[for helen] for gedda

[alaspoorwarrick]

dated February 6, 2009:After we close down the club, Helen doesn't come home with me and it kinda surprises me, y'know? I guess I thought since it was our thing, we'd celebrate together. I won't lie, it ticked me off a little, 'cos I know if I'd have gone home with someone else, I'd have been hearing about it tomorrow

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[poison_lipstick]

It was still early yet when Saffron left Tony's place, and she would have gone right over and crawled into bed with Warrick, but she was fairly certain he wouldn't be terrible pleased at her going straight from another man's bed to his. So she went home instead and got a few more hours of sleep, which meant it was late morning by the time she got up again. After a nice hot shower she went padding through the compound, simply dressed in little shorts and a black tank with her blow-dried hair pulled into a ponytail

[alaspoorwarrick]

Shit. I knew I should've turned it off, but it's like a car crash or a shooting in progress (kinda exactly like that, jesus). Once you get your eyes on it, you can't look away, y'know? So even though I know what's coming, I can't stop watching.

The hair's crawling on the back of my neck when Cath gets up from the table, 'cos I'm watching Gary Dourdan's version of me, who looks just like me, mooning after her, same way I always do, and I just know he's thinking maybe this time he's going to call her. Maybe this time when he stops over, it won't just be to grab a cup of coffee or a drink, and he's thinking that even Nick knows it, which makes him smile and nod. 'Cos if Nicky's putting his seal of approval on it, awww yeah.

Man. Man that's just wrong. Watching this, and now Helen's here, and I'm thinking, shit, I really gotta turn this off. I check my watch, check the film - can't be more than a few minutes left. But I can't make my legs move and maybe my hands are shaking on my coffee cup... and Whitey White's about to make his move

[poison_lipstick]

After so long, nearly three years, on the island, Saffron had gradually - and reluctantly - come to accept the fact that there were people there she cared about, people she loved. Hell, she'd even been in love, despite her better judgment, and maybe she still was, even if she'd die before admitting it. So she already knew that she cared very much for Warrick. They'd even said those three little words to each other.

Then she had to stand there and watch Warrick get shot in the neck, a shot that surely would kill him. She had to watch McKeen shoot him, twice, and wipe off his gun as calm as you please as Warrick slumped forward against the steering wheel. And faced with that cold horror, it hit Saffron that she didn't just love Warrick, she needed him. She relied on him. She wanted him with her. The revelation hit her square in the chest

[alaspoorwarrick]

I hear Helen's breathing catch, but it's distant, y'know, like a siren at the other end of the Strip. Distinct, but there's so much other noise, I'm not really hearing it.

'Cos I can't stop hearing that tune, the one that was in my head the day I got here. The one I'd been thinking about writing. How they got it on the reel, I don't know, but it won't stop and I can't stop thinking I'm dead.

Shit, I'm dead. And Cath and Nick and Griss and Greg are blaming themselves when they ought to be blaming Whitey White and Helen's crying and my kid's got no dad and...

No more probably dead. Just dead.

I know I oughtta reach for Helen but I can't make my hand move past my forehead. "C'mere, girl," I manage, kinda hoarse and rough. "C'mere."