until.there's.NOTHING.left.of.us {Mystic}

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

And I'm not running anymore.
I'll stand to face it all.
I'll fight for every breath
until there's nothing left of us.

Once upon a time, it would have been the most natural, beautiful thing in the world for Drake and Mystic to physically express their love the way they had done. Once upon a time, the only person who would have objected would have been Mystic’s father. Well, and maybe her brothers. But it wouldn’t have hurt anyone. There wouldn’t have been hearts broken, marriages ruined, or threatened, no broken promises, no tears...It would have been just the two of them, making a decision that affected only the two of them. But Drake was eighteen when that time passed, he’d given that chance away himself. And this wasn’t really the most appropriate moment to look back and slap himself for having done the right thing at the wrong time.

When Drake had been younger, things were simpler and it was just expected that he’d help out with the family business someday, not run off and get himself blown up in another country halfway across the world. In those younger years, when he was wilder, less burdened with the weight of the world and what it had done to him, what he’d done to it, he’d loved to come here, to the hot springs, late at night when his parents imagined him at home in bed. He’d shed the layer of clothing between his skin and the night air, and relax, always dreaming that some native beauty would come along and find him there, join him in the hot water, and do things to him that would make decent women blush.

It hadn’t ever happened of course, but the place was close to his heart, and had remained so, even after his injury. This place was one of the first things, one of the few memories that had returned to him the soonest, and now, when he most needed to collect his thoughts and figure out where he would go from here, he had returned to the little stone-protected pool.

He hadn’t hung around to see what Flannery’s final reaction would be, once he got over the shock of the confession he’d just heard. He’d gone outside, not long after Mystic had left, and started walking. His legs ached, his feet hurt, but somehow, he couldn’t stop walking, not until he’d found some sort of place to sit and sort things out.

He’d shared this place with Mystic only once. He hadn’t had much time to take her a lot of places between the time he’d returned home from basic training and the day he was deployed, but this had been one thing he wanted to share with her. They had rolled up their pants and sat on the edge, dipping their toes in the hot water, and they’d talked about things...silly things, really, like music, ice cream flavors. In retrospect, Drake wished he’d touched on some of the more important issues that would face them in the future, but at the time, he’d been so nervous, so hopeful that he could impress her enough that she’d wait for him while he was away, that he hadn’t wanted to scare her off with anything too depressing.

Drake stripped off his outer layer of clothing silently, shoes, socks, pants, shirt, then removed the remaining articles just before slipping into the water. It was dark, and it wasn’t as if anyone could really see him anyway, although he knew that his students’ parents would be appalled if they knew what he was doing right now. Respectable Mr. Minor, skinny dipping. Indeed. Scandalous. He didn’t care, though. He rested on the bottom of the pool, tilted his head back against the rock behind him, and let his arms float to the surface of the water, closing his eyes. And there, in the quiet, heated dark, he came to the conclusion that he could not fix this alone. He could not hope to undo a wrong, done by two individuals, could not defeat a feeling (should he even want to) shared by two hearts, without the other half of that love, that transgression, present to share it with him.

He loved her. And now, especially now, he needed her.

Oh, I need you to believe
in me
'til there's nothing left of us.

[mystic pearl adier]

» Mystic didn't really, truly have a place that she went regularly to think. She'd never had the need for a place like that, not like she did now. After walking out, she gave her sister a call, and asked if there was a way she could stay there for a while. The conversation was really, really hard for her, since her sister wouldn't say yes until she knew why;

"Do you care if I crash there for a while?"
"Depends, why?"
"Can't I just tell you some other time?"
"No, I want to know."
"Because I... I think it's over with me and Flannery..."
"What?! Why?! Phucket, Thailand, what happened?"
"I... I cheated on him, okay?"
"Slut!"
"That's not helpful!"
"Sorry, sorry... Yeah, you can come here."
"Thanks... Oh, um... I think I uhh...might..."
"What? Sorry, your phone is crap. You shouldn't have gone with that crappy little Tracfone."
"Nevermind. I'll drop by later."

It was so hard for her to say it out loud... Knowing she'd done it and telling someone else she'd done it were two completely different things, both just as difficult for her. She couldn't help but think that everything was completely her fault. She should have said no. She didn't have to go to his apartment, she didn't have to... She could have said no. Even if she'd gone to the apartment and nothing happened, that would have been better. With a heavy sigh, she sat down on the park bench, face in her palms. She couldn't go to her sister's place just yet- she would drive herself crazy if she were trapped in a small apartment for several hours. No, she needed to walk around, to think...

» She wasn't sure why it stuck out in her mind, but it did. She hadn't been back to the hotsprings since the last time she and Drake were there together, shortly before he left. It seemed like a lifetime ago, when they were just a disgustingly cute, young couple whose toughest problem was his upcoming departure. There wasn't another heart involved, one that would get broken. She stopped a couple meters away, wondering if it was the best thing to do- would it, somehow, subconsciously edge her toward Drake, and not allow her to make a fair decision about who to try to patch things up with? Still, her legs were hurting- it was a good couple miles between where she'd called her sister and the hotsprings, and she wasn't built for that much walking at once. After taking a minute to catch her breath, she continued, until she was only a couple feet away from the springs. But then she saw clothes everywhere, and immediately- it was a reflex- one hand shot up and covered her eyes. "Oh! I'm sorry. I haven't seen anything but the clothes. I'll just... go." She hadn't seen who was there, but was working under the assumption that whoever it was probably wouldn't take too kindly to a complete stranger seeing them naked. Unless, of course, it was a prostitute, but Mystic had no interest in those, in any case. She turned around, and let her hand drop.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

I won't sleep if you won't sleep
Because tonight may be the last chance we'll be given
We are compelled to do what we must do
We are compelled to do what we have been forbidden

When Drake had found out that Mystic had bgotten married during his time away, he had made one of the hardest choices in his life - the decision to stay away from her, to let her continue in her new life without interrupting, without making her feel guilty for not waiting for him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to see her. He told himself it was because if he really loved her, he would let her be happy with her husband and not cause her the emotional turmoil of knowing that Drake was alive and just as in love with her as he had ever been. But there had always been a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a little whisper that told him the real reason he’d never gone to speak to her after he got back was that he was afraid. Afraid of what, he wasn’t sure; maybe the uncertainty of his newly recovered memories. And although he knew in his heart that what he and Mystic had shared was real, there was always the lingering doubt that she would see him and not know him at all, that somehow his mind had completely fabricated their relationship in the first place.

But when he and Mystic had met again, completely by accident, it was so undeniably...arranged. Drake’s religious faith had wavered after everything he’d seen overseas - the violence, the blood, the senseless death...it had all taken a toll on his belief in higher powers. Somehow, though, Drake had a hard time convincing himself that the incident - he and Mystic being at the same place at the same time, and that place, of all the possible locations...he found it difficult to believe that it was simply a coincidence. Even if it wasn’t some divine setup, he couldn’t completely discount the possibility that there was something more at work than blind probability.

The water lapped at the rocks, a soft, conforting sound that eased some of the tension in Drake’s mind. It didn’t resolve any of the problematic issues he was facing, but it did seem to reduce his own discomfort thinking about them. He knew that the hardest choice to be made was Mystic’s. Drake could try to convince her to stay with him, to leave Flannery and try to make a life with him. But somehow, he thought, that wouldn’t help either of them right now. And was he even ready to be in a steady relationship with anyone, even Mystic? That was a question it hadn’t occurred to him to ask himself yet. With anyone else, he thought, the answer would be a difficult one to conjur up. But this was Mystic. This was the girl he’d loved since he was eighteen years old. Of course he was ready for it. He couldn’t in good conscience intentionally destroy a marriage. But if she decided that she’d rather be with him than Flannery, if that was what she wanted, Drake knew he couldn’t turn her down. He had already left her once when she wanted to be with him. He wasn’t about to make that mistake again.

But if she didn’t want to take that chance, if she wanted to try and repair her relationship with Flannery, Drake wondered what he ought to do. He should let her be, let her go back to her husband. But what if she wanted him to stop her? What if she said that, only to test him, to see if he really loved her as much as he said he did? She had said she still loved him. And she’d felt strongly enough about it to say it to Flannery, of all people. How could he think for a moment that it wasn’t true? It was all so confusing.

He wanted somehow to make it easier for her. But how could he? How could he make it easier for her to choose between two men, each of whom loved her, without trying to influence her towards one choice or the other? He could obviously pretend that he didn’t love her, and push her back towards Flannery, but that would hurt her just as much as it would him, probably. Or he could try to convince her to be his, and in doing so, violate the promise he’d made to himself ever since the first time he’d found out about her marriage. He sighed. How did he manage to get himself into situations like this? It’s because you act first and think later, Drake. he told himself. Maybe you should have thought about the consequences before you fucked another man’s wife instead of after...

That thought, and others, were circling through his mind when he heard a footstep behind him, which jolted him out of his peaceful thought process. Alarmed that it might be someone he knew, someone who might feel inclined to go to the school board and tell his superiors that he had a liking for public nudity, he hunched down, hiding behind the rock, submerged in the water up to his chin as he tried to make himself smaller.

”I’m fat!” he warned, the first thing that came to mind, trying to deepen his voice. ”I’m...uh, fat and ugly. I’m a fat, hairy, ugly biker, and I’m naked.” It was after that declaration that he realized the voice talking to him was one he recognized. Actually, it was one he’d just been thinking of. “Mystic?” he said, confused. ”Is that you? If it is, I’m really not a fat hairy biker.”

Until the last resilient hope
Is frozen deep inside my bones
And this broken fate has claimed me
And my memories for its own

[mystic pearl adier]

» The last, very last, thing Mystic wanted right now was human interaction. She wasn't antisocial by nature, not by any means, but she wasn't the most social either. She never did well meeting new people, like friends of friends or something (parents of the babies she took care of were different- she would know them for a couple of months, tops, and then they'd be gone, most likely, and besides- that was in a professional setting, and sh had no reason to be scared of them) since they often, unwittingly, intimidated her, mostly because just about everyone she met could easily snap her in half. She knew, of course, that nobody in their right mind would approach her for the sole purpose of killing her, but in today's world, you never knew. This was such a secluded, out-of-the-way place that she thought for sure she'd be alone here. She knew that other people knew about it, but being that it was starting to get dark- she noted, briefly, that it was a really pretty shade and mixture of orange and pink, and kind of wished she'd grabbed her digital camera- she didn't know many people that would venture out of their homes for what was effectively a natural hot bath, something they could easily have in the privacy of their own homes, and not have to worry about incidences such as this.

» Mystic froze, hearing a voice. "I haven't seen your body, and don't really want to," she said quietly, at the comment about being a fat, hairy biker. "And if you're thinking of coming after me, don't, because my father is a big scary dude that just got out of prison." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "And he has no problem going back." Of course, no part of that was true. Her father was big, yes, but he wasn't at all scary- he was just a big old teddy bear, though fiercely protective of his kids, though they were all grown up- and he had never been to prison; even if he had, he would probably have serious issues with going back. Even sheltered little Mystic knew what happened to men behind bars. When she heard her name, though, and finally realized it was Drake's voice, her cheeks turned a bright shade of red. She laughed nervously, and walked back toward the hotspring, though she put her hand back over her eyes. "Well since you didn't take back the part about being naked, I'll go ahead and stay like this..." She doubted seeing him naked- again- would help anything, though under any other circumstance, she wouldn't have minded.

» She paused for a second, then gave another brief, nervous laugh. "I uh... lied. My father has never been to prison." Drake knew her father, and pretty well, as far as Mystic knew. She didn't know how much Drake would remember about him, but if anything, he should know that the man abode by even the most arbitrary of laws, and had never had so much as a traffic violation. "And I doubt he could kill someone, anyway." She knew for a fact that her father was in Vietnam- he never talked about it, though, which Mystic was once told meant that he'd either killed people himself and was traumatized by it, or had seen too much killing and was traumatized by that. Either way, Mystic didn't think her father would ever actually, on purpose, kill a man.

» She sighed, and let her hand drop, looking away. Stepping out of her white flip-flops, she sat down by the edge of the water and let her legs dangle in. She wasn't sure she should get into the water, or if Drake would ever want her there. She didn't know if he was mad at her for being unable to keep her composure or what- it did feel, to Mystic, like if she had been able to pull it together, they would all be chatting and laughing right now; or, at any rate, they wouldn't be like this. "Well this is a fine mess, isn't it?" she half-whispered, and bit her bottom lip. She didn't want to cry again, not yet- besides, she knew Drake didn't like it when she did that.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

It was settled. The universe was conspiring...either for him or against him, Drake decided. How else could he explain such a remarkably long and ridiculous set of coincidences? What was she doing here? Out of all the places for her to have run off to, she surely could have picked, out of the whole island, somewhere he wasn’t. Apparently not. Drawing his knees up closer underneath him, he rested on them in the water, which was just up to his chin in that position. ”I don’t think you came here looking for me, did you?” he guessed, hiding anything he figured she might not want to see behind the rock in front of him, resting his arms on the warm surface, slick with condensation.

”Don’t worry.” he added quietly. ”I’m hidden. That is, anything important is hidden.” The comment about her father had brought a smile to his face, but he tried to subdue it, knowing that now wasn’t really the time for excess humor. In a situation like this, trying to make light of things by laughing tended to make emotion seemed forced, and what they really needed was honesty. If they were going to deal with the lies they’d created, Drake reasoned, they’d better start out by laying a new foundation of truth. Lies on top of lies were never good.

It was dark enough by then that by the time she sat down, he felt comfortable enough to make his way a little closer, his nether regions shadowed in the lower, darker part of the water and futher concealed by the misty layer of steam that perpetually lingered over the surface of the pool. ”Well,” he agreed, ”It’s definitely not the most comfortable situation I’ve ever been in.” He tried to think of how to phrase his next words. How could he tell her that he’d support whatever decision she made without making it sound like he didn’t care? He certainly did care, that couldn’t be denied. But he didn’t want to influence her decision unfairly.

He sat, knees pulled up to his chest, in the shallow part of the pool next to where she sat on the edge, his shoulders, head, and the tips of his knees the only parts really visible in the failing light. He drew his arms upwards, resting his elbows on his knees, water trailing off down into the pool. In the gleam of the little remaining light, the outline of the tattoo on his forearm was plainly visible, set like a dark, snaking line of ink across his skin. It had been there long enough that Drake had almost begun to overlook it, but since the occurrences of the past few weeks, it had come back to his attention again. Absent-mindedly, he traced the letters with one finger of the opposite hand, and let out a low, nearly inaudible sigh.

”You know,” he said, finally. “However this turns out, whatever decision you make, it won’t change the way I feel about you. I love you, that’s a fact, one that won’t change anymore if I lose you again than it did the first time we were apart.” He hoped that wasn’t too presumtuous, considering they still weren’t really together. ”And...whatever you decide to do, I’m...I’m sure it’ll be something you’ve thought and felt your way through. So whatever it ends up being...me, or him, or hell, neither...I won’t fault you for it. You have the right to do what you know will make you the happiest, and I could never pretend to tell you what that is, or try to take it away from you if it isn’t what would make me happiest.”

[mystic pearl adier]

» Mystic tried- really, she did- to pay attention to things, especially important things like this conversation. But, because of her- rather severe- ADHD, it wasn't always possible. If she had taken her medicine, sure, but without it, try as hard as she could, there would be times, usually really inopportune ones, that she would fade out and not hear a good chunk of what was being said. Mystic knew it would happen, and when she knew something important was going to happen, she would take her medicine, just to make sure hat kind of thing didn't happen- at her wedding, for instance, she made damn sure to take the Ritalin beforehand, so she didn't just kind of stop paying attention and let go of Flannery's hand to go chase after a butterfly, or something like that. She hadn't taken her Ritalin today, and therefore was apt to fade out- such was the case right now. She was pretty much gone by the time she sat down, spoke, and looked away. She heard only a few random words in all of anything Drake had said, which wasn't enough for her to piece together what the gist of it was. She blushed a little, looking at him. "Sor... sorry.... I kind of... Well... Thing is.... I didn't hear a word you just said." She gave him a sheepish smile, then looked away. It wasn't the first time it had happened to her around Drake- when they were younger, she was even worse, and would sometimes actually wander off while he was talking to her, because she saw something interesting a short distance away. She wasn't sure whether it irritated him or what, but she was sure he didn't enjoy it- especially now, when, even though she hadn't heard the vast majority of what Drake said, she assumed it was important, and that she should have listened. But she couldn't.

» She shifted a little, and started doodling in the nearby dirt with the tip of her index finger, just little shapes that even a small child could do. That was one of the things Mystic always did when faced with something huge- doodle small things. She sighed a bit, and stopped, running her hand over the drawings to "erase" them. It wasn't fair to any of them, that any of them should be stuck in this- she hated to even think it, but it was- love-triangle. She wanted so, so badly to slide into the water with Drake and be close to him... But she was also afraid that, if she did, or even asked if she could, that he would think she was some sort of, she guessed, two-timing slut. After all, how could she say she loved both men, and be married to one but wanting to be held by the other as well? She sniffled, and whispered, "This isn't your fault..." She wished so badly that there was a way to not hurt anyone, but it simply wasn't possible. "I don't want to hurt either of you, but..." She stopped there and lowered her head, crying quietly into her palms.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Drake was relatively used to people ignoring him; after all, he taught second grade, and the kids tended to be quite easily distracted. And while he hadn’t spent an extensive amount of time with her (aside from the ‘incident’) recently, he remembered that Mystic had the same tendency at times. It wasn’t really her fault, and he’d never managed to be mad at her, although he imagined that he might be justified in getting a little annoyed when she stared at the sky instead of listening to his deep conversation. Actually, he couldn’t remember ever having been really angry with Mystic at all. It could have been one of those things that hadn’t come back to him yet, but then, they hadn’t actually been together very long before he’d left, so it was possible that they hadn’t had the chance to really knock heads. “It’s okay.” he said, quietly, smiling just the slightest bit. “Basically, I love you, and you can count on me, whatever happens.” He listened as she spoke, and shook his head silently before replying. She was trying to tell him that this situation wasn’t his fault, but he knew in his heart that wasn’t true. He’d been as responsible for the decisions that they’d made as she had. And if he was clear, well, she would have to be innocent too, because he was relatively certain that the same emotions and passion had driven them both to do what they did.

”No,” he said, shaking his head. ”That’s not fair. It’s every bit as much my fault as it is yours. Don’t cry...” God, he hated it when she cried. It made him feel awful, even if it wasn’t his fault. And this time, it really was his fault. He wanted to hold her, wanted to tell her it would be all right, but for starters, he was naked, and he wouldn’t want her to think he was trying to get it on with her. Secondly, he didn’t want to get her all wet. He leaned over, resting his somewhat wet hand on her knee, and looked up at her, trying to somehow communicate his intentions, but unable to come up with anything intelligent to say. He couldn’t stand to just sit there and watch her cry because of something she’d only done because of him, so instead of babbling off nonsense, he looked up at her, and gave her a huge, shit-eating grin. And, having given her just enough time to wonder what was going through his mind, he hooked an arm behind her back, one under her legs, and hauled her into the water with him.

It didn’t go exactly the way he’d planned. He’d wanted her to land right beside him, not half on top of him, and much less with her heel impacting a particularly sensitive part of his anatomy. His first impulse was to cry, and his second was to curse. He couldn’t really decide which option to go with, and the end result was a near-whimpered ”Fuck!” Gritting his teeth, he managed to extricate himself from under her legs, and curled up next to the rock beside him, trying not to make a bigger deal of it than he had to. After all, it was his own fault. About the only part of that maneuver that had gone right was the fact that she hadn’t hit her head on the side of the pool.

[mystic pearl adier]

» Mystic liked water, really. It didn't matter the temperature- obviously, she strayed from the two extremes, freezing cold and scolding hot- because she figured that she'd adjust anyway, if she got in slowly enough. Things like hot tubs or hotsprings- not that she'd ever really been in a bunch of them, maybe two or three at the most in the last couple of years- usually took her a while to get in because, being smaller, she was more sensitive to heated water, and didn't much like the sensation she got when suddenly plunged into such a water. When asked not to cry, she tried desperately to stop, and succeeded only in being able to lift up her head and silently let a couple more tears slide down her cheeks. She frowned a little, confused, at Drake's grin. She didn't much like it when everybody was in a somber state, but, really, did he have to be so... happy-looking? Suddenly, too late, she realized her was up to something, and she was soon in the water.

» Out of pure reflex- if given warning, she might have been able to control it- she flailed until she was free of his grasp, and ended up somewhere in the middle, resurfacing almost immediately. This was, strangely, not the first time lately that she'd been completely soaked while fully clothed. Granted, the first time was in a cold fountain, and she'd done it on purpose, but this really wasn't much different, except for the temperature, time of day, volunteer status, and present company. She brushed the water out of her eyes with one hand, and was about to give Drake a glare and ask him what on earth he was thinking, but then saw that something was wrong. Had she kicked him in the face or something? Frowning, she got closer to him then realized- what she kicked was more sensitive, and would probably hurt longer than if she had kicked him in the face. "Oh, no," she said softly, and just kind of stood there, unsure of what to do. "I'm... sorry?" She couldn't truly do anything to help him- it wasn't like she carried around large doses of pain medication. She supposed she could give him a hug, but A: what if that turned him on, would it hurt him more?, and B: what if, like most guys, it pissed him off that she'd, accidentally, kicked him in the balls? Even though he seemed generally amused or understanding of her antics, she knew that that kind of thing could piss off just about all men, and wasn't going to make things worse. However, her need to comfort him won over, and she slowly eased over to him, and gave him a light hug. "Sorry..."

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Drake took a moment to recover his breath (and hopefully, his masculinity). After the first impulse (anger) his rational side kicked in, and suppressed the urge to punch anything within reach. It wasn’t very reasonable to be angry at her for an accident that had been his fault in the first place. “Oh, god.” he moaned. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I really am.” He was trying to be sorry for her, since she looked a little upset, but he was having a hard time mustering it in his current state of agony. “Ughhh.”

It took him a moment to recover to the point where he felt confident that the next thing out of his mouth wouldn’t be complete idiocy, but then, it seemed he’d been slipping into that area a lot lately, so he doubted it would make a difference. Did every decision he made have to be one that woud hurt someone? Now it was moving from other people, right back to him. Karma was a cruel, heartless bitch. “You’re such a bitch...” Drake moaned, under his breath, before it occurred to him that Mystic might think he was talking about her. “Not you!” he exclaimed, so quickly that the words almost reversed themselves. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, but Mystic hugged him, and he suppressed it to a small whimper.

In a situation like this, there was only one thing a man could do - resort to tactless humor and deception. “I’m okay.” he wheezed, after a moment. “You didn’t hit them straight on.” That was a lie, but he wanted to make her feel better. “On the bright side,” he remarked, “I didn’t want to have children anyway and that was way cheaper than a vasectomy. Now all I have to worry about is AIDS. And herpes. And some other stuff. But I mean really, it’s a huge load off my mind. I was worried that I might run around getting random women pregnant, but not now.”

He hoped she might forgive him for being so completely crass, but he thought he’d reacted rather midly, considering. To be added to the positive outcome of his actions, though, was the fact that she wasn’t sobbing anymore. That was a good thing. Focus on the positive, Drake, he told himself, smiling weakly.

[mystic pearl adier]

» Mystic completely understood that he was in pain, and that it was probably all her fault for not having faster reflexes, or not figuring out his intentions sooner. She knew that most guys would get very, very angry if kicked in the balls, and didn't expect Drake to hold it all in just because she was a sensitive soul. Still, calling her a bitch- or, that's what she thought he was doing- was a little bit over the top. He was, after all, a former soldier, and she would assume he would at least refrain from calling her names, even if she were responsible for his pain. She frowned, mustering up as much of an angry expression as she could, but then lightened up. He hadn't offered an explanation as to whom it was that he was calling a bitch, but she did believe- because she really wanted to- that it wasn't her. "Well, it wouldn't have been the first time tonight I've been called names," she mumbled, and looked away. Her sister was really cold sometimes, and severely lacked tact. The two shared a DNA sequence and appearance, and were, despite everything, very close, but her sister was one of the very few people on Earth that Mystic could get truly angry at, and argue with- and, rarely, it would get physical.

» "It's okay, I know it hurts," she half-whispered, offering a slightly tighter hug. She had a natural tendency to want to help and comfort people, even more so when she believed it was her fault; sometimes she succeeded, sometimes she didn't. She let go when he said he was okay- she didn't believe him, but figured he'd want some space, and maybe breathing room would be good for him. Besides, he was, after all, naked, and even if Flannery never knew she'd been in the same hotspring with Drake, if she ended up with Flannery, it would always weigh on her mind that she'd been in an unnecessarily close proximity to naked Drake- again. She half-swam back, sitting on a ledge on the inside of the wall, facing Drake.

» Mystic appreciated humor- but she had never liked the crude stuff. The crudeness, the bathroom humor, the sex jokes- those were her sister's territory, and Mystic had never even thought of imposing. They simply didn't amuse her; what could possibly be laugh-worthy about a strategically-placed "that's what she said"? She was glad, even all those years ago, that Drake didn't use them all the time. The occasional one, she could offer a forced laugh just to seem politely semi-amused, like she was doing now. She gave a short, uncomfortable laugh. But she couldn't hide her frown at one thing in particular; "I didn’t want to have children anyway." ...What? She realized this probably wasn't the most appropriate time for that discussion, and quickly forced a small grin; still, it kind of stung. "I didn't realize you abandoned the schoolyard for the corner... Please tell me you're at least a dignified male prostitute, none of that makeup and fake boobs stuff..." That was about as close to crude humor as Mystic would ever come, and probably the most she would say at once all night. And, subconsciously, it made her somewhat jealous that he would talk about sleeping with a bunch of other random chicks. She knew it wasn't her place, considering that she was, um, married, but still... Drake was, well, hers. Maybe not legally, but... whatever.

» She looked back away, biting her lower lip. She ought to tell him, really- preferably sooner rather than later- but couldn't bring herself to say anything, especially after what Drake had just spouted off. She stared off into the sky for a bit before looking around at the nearby scenery; hoping he wouldn't press her for information yet, hoping beyond hope that he would think his jokes had crossed the line, or that she was just having an ADHD moment.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

The pain was fading, and Drake was able to listen to Mystic, at least to the point where he thought he knew what she was saying. He wasn't sure it had stopped hurting enough for him to care a lot about it, until she mentioned that someone had called her names. Drake's protective streak flared, and he shot her a quick glance. "Who called you names? Do I need to hurt someone?" He supposed that, being as he was naked and somewhat incapacitated, that thread wasn't as frightening as it could have been, but he thought he ought to offer, anyway. She gave him another hug, which somehow actually did seem to make him feel better. "Thanks." he said, quietly. He had a feeling she was the best nurse at the hospital, but he knew that random flattery probably wasn't what she wanted to hear right now.

He shook his head slightly. "No, I'm lying. I think I'm probably destined to have kids someday. After all, I have to. I'm Drake F. Minor the third, remember? I have to have little Drake F. Minor the fourth." He sighed. "But along those lines, no, I haven't been engaging in much activity that would get me there anytime fast - aside from with you, of course." Oh, god, that sounded bad. It was almost as if he just came out and asked her to have his child. "Er, that wasn't what I meant. I wouldn't...try to make you...Oh, hell, you know what I mean." He had to get out of his conversational rut.

"I tried the fake boobs, but I didn't like them very much." he said, sadly. "I don't know how you women live with them, really. They were especially hard to deal with when I was in stilettos." Time to drop the cavalier act and comfort her, Drake, he told himself, before wondering why he spent so much time talking to himself, even inside of his head.

"Hey, but seriously. Swe-..um, Mystic..." Did I just almost call her sweetie? "Look, I've always tried to respect your wishes. I know that sounds so clichéd, but I honestly just hope that whatever happens, you're happy at the end of this business. Because me, well, I mean, I've already done this. I've already lost you once. And as much as that devastated me, I could do it again, maybe a lot easier, knowing that you were happy with him. You know I will always love you, but because I do, I can...I can let you go if I have to." Well, that all sounded nice, but it also sounded like he was about ready to give up on ever being with her.

"But," he went on, "If you ask me to...or if you let me...if you don't tell me to stay away, Mystic, I am willing to fight for you."

[/blockquote]

[mystic pearl adier]

» She shifted uncomfortably. "It was just my sister... She called me a, umm..." Mystic had never been comfortable saying certain words, especially ones generally considered to be foul; if, for example, at school, she had to read something aloud and it contained one of said words, she would replace it with something off the top of her head, always dancing around it. Even when repeating the word for the purpose of tattling or the like, Mystic had a tendency to... not. When they were younger, Mystic's sister had no such inhibition, and would often call Mystic names, but Mystic never told on her, because she wouldn't dream of repeating half of the crap that was said. "Heh... she called me a slut." The two were always picking at each other, and it was much more like they had years between them instead of only a few minutes. Mystic usually just shrugged it off, as she was now, but now it seemed more like a personal attack than lack of self-censorship.

» She just kind of watched Drake as he sputtered on. Sometimes, she knew, it was just a matter of letting the person speak until they shut themselves up. If she tried to interrupt him, she would just drag it out, and make both of them more uncomfortable. She struggled not to laugh- inappropriately-timed as it was, it was still pretty funny in a way, and she finally allowed herself to let off a small giggle. "It's... it's okay. I know what you mean." Any other time, she probably would have added to that by saying there was no way in hell that she would name a child after its father. For one, what if one of them died? When she told people, nobody would know which Drake was dead. What if she wanted to tell one of them something, and called for them, but both showed up? She couldn't handle the uncomfortable 'Not you, the other Drake' kind of situation. What if a young girl called and asked for Drake- would it be a little girlfriend of the younger, or a sleazy mistress of the elder? Besides... it was just plain old uncreative, honestly. She wouldn't say so, because obviously it wasn't the best time... She didn't get the chance to, anyway, because then he said something about stilettos, and Mystic couldn't help but laugh. "Wow... I don't want to picture you in heels ever again."

» Concentrating as much as she could, Mystic listened quietly to Drake as he spoke. That was the hard part about everything; no matter what, she would have to choose someone, and whoever wasn't that man would be hurt. And then Drake had to be like that about it- had he any idea that just made it worse? Further complicating everything was that, well.. she just wasn't sure if anybody was a good choice in the long run. If it was Flannery, would he ever be able to trust her again? Would it change how he greeted her when he came home from work when it was her day off? And Drake- what was to keep him from suspecting she'd do the same thing to him as she'd done with Flannery? Of course, there were no more dead fiance`s that may be coming back to life, but still... Would he still think she was capable of being unfaithful? She knew perfectly well Drake would fight for her. "I know you will," she half-whispered, and looked back away.

» Do it, she told herself. Just do it and get it over with. But the words just would not come. She let herself slip under the water then came back up and smoothed down her hair, with a heavy sigh. "Drake, I..." She halted, looking at him, then away again. "I don't know how to say this but...." Maybe she could tell him in a foreign language? Yes, she could do that, then run away. Did he speak Spanish? Or French? Could she even recall how to say it in either one? Not the exact wording, but anything else she could use to get around that was too close to English, and therefore useless to her. Gosh, what was this, middle school? She was way beyond passing notes and having a friend tell a guy something- of course, she personally had never done it, but she recalled watching her siblings do it and thinking that they were quite childish- and definitely beyond saying something and then trying to run away. Besides, even though Drake was, in fact, naked, she supposed he would have no trouble catching up to her, what with her stunted athletic ability and the fact that she had flip-flops, and her balance wasn't the greatest in places like these... No, she probably just better face the music, head-on, and tough it out through whatever followed. "Just... just before you came over... I was fumbling through the medicine cabinet for some aspirin or something, cause I had this massive headache and life kind of sucked pretty bad, but the thing is, the aspirin bottle was like waaaay in the back, and I accidentally knocked some stuff out of the cabinet trying to get to it," she paused for a breath, then continued. "Some stupid test thing like fell out, and I don't even know why it was there or anything, probably just left over from forever ago, but I was like, hey, whatever, might as well get it out of the way, make room for something I might actually find useful anytime soon, so took it and stuff, and I never expected-" she cut herself off there, looking away. She wanted to finish the sentence, but at the same time... well, she didn't. Drake would- or should, at any rate- be able to finish it himself. But that again, what if he didn't? What if he didn't understand, and thought she was talking about something else? It would suck even more if she had to repeat herself... "Drake, I- Ohhhh," she groaned, leaning forward, stopping mid-sentence once again. "Not again," she half-whispered under her breath.

[drake fitzgerald minor III]

Drake was done inwardly moaning in pain, and managed a soft smile at Mystic’s characteristic reluctance to say “bad” words. Not that this one was even a really horrible one, in theory, but still...Wait. Drake paused, not at the use of the word, but the origin of it. ”Your sister called you that?” he wondered aloud. What a horrible thing to say to one’s sibling, especially one as close as Mystic and her sister were. Well, he thought they were still close. They’d seemed close when he knew the two of them together, what felt like so many years ago, but he supposed things could have changed. ”Does she even know you anymore?” he asked, before he could stop himself. It sounded insensitive, but sure, he thought, anyone who was even vaguely acquainted with Mystic would know that she was anything but a slut. She didn’t just throw her emotions around. Drake hadn’t been there for it (obviously) but had a feeling that letting him go had been one of the more difficult experiences in her life. That, of course, was gathered solely from his own experience in letting go of her.

He could tell by the look on her face that he wasn’t telling her anything new, saying that he’d stick with her, fight for her, do what he had to. She knew him well enough to already be aware of that. But what could he tell her that she didn’t know? They’d given themselves to each other when they were so young, not physically, perhaps, but emotionally, that there were very few facets of his personality he though she didn’t know, or couldn't have guessed or surmised by now. Yet, there was so much he’d forgotten, so much he was sure they both had lost in the transition from teenagers to adults. Drake himself had experienced a rough time at that - it seemed he’d spent half of the transition either in a coma or unsure of who he was, and there was nothing he could do to get that time back. He was simply expected to be the adult society expected him to be at this age.

She was telling him something else, and he was dimly aware of it, his attention shifting back to her around the time she said “stupid test thing”. He was confused at first. What kind of test? A spelling test? Drake shook his head, trying not to fall into second grade teacher mode. Not that kind of test, stupid, he told himself. What kind, then...oh, shit. He felt a tightening in his throat, a sort of constriction that almost hurt but didn’t quite make it past a dull pressure.

”Mystic, what are you saying?” he asked, though if he were perfectly honest at that moment, he already knew. What other kind of tests did women keep lying around besides home pregnancy tests, and why would she tell him about it if it wasn’t positive? He wanted to smile - who else but Mystic would randomly take a pregnancy test to ‘get it out of the way’? ”You’re...you’re...pre...” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word out loud. If he did, that made it real, so he lowered his voice, and whispered it. ”Pregnant?”

Oh, shit. Holy Mary, mother of ever-loving shit. Even his curses weren’t making sense. Did this mean the baby was his? The timing, he supposed, was right, and he hadn’t been careful about things. He’d been so caught up in the moment, and had dismissed the risk of what he and Mystic had done, assuming to himself that she would surely be on some kind of pill for that sort of thing. It was irresponsible, reckless, and inconsiderate...but it was too late to focus on all of that now. He supposed, depending on how Mystic and Flannery conducted themselves, that it could just as well be Flannery’s, but if Mystic had been in anywhere near the emotional turmoil he had the last couple of weeks, she might not have wanted to be touched, by her husband or anyone else, for that matter.

”It’s okay.” he blurted. Would she believe that? Did he believe it himself? He wasn’t sure. He reached for his shirt, intending to pull his clothes on and get out of this ridiculous position he was in, but her sudden gasp drew his attention away. ”Mystic? Are you all right?” Not again? What was that supposed to mean? Did she get knocked up by ex-dead ex-fiances often? He winced at his own use of the ‘k-u’ term, thinking that wasn’t very considerate, especially since this was all pretty much his fault. Granted, it took two to do what they had done, but if he hadn’t come back in the first place, it certainly wouldn’t have happened. All pretenses of modesty aside, he scrambled out of the pool, and pulled first his boxers, then his t-shirt, back on. He held out a hand, a somewhat prunified hand from sitting in the water for so long, offering to help her out of the pool.

”C’mere, sit down.” he said, quietly, trying to stay calm. He could tell something wasn’t right, and until he found out what it was, he was going to be as careful as he possibly could. ”What’s wrong? Are you all right?” he asked, again.

[/blockquote]

[mystic pearl adier]

» It almost made her smile to think that Drake, on some level, remembered how she and her sister used to be so close. They still were, but had now taken to being more like an old married couple, bickering all the time over stupid stuff. And her sister was always on Mystic's case about being so shy- how she should get over it and let loose a little. So what if she only lived once? Mystic didn't want to be remembered as a bitch or anything of that nature... She nodded a little. "Oh yes... She just can't stand that people don't generally hate me." She rolled her eyes a little. A lot had certainly changed about both sisters in Drake's absence. "She uh, joined the Marines," Mystic started the next thought. "I told her if she got herself killed I would never speak to her again." She nearly completely fell apart when she got Drake's letter- she couldn't bear to think what would happen if she were to get one from her sister, who was essentially her, seeing as they shared an entire DNA sequence. She opted not to mention any more about the letter- didn't he already feel bad enough?

» She really didn't want to tell him yet. She would definitely tell him at some point, but... now? Obviously, he deserved to know, since there was an equally good chance it would end up being his as it would Flannery's, but still... There was that great debate of when to tell him. Now just didn't seem like the right time. They were both so emotionally drained- or she was, at least, and imagined Drake must be too- that any reaction would probably be... well, unfavorable. Plus, among other things, there was a tiny fear that lurked in the back of her mind. She doubted it would happen, seeing as Drake just wasn't that kind of guy, but still, the possibility was floating around in her mind. What if he took it as a cue to leave? What if he ended up being different than Mystic remembered, ended up being some sort of, for lack of better terminology, a deadbeat? She couldn't bear to think about it; it just couldn't happen. It wasn't at all like the Drake remembered, that she loved. She nodded a little, confirming, and sniffled.

» She had never dealt well with pain, in any form. A paper cut could very well have her in tears, if it was placed just so. A small scrape or cut could do the same thing. It made her wonder- why had she so willingly decided (the first time) to try for a baby with Flannery? If she could barely handle a paper cut, how was she supposed to handle... yeah. Still, that was different. Painful, hell yes, but somehow just a different kind of pain. The most easily forgotten in the world, or so she'd been told. In any case, she could never hide the fact that she was in pain. She'd squirm, bite her lip, or even groan- never really shout, unless it was really bad- and wondered if maybe it was involuntary, since she never really had control over it. It could interrupt hardcore need-to-be-concentrating moments like this one. Highly inconvenient.

» She realized after she said it that Drake would probably have no clue why she was saying 'not again'. Even though she had been going over to his place- just to hang out, since neither of them really wanted to further wilt their consciences- numerous times since that first time they ended up there, they spoke very little of Mystic's life since his "death". Sure, she told him the small things like she was a nurse, married (which he already knew), and little things like that. But she never went into details about her and Flannery's relationship. It would only serve to make her feel more guilty, and probably hurt Drake- neither of which she particularly wanted. In any case, she failed to mention that, previously, they'd been trying for a baby, and then she miscarried. By not again, she was simply trying to convince herself that it wasn't happening again, even though that was the one thing she could think of to explain the pain.

» As she reached up and grabbed his hand- still fighting pain as she stood up and managed to haul herself, with his assistance, out of the springs- she was nearly in tears. She simply shook her head when asked if she was alright- no, she wasn't alright! This was practically number one on her list of epic fears! She shook her head again, wanting to cling to him, to be held, but knowing that now was not the time. "I can't.." she started to say, as she began sitting down. "I can't... lose... anoth- " And just as she worked up the strength to bend so she could sit down, she passed out. That had happened last time, too- good thing there were some joggers nearby that happened to notice her and call an ambulance, or she could have ended up with a lot worse than a broken heart.