L is for Lethargic
Characters: Adam Rove, OMC
Rating: Borderline R for foul language
Genre: Gen, Angst
Summary: In the end everyone ends up alone. Losing her, the only one who's ever known who I am, who I'm not, who I wanna be. I found God on the corner of 1st and Amistad, all alone, smoking his last cigarette.
Character Age: 33
Joaniverse: post-TV show
Author's Note: I must sincerely apologize for writing what I think is an out-of-character Adam. Sometimes it's fun to creep close to the edge and linger at the end of the spectrum that you can only classify as highly unlikely. Consider yourself warned. The story was inspired by the song "You Found Me" by The Fray.
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
Adam swore loudly, and it made several people passing him by in the street give him funny looks. What was he going to do? What the hell was he going to do?
He rubbed his hand over his face in a frantic, desperate gesture. Think-he needed to think.
He looked up and realized he was nearing the end of the street. He had no idea how or why his feet had carried him here. He crossed the road, not caring that one of the approaching cars had to slam on the brakes and would have hit him square in the leg if the driver hadn't swerved to avoid him. Adam barely even noticed that the annoyed honking from the car was directed at him.
Think-think-think!
He kept walking across the grass until he came to the railing that separated the boardwalk from the Lake Michigan shoreline. There was barely a soul in sight, only people with a death wish would come out here in the freezing cold. Icicle-like snowflakes pricked his skin as he looked over the railing at the angry waves from the gushing wind crashing against the concrete wall below. How long did it take for a human body to freeze to death in icy waters like this?
No, he suddenly thought. Not like this.
He turned around and walked a few steps to the lonesome bench a few yards from where he had stood. Wrapping his parka closer around his body, he sat down on the cold seat. Leaning forward, his head in his hands, he couldn't even blame his landlord for giving him the boot. He hadn't paid the rent for four or five months. He had ignored all the warnings that if Adam didn't come up with the money, he would put in a new lock and only let Adam in to get his stuff out of there.
Now what? His car had been impounded months ago. He didn't even have a working cell phone anymore. He literally had nowhere left to go.
How had it come to this? He tried to remember where things had gone wrong. His life had started to spiral downwards in the spring of last year. He'd lost his job, hadn't been able to find a new one. He'd been too embarrassed to tell his friends, had alienated himself from them, and in the end they had stopped trying to get in touch. The money had gradually run out, and it didn't help that his father had left him with an heirloom of debts from the mortgage and the medical bills.
Maybe he could have sought help earlier. Maybe then he wouldn't be sitting here. But the thing was, he wasn't that guy-that guy who had no home, no money, no nothing. Except... he was.
Lethargy claimed him and he closed his eyes. If he sat here long enough, would someone come and save him?
"Would you mind if I sat here?"
Adam's head shot up. He looked into the eyes of a man in his 60's. White hair peeked out from underneath a woolen hat, and despite the fact that he was only wearing a thin raincoat, he didn't appear to be cold at all.
"Uh, sure," Adam could only mumble. He squinted his eyes. Something about this guy looked uncannily familiar, but maybe he was only imagining that.
The man looked at Adam, and it felt strangely comforting. "You look lost," he said.
Adam was taken aback. Was it so obvious? "Yeah, no, I, uh..."
"There is always hope."
Adam looked at the man, studied his face. He had a slight smile on his lips, a hopeful, encouraging smile that only underlined what he'd just said.
"Who are you?" was all Adam could ask.
"A friend," he answered noncommittally. He held out a business card for Adam to take.
Adam took it, afraid to drop it because his fingers were so cold that he'd lost all feeling in them. It read Lincoln Park Community Shelter and had an address and a phone number on it. He looked at the man with questioning eyes. "How did you...?"
The white-haired man smiled a warm, heartening smile at him. "You're asking a lot of questions. The answers are all on there," he pointed to the business card, "Just call them. There will be someone there to help you. Things will look up soon."
How would you know? Adam thought silently, but something in the man's demeanor made him not say it out loud. "Thanks," he muttered.
The man fingered a pack of smokes from his jacket pocket and held it out to Adam who shook his head. "No, thanks, big fan of the lungs."
The old man shrugged and lit the last filter cigarette in the pack, savoring the first luxurious lungful of smoke. The tip glowed a deep, luscious orange. He got up from the bench. "I gotta be on my way."
After taking a step away from the bench, he turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot." He withdrew his hand from his pocket and gave Adam a few coins. "There's a pay phone on the corner of 1st and Amistad. Make that call."
Adam just nodded numbly. Maybe he had just been saved.
On wobbly legs, he went over to the phone booth. With numb and clumsy fingers he dialed the number on the business card.
"Lincoln Park Community Shelter, how may I help you?"
Adam's breath hitched. That voice, he knew that voice!
"Jane?" he could only whisper.
There was a short silence at the other end. "Adam?"
Tears were suddenly in his eyes, he didn't even know where they came from. A sudden urge to hang up the phone overwhelmed him.
"Adam, is that you?"
"Yeah," he croaked.
"Wow, it's been such a long time. How are you?"
Miserable. Piteous. I hit rock bottom. What would he say? "I, uhm, I..."
He couldn't fool her, even after all these years. "Adam, what's wrong?"
"Jane," he sighed, "I need your help."
Rating: Borderline R for foul language
Genre: Gen, Angst
Summary: In the end everyone ends up alone. Losing her, the only one who's ever known who I am, who I'm not, who I wanna be. I found God on the corner of 1st and Amistad, all alone, smoking his last cigarette.
Character Age: 33
Joaniverse: post-TV show
Author's Note: I must sincerely apologize for writing what I think is an out-of-character Adam. Sometimes it's fun to creep close to the edge and linger at the end of the spectrum that you can only classify as highly unlikely. Consider yourself warned. The story was inspired by the song "You Found Me" by The Fray.
"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
Adam swore loudly, and it made several people passing him by in the street give him funny looks. What was he going to do? What the hell was he going to do?
He rubbed his hand over his face in a frantic, desperate gesture. Think-he needed to think.
He looked up and realized he was nearing the end of the street. He had no idea how or why his feet had carried him here. He crossed the road, not caring that one of the approaching cars had to slam on the brakes and would have hit him square in the leg if the driver hadn't swerved to avoid him. Adam barely even noticed that the annoyed honking from the car was directed at him.
Think-think-think!
He kept walking across the grass until he came to the railing that separated the boardwalk from the Lake Michigan shoreline. There was barely a soul in sight, only people with a death wish would come out here in the freezing cold. Icicle-like snowflakes pricked his skin as he looked over the railing at the angry waves from the gushing wind crashing against the concrete wall below. How long did it take for a human body to freeze to death in icy waters like this?
No, he suddenly thought. Not like this.
He turned around and walked a few steps to the lonesome bench a few yards from where he had stood. Wrapping his parka closer around his body, he sat down on the cold seat. Leaning forward, his head in his hands, he couldn't even blame his landlord for giving him the boot. He hadn't paid the rent for four or five months. He had ignored all the warnings that if Adam didn't come up with the money, he would put in a new lock and only let Adam in to get his stuff out of there.
Now what? His car had been impounded months ago. He didn't even have a working cell phone anymore. He literally had nowhere left to go.
How had it come to this? He tried to remember where things had gone wrong. His life had started to spiral downwards in the spring of last year. He'd lost his job, hadn't been able to find a new one. He'd been too embarrassed to tell his friends, had alienated himself from them, and in the end they had stopped trying to get in touch. The money had gradually run out, and it didn't help that his father had left him with an heirloom of debts from the mortgage and the medical bills.
Maybe he could have sought help earlier. Maybe then he wouldn't be sitting here. But the thing was, he wasn't that guy-that guy who had no home, no money, no nothing. Except... he was.
Lethargy claimed him and he closed his eyes. If he sat here long enough, would someone come and save him?
"Would you mind if I sat here?"
Adam's head shot up. He looked into the eyes of a man in his 60's. White hair peeked out from underneath a woolen hat, and despite the fact that he was only wearing a thin raincoat, he didn't appear to be cold at all.
"Uh, sure," Adam could only mumble. He squinted his eyes. Something about this guy looked uncannily familiar, but maybe he was only imagining that.
The man looked at Adam, and it felt strangely comforting. "You look lost," he said.
Adam was taken aback. Was it so obvious? "Yeah, no, I, uh..."
"There is always hope."
Adam looked at the man, studied his face. He had a slight smile on his lips, a hopeful, encouraging smile that only underlined what he'd just said.
"Who are you?" was all Adam could ask.
"A friend," he answered noncommittally. He held out a business card for Adam to take.
Adam took it, afraid to drop it because his fingers were so cold that he'd lost all feeling in them. It read Lincoln Park Community Shelter and had an address and a phone number on it. He looked at the man with questioning eyes. "How did you...?"
The white-haired man smiled a warm, heartening smile at him. "You're asking a lot of questions. The answers are all on there," he pointed to the business card, "Just call them. There will be someone there to help you. Things will look up soon."
How would you know? Adam thought silently, but something in the man's demeanor made him not say it out loud. "Thanks," he muttered.
The man fingered a pack of smokes from his jacket pocket and held it out to Adam who shook his head. "No, thanks, big fan of the lungs."
The old man shrugged and lit the last filter cigarette in the pack, savoring the first luxurious lungful of smoke. The tip glowed a deep, luscious orange. He got up from the bench. "I gotta be on my way."
After taking a step away from the bench, he turned around. "Oh, I almost forgot." He withdrew his hand from his pocket and gave Adam a few coins. "There's a pay phone on the corner of 1st and Amistad. Make that call."
Adam just nodded numbly. Maybe he had just been saved.
On wobbly legs, he went over to the phone booth. With numb and clumsy fingers he dialed the number on the business card.
"Lincoln Park Community Shelter, how may I help you?"
Adam's breath hitched. That voice, he knew that voice!
"Jane?" he could only whisper.
There was a short silence at the other end. "Adam?"
Tears were suddenly in his eyes, he didn't even know where they came from. A sudden urge to hang up the phone overwhelmed him.
"Adam, is that you?"
"Yeah," he croaked.
"Wow, it's been such a long time. How are you?"
Miserable. Piteous. I hit rock bottom. What would he say? "I, uhm, I..."
He couldn't fool her, even after all these years. "Adam, what's wrong?"
"Jane," he sighed, "I need your help."