Date: Tue, 21 Sep 1999 23:56:00 EDT
From: D LS <dls_stories@hotmail.com>
Subject: Brian & Me Part 51-53

Before we get to the good stuff, there are a few things to take care of.
Many of you will undoubtedly skip all of this and go right to the story,
and shame on you! :)

First, this story is a complete work of fiction.  All (and I mean *all*) of
the characters are just that - characters.  It is not meant to imply
anything about anyone.  While a few of the characters are loosely based on
people that I actually know, none of them are meant to represent anyone.
While we may wish that some of the Backstreet Boys are gay, and while some
of them may even be gay, I'm not going to be the one pointing the finger at
them.

As usual, if you are offended or made uncomfortable by material concerning
sexual relations between consenting adult men, lighten up or go somewhere
else.  And if you are such a person, what the hell are you doing here in
the first place?

Also, if it is in any way illegal for you to be reading this type of thing,
please don't. Or do, just don't get caught and feel *very* guilty.;)

If any of the BSB happen to be reading this (hey, we can dream can't we?),
feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think.

Here's where I usually go ahead and thank certain readers for their
comments and support.  However, since I *always* manage to forget someone,
I'm going to stop that.  Those who are special to me already know who they
are, and if you're wondering whether or not you're one of them, chances are
you are. :)

I will take a moment to point out the few stories that I make time to read,
in between bursts of writing.  If you haven't already, check out "Adam,
Zach, and BSB" by EG, "Search and Rescue" by Matt, and "Lucky Me" by
Lauren.  All three are great stories, and all three authors have become
good friends of mine.  :)

I am going to single out two people.  My editors, who both go a long way to
restore my faith in humanity when it's shaken.  EG has been incredibly
helpful with his comments and humour, and is just all-around fun to talk
to. :) And I promised JB a very very special thank you if his suggestions
for Part 50 turned out well.  From the emails I got, I'd say that they did,
so here it is. :) He's the first person that I met through this story, and
one of the biggest reasons that I'm glad I posted it in the first place. :)

Okay then, enough of my blabbering for now.  As always, comments and
suggestions are more than welcome.  Drop me a line at
dls_stories@hotmail.com

Enjoy!


	PART 51

	I read over what I had written, making sure of every word I put
down.  Scratching out a few words and sentences, I carefully reworded them
until the note said exactly what I needed and wanted it to say.  With a
sigh, I set about rewriting it neatly.



	Dear Brian

		I'm leaving.  I know that this is the last thing that you
were expecting, and quite frankly, I'm surprising myself as well.  I would
have told you in the morning rather than leave a letter like this, but I
was afraid that you or another of the guys would be able to talk me into
staying, and I couldn't afford for that to happen.

		"Life is a series of little deaths, out of which life
always returns."  My mother taught me that when I was little, and while I
didn't understand it then, I think I finally know what it means.  I have
experienced several such little deaths, and there are a few that I failed
to properly grieve.  That is what I hope to do now.

		By leaving now, I hope to finally put some of these things
to rest and come to the life on the other side, free from the hauntings of
the past.  I realise that this doesn't make much sense to you, but I have
to ask you to trust me a little longer.

		You were right about there being something else that Nick
and I weren't telling you.  Please don't be mad at him for not telling you;
I made him promise not to.  I've been having some pretty frightening dreams
since that first one in Chicago.  Knowing you, I'm sure you remember
exactly which one I'm talking about.  I didn't say anything because I'm not
sure why I'm having them, and with all of the other things that were going
on around us, I didn't want you worrying over something that you couldn't
help.

		After I came back to the room tonight, I had another
nightmare, and knew that I couldn't go on with this any longer.  I thought
about it, and the answer finally became clear.  Hopefully, taking this time
by myself will let me finally get to a place where I can give you what you
need and want from me.  Right now, I can't do that; I doubt myself, and
that can only lead me to doubts about us, and I don't want to see that
happen.

		I just can't do it anymore, Brian.  It's too much.  Your
mother, Howie, the press, what happened the other night with Nick, and the
difficulty you're having with it, the nightmares, the book.  I can't keep
up. What happened tonight finally tipped whatever fragile balance I was
maintaining.  I tried to write earlier, and I've never found it harder.
You've lost trust and faith in me, and it's starting to affect your
relationship with Nick.  I won't be the cause of that.

		I don't know where I'm going to go, and I can't say when
I'll be back.  You told me earlier that I could have all the time I needed.
I have to hold you to that now, though I know that this wasn't what you had
in mind.  You also asked me to promise that I'd come back to you.  I can
make that promise now.  As soon as I've done what I need to do, I'll be
back.

		If you'll still have me.

								I love you,

								Nate

	Folding the letter, I slid it carefully into an envelope from the
desk drawer.  I wiped away a tear as I set the envelope down unsealed and
stood from the desk.  I gathered up my luggage and dug in the side pocket
of the small bag that I used for my personal affects.  Finding what I was
looking for, I held it up to the light briefly, watching the light flash
off of the sides.

	Taking it back to the desk, I slid my father's medallion into the
envelope, slipping it between the folds of the letter.  I sealed the
envelope and turned it over again, writing Brian's name across the front of
it.

	By now I was crying freely, but I barely noticed.  I wandered
around the room, gathering my things and packing them away without taking
the time to worry about how neatly it was done.

	With my few things from the main room packed, I headed into the
bedroom and stopped just inside the door, looking at the bed - our bed.
Searching for courage, I clenched my fists and walked further into the
room.  I threw my suitcase on top of the bed and opened it, turning to the
closet.  Pulling my things from the hangers, I folded them quickly and lay
them in the bottom of my suitcase.

	I had almost finished packing up my clothes when I came across
Brian's midnight blue silk shirt.  Running my hand slowly down the sleeve,
I felt my heart break a little more.

	"What am I doing?" I whimpered.  "How can I just leave him?"  I
took the shirt from the hanger and sat down on the bed, still running my
hands over the sleeves.  Bringing one cuff up to the side of my head, I
caressed my own cheek with it.  "No," I said to the empty room, surprising
myself with the conviction I heard in my own voice.  "I'm doing what I have
to do to come back to him."

	After a moment of deliberation, I added his shirt to my suitcase.
Digging through it, I removed my matching one in green and hung it back up
with Brian's things, hoping he'd understand.

	Before I could start to question myself again, I grabbed my things
out of the dresser and put them alongside my clothes.  Closing the
suitcase, I walked quickly into the bathroom and took the few things that I
kept there.  Once they were packed, I took another survey of the room,
making sure that I wasn't forgetting anything that I was going to need.

	When I was sure I had everything, I picked up the letter from the
desk and took it into the bedroom.  Setting it on the dresser, I quickly
made the bed again, leaving it as neat as Brian had earlier, and set the
letter down, leaning it against the pillows in the middle of the bed, where
Brian would be sure to find it.

	Looking down at the small envelope propped there, I felt the tears
coming again and knew that if I didn't leave then, I never would.
Gathering up what little courage I still had, I turned my back on the bed
and walked out into the main room again.

	Picking up my bags, I opened the door and stepped out into the
hall, closing the door behind me.  Since Brian had the only copy, I knew he
would be the one to find the letter.  I picked up my things again and
headed for the elevator.

	When I reached the door of the room that Brian was sharing with
Nick, I set down one of my bags and placed my hand on the centre of the
door, saying a silent goodbye.  Running my hand quietly down the door, I
finally moved my gaze back to the elevator and started to walk again, my
head down and my feet dragging slightly.

	I pressed the button and heard the whirr of the motor as the car
started to rise from the main floor.  I chanced one more glance back down
the hall.  It seemed so empty, so cold.  I knew that my friends were only a
few short feet away, but it didn't make a difference.  I still felt alone.

	I jumped a little as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.  I
placed my bags inside and stepped in after them, pressing the button for
the lobby.  The doors obediently closed, shutting off my view of the hall
and making my course of action seem all the more final.


	The lobby was all but deserted when I stepped out into it.  I could
hear my shoes clicking on the tiled floor as I approached the front desk.

	"Are you checking out, sir?" the woman behind the desk asked
politely, looking down at my luggage.

	"Yes, I suppose I am," I said.  "I was staying on the same floor as
the Backstreet Boys, but I'm afraid I've been called away.  I left my room
key in the room.  One of the boys has a spare.  I hope that's alright."

	"Yes sir," the woman smiled at me.  "The rooms are already paid
for, so we'll retrieve the key when the rest of the party checks out.  No
problem."

	"Thank you," I said.  "Is there anything I have to sign, or..."

	"No sir, everything has already been taken care of by their
management.  I just need to see some proof of ID so we know that you are
who you say you are, Mr..." she looked in the register for the list of
people staying on our floor.  "Healy?"

	I didn't particularly feel like smiling, but I forced myself
anyway.  "That's me," I said, handing her my wallet so she could check my
ID.

	"Nathaniel Healy?  The author?" she asked, noting my first name.

	"Guilty as charged."

	"I loved your last book," she said, smiling.

	"Thank you... Stacey," I answered, checking the little gold name
tag pinned to her vest.

	She looked at me for another couple of minutes, then remembered her
job.  "Okay, Mr. Healy.  I'll just make a note here that you've left, and
the maid won't worry about your room until the rest of the party checks
out."

	"Thanks," I said, retrieving my wallet and gathering my bags again.
"Would you mind calling me a cab?"

	"No problem," she said, picking up the phone from her desk.  "Where
to?"

	That was the question, wasn't it?  "The airport," I answered, still
unsure of exactly where I was going to go.

	Stacey nodded and dialled a number.  After speaking for a moment,
she informed me that a cab would be outside in a moment.  I thanked her and
walked to the main doors, noting that it was still raining quite hard.

	"Mr. Healy?" Stacey called out before I could open the doors.  I
turned and gave her a questioning look.

	"Was there any message that you'd like to leave for the rest of
your party?"

	"I left a note in the room," I said, forcing myself to smile again.
"They'll get it."

	"Okay then," she said.  "Have a nice trip."

	'See you next fall,' my mind supplied.  "Thanks," I said out loud,
and stepped outside.

	The rain was still falling almost vertically, and there was little
wind, so I was able to stay mostly dry under the canopy that ran from the
hotel to the sidewalk.  My tears were threatening again, and I almost ran
back into the building, planning on ripping up the letter and staying after
all.

	No sooner had the thought entered my mind than that voice in my
head that filled in for Andrea spoke up.  'Do you love him?'

	"Yes, of course I do," whispered into the night.

	'And does he love you?'

	"I think so."

	'Nate...' the voice in my head said in reproach.

	"Yes, he does."

	'Then you have to go, and trust that he'll understand.'

	I waited to see if there was going to be anything else, but it
seemed to have said all it had to say.  I simply nodded to myself and ran
the back of my hand across my eyes, wiping away the few tears that had
fallen and feeling much more sure of myself.

	I waited a few moments before a cab pulled up at the curb and the
driver popped the trunk for me.  He ran from the driver's door and opened
it, and I grabbed my things and ran out to meet him.

	We quickly put my bags in the trunk and slammed it closed again,
then ran to our respective doors.  Once inside and out of the rain again, I
sighed and relaxed a little in my seat.

	"You picked a great night to be travelling," the cabby chuckled
from the front seat.

	"Tell me about it," I smiled back.  "I wouldn't be going if I had a
choice."

	"Well, I'll have you to the airport in no time, sir," he glanced
back at me as he spoke.  "Not a lot of traffic on the road this time of
night."

	"Thank you," I said, sitting back in the seat.

	"That's my job," he said simply.  "So where you headed?"

	"Toronto," I said without thinking.  I put my hand to my mouth
briefly, until I realised how strange I must have looked, and dropped it to
my lap again.  'Toronto?' I asked myself, and heard the confirmation come
back.  'Well, I suppose that's as good a place as any.'  "Yes, I'm going to
Toronto," I said again.

	"Brrrr," the driver laughed.  "What would take you there?"

	I leaned forward in the car a little, checking the driver's name on
his licence.  "Unfinished business, Stan.  Unfinished business.  The name's
Nate, by the way."  I thought briefly of extending my hand, but given the
weather conditions, I wasn't sure I wanted him taking a hand off of the
wheel to shake it.

	"Pleasure," he said, nodding instead of offering his own hand.
"What kind of business are you in, if you don't mind my asking?"

	"I'm a writer," I answered him.  "I've just got a few things to
take care of back home."

	"Ah," he nodded.  "That answers that."

	"What answers what?"

	"I was wondering about that accent of yours."

	"I don't have an accent.  *You* have an accent," I said, laughing a
little.

	Stan grinned in the rear-view mirror.  "Whatever you say," he
laughed.  "The customer is always right."

	"That's right," I agreed wisely, making us both laugh again.

	Before long, we were pulling around in front of the terminal.  I
paid Stan, making sure to give him a large tip.  He deserved it for making
me smile in spite of myself.  He thanked me and helped my get my things out
of the car and to the doors.

	With a final wave, he pulled back out away from the building and
was soon just a set of tail-lights.  I sighed to myself and picked up my
luggage.  At least I knew where I was going.  I thought briefly of calling
Erron and letting him know that I would be coming home, but decided that it
was too early to do that.  Erron worked an odd schedule, and there was no
telling whether he would be sleeping or not.

	I got my ticket for the next flight to Toronto, and found that I
had about three hours to kill.  I found a small, all-but-deserted cafe and
took a seat, ordering myself a coffee.  When it came, I sat back in my seat
and relished the first sip, as I always did.  The combination of bitter and
sweet was wonderful, and I immediately felt more relaxed.

	I thought briefly of trying to get some writing done, but after the
fiasco earlier, I knew that it wouldn't be very productive.  Instead, I
finished my coffee and walked to a small shop in the airport.  I found a
book that looked mildly interesting and bought it, returning to the cafe
for another coffee while I waited.

	The book proved to be less interesting that I had hoped, but it
helped pass the time until my flight was called.  When I finally heard the
announcement, I closed the book and stood from the table.  I waved and
smiled warmly at the waitress - Dierdre - and she returned the smile.
Putting the book under my arm, I picked up my computer bag and went to
catch my plane.


	PART 52

	The take-off was uneventful and soon I was on my way home.  I was
feeling better and better about my decision to go to Toronto again.  Not
only had I not been there in a while, but I knew that if I told Erron that
I needed to be alone for a while, he would make sure that I got that time.
He was one of those people who didn't take offense to being told that they
weren't needed at the moment.

	Not long after take-off, I abandoned all hope of my book getting
better, and asked the flight attendant for a pillow.  I wasn't sure if I
could sleep after all that had happened already, but I was determined to
try.  With everything that I had to figure out, the last thing I wanted was
to pass out once I arrived in Toronto.

	My fears were unfounded, apparently, because I quickly fell asleep.
There were no nightmares and no visions about my book.  In fact, it was the
first entirely peaceful sleep I had had in a long time.


	I woke up about an hour outside of Toronto and sat up in my seat
with a grimace of pain.  I had slept at an odd angle, and my neck had a
huge crimp in it.  Smiling politely at the woman in the seat next to me,
who had noticed my grimace, I brought my hand to the spot where my neck
became my shoulder and started to work out the tension there.

	By the time they announced that we would be landing, I was enjoying
a cup of coffee that the flight attendant had brought, and looking forward
to being home again.  The woman next to me had started up a conversation as
I massaged my neck.

	"So what will you be doing in Toronto?" she asked, smiling a little
and sipping at her own coffee.  She had introduced herself as Mary, and she
was a dancer with a Toronto-based company.

	"Actually, I'm from Toronto," I said, returning her smile.  "I've
been away for a while, and I'm coming back home to sort of find myself
again."  It was close enough to the truth, I thought.

	"I see," she nodded.  "And what kind of business had you away from
home?"

	"I'm a writer," I explained with a smile.  "I was collaborating
with a group of friends on a new project, but it hit a snag.  I'm taking a
few days to kind of pull it all together again."  I was impressed at how
closely I could stay to the truth without actually saying anything.

	"How interesting," she said.  "Sounds like you've got a handle on
things."

	"I'm trying, Mary.  I'm trying." I said, sipping again at my
coffee.  "Once I manage to put everything back in order, I'm hoping things
will get back on track."

	"Well, good luck then," she said, holding up her coffee with a
laugh.  "To holding things together."

	I grinned and carefully tapped my cup to hers.  "I'll drink to
that."

	We talked for another few minutes about miscellaneous things.
Mostly about living in Toronto, and what we missed most about it when we
were away.  Eventually, the flight attendant came by and collected our
drinks, telling us that we would soon be landing.

	After we were on the ground again, I said goodbye to Mary,
garnering an invitation to come to one of her shows, and headed for baggage
claim.


	Once I had gathered my luggage, I left the airport and flagged down
a cab.  Getting in, I gave him my address and we pulled out into traffic.
The driver didn't seem like he was in the mood for conversation, which was
fine with me.  We rode in silence until he pulled up outside my building.

	I paid him and picked up my things, rummaging in my pocket for the
keys to the front door.  I decided not to buzz to be let in, since I could
wake Erron up, and balanced my things in one hand while I unlocked the door
and let myself into the building.

	Tossing my things in the elevator, I pressed the button for my
floor and watched as the doors closed, cutting off my view of the small
lobby.

	The doors opened on a familiar grey hallway and I managed to get my
bags out before they closed again.  Feeling a bit strange being back here
so unexpectedly, I set my things outside my door and quickly found my key.
I put it in the lock and turned it, feeling the bolt slide back, then
pushed open the door and kicked my large suitcase in front of it to hold it
while I brought the rest through.

	Stepping inside, I glanced into the kitchen.  Seeing no sign of
Erron, I put my bags on the counter and pulled my suitcase inside, letting
the door close.

	I took myself on a short tour of the apartment, familiarising
myself with it again.  Glancing in the spare room, I saw Erron sleeping.  I
smiled at the thought of how surprised he was going to be when he found me
there, and carried my luggage into my room at the end of the hall.

	Everything was exactly as I had left it.  Well, almost everything.
Erron had removed the few plants that I had kept in my room.  Rather than
invading my space to water them, he had simply relocated them.  It didn't
look like he had stepped foot in my room since.

	I smiled at his thoughtfulness and set about unpacking.  I didn't
know how long I would be there, but I wasn't about to start living out of a
suitcase in my own home.  Once my computer was set up at my desk and my
things were put away in the bathroom, I pulled my suitcase up onto the bed
and opened it.

 	The first thing I found was Brian's shirt, and I started to cry
again.  He would have found my note by now, and I knew that he'd have a
rough time with my being gone.  Sighing, I sat down beside the suitcase and
let myself cry for a few minutes.

	My well-trained imagination had no problem coming up with an image
of Brian sitting on our bed in Santa Fe and crying as he read the note, the
medallion that I had left with it dangling from his hand.

	Wiping away my tears, I banished the image with a little effort,
There was no use beating myself up over what was already done.  I knew that
I was doing what I had to do, and I had to see it through.  Pulling out my
cell phone, I turned it off, fearing that Brian would try to call and
convince me to come back.

	I stood up again and started to put my clothes in the closet,
making sure to hang Brian's shirt first.  Once they were all put away, I
shoved my luggage under my bed and lay down for a while, going over the
night's happenings in my mind.

	I thought for a few minutes about the bit of my nightmares that I
had been able to recall, but it didn't make any more sense now than it had
then, so I let it drop for a while, figuring that it would come in time.

	Instead, I turned my attention to the voices that I had heard on
the balcony.  Going over them in my head, I closed my eyes and concentrated
on the faces of those speaking.  I again was filled with a sense of
conviction that this time by myself was exactly what I needed.

	Smiling and feeling more sure of myself than I had all night, I sat
back up on the bed, listening closely for any sign of Erron.  After a
moment, I heard the tap in the kitchen turn on and he started to sing to
himself as he went about making breakfast.  He obviously hadn't heard me
come in.

	I laughed to myself and got up off of the bed.  I crept quietly out
into the hall and then to the living room, standing in the doorway to the
kitchen for a moment.  Erron had his back to me as he looked in the fridge
for something.

	"Hi honey!  I'm home!" I bellowed with a laugh.

	Erron jumped, bumping his head against the edge of the freezer
door.  "What the hell!" he yelled, backing away quickly and looking in my
direction to find me grinning foolishly.  "Jesus Nate, you could give a
little warning!"

	"What would be the fun in that sweetie?"  I had thought that it
might be strange calling another man by the pet name that Brian and I had
adopted for each other, and was surprised that it wasn't.  It was Erron,
after all.  "Nice to see you too, by the way," I giggled as he rubbed the
top of his head.

	"You know I'm happy to see you," he smiled.  "But a phone call
wouldn't have killed you.  What if I had someone staying over?"

	"You better not," I said, crossing the room and sweeping him up in
a hug.  "We're supposed to be very happily attached to each other."

	Erron laughed and hugged me back.  "Yeah yeah.  How happy can I be
with you gallivanting all around the country with that troupe of hotties?"

	"So what?  You start sleeping around on me?" I grinned, pulling
away from him and pouring myself a cup of coffee.  "You really should make
more coffee in the mornings, hon.  There's only enough for me here," I
laughed.

	"Well I was only expecting me for breakfast, you little bitch,"
Erron said, slapping my hand and taking the cup away from me.  "You wanna
come in here scaring the hell out of people, you can make your own."

	"So that's how it's going to be, eh?" I said with a smile as I
reached for the coffee filters.

	"That's right.  You're a big boy.  Get yer own."

	"You keep this up, and I may just have to leave you for a cute pop
star or something," I laughed.  I poured some more coffee into the filter
and then filled up the machine with water.  Once the pot was back in place,
I flicked the switch and listened for the first gurgles, letting me know
that salvation was on the way.

	"Speaking of which," Erron said, sitting at the table.  "What the
hell are you doing away from him?"

	"Long story," I said, looking down at my hands.

	"Don't tell me the two of you broke up?"

	"Not exactly.  I just need some time alone for a while."

	"Why?"

	"I'll explain it over breakfast," I said.  "Providing you've got
real food in the house."

	"You know me better than that," Erron laughed.  "Gotta be prepared
in case I actually find a man who can cook."

	"And what would you call me?" I asked, opening the fridge.

	"Well, you can cook.  I'll give you that.  But manly?  I don't know
about that."

	"I'm twice as manly as you are, you big fruit," I laughed.  I
turned and tossed an egg at him.  He let out a little shriek and barely
managed to catch it.  "See?"

	"Yeah yeah yeah.  You're quite the butch," he said with a grin.
"Now are you going to make me breakfast or not?"

	"Your wish is my command," I said sweetly, walking over and taking
the egg from him before he could toss it back to me.  Erron threw even
worse than he caught.

	"Then I'll have an omelette with toast, bacon, and a bowl of fruit
on the side," he grinned.  "You'll find onions and peppers in the door of
the fridge, and there's some apple butter in there too.  Strawberries,
blackberries and blueberries are in the crisper."

	"Aren't we the hungry one?" I asked with a smile.  "Sounds good.
Got any cream?"

	"Right here, sweetness," he said, coming to the fridge and pulling
out a carton.  "Always be prepared.  I was a boyscout, you know."

	"Of course you were," I laughed.  "Anywhere there were lots of boys
in those cute little shorts, you'd be there."

	Erron slapped my arm and went back to the table.  "You just get
cooking, slaveboy," he smiled, making whip-crack noises.

	"Yes sir," I said, saluting sharply.  I set out the things I needed
on the counter and started to chop up the onions and peppers for the
omelette.  "Now what have you been up to lately?" I asked.  Stepping away
from the counter, I picked up three eggs and started to juggle them as I
walked to the stove with them.

	"Show-off," Erron laughed.  "Nothing much, really.  Get up, go to
work, get home, go to bed.  I got the insurance money for the things that
were stolen, though."

	"That's good."

	"Yeah," he agreed.  "What about you?"

	"You know, the usual.  Get up with a hottie, have breakfast with
four other hotties, hang out with the aforementioned hotties, do a bit of
writing, go to bed with the hottie again.  Nothing too strenuous," I
laughed, regardless of the fact that I had seriously overused the word
'hottie.'

	"Bitch."

	"Hey!  This bitch is cooking you a nice breakfast.  The least you
could do is be nice," I said with a grin.  I got a bowl out of the cupboard
and set about making the omelette.

	"You know me better than that."

	"Yeah, I remember how catty you are," I laughed, searching for a
pan.

	"Speaking of which, how's Andrea doing?" he grinned.

	"She's good," I said, finding what I was looking for.  "Work's
going well and all, but I wish she'd find a boyfriend.  I don't like to
think of her being alone."

	"Well she can't find one until I do."

	"Hey!" I laughed, indicating myself.

	"Call me crazy, but I prefer my boyfriends to come unattached,
sweetie," he smiled.  "Just one of my many quirks, I guess."

	"Suit yourself."  I poured the eggs into the pan and went to work
on the fruit.  The berries, not Erron.

	After I had them cleaned and put into two bowls for us, I checked
the eggs and started another pan for bacon.  Once that was coming along
nicely, I got out some bread and put it in the toaster.

	"Don't forget the apple butter," Erron reminded me.

	"Right here, my dear," I grinned, holding it up.  "Everything's
almost ready.

	"You only made one omelette," Erron said suspiciously.

	"Relax," I laughed.  "It's for you.  I'm not in an egg mood this
morning."

	Erron grinned and waited as I put the meal together on a plate and
set it down in front of him.  "There you go monsieur."

	"Merci, monsieur," he answered with a grin.  "Looks good."

	"Good?"

	"Looks wonderful," he corrected himself.  "Happy?"

	"Oh yeah," I grinned as I set a plate of bacon and toast on the
table, then went back for the berries and cream.

	I sat down and started to fix myself a bacon sandwich.

	"You can cook like this," Erron said, indicating his omelette
which, if I do say so myself, was perfectly prepared.  "And then you sit
down to a bacon sandwich?"

	"Yep," I nodded as I bit into the sandwich.  "That's the way it
looks, doesn't it?"

	"You're some sort of freak," Erron concluded, taking a bite of his
eggs.

	"Never claimed otherwise," I laughed.  "And don't knock it till
you've tried it."

	"Hmmm... Apple butter and bacon.  No thanks.  So are you going to
tell me why you're miles and miles away from your fabulously wealthy and
gorgeous boyfriend?"

	"I missed you?"

	"Nice try, hon.  Now spill."


	Breakfast was long over by the time I was finished bringing Erron
up to speed on what had been happening since I joined the boys on tour.
"So, I left and came home," I concluded.

	"Because some voices in your head told you to?"

	"Well, it sounds strange when you say it like that, but yeah.  I
need to pull it all together and get over a few things before I can move
on," I said.

	"And you're okay now?"

	"Well, as good as I can be without Brian," I said, getting up for
another cup of coffee.  "You want?"

	"Yeah, please," he said, holding out his cup for me.  "But you're
not going to collapse in the front room or anything, right?"

	"Not at the moment, Erron," I laughed.  "But I have to figure out
some way to get beyond all of the crap in my past.  I've got to put it to
rest."

	"And how are you going to do that?  You never even talk about it,
let alone deal with it.  And look what happened when you did say
something."

	"That's what I'm here to figure out," I said, setting the cups back
on the table.  "I've got to find some way past it."

	"Then you will," he said confidently.  "If there's one thing I know
about you, sweetie, it's that that brain of yours can come up with some
pretty amazing things when it wants to."

	"Here's hoping," I said, taking a drink.

	"Well, you can get started right away, at least," Erron said,
standing up and grabbing his plate.  "I have to be at work in half an
hour."  He put his plate in the sink and grabbed his coffee.  "You've got
the place to yourself for the day and half the night.  I pulled the
overtime shift."

	"I'll get the dishes," I said.  "And I'll see you when you get
home, then."

	"You bet.  Good luck, hon."  Erron gave me a quick kiss on the
cheek and gulped down the rest of his coffee before heading out the door.

	"Thanks," I called out as he disappeared into the hall.  With a
sigh, I set about cleaning up the kitchen.  Popping the last piece of bacon
in my mouth, I started to sing quietly to myself.

	"Nobody said it would be easy,
	 Nobody gives you guarantees.
	 'Cause a heart can always be broken,
	 And there can be no lovin', without tears.
	 Runaway..."

	I stopped singing and looked around.  'Well,' I thought.  'There's
been more than enough tears already.'  I continued to hum along with Cher
as she sang a private concert in my head as I finished up the dishes and
left them to dry in the rack.  Taking a brief look around to make sure that
I had put everything away, I decided I was happy with the state of the
kitchen and walked into the living room to enjoy my coffee.

	Deciding that I was a poor imitation of the real thing, I dug out
my 'Believe' CD and put it on the stereo.  Once I had the sound adjusted
properly (I had long predicted that Erron would be deaf by the time he was
thirty), I sat down in the chair by the window and looked out at my
hometown.

	The ringing phone brought me back to reality, and I grabbed it off
of the coffee table.  "Hello?"

	"What the hell are you thinking?" Carrie practically shouted at me.
"You can't just go running around the continent without letting me know
where you're going!"

	"Whoa, calm down for a minute."

	"We had a deal, Nate.  You were going on tour with the guys, and
you were going to make sure that I knew where you were at all times in case
I needed to get ahold of you."

	"Carrie..."

	"Then you just take off like this, making everyone worry.  What's
going on in that head of yours?"

	'That's what I'm trying to figure out,' I thought to myself.
"Carrie, if you'll stop yelling at me for a minute, I'll explain it for
you."

	"I'm listening," she said.  It was obvious that she was more
worried about me than angry, but I thought it prudent not to point that out
to her.

	"I was going to call you as soon as I was settled in again," I
lied.  I hadn't even thought about informing Carrie about my sudden change
of accommodations.  "I just barely got through the door and had to explain
things to Erron."

	"So what are you doing there in the first place?  You're supposed
to be on tour."

	"I had to leave, Carrie.  Some things have been happening lately,
and I just had to have some time by myself.  I've got my computer, and you
know where I am now.  Don't worry, I'll try to get some writing done."

	"Screw the book!  I'm worried about you, Nate.  What can you do in
Toronto that you couldn't do with the guys?"

	"Be by myself," I answered simply.  "Things got a bit out of hand,
and I had to take some time."

	"How much time?"

	"Are you pumping me for information?" I asked suddenly.  "Did Brian
call you?"

	"No, Kevin did.  Everyone's worried about you, Nate.  What made you
disappear like that?"

	"I had to leave, and I knew that if I told everyone I was going,
they would talk me out of it."

	"I need you to explain this to me.  How does being alone help you?"
Carrie asked.

	"How much did Kevin tell you about why I left?"

	"He read me the note that you left Brian."

	"Then you know about the dreams."

	"Yeah.  What little you mentioned in the letter.  Nick still isn't
saying anything about what you told him about them.  Kevin filled me in on
what happened to you the night you and Nick talked."

	"Those are the two reasons that I left," I said.

	"I'm not getting it, Nate."

	"Carrie, you know about all of the stuff that's going on with
Brian.  I have to figure out what's going on in my head before I can deal
with everything else."

	"And how long is this going to take?"

	"Well, I don't exactly have a schedule worked out for complete
mental well-being," I said sarcastically.  "I don't know how long.  A few
days at least, maybe more."

	"And there's nothing that I can do to help, or convince you to go
back?"

	"No, and no.  I've got to do this, Carrie."

	I heard her sigh, probably thinking about having to report defeat
to Kevin.  "Alright.  I'll pass it along.  Do you want me to tell them
where you are?"

	I thought about it for a minute.  Surely Brian wouldn't come all
this way... no, he would.  "No," I answered.  "Just tell Kevin that I'm
sorry to have worried them, and to tell Brian that I love him and I'll be
back."

	"Okay," she agreed.  "You let me know if I can help with anything."

	"I will Carrie," I said with a smile.  "Thanks."

	"No problem.  Good luck."

	"Bye."

	"Bye Nate," she said, breaking the connection.



	PART 53

	I hung up the phone and returned to my seat by the window.  I could
picture Carrie in her office, dialling Kevin's number and telling him what
I had told her.  I sighed and drained my cup, sitting it on the windowsill.

	"Where do I start?" I asked the room.  Like most rooms, it didn't
have a lot to add to the conversation.  "Where in the hell do I start
this?"  An image of a building suddenly popped into my head, and I smiled
nervously.  "As good a place as any," I mumbled, raising myself out of the
chair.

	I grabbed my light jacket from the hall closet, in case it rained
or I didn't get back until after dark, and headed out the door.

	The city was humming with activity as I walked the streets.  People
were moving everywhere.  Typical of cities just about everywhere, most
people kept their eyes cast down at their feet as the walked, trying to
avoid running into others.

	I turned the corner and felt my breath catch in my throat.
Coughing a little, I stood across from the building and tried to calm
myself down.  It hadn't changed much since I had last been there, and the
eerie sense of deja vu that came over me made me sway a little on my feet.

	Steeling myself and holding onto whatever backbone I had, I crossed
the street and walked across the expanse of lawn in front of the building.
Reaching the doors, I opened one and stepped right into my past.

	"Can I help you, sir?"  A young woman asked as I stepped into her
office.

	"Yes, I was just wondering if it would be possible for me to walk
around a little bit?  I went here a while back, and I just wanted to
revisit some old memories," I explained, giving her a smile.

	"Well, I don't see why not, but you'd have to talk to Principal
Davis first.  Her office is the second door on the right," she smiled back
and pointed to a closed door behind me.

	"Thank you," I turned the smile up a notch and backed out into the
hall.  Taking a deep breath, I walked to the door that she had indicated
and knocked.

	"Come in," I heard a woman's voice call from the other side.

	I opened the door and stepped inside the well-decorated office.
"Hello, I was just wondering if it would be alright if I wandered around a
little bit?"

	"Is that so?" the woman asked with a smile.  She looked to be about
fifty, with dark hair slowly going to grey.  She had a very academic look
to her, but the glint in her eyes suggested that she knew how to have fun
as well.  "Please, have a seat."

	I sat down opposite the large desk she was sitting at and folded my
hands in my lap.

	"Now, why exactly would you like to go walking around?  It's a bit
of an odd request."

	"This was my high school," I said, trying to match her grin.  "I
just wanted to go for a little tour and try to reclaim a few ghosts I may
have left behind."

	"Is that so?" she asked again.  "And who would you be?"

	"Excuse me?"

	"Well, I don't want to sound too nosy, but I don't think the
parents would like my allowing some stranger to mingle with their children.
I'm sure you understand."

	"Oh, yes, of course.  I could be some sort of lunatic, I suppose.
I hadn't thought of that." I continued to smile.  "But I assure you I'm
not.  My name is Nathaniel Healy," I said, pulling out my wallet and
passing it to her.

	"Nathaniel Healy?" she looked up from my ID.

	"Yes ma'am," I said.  No matter how old one is, when you're in a
principal's office, you're fourteen again.

	"THE Nathaniel Healy?"

	"Um... I guess so."

	"You wrote that book.  What's it called... 'Blue Sky'."

	"That's me," I said.  I knew she wouldn't refuse my request now,
but I thought I saw an idea flashing around behind her grey-blue eyes.

	"Well, I had no idea you went to school here.  This is something,
alright," she said, passing me my wallet again.

	"Well, my career here wasn't all that illustrious," I said softly,
looking down at my hands.

	"Nevertheless, you may be the most famous person to have ever
graced our halls," she said.  She was getting kind of worked up about the
whole idea, which made me nervous.

	"I wouldn't exactly call what I did here 'gracing the halls'
Mrs. Davis," I said, adding a laugh for good measure.

	"Doesn't matter, my boy," she insisted.

	"Does this mean that I can go for a walk around the school?" I
asked, hoping to bring her mind back to the matter at hand and get out of
her office before she finished whatever plan she had going.

	"Certainly," she said, starting to get up.  "I'd be happy to come
along with you."

	"Actually, I don't mean to be rude, but I'd rather just wander
around by myself.  I promise I won't interrupt any classes or anything.  I
was just in the area and thought I'd visit the past a bit."

	"Oh," she said, settling back into her chair again.  "Well then,
let me just write you a note so you won't have any trouble from anyone in
the halls."

	I started to laugh, which drew her attention.  "Sorry," I
apologised.  "It's just been a while since I've needed a hall pass."

	She started to laugh as well and finished writing the note.  "Here
you go Nathaniel," she said, handing it to me across the desk.  "Can I call
you Nathaniel?"

	"I prefer Nate," I said with a smile, folding the note and putting
it in my pocket.

	"Of course, Nate."

	"Well, thank you for this, Principal Davis," I said, standing from
my chair.  "I really appreciate you letting me do this."

	"No problem at all, Nate," she said, rising as well.  "It's my
pleasure."

	I shook hands with her again, and made my way to the door.

	"Oh, Nate?" she called before I could open it.

	"Yes?"

	"A simply wonderful idea just occurred to me," she said.

	'Sure it did,' I thought, suppressing a grin.  'Here it comes.'
"What would that be?"

	"How would you feel about coming and speaking to a couple of our
upper-year English classes?" she asked.  "Sort of give them an idea about
what the education they're getting can do for them?"

	"That sounds like it could be a lot of fun," I said, forcing a
smile and thinking that the chances of her getting me back inside these
doors after today were next to nil.  I didn't want to be rude about it, but
I was almost positive that I wouldn't be able to handle returning to the
school again.  "Let me give you the number for my publishers and we'll see
if we can set something up.  I'm travelling quite extensively at the
moment, so unfortunately I can't do it right now.  We'll have to arrange
something for the next time I'm in town."

	"Excellent," she said with a smile.

	I turned a pad of paper around on her desk and borrowed a pen.
Writing down the main office number, I jotted down Carrie's extension
number and gave it to Principal Davis.  "Now you should probably wait until
tomorrow to call about all of this.  Let me have a chance to tell them that
it's legitimate and all that.  I don't imagine there will be a problem
coming up with something."

	"Thank you so much, Nate," she smiled, putting the paper in her
desk drawer.  "I'll call first thing in the morning."

	"That should be fine," I said.  "And now if you'll excuse me..."

	"Oh certainly," she answered me.  "Enjoy your tour of the past."

	"I always do," I mumbled.  "I'm sure I will," I said louder for her
benefit.

	"We'll be talking to you later, then."

	"You bet." I opened the door and stepped out before she had me
providing Nathaniel Healy Writing Scholarships or some such thing.  Smiling
to myself, and making a mental note to call Carrie and have her stall the
school until they lost interest, I headed down the hall to the main foyer
of the school.  I felt horrible about lying to Principal Davis, but I
couldn't outright refuse to do it.

	The large foyer was so similar to the memories that I had that for
a moment I couldn't breathe.  I could feel the panic starting way back in
my head and willed it to remain there.  I took a few more steps out into
the foyer and looked through the large glass doors to the courtyard
outside.

	There was a gym class doing some sort of sprinting drills on the
field beyond the courtyard, and I immediately felt sympathy for them.  I
had hated gym more than any other class in my illustrious career here.  I
watched them for a few more minutes, then turned and headed for the first
stop on my trip down memory lane.

	I walked down a couple of halls, listening to the lectures of the
teachers behind the doors.  A couple of classrooms were empty and I managed
to steal a glance inside.  The smell of chalk dust was overpowering and did
more than anything else to remind me of my high school years.

	Passing the room that I had taken English - my favourite subject -
in, I couldn't resist glancing inside.  There was a small window set beside
the door, and I could see a room full of students looking bored.  As I
moved down the hall a little, I saw Principal Davis talking to the teacher,
who seemed to be feigning interest in what she had to say.  She gestured to
the hall without looking, and I understood that she was telling him about
my visit.

	"So I wrote a book," I laughed under my breath.  "Calm down, lady."

	I hurried past the door so that she wouldn't see me if she did
look, and found myself standing at the foot of a set of stairs leading to
the second floor of the school.  Resting my hand on the railing, I felt my
heart speed up a little.

	I leaned over the railing so I could see clear up to the landing on
the second level.  "Oh Jack," I whispered, running my hand back and forth
over the railing and trying to keep the tears back.

	I stood there, transfixed, until a bell rang directly over my head,
signalling the change in classes.  I backed up against the wall just in
time to avoid being trampled by the stampede of students as they ran out
into the hall, eager to get away from one boring subject and immerse
themselves in another.

	I smiled a little.  It seemed so funny to watch.  An entire
community completely ruled by the ringing of the bell.  It told them when
to start, when to finish, when to move, when to eat.  It was like a twisted
version of a Pavlov experiment.

	Once the throng of students had passed and the halls were
relatively empty, I walked once again to the bottom of the stairs and just
stood there, letting the memory come back and trying to embrace it.
"Oh...." was all I could say.

	I'm not sure how long I was standing there, but once I noticed a
passing student giving me an odd look, I knew it was time to move on.  With
a final glance up to the landing, I passed the stairs and walked down an
all-too-familiar hallway.

	Brushing my hands against the lockers lining the hall, making the
locks jump and rustle a little bit, I came to a stop in front of one.  It
was red now, but it had been grey then.  I ran my hand down the front of
it, remembering how often I had come back to it to find little surprises
hidden inside.

	"Assholes," I muttered, resisting the urge to punch the locker
door.

	"Excuse me?"  I turned to find a couple of women, one obviously a
teacher and the other a student, standing behind me.  "What did you just
say?"

	"Oh, sorry," I stammered, blushing.  "I wasn't talking to you, I
was talking to myself."

	"And you would be?"

	"My name's Nate," I said, digging in my pocket to find the note
that Principal Davis had given me.  "I used to go to school here.  I'm just
taking a little tour."  I thrust the note out to her.

	She took it and read it over, looking it over carefully.
"Nevertheless, I hardly think that is appropriate language to be using in a
high school."

	When she finished with the note she handed it back to me.  It went
into the pocket again.  "I apologise again, but I hardly think it would be
the first time any of them would have heard the word."  I gave the younger
student a smile, which she returned.

	"That is not the point," she said, clearly going into lecture mode.
"They hear such filth often enough from their peers.  We should be setting
a much better example for them than that."

	"No offense, ma'am," I said, enjoying how she bristled at my
calling her ma'am.  "But I prefer to set a real example for people rather
than some unrealistic ideal.  When they are outside the school, and out on
their own, they are still going to hear such things.  It doesn't do much
good to try and keep it from them."  The girl with her was smiling broadly
now, obviously enjoying my discussion with the teacher.

	"But they must learn that it is inappropriate to use such
language."

	"Ah, and I'd be willing to bet that most of them already know that.
But, as you so kindly pointed out, this is a place where they are among
their peers, not their employers or parents.  Why not cut them a little
slack?  Isn't that right?" I asked the student, who nodded
enthusiastically.

	"It's that kind of thinking that gets people into trouble," she
insisted, giving the girl a harsh stare.

	"Well, I didn't mean to start a debate about this.  I'm sorry for
what I said earlier.  I didn't realise that there was anyone else around,
and I'll be more careful in the future."

	"See that you do," she sniffed, turning and walking down the hall
again, practically dragging her companion with her.  The girl gave me a
final wave and a smile as she was pulled around the corner and out of view.

	I chuckled to myself and rapped my knuckles on the locker, dragging
my mind back to the past again.  I continued my walk, still running my
hands along the lockers and listening to the sound of the locks slapping
back.

	My next stop was the cafeteria.  It was on the second floor of the
school, and was empty at this time of the day.  I wandered in, prepared to
show someone my note, but there was no supervisor there.  Strolling along
the rows of tables, I remembered coming here to eat my lunch, always
staying at the edge of the room so I could avoid anyone who decided to be
an asshole.

	I stopped in the rear corner of the room, right next to the back
exit.  Setting my hand on the table there, which had always been the one I
chose if I could, I could practically hear the noise of a thousand students
rushing in to eat.

	The words 'food fight' came to my ears and I could almost see the
flying lunch-bits in the air.  I felt a smile come to my lips as I walked
back through the table rows and out into the hall again and headed for the
one place that I had been avoiding since I had started this crazed blast to
the past.

	My trip took me past the hall to Principal Davis' office, and I
noticed the girl from before sitting outside in the hall.  She looked up
and I walked over to her.  "So what are you here for?"

	"The same thing you'd be here for, if Ms. Cole had enough power to
do it," she laughed.  "I called someone an asshole in class."

	I grinned.  "Was it one of your peers, or was it Ms. Cole?"

	"A peer," she girl smiled.

	"Though I think it could apply to both, don't you?" I asked.

	"You got that right," she laughed.  "And you didn't help her mood
any with your little speech back there."

	"Well, I'm practically untouchable," I said, brushing my knuckles
against my shirt.  "What's she going to do to me?"

	"Nothing, I guess," the girl grinned at me.  "But she could make it
tough on the rest of us."

	"By the sound of it, she's already doing that.  I'm Nate, by the
way."

	"Susan," she said, shaking my hand.  "And yeah, she does make it
rough.  What are you doing here?"

	"Just taking a stroll down memory lane," I smiled.

	"You went here?"

	"For a while, years ago," I nodded.

	"And you liked it so much you had to come back?"  Susan laughed.

	"Not exactly," I said, looking around.  "But something like that."

	"Don't think I'll ever come back to this place," Susan said,
thumping her feet against the legs of her chair.

	"Neither did I, Susan," I responded, forcing a smile.

	Just then the door opened and Principal Davis came out, followed by
the wonderfully personable and universally liked Ms. Cole.

	"Oh, Nate," Principal Davis said, surprised.  "I didn't know you
were out here.  Is there anything I can help you with?"

	"No no, I was just enjoying a friendly conversation with Susan
here.  We met a little earlier."

	"Oh.  Well, I have to talk to her for a moment.  This is Ms. Cole,"
she said, indicating the woman beside her.

	"We, uh, also met a little earlier.  I believe that she was
bringing Susan to see you."

	"Ah," Principal Davis said, noting the expression on the woman's
face.  "Well, I'm sure you have a class to get back to, don't you Jane?
Jane's one of our English teachers," she explained.

	"Yes, I do.  I'll see you later, young lady," Ms. Cole said to
Susan before turning and disappearing up the hall.

	"Principal Davis," I said, turning on the charm.

	"Yes, Nate?  Something I can help you with?"

	"Well, I was sitting here with Susan and we got to talking.  I know
that she's in trouble for swearing in class, but I think she knows that she
was wrong to do it.  I was wondering if, and this is completely your call,
if maybe you could see fit to skip the punishment this time?  I was hoping
that Susan could walk around with me for a few minutes and talk about some
of the changes that have happened since I was a student."

	"Well..."

	"Susan would, of course, have to promise not to do such a thing
again.  And you'd do that, wouldn't you Susan?"

	Susan nodded her head enthusiastically.  "Yes ma'am.  I won't do it
again."

	Principal Davis looked from Susan to me and back to Susan again.
"I guess it would be alright.  Just this once," she warned, pointing at
Susan.  "If you think it will help with whatever you're doing here, Nate."

	"I'm sure she'll be a big help," I said, giving her another smile.

	"Alright then.  But please make sure that she gets back to
Ms. Cole's class before too long.  We'll keep this between the three of us.
Agreed?"

	Susan and I both nodded our agreement.

	"Then I'll get back to some paperwork," Principal Davis said,
turning back into her office.  "See you later, Susan, and hope to see you
again soon as well, Nate."

	"Count on it," I smiled, giving Susan a hand out of her chair.

	Once we were alone in the hall again, Susan started to laugh and
shook my hand again.  "How did you pull that off?"

	"I've got something she wants," I laughed.

	"And that would be?"

	"Me."  Susan gave me a disgusted look.  "No, not that," I laughed.
"She wants me to come and do a couple of talks to the English classes
sometime."

	"Why?"

	"I'm an author," I said.  "Nathaniel James Healy, at your service."

	"Who?" she asked, making me laugh again.

	"Good answer," I said.

	"So what do you want to see first?" Susan asked.

	"Actually, I kind of have to do this tour on my own.  You don't
have to show me around."

	"Then why did you go through all of that?" she asked, pointing back
in the direction of the office.

	"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but I have a feeling that Ms. Cole
has it in for you.  Probably overlooks other students doing things that she
nails you for, right?"

	"Yeah."

	"Well, I know what that's like.  When I went here I had more than
my share of people out to get me.  Just thought I'd lend a hand if I
could," I said, smiling at her.

	"Thanks Nate," she said.

	"No problem.  Now you go somewhere and hang out for a little while
without getting into more trouble, and then go back to class.  Ms. Cole
won't know the difference."

	"Alright.  Thanks again.  Maybe I'll see you if you come back to
talk to the classes."

	"Maybe," I agreed.  "Now get going before someone thinks I'm
abducting you or something."

	Susan laughed and ran down the hall with a final wave behind her. I
smiled and watched her until she rounded a corner and was gone from view.

	Looking around, I realised that we had come close to where I had
been heading before I ran into Susan outside the office.  I came to a stop
in front of the last place I ever thought I'd come back to.

	Steeling myself, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.  They
had painted it, but it was still the same room.  To my eyes, not a thing
had changed.  One of the stall doors was still hung crookedly, and wouldn't
have closed properly if I had tried it, but I had no intention of touching
anything in here.

	I stared at the tiled floor, thinking about how cold to the touch
it would be, and my gaze moved to the far corner of the room, underneath
the frosted windows.  I spotted some writing on the wall there and walked a
little closer to read it.  The sound of my shoes hitting the floor started
my heart racing again.

	Kneeling down, I read 'Tommy J wuz here' written about a foot off
of the floor.  Ignoring every rational thought I had, I reached out and ran
my hand over the writing, skimming the surface of the wall and down across
the floor immediately in front of it.

	'Tommy J wuz here,' the letters screamed from the wall, and I felt
the first tears starting to fall.  "So wuz I, Tommy, so wuz I," I
whispered.  "Hope you had more fun."

	I stood up too quickly, and immediately got light-headed.  I leaned
against the wall, waiting for the floating spots to leave my vision.  I
wiped madly at my face, trying to dry it, but more tears fell to replace
the ones I wiped away.

	'What was I thinking?' I asked myself repeatedly as I leaned there.
'This place is dead to me.'

	"No," I answered myself, my words creating a creepy echo in the
harsh room and sending a shiver down my spine.  "It *should* be dead to me,
but it's not.  *They* should be dead to me, but they're not.  I've got to
figure out a way to make it happen."

	I left my leaning post on the wall and walked toward the door
again, stopping at the round basin in the centre of the room.  I stepped on
the rail around it's base and put my hands under the spray of water that
was created.  Splashing a little on my face to hide the tears, I relaxed my
foot and the water lessened, finally stopping altogether.

	I took some paper towels and dried myself as well as I could.  Of
course, they were the cheap brown kind that didn't so much absorb the water
as spread it around more, but I did the best I could.

	I turned again and walked to the door.  Desperate to get out of the
room before I shut down completely, I threw the door open when I got there,
almost squashing a student who was about to enter.

	"Jesus, mister.  You look like hell," he said, jumping back as I
came through the doorway.

	"Sorry kid," I apologised quickly.  "Didn't see you."

	"No doubt," he said.  "You okay?"

	"Yeah, I'll be just fine," I said.  "Just visiting a few old
friends."

	"In the bathroom?"

	"Something like that, kid," I said.  "See you later."  I left him
standing outside the boys washroom and made a bee-line for the nearest
door.

	Reaching the courtyard, I glanced around to make sure that no one
was looking, and then sat down for a minute on one of the bike racks
outside of the school to catch my breath.

	The tears threatened again, and I knew that a crying man on a bike
rack was bound to gather more attention than I felt like handling, but I
just couldn't get the faces and places of the past out of my head.
Finally, I thought of Brian.  His eyes sparkled in my memory, and my heart
slowed it's pace a little.

	Remembering why I was doing this made everything a little easier,
and I took another moment before standing again.  When I had my heart and
my tear ducts back under control, I stood and continued to the sidewalk.

	Hailing a passing cab, I jumped in the back and gave the driver the
address of the apartment.  I glanced at my watch and was surprised to find
that I had been in the school for almost two hours.  How long had I been
standing at the base of those stairs?  How long was I kneeling there,
running my hand over a bare patch of floor in the bathroom?  I didn't know,
but from the look of it, much longer than I had thought.

	'At least that's over,' I thought, sitting back in my seat.  The
cab passed over a small stream which passed through a large steel culvert
under the street, and another memory washed over me.  This one I hadn't
even thought of when I had told Nick about myself.

	Leaning forward, I asked the driver to pull over and wait for me.
She nodded, but gave me a confused look.  Once she had stopped the car, I
jumped out and ran to the edge of the sidewalk, looking down at the running
water.  There wasn't much of a stream this time of year, and I managed to
scramble over the short railing and down to the edge of it without getting
my feet wet.

	Stepping inside the gloomy culvert, I trained my eyes on the side
of the metal tube, searching.  I looked for a few minutes before I found
it: 'Nathan Healy died today, and no one knew the difference.'

	I had written that there years ago, after things had gotten bad,
but before they got out of control bad.  I reached out and ran my hand over
the faded letters, remembering the tears that had coursed down my face as I
wrote them, and felt the familiar wetness on my cheeks again.

	I stood like that, hand resting against the rippled surface of the
metal, for a few minutes while I finished mourning for the person I had
been that day.  Once my crying tapered off again, I wiped my face with the
back of my hand and worked my way back up to the street again.

	Glancing around, I cursed under my breath.  The cab was gone.  The
driver must have thought I had skipped out on the fare and left me.  I
checked my watch and was amazed that I had been under the street for almost
half an hour.  No wonder the cabby had taken off.

	I checked the area and didn't see any other cabs, so I decided to
walk back to the apartment instead, thinking that the fresh air might help
my get my mind back together again.  By the time I got back to the
apartment, it was early afternoon and I was starting to lose control again.
The more I thought about what I had seen that morning, the less I wanted to
think about it, but the harder it was to ignore.

	I collapsed onto the couch as soon as I got home, and turned on the
stereo.  Cher came blasting out of the speakers and I immediately got up to
change the CD.

	Picking through the selection that Erron had put together from both
of our collections, I was surprised to find the 'Millennium' CD.  I knew
that my copy was back in LA with Andrea, so it had to belong to Erron.  I
smiled and took the CD out, replacing Cher.

	Pressing the 'random play' button on the remote, I fell back onto
the couch and curled up, waiting for the music to start.

	"Show me the meaning of being lonely," Brian's voice came out of
the speakers, catching my attention immediately.

	"I saw a few of them today, sweetie," I whispered, laying my head
down and closing my eyes.  "I don't know if it was a good idea, but I saw
them."

To Be Continued...


Well, I managed to avoid a cliffhanger this time, as a few of you
requested. ;P

Again, thanks for reading, and thanks to everyone who has taken the time to
write.  If I haven't answered yet, I'm going to, I just haven't been able
to wade through the other emails yet. Patience is a virtue, my friend. I'm
not saying that it's a virtue that I have in abundance, just that it is
one. :P

Thanks, and I should have another installment up next Wednesday, providing
that all goes well. :)

~*DLS*~