before drawing the first line. Anyway, this is for you, Loki.
ooOOOoo
The sound of music welcomed him as Leonard ascended the stairs and opened the door to the elevated parking lot. He was expecting his roommates practising, though, and not the artificial sound coming from the radio inside the poor scratched black car.
A well-known figure was sitting cross-legged on the floor, illuminated by the very last bits of daylight, inspecting a charcoal drawing; his body moved minutely to the sound. A silvery tendril of smoke was sneaking silently up to the ceiling.
Shiro turned and grinned in greeting. "I've been expecting you." He said.
"Oh." Leonard nodded, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black pants. "Any special reason?"
"Yes." Shiro said, glancing out of the wide window and sucking in another portion of smoke. "And no." he breathed out.
It was almost dark outside, the streetlights getting on as the last remnants of sunshine tumbled over the roofs.
Leonard finally stood right beside his friend, viewed the drawing shortly, then noticed the signs on the floor. And then he got down and sat next to Shiro, folding his long legs underneath him.
"What are these?" he asked after a silent moment, his chin gesturing at the signs.
"We both know you know their meaning." Shiro pointed out eventually, offering a quick sideways glance.
Leonard blinked. And said nothing.
Yes, of course he knew. But what he had never known was that Shiro was aware. Anyway…
"Yes I do." He admitted then, his look twisting to the window and off to the deep-blue heights.
Shiro smiled again and shook his head. "No worries, I shall keep it just to myself, if it bothers you."
"Yeah." Leonard cleared his throat. "I guess it does."
Another portion of silence.
"They have quite a special meaning today, though." Shiro spoke at last, gesturing at the signs. "Anyway, what do you think of this one?" he asked and moved the paper towards Leonard. The latter took it and viewed it closely.
"Ah… Mr. White?" Leonard's eyebrows went up as he spotted the signature in the lower corner.
"Yeah." Shiro admitted. "I was just thinking about some fitting pseudonym…"
"So no longer the fourth son?"
"What? I never was – goodness, I have two sisters! I was named after my mother's father. The only thing she insisted on and won for me." Shiro explained and concluded, his head lowering slowly, the front hair strands hiding his face.
"I see." Leonard said quietly, not knowing what else to reply. The confession appeared to be rather a very personal one, and he was simply not used to this kind of talk from his short friend. He knew just the very basics about Shiro's family and had never investigated the topic unless Shiro himself opened it. And that seldom happened.
He waited if the little Japanese had anything left to say to the matter, and when the man remained silent, Leonard decided to switch the topic back to the picture. "And why do you want my opinion on this?" he asked, his eyes moving as he watched all the details.
Shiro tapped at his thin lips, the cigarette clasped between his slender fingers, and narrowed his almond eyes. "Why, it's… It might be for you."
"For me?" Leonard could not help but smile, slightly and unexpectedly flattered.
"Maybe." Shiro corrected.
"Okay." Leonard pursed his lips and nodded his head a few times. "I'm just a little confused, but nevertheless, I like it. So," he grinned again, "if it by chance truly becomes mine I shall accept it happily." He declared and stole the cigarette from his friend's hand.
The smoke stung his lungs, and he could not stop a little cough after he breathed it out through the nostrils.
"Why do you insist on tasting it if you can't handle it?" Shiro frowned half-heartedly and snatched the stub back.
"I can." Leonard opposed.
"Hey. Just be glad you don't smoke. There's no need to start and become an addict."
"You're not addicted."
"No, I'm not. But I'm a special case."
"Oh. As with everything else. Shiro the Extraordinary."
The dark eyes narrowed once again. "Speak for yourself, Mr. I-Don't-Have-A-Clue-Where-I-Came-From."
"Hm." Leonard shook his head.
"Sorry." Shiro muttered after a portion of silence.
"Never mind." Said Leonard and rested his chin in his hand, propping his elbow on the knee. "So what's the condition for the drawing to become mine?"
"That's… confidential." Shiro smiled to himself.
"Come on!" Leonard whined and poked his friend's shoulder. "What is it? Tell me, please." He insisted, grinning widely. "Should I make the dinner? Or repair the scratch on Miko's door? Or find the idiot who did it and turn him into a slug?"
"Actually…" Shiro lifted his eyebrows. "The last option would be very convincing… But I guess I'll keep it for now. I want you to take it when we part."
"Ah. Well… Yeah, thanks." Leonard uttered eventually and shrugged his shoulders.
"You're welcome." Shiro chuckled shortly; then breathed in the smoke and threw the stub out of the wide window again. It turned dark outside meanwhile, and the lights of the traffic below were sliding over the ceiling and the walls around them.
"Are you nervous?" Shiro broke the silence then, viewing his friend sideways.
"About what?" Leonard asked, though he knew.
"About Saturday."
Leonard smiled, snorting lightly. "Should I?" he asked, eyebrows up.
"Should you..?" Shiro viewed him, irises glittering through the narrow slits between the eyelids.
"I can still back off."
"Aw. I don't think you would." Shiro slurred in a teasing voice. "You crave it. Just look inside your heart and you'll learn the truth."
Leonard kept staring deep in his friend's dark eyes, his expression unreadable. But then he chewed at his lips and grinned. "No, I wouldn't." he admitted then. "And what about you? How does the experienced musician feel?"
"I wish I could say that I'm used to it." Shiro sighed and looked out of the window, off into the night sky.
"Hey! We've been practising nearly the whole summer." Leonard pointed out, digging a friendly elbow into the smaller man's ribs. "Plus, you're by far the best of us - "
"Nah!" Shiro turned, making a face.
"Yes, you are. Hold your head up, my little friend." Said Leonard with a smile and wrapped his long arm around the other man's shoulders.
"Stop it. And I'm not little."
"Oh yes, you are."
"I'm just shorter than you!"
"Much shorter." Leonard corrected and raised a forefinger to silence Shiro's next demur. "Yet still, our spirits are equal."
"Hm. How nobly said." Shiro nodded his head with a half-hearted appreciation. "If only you knew my spirit, my good friend."
Leonard snorted a chuckle again. Of a more bitter kind this time. "If only I knew mine." He added quietly as his gaze wandered up to the dark space outside the window.
Shiro remained silent for a long moment. He hung his head, the moving hair strands tickling Leonard's forearm lightly. "Have no fear, Onii-san." He said at last. "No one does."
"How nobly expressed." Leonard observed then, the corner of his lips tugging minutely.
Shiro narrowed his eyes again. "For that I'll rest my head on your shoulder."
"Go ahead." Leonard beckoned.
And Shiro did.
For a time, they just watched the lights of the traffic below come and go. The first notes of 'My December' poured over the room, shifting the atmosphere to nostalgic and thoughtful. Letting his hand fall off Shiro's shoulder, Leonard leaned back and propped himself on his arms.
Then he cracked a smile. "I think I'm looking forward to the concert." He said. "There's a lot of work ahead this year. So I'd better enjoy myself while I can."
"Yeah." Shiro sighed. Then he straightened. "Any plans for the free morning tomorrow?"
Leonard shrugged. "Not really. Breakfast across the street… And then the library, I'd say."
"The library… What about the swimming pool?"
"No books in there."
"It's a free morning, buddy."
"All right... But you pay for the breakfast."
"Nah!" Shiro rolled his eyes, but the smile was there.
ooOOOoo
The soft, refreshing masses flowed over him, capturing and caressing and then letting go of his skin as they came and went by. And again. And again. The gentle, cold fingers stroked his body until he touched the wall of the pool and reached out to breathe. The fresh air filled his lungs as the water curtain flowed down and his vision cleared.
Leonard looked to the side when he heard another breath.
"Here you are!" Breathed Shiro and wiped his nose and eyes. "I almost got you this time. You're getting slow."
Leonard waggled one eyebrow. "Was it a challenge? Sorry, I haven't noticed." He mocked as he wiped the remaining water drops from his eyes. "Could have put some heart into it." He said as he completely shielded his view, which action spurred Shiro to leap across the line and immerse his friend into the water.
Leonard reached out from under the surface and held onto the handle just below the platform to heave them both up. "Sometimes you forget who's got the higher ground." He reminded, laid a hand on the top of the shorter man's head and plunged him down. However, Shiro's arm twirled around Leonard's neck with an extraordinary swiftness at the same moment. "Hey!" Chuckling, he managed to say just before he let go and disappeared under the water surface, too.
They reached out for the air bursting in laughter. Shiro looked around the room, examining the space for anyone's presence. "We're lucky to be alone I guess." Leonard observed.
"Hope so." Shiro said; then moved to the edge of the pool and not minding the metal steps, he got out of the water swiftly. "I suppose everyone would get it the wrong way." He shook his head, the droplets raining around him, and paced towards the bench for his towel.
Leonard followed shortly, but then he decided to stay in the water and just folded his arms on the edge and rested his head on his shoulder. "Is there anything wrong with us?" He teased with a smile. "I wasn't aware."
Shiro gave him a narrow glance as he dried his face, the droplets still falling from the tips of his hair and the edges of his black swim shorts. "Oh my. Shall I fear something in the showers?"
"Don't know. But whatever it is, I swear to protect you." Leonard purred mockingly.
"Please don't." Shiro snickered and began to walk away. "Ah. Ohayou, Elliot-chan!" He said just before he rounded the corner.
And the blood froze in Leonard's veins. Of all the people it must have been her.
A short, dismissive snort followed the greeting, and the expected figure of Elliot Hunter stepped into view, slender, graceful and beautiful as ever. She paced out of the small hall, and folded her towel onto the bench. She wore a simple black swimsuit that contrasted with her milky skin, and her long, jet-black hair reflected the morning light coming through the glass wall and was bound in a tight pony-tail. Luckily enough, she was looking down, focused and stern.
Leonard was not even thinking on greeting her. He was just stunned. He remembered the nightmarish weeks before the end of the summer term, when he had tried his best to avoid her, but still, they had attended the same course, so the daily encounters, if just at some decent distance, had been inevitable. He had made himself not to think about the unfortunate afternoon during the summer break, and truth be told, his friends had managed to somehow distract him from the unpleasant thoughts, but now… Right at the start of the new term, he had to endure it all anew.
As she approached, he felt the chill creeping at his back. As if the ice-cold hand of the other one in his mind wrapped its fingers around his heart and squeezed. The scene rose before him, he could see her desperate eyes, the fright marking her face, his fingers around her throat…
He wished he wasn't there. He wished he could move and sink into the water, but he could not. His body felt like petrified. All he could do was close his eyes slowly and hope the wetness on his skin would make him invisible.
She walked toward him, silently, without a word, her footsteps soft against the tiles. Leonard listened to the sound of her strides; he knew when she was nearest to him. His breath refused to come out of his lungs. She passed by. No reaction.
And his eyes shot wide open. No, this can't continue any longer. He would not succumb to this silent mockery of the monster within him. He had to act. He had to –
"Good morning, Elliot." He said.
A gasp followed. Three, four very slow and cautious paces back. Her face came into his view, emerging from behind the concrete of the platform. "Hey." She said, her face showing a bit of confusion and a considerable amount of panic. "I… wasn't aware you were here." She said quietly.
Oh. Well…
"Yeah, I… I'm sorry if I startled you. How…" his thoughts raced. Crap, if only he had some time to prepare a few reasonable words to say. "How are you?" -Hopeless.
"Fine, I guess. Thanks." Her eyes roved nervously around the room. "You?" Not looking at him, she asked tensely.
And he did not answer at first. Rubbing his chin against his wrist, he closed his eyes and sighed silently, buying some time. "Listen," he said then, "I should have said it a long time ago. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to harm you – "
"Please – " she murmured, raising one hand defensively.
"It wasn't me." He continued nonetheless, just somewhat louder to make her listen. "I was not myself… I don't know what happened, but… It frightened me as well."
Silence.
"It frightened you?" she spoke then, her tone cautious but surprised. "Then maybe you should see someone to help you. I mean for real. A psychologist maybe." She offered quietly, carefully, and leaned against the platform. "Because… You know, I saw that, too."
"What?" he snapped his head in her direction, eyes wide and expectant.
"The change. Your eyes, your expression. It was as if someone flipped a switch. You were someone else in an instant."
"Someone else." Leonard echoed, his look dropping to the lazily rippling water.
"Look," she resumed, breathing out heavily, "I know you're not evil. That's why I haven't told anyone. But you should seek some help. Don't take it wrong, I'm not implying that you're crazy, but…" she made a helpless gesture, "I guess it must be hard to live with it. Let alone in your situation."
"It is." He admitted softly, turned away from her and ran a thumb over his lips. The next instant he sank under the surface for one last time, then propped himself on his long arms and got out of the water, swiftly as an otter. He loosened his pony-tail as he straightened, letting the rubber band thread on his wrist, and wrung the water out of his shoulder-long raven hair.
When he looked up he saw she was viewing him with something curious in her eyes. She smiled lightly.
"What is it?" he smiled back.
"You know," she began quietly, "lean guys like you should remember that the water makes the swim shorts too heavy."
Leonard looked down to find his hip bones exposed maybe a bit more than he had expected. "Ah. Sorry." He said and moved to the bench to pick up his green towel. "I hope I haven't scandalized you." He said, peeking roguishly over his shoulder.
"You have. But there's nothing to be sorry for." She admitted with a smile, still examining him closely, her gaze lingering just below the small of his back. "You're not going to pull them up, are you?"
"Why? I'm going to take them off in a moment." He shrugged, smiling genuinely at her, satisfied to earn a flutter of eyelashes and a chaste blush.
"Just go, please." She grinned, folding her arms in front of her, and looked away.
"As you say, my lady." He said obediently, draped the towel over his shoulder and set off.
"Are you coming on Saturday?" He called suddenly from the small hall, turning around.
She stopped her walk toward the pool and thought for a second. "You're doing just the covers, aren't you?"
"No!" he frowned playfully, putting his hands on his hips. "We have two original songs as well." He blinked a few times as he looked up thoughtfully. "So far."
"Goodness!" She touched her heart. "Who wrote them?"
"Guys did the music, I wrote the lyrics." He said proudly.
"I see. Then perhaps I'll come around."
"You should. I'll be looking for you." He winked just before he turned back and headed to the showers.
ooOOOoo
"How many I'll have to smoke?" Leonard asked, frowning at Bret through the smoke he had just exhaled.
"Hm…" Said the other man, rubbing at his beard.
It was the Saturday night and they had found themselves in the music club, shortly before their first performance. And just a tiny hall was separating them now from the stage.
There were six of them in this tiny, worn out room with windows sealed from the outside. The air around was heavy and filled with a hundred scents.
The old, large sofa and three armchairs covered in the chapped leather imitation were to blame for the fusty smell. The areas just below the ceiling implied that the walls had been a modest shade of blue once, but on the way down to the floor the paint had slowly lost its glory due to numerous scrapes and splotches of unknown and rather suspicious origin. There were signs and names and notes scratched there, majority of them unreadable as they had accumulated and overlapped throughout the years.
A poor, heavily scratched wooden table was standing defiantly in the middle, and a small, red fridge growled in the corner. In the chair that was closest to it sat Shiro, silent and reflective as ever, just his leg draped over the armrest disturbed the overall composed impression of him.
A young man with long dark dreadlocks was crouching before the opened fridge. "Bret, come on. He's not used to it." The man, Derek, murmured, not looking up, and tapped at the opened fridge door, studying the contents intently.
"Yeah. I'm more likely to lose my voice than improve it." Leonard pointed out, but took in another lungful nonetheless. He occupied one of the armchairs, too: he sat curled up in it, leaning his side against the backrest.
"Nonsense. You're never sick, you never had a cold. I wouldn't care about a few cigarettes." Bret insisted and made himself comfortable on the sofa.
"But what for? I still can't seem to get it." asked Jared, a tall, gaunt man standing in the doorway. His hair was dark and incredibly curly, his skin pale, his limbs long and skinny, his hands slender and graceful. The one who played classical piano in the daylight and metal in the night.
"His voice is too perfect. Smooth like a feather. We need to roughen it a bit." Bret explained, frowning thoughtfully.
"Yet still, it is his voice. It's about his personality and his way of interpretation. I wouldn't change a thing." A man in the huge chair across the table objected. It was Joel, a true talent who had agreed to play the second guitar in the band. He was an heir of the blood of the Native Americans. His eyes were dark, deep and thoughtful. His straight, raven hair was longer than that of Leonard, and framed the softly cut features of his measured face. He wore black jeans and a vest, so his arms and chest were revealed. His left arm was heavily tattooed from the shoulder to the wrist. There were various motifs and things to find, entangled and mingled together in a mixed blur of blue and black; except for his shoulder, where a man with a long, wavy hair and a likable face was pictured. Under that picture, there was a ribbon with the name Tommy Bolin on it.
"Whatever." Bret waved his hand then, and stooped over the tiny table to go through the set list once more. "You're a grown man, do as you wish." Giving Leonard a glimpse, he mumbled more or less to himself.
"Thanks." Leonard breathed out appreciatively. "But you know, if nothing else, there's something soothing about watching the smoke rise up."
"So, are you nervous after all?" Jared spoke again.
"No. Actually… No, I don't think so. I'm just curious, I'd say."
"Hey, Mr. Curious." Bret uttered, not looking up, chewing on his thumbnail. "What about the encore? Are you sure you really want these pieces?"
"Quite sure." Leonard smirked and at the smiling Jared. "Why?"
"Why... It's going to end in silence, then."
"Yes. Is it wrong?"
Bret shrugged. "I don't know."
"Every concert ends in silence." Shiro reminded, watching an indifferent point on the table desk.
"Oh. Was that a part of the Japanese wisdom?" The blonde retorted, creasing his forehead.
"No. Just a fact." With his eyes still focused on the unknown, Shiro explained calmly.
"Aww, no worries, Bret. You'll get your ovation for sure." Leonard teased, partly hiding behind the curtain of smoke, the ever mischievous smile in place as he watched his blonde comrade.
"Ah, shut up." Bret snapped, his eyes turning in Leonard's direction.
"For how long exactly?" The latter smiled sweetly. "And who says 'My December' is going to be the last piece? Who knows, maybe the people will want more."
"Hm. That would be great." Bret coughed a little, then shook his head. "Anyway, I was just thinking… Maybe we should put one of our songs first. And the second one last."
"That's not a good idea." Joel raised his head, disapproving. "You can't warm the crowd up with something they don't know."
"Yeah…" the blonde admitted quietly, eyelids fluttering in thought. "Yeah, that's a good point."
"Bret, please." Leonard leaned over to put out the cigarette. "We went through the list a million times. Just stop fretting about it. Look at you! You seem to be the nervous one here."
"I know, right? I just… I'm still not sure about the interlude in the 'Endless Sacrifice'. I vote for the short ver- "
"Stop it, Bret!" Leonard protested. "If you're not certain, Jared will take care of it. Haven't we discussed it, too?"
Bret glanced over his shoulder to view the lean pianist doubtfully. "Yeah… Well, perhaps we can lend him his five minutes of being famous, can we?"
"Five minutes? How generous of you!" Jared snorted, his eyebrows going up. "Tell you what. We all know I can do better than you two combined." He claimed, looking meaningfully at both Bret and Joel. "And I'm ready to prove it at any time." His face was blank and unreadable, but at the end of his statement, his lips tugged into a light smile.
"Was that a challenge, my boy?" Bret raised his eyebrows, his eyes sparkling at the prospect.
"First, I'm not your boy, and second - why not?" Jared folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. "I always vote for making things interesting. Nevertheless," he peeked out the door and into the corridor, "We'd better go, the crowd's growing noisy."
"Just don't change the subject, man. You have it." Bret pointed with his forefinger, then slapped the armrest of the sofa and got up to his feet.
Following Bret's example, Shiro scrambled up from the wide chair lazily, and stretched his neck, back and arms as slowly and deliberately as a cat. "Noisy, are they?" He purred, squinting around the foggy room. "I'll show them what noisy means..."
"Hey guys, who brought the drinks?" Derek called out suddenly. "I can see no tequila!" He complained, disconcerted, closed the fridge and straightened, too. "I was looking forward to it."
"No worries, we'll get you some later." Bret uttered, cracking a smile at last.
"All right." Leonard sighed and jumped to his feet as well. He moved to the door, but there Bret raised a hand against his chest to stop him.
"Hey. Where are you going?" he asked, raising one bright eyebrow.
"What?"
"What?!" The blonde echoed. "You're the cherry atop the cake, my friend." Grinning widely, he patted Leonard's cheek. "Hang on a minute. We go first." Bret said as he turned back to look at Shiro.
"Just step aside and watch the professional." The Japanese said with a smirk and fastened a black bandanna around his head as he walked over to them. Leonard just shrugged at that and made space for the guys to go through the door. He watched with crossed arms as they did, the crowd getting louder as they started to appear on the stage. Bret waited for the others to leave, and then, when the two of them stood alone in the doorway, he offered a sincere smile.
"Tell you a secret, bro. I'm nervous like hell." He admitted and ran a hand over his face.
"Tell you something, too. We all noticed." Leonard reassured as softly as possible in the noise.
"Yeah, it's… I just – I think that's how you feel when your dream comes true."
"Yes, I guess." True, Leonard could only guess. He could not tell if this was his dream come true. He would have to find out yet.
The first sounds of Shiro making the real noise reached them.
"I'm counting on you, bro." Bret stated, looking Leonard firmly in the eye.
"Please, Bret. I might start feeling important. Just go, they're waiting."
"Yeah, I suppose." The blonde replied with a sigh, dropping his gaze. "Anyway… Thanks."
"For nothing." Leonard offered a smile and reached out to put his hand on his friend's neck. He shook him lightly. The blue eyes met the green. "You'll make it, Bret. I know it. Now go, I'll be along."
At that, Bret took a deep breath and obeyed. One last look and the tall blonde disappeared in the dark hall.
And Leonard was alone. Again. Sighing heavily, he moved to the sofa and leaned against the side of it. His head went down as his eyelids slid slowly shut. The corner of his mouth twirled up at Shiro tempting the audience with moments of virtuosity followed by silence.
In a flashing moment, he went through the set list. And he knew exactly how he wanted to perform each and every single one of the pieces. He realized each word of the lyrics, all the notes and sounds. Deep inside his mind, he had linked each song to something or someone. He realized the scenes from his life, the people and emotions he would think about. He could see it, imagine everything perfectly. Just one thing he missed… He wished he could summon her face, if only just for a second. But even if that was not possible anymore, he would think of her.
He smiled to himself as the guys kicked it off with a striking perfection. And he felt he could do it, too. The crowd resounded in appreciation as they recognized the intro to the first song. Leonard looked up and viewed his reflection in the window pane.
He chose a black singlet for this evening, and his favorite black pants hung on his hips. He was lean, not skinny. His loose, raven hair fell to his shoulders and framed his eyebrows and high cheekbones.
He had to admit to himself one thing. He looked good.
He felt good. And he was aware what he had to do. He had to take this chance. Tonight, he would open his soul; he would let all the demons out – the insecurity, the anxiety, all the hidden fears and madness. He would bind all the spirits that came to listen, he would grip their imagination and show them worlds unseen, he would lay his mind and heart in front of them, he would let them see, he would let them taste. They would sail the night, fall through the darkest abyss and rise again to the endless sky. Like a king with his army, they would go through it all together.
He straightened and held onto the upper doorframe, and then bent forward to stretch the lean muscles of his long arms.
Just a moment longer… And then he knew his time had come.
ooOOOoo
He was glad he did not have to take care of the stuff. In fact, it was just Shiro and Jared who kept some sense and went back again and gathered all the cables and the rest of their own equipment.
And Leonard was glad he could wash his dry throat with several good gulps of cold water. Then, somehow, a bottle of whiskey landed in his hand. And he gulped that, too.
He wished he could focus. On something, anything, it did not matter. But the experience he had just made was so much stronger. His senses were blurred and over-sensitive at the same time. His heart was racing against his breastbone, his breaths were shallow. It felt strange, so strange… But it felt wonderful. He felt so light inside. He wanted just to set off, spread the invisible wings and fly off into the sky, where he could reflect on all those emotions. Alone and undisturbed.
Or at least he wanted to run, fast, to some place far away and then fall to his knees and bury his hands into the mud and cry himself to sleep.
But in the end, he just fell, thoroughly exhausted, into the wide armchair. The leather imitation chilled the bare skin of his back, and his own sweat stuck him to the fabric.
The adrenalin pumped through his veins, and he realized one more thing. He felt like making love. Badly. For that matter, he chose to shift on his position and curl up, just as he had before. Just to be safe. Closing his eyes, he took another deep gulp and then clutched the bottle in his arms, pressing it against his bare chest as if trying to slow down his breathing and frantic heartbeat.
"Lenny?" Someone's voice called his name. But he could not open his eyes to look. He did not want to, anyway.
"Leonard! You okay?" The voice insisted. And Leonard realized he knew the person. It was Bret. Yeah, maybe. After that, Leonard decided to open one eye.
"Why, hello there." Bret grinned merrily, crouching beside the armchair. "How do you feel?"
"Strange." Leonard admitted quietly, clasping the bottle for dear life.
"Strange?" Bret snorted a surprised laugh. "What does it mean?"
"Dunno." Mumbled Leonard, still breathing heavily. "But I guess… It feels good."
Bret smiled toothily at that. "Yeah, it should. You were amazing, man. You made the people go insane. I mean – I knew you had something in you, but this was just ridiculous."
"Ridiculous, was it?" Leonard raised one curious eyebrow and sipped some more whiskey.
"You know what I mean. It was madness. Just wonderful; I wasn't expecting anything like that. You're just great, my friend. Just… please don't wrap your arms around me so tightly next time."
"Did I?" Leonard asked, slightly surprised.
"Yeah, somewhere at the end."
"Wait… I pressed my lips against your face, then, right?"
"Ah… Yeah, I'm afraid. I'm sure someone took a picture of it. They always do."
"Sorry. Didn't mean it." Leonard laughed, rubbing his eyebrow with his wrist.
"You're horny, aren't you?" Bret grinned wickedly.
"Terribly." Leonard admitted with a wide smile, wiping his eyes.
"Nah, that's pretty normal." The blonde reassured. "But you're more likely to fall asleep with this amount of whiskey you consumed."
"That's what I'm going for."
"Well, that's one way to solve it, yeah." Bret murmured. "Although I'm sure there are hordes of girls who'd fight each other to have you now."
"Whatever." Leonard sighed dismissively.
"Hm." The blonde furrowed his brows in thought. "You still believe you'll find her, do you?"
"Yes."
"I wish you would, my friend." Bret concluded then.
"She is real. I know it." Leonard breathed, viewing the reflections on the golden liquid surface. And to his bewilderment, tears started to build up in his eyes, threatening to flow in rivers down his cheeks. It did not feel right just now. He felt his emotions were slipping away from his control. And he did not like it.
But Bret seemed to understand. "I'll leave you now." He said.
"Yeah." Leonard sighed, glad to have another moment for himself. But before he could wrap himself in his thoughts again, a familiar voice resounded from the doorway.
"Hey guys! One of you requested tequila. Was that you, in the corner? Anyway, here it is. May I join?" The tone of this voice was too cocky to ignore. Leonard looked up eventually and recognized a black t-shirt with the sign 'Black Sabbath' and a faint glow underneath it. And there really was no need to look a bit higher to learn it was Anthony Stark.
"Let me love you, Stark!" Derek shouted enthusiastically and leapt over the table.
"Hey hey hey… whoa, take it easy, man!" Stark tried to calm the other man down, and let go of the bottle in the end. "Yeah… Okay, never mind." he said then, scratching the top of his head in confusion.
"Hey, I wasn't aware the Iron Man was coming!" Bret beamed then and shook Tony's hand firmly. The latter winced at it slightly.
"Yeah, I thought I might come and listen to some good rock'n'roll. Great job, by the way. And thanks for coming back and adding the very last song. I almost started to fear I took the wrong t-shirt." Said Tony, his eyebrows working as he tilted his head a little. "Yes, and… Did I understand correctly that the last two songs before the encore were yours?"
"True enough, yes." Bret grinned proudly. "Did you like them?"
"They were just… Awesome." Tony reassured heatedly. "Now, where's that amazing vocalist of yours?" He asked and looked around the room to find Leonard curled up in the armchair.
"Uh, you see, he's a bit indisposed at the moment." Bret warned.
"That's okay." Leonard slurred and waved his hand, the alcohol in his veins finally taking over. "How could I refuse to talk to the Iron Man himself?"
"Yeah, exactly. Why would anyone do that?" Tony agreed and patted Bret's arm with the back of his hand as he started toward Leonard. "I like your hair man." He murmured in appreciation as he passed by.
"Thanks." The blonde muttered carefully, and drew his eyebrows together, turning halfway after Tony. Leonard watched this with a faint smile, ignoring and forgetting about the teardrops rolling down his cheeks.
"Hey sweetie." Tony beamed with his usual self-confidence as he squatted down before the armchair. His expression changed with a blink of an eye then. "Hey! What happened?" he said, frowning a little.
"What?" Leonard squinted.
"Well, it just appears you're crying."
"Oh. Am I?" Leonard wondered and viewed himself as if he could spot his own tears.
"Oh yes. Look." Tony confirmed and reached out to catch one droplet on his fingertip; then showed it to Leonard as a proof.
"Ah…" said the latter and let out an amused laugh. He then seized Tony's finger, twisted it against his face, pressed the wet fingertip against his cheek and slid it down. "So, who's crying now?" Leonard said then, chuckling at his own work.
Tony cleared his throat, smiling lightly. "Dear lad, you're already drunk, aren't you?"
"Mhm." Leonard agreed, taking another swig. "But not quite enough." He said merrily with a bittersweet shadow, his cheeks gleaming with the wetness. "Want some?" he asked, offering the bottle with a roguish grin. Tony took it with an arched eyebrow and smelled it.
"No worries, I brushed my teeth…" Leonard reassured, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Tony taking a sip. "…someday last week, I think." He added then, snickering again.
The Iron Man choked at once, spitting a few drops of the liquid into his palm. He grinned when he managed to swallow. "You're quite a trickster, Mr. Wednesday."
"You know my name?" Leonard eyebrows shot up.
"Of course I do. I still remember you from the lecture. Astonishing mind. And it's always great to see that brilliant students perform the appropriate music… Isn't it, Phil?" Tony explained and then asked the question over his shoulder. The man addressed stood in the doorway. He wore a decent, perfectly fitting suit and a faint little unreadable smile.
"Of course it is." He nodded lightly, blinking.
"By the way, what are you doing there? Come little closer, darling. Leonard is in a good mood, he won't bite you." Tony prompted, glancing back for a second to make sure the things were as he had said.
After a moment of thinking, the mysterious man obeyed, his hands joined in front of him, the little smile still on. "Good evening, Mr. Wednesday." He greeted softly. "What an astonishing performance tonight." He added in a very polite tone.
"Thanks, Phil." Leonard smiled widely and shook the bottle shortly. "Come have a taste."
"You're too kind, Mr. Wednesday, but no, thank you." The man smiled in apology. "But may I have one question?"
"Mmh?" Leonard blinked slowly.
"I noticed a rather huge… scar running across your back when you took off your singlet back at the stage."
"Ah… yeah, yeah. That's my little beauty spot."
"Oh." Phil smiled a little wider at that, dropping his eyes. "May I see it?" he requested then, looking up again.
"Sure." Leonard shrugged, but then extended his hand and held up the bottle. "But it comes with a price." He grinned. Phil rolled his eyes minutely, clearing his throat. "All right, thank you very much, Mr. Wednesday. You're truly beyond generous."
"Yeah, I know. C'mon, gulp it properly…" Leonard commanded. "Yeah, like that. Good Phil." He concluded then and held onto the edge of the backrest to help himself scramble up. He turned his back on the two men. "Behold, guys." He said, chuckling.
"Now, that's rather massive. Looks similar to a burn mark… " Phil admitted. "It makes me wonder, how did it happen?"
Leonard blinked once more, flattening his cheek against the leather imitation. "Sadly, I do not recall, Phil." He muttered.
"Ah. I see. So you must have encountered a rather serious accident that bought amnesia to you?"
"Yes."
"How long is it?"
"Almost…" Leonard frowned in thought. "One year and a half."
"Oh, that's a long time. And you still haven't remembered?"
"Nope."
"Hey, what's the meaning of this?" said another voice, the tone of it rather disconcerted. When Leonard managed to straighten a bit and look, he realized it was Shiro. Then he turned swiftly around and caught a glimpse of Tony hiding a smart phone.
"And who are you?" Shiro demanded, frowning deeply as he eyed Phil.
"That's just a bodyguard, no worries. He's sometimes too nosy. But I'll see he doesn't receive his benefits next week." Said Tony, rising up.
"Quite a capable bodyguard, isn't he?" Shiro noted, gesturing at the whiskey bottle in Phil's hands.
"Mr. Nakamune Shiro, I presume?" Phil asked, the indifferent, tiny smile back in place.
"Yeah, what of it? Who are you?" Shiro demanded, narrowing his eyes.
Phil dropped his gaze once more, almost shyly, and gave a light shrug. "I'm sorry to confuse you, Mr. Nakamune. I just like to learn about skilled people. I fear I cannot help myself."
"Ever tried a skilled psychiatrist?" Shiro offered. Tony guffawed heartily, poking Phil's shoulder.
"Thank you for your kind recommendation, I'll give it a thought." Phil answered, perfectly calm and composed.
"All right, the show is over." Leonard declared, apparently not amused, struggling to stand up. Finally, he steadied himself holding onto the chair. "The bottle, Phil." He muttered, reaching out for the item. "Thanks." He acknowledged when he got his whiskey back. Then he turned to Tony. "It was nice to talk to you, sir." He slurred, pressing a forefinger against the Iron Man's chest. "But I don't like your friend. So, that opening over there – " he gestured at the door, " – I want you to go through it. And please, do not return."
"You sure?" Tony tried, his dark eyebrows up. "I can send him away. He's a big meanie, I know…"
"Both of you." Leonard insisted.
"I'm sorry if I offended you, Mr. Wednesday. I wish you a pleasant time, though. Oh and," frowning thoughtfully, Phil brought a forefinger to his lips as he made his way to the door, "as I often remind my friend Tony: try to fall asleep on your side. It decreases the chance of choking on your own vomit."
"Out!" Leonard shouted in reply.
ooOOOoo
The persistent throbbing in his head woke Leonard up. Or perhaps had not let him fall asleep yet, he was not sure. His stomach groaned as he turned on his back, and so did he. Realizing he was alone in the double-bed, he let his limbs sprawl across the surface of it. Then he sighed deeply, and covered his closed eyes with his arm. "You fool." He whispered. Perhaps to himself, perhaps to someone else, he could not tell.
Then he heard a silent rustle of a movement. "Onii-san?" It was Shiro. Leonard seriously weighed the option of not answering. But then he heard himself groan again. "Mmh?" he replied.
"I'm sick. I mean, really sick. I'm sicker than any human before." Shiro complained with pain in his quiet voice.
"How curious. You're quite talkative for such a sick person, my friend."
"I think I'll throw up. Any moment."
"Then please, make sure to turn on your side, or else you might choke on your own vomit." Leonard pointed out, referring to Phil's advice with a great load of sarcasm. "You heard the man." He uncovered his eyes then, just to open them and stare blankly at the faintly illuminated ceiling. "Or better go and do what you must on the toilet."
"Yeah, good idea. The thing is, I'll vomit for sure if I stand up."
Leonard closed his eyes again and let out a long, painful sigh. "So you want me to get out of my bed, fetch you a bucket and then listen to you throwing up?"
A moment of silence. "Basically." Shiro admitted.
Another, longer while of deep silence. "Splendid." Leonard rolled his eyes and got carefully on his feet. He ambled slowly around the bed and to the bathroom. There he squinted in the sharp light, his skull threatening to explode. Frowning deeply and scratching at his chest he tried to recall what he was doing there. Then he saw the little white bucket, bent carefully down to get it and then moved back to his whining friend. There he switched the tiny lamp on the table on, stood the bucket in front of the tousled head that hung over the edge of the couch, and sat down on the floor.
"Please, be quick about it." Leonard murmured, leaning back against the couch. "I might do the same in a moment."
"I can't force it – " Shiro objected in a tight voice, and then his body arched as his stomach returned its content at once.
Watching it a bit stunned, Leonard cleared his throat. "Well, it actually seems you can, my friend. Good job."
"Thanks." Shiro rasped faintly.
Leonard nodded. "Did Stark take a picture of my scar?" He frowned then. The image was blurred and rather foggy, but he remembered showing his back to the man and his bodyguard. Well, a bodyguard? Really?
"Huh." Was all Shiro had to say. He seemed a bit busy with himself at the moment.
"Are you… uh – " Leonard observed his friend with a sudden concern. He reached out quickly to hold his hair back. "Oh my. Are you quite finished now?"
"Mhm…" The latter uttered with difficulty.
"Isn't it just strange… Whatever one might have eaten, he would always vomit carrot." Looking mindlessly into the bucket, Leonard observed.
Shiro rewarded him with a rather irritated stare. "Thanks, that's exactly what I needed to hear."
"I thought so." Leonard grinned despite his headache. "Come now, you need a cold shower." He said and got up, taking Shiro by the arm.
"No, I beg you!" the latter protested.
"No? Try to stop me, my little friend. Look, you're weak as a kitten." Leonard chuckled lightly and made the Japanese stand up on his wobbly feet.
"Onii-chan..!" Shiro pleaded, but followed anyway.
...
"Now, isn't it better?" Opening his eyes and turning to the light Leonard asked as a clean and refreshed Shiro appeared in the doorway.
"Yeah." The short man sighed, switched the light in the hall off and ambled to his couch. He was about to lie down, but he stopped and looked out of the window. "It's raining outside." He said.
"Oh. Yes, it is." Leonard realized himself at last. He must have fallen asleep for a while. Otherwise he would have noticed. He always noticed when it rained. "Could you please open the window?"
"I was about to do it anyway," Shiro admitted and did as he had been asked.
"Where have you last seen Bret?" Leonard wondered then, searching his veiled memories of the evening.
"With Stark and his nanny in suit." Shiro recalled, pulling the window open. "They seemed to have a great time entertaining the chicks." He added, looking outside.
The whisper of the light shower poured in, and the fresh air and sound caressed Leonard's senses. He took a deep, thirsty breath, and then another, and again, and with each inhale, he felt his body relax and the pain disappear. Suddenly, he felt comfortably tired.
"You may sleep on his side of the bed." Leonard had managed to offer before the slumber took over him.
ooOOOoo
His heavy eyelids fluttered open hesitantly. It took him a decent while of squinting and frowning until Leonard remembered where he was and recognized a well-known, long-and-blonde-haired, tall figure before him.
"Hey man." Bret greeted, looking down on him, grinning in a genuine amusement.
"Hey." Leonard rasped, the eyebrows still knitted firmly together. "What time is it?"
"10:35" Bret grinned even more. "But it's okay, it's Sunday. Anyway, it took you just one night without me to establish a new order?" he said, gesturing at the still fast asleep Shiro.
"So what? You should have come." Leonard muttered in reply, closing his eyes again.
"He sleeps like a little pig, have you noticed?" Bret pointed out jovially. "With his arms and legs stretched in front of him." He explained, trying to mimic said position.
Leonard turned his head to have a look and gave a light shrug. "He had a difficult night. And maybe he's just excited about all the space. See? We've been quite comfortable without you."
"Ah, come on." Bret smiled widely and sat on Leonard's side of the bed. Then he sighed heavily. "I remember hanging out with Stark for a while and then – pffff… Darkness." The blonde gestured with his hands. "And then I woke up on that couch beside the bar, daylight all around me, the bartender nudging my shoulder with the broomstick to wake me up…"
"Mhm. What an utterly delightful awakening. And what about that Stark's bodyguard?" Leonard asked with a plain suspicion, "Who was he?"
"Yeah… He's no bodyguard you see." Bret chuckled minutely. "He asked quite a lot about you." He said in an indifferent tone, darting a swift sideways glance.
"Did he?" Leonard sat up.
"Yep. And he's after you, you know." Bret gave a serious nod of his head and looked down. "He's here to get rid of you, since you're a part of a failed top secret CIA training program – "
"I see." Leonard nodded and then pressed his inner side of his wrist against forehead, closing his eyes firmly. "I think I remember now…" he winced theatrically, "isn't my name Jason Bourne?" he asked then, viewing Bret with eyes wide open.
"Aww, dear friend, your memories are back!" The blonde was grinning broadly as he turned to face his friend.
"Yeeeah." Leonard uttered, faking an enthused smile. "If only they were mine." He added, dropped his gaze and lay back down. He sighed then, inspecting a thin crack in the ceiling plastering. "Now seriously, did he ask some questions about me?"
"Nah." Bret replied, slipping into a serious tone once more, rubbing at his earlobe. "One or two questions about how we met… You know, I think he's just one of those government shadows who come to sneak around Stark from time to time." He snorted then, looking out of the window. "Could you believe he sat there just with a glass of water and never dropped the grin as he watched me and Stark getting loaded?"
"I don't like him." Leonard decided in the end, closing his eyes.
"It wasn't that bad in the end. He was a bit funny after all." Raising his brows and staring into nowhere, Bret sighed. "He asked about our dear Midget, too. But it turned out he knew much more about him than I did. Actually, I learned quite a thing."
"What?" Lying still, Shiro barged in all of a sudden.
"Hey! You've been listening all the time?" Bret straightened his back, turning to glare wildly at his shorter friend. "Anyway..." He turned to Leonard with a curious stare. "Did you know that he's been a member of the Mensa since the age of… uh – " Bret scratched his beard, trying to remember.
"Ten." Shiro rasped, completing the sentence for the blonde.
"Yeah exactly. Why didn't you tell us?" Bret asked, nearly aggrieved, and poked the lying man's back. The latter moved minutely, but still refused to turn or uncover himself.
"You never asked." The Japanese rasped then.
"Yeah, people usually ask this shit whenever they meet, don't they." Bret furrowed his forehead at the statement.
Leonard chuckled and continued staring at the ceiling. "Now, why would Stark's bodyguard care about it?"
"Because of Stark himself, most likely." Bret smiled slyly and reached out to shake his Japanese friend again. "Be glad, my lad, the Iron Man's interested in you."
"Someone help me." Shiro muttered into the sheets.
"Good point." Bret chuckled lightly. "So, what about a decent breakfast?" He asked then. "Come on, it's on me." He added as he watched the uncertain frowns on his friends' faces.
"I could use some food, true enough. But I'm not sure about our brilliant little friend." Leonard purred then, tucking one hand under his head as he turned questioningly to the motionless man beside him.
"Whatever." The latter groaned.
"Well, I need to take a shower anyway, I smell like…" Bret said; then paused, snuffing on his sleeves. "Ugh." He made a face. "This smells like that ancient sofa in the back-stage."
"And cigarettes." Leonard added promptly.
"Huh. Anyway, try to reboot him in the meanwhile." Bret suggested, gesturing at Shiro with his chin and stood up.
"I'll give it a try." Leonard sighed and turned his sight to the window. Staring blankly, he struggled not to sigh helplessly at his own existence. He had been quite certain that the new experience would show him something more, give the new hints, or perhaps answer some questions. But no. All he had received was another load of a brand new uncertainty. The events and schemes that flowed around him apparently seemed to have a different direction. And it was getting harder and harder to predict.
And all he could do was wait.
ooOOOoo
There is no one here to ask
No one here will guide
And show me where to go
Who am I to know?
Too many crossroads in my way
Too many unanswered questions left
I can't remember how I came here
But I won't lose my faith
I never have I never will
I won't give up I'm gonna find my own way home
(Allen-Lande; My Own Way Home)