By Demeter

EMAIL: Demeter

Thanks Xasphie & Lyn for the beta!

SUMMARY: Epilogue for Crossroads.


I'm worried about the future, if not downright afraid, but I refuse to call it that yet.

So we're back from Clayton Falls; Simon has dropped me off at the loft, and I should value the peace and quiet after all the adventure, but I can't. I'm restless, unsettled, can't even say why.

Between collapsing in that storage room at the Clayton Falls Inn, and realizing that the story about the virus was all a hoax anyway, I don't really remember enough to recall a feeling of being afraid for my life, so that's not a good explanation either, but what the hell is this?

I'm making myself a cup of tea, hoping it will chase away the remnants of queasiness, without any success so far.

There's some understanding I've brought with me from Clayton Falls, and maybe that's causing the near panic, every time I think -- this just can't work out. It's really a wonder Jim and I stayed together for this long, because we've managed to trigger some of our most painful experiences without even realizing it.

I *cringe* when I think back to the early days when I was all but harassing Jim with my enthusiasm about having found a Sentinel - you are special, your abilities are so great - and I think part of him still saw his father calling him a freak. Of course I didn't know then what I know now, and I do think of him as special, because he is. I had lots of hints though. How relieved Jim was when it seemed like his abilities had gone, but no, I never thought that there could be a world where he'd be happy without them, because being normal is something he craves so much.

I've got to be more careful, watch what I'm saying.

In theory, you must admit it sounds good - if I wasn't so wrapped up in my own trappings - because there's another side to this. 'You are always there in my face.' Hell, I know better than to feel insulted by this, I know Jim, and that the man needs his space. Lots of it.

And still --

I can't ignore that he's not the only one who's ever told me to *just shut up*, to back off, to keep my stupid stories to myself. If I'd ever told Naomi, she would have dumped the guy in an instant, but I was seven years old and just wanted her to be happy.

Of course, I won't tell Jim, because he'd think I'm crazy, dredging up all those stories from the past when all he wanted was a little time off on his own.

So I just sit here, and remember, and worry.

About what more there is to come, and how we are going to deal with it. You could say I'm afraid.

The End