Post Milliways: The Things That Cannot Be
Darkness, darkness, be my pillow
Take my hand and let me sleep
In the coolness of your shadow
In the silence of your deep
He steps out into the warmth of an L.A. night, the twinkling lights of the skyline a replacement for the stars forever blocked out by the lights and smog. It doesn't feel right, not being able to see the stars after so many months at Milliways.
The skyline is brighter than he would have thought; some time must have pssed since that day, since the EMP's detonation had plunged part of downtown L.A. into blackness. How much time, of course, he can't tell yet.
He looks ahead to the long line of train tracks stretching out before him; turns back to see the small line shack that had been his doorway out of the bar. Part of him wants to turn around and test the doorknob, go back, not have to start running. But then he has to find a place to hide here, he can't let himself get too far behind. And the thought of going back there and being constantly reminded of what he'd had with Chris... He needed a few days at least to get away from it. Better to stay here and do something to keep his mind off it.
He turns and begins to walk down the train tracks, feeling as though every step is increasing the yearning in him just to turn around and go back. Somehow, though, he ignores it.
He walks for an hour or two, as the night deepens and the background noise of the city gets marginally quieter. Reaching a bridge over one of the wide, concrete drainage ditches, he crawls a little way down the embankment, ducking under the bridge. He hasn't a clue what time it is, but chances are it's too late to get a train out of the city. He can't sleep at the station, and showing up at this hour will only call attention to himself.
He sprawls out on the ledge beneath the bridge, placing his bag under his head for a makeshift pillow. It takes him a long time to fall asleep, his mind still too busy thinking of the place he's left. But even sleep isn't a respite, as the people he's left behind drift through his dreams; close, but slipping away when he reaches out for them.
Eighteen hours later he's on a train heading north, watching the sun's last rays fade, his head resting against the window. He hadn't slept much the night before; for a few hours it had been quiet, then trains had come rumbling over his head, waking him. He's near-exhausted now, but he's not sure he wants to sleep, not if it means having the same dreams he'd had the night before.
He'd walked for a couple hours that morning until he'd reached a train station; a small stop, mainly for commuters. He'd had to wait for a train heading to Oakland, where he'd transferred to another train bound for Seattle and the Canadian border. He hadn't had a chance to get much of anything to eat there, but he'd bought a couple snacks as well as a baseball cap and a paper from the small store; the cap to hide his hair, the paper to learn what day it was.
He'd been discouraged when he'd seen the date: May 7, 2010. Only about two weeks after the day he'd left this world for Milliways, the last time. The front page was still all about the attacks, about the inquiries that were being set up and people looking for someone to blame. He hadn't read the articles, the headlines enough to bring back things he'd rather forget.
The last of the light has almost faded when he remembers the letter Kim had left for him; he'd had a number of things to think and worry about all day, and it had been pushed out of his mind.
He turns on the reading light above his head and pulls out the letter hesitantly, not sure he wants to read it at the moment. But despite his worries, he slits the envelope open and pulls out the letter, reading it with knots in his stomach.
He gets most of the way down before he has to look away for a moment, hiding his watering eyes in the shade of his cap. Luckily there's no one sitting near him, no one to see him holding his hand over his eyes for a moment before dragging it down his face.
I love you. Nothing in the universe can ever change how much you mean to me and how much I want you in my life.
But that isn't possible right now. She can never have him in her life like she deserved, and the thought that other than in the bar he'll forever be separated from her and the other people he cares about hits him with a force he hadn't expected. There's a hollow ache deep in his chest, and he turns his face to the window for a few minutes before he can pull himself together.
Reading the last couple lines, he feels another stab with her last comment, the regret at having to leave increasing tenfold.
Come and find me after you read this. I miss you.
As one tear, then another slips down his cheeks, he turns off the light over his head, hiding his longing for his old life in darkness.
Darkness, darkness, hide my yearning
For the things that cannot be
Keep my mind from constant turning
Toward the things I cannot see.