From: specialagent_reyes Date: 16 Aug 2002 03:26:32 -0700 Subject: [all-xf] NEW FIC: PROMISES, by Bobbi Source: atxc TITLE: PROMISES AUTHOR: Bobbi SUMMARY: A human hand has the ability to scar and to steal, to make a wound that won't heal. I hear the blood of my blood crying from the ground. 'Have faith,' she says. KEYWORDS: DRR. Doggett/Reyes Romance. Doggett. Reyes. Luke Doggett. pre-xf. JD POV. DISCLAIMER: The characters mentioned in this story don't belong to me, and a couple song fragments that you may recognize - and only a couple - do not belong to me either, but to their respective artists, e.g. U2 and Bruce Springsteen. ARCHIVE: I like to know where it's going, so e-mail me at AmericanPadme@aol.com. FEEDBACK: Please - all of it will be welcomed and warmly cherished at AmericanPadme@aol.com. RATING: PG SPOILERS: Not unless you've been living under a rock - umm, basic spoilers involving Luke Doggett's death. Basically, season eight and possibly nine. ______________________________________________________ I prayed for Luke. I searched for him, did all I could do, put all into it I could, and it wasn't enough. I failed him. I let him die. Anyone who fools you into thinkin' there is a God is crazy. There is no God. There is no life. There is no love. Only evil in this world, the evil that took my son away. I'm sick of hearin' there's gonna be peace on earth. I never got to say goodbye, to see the color in his eyes one more time. Tell me that's peace on earth. Tell me that's God. Tell me that's faith, and hope, and love. Ma and Pa raised me to believe that there's something beyond, some greater power that created us and leads us. God. Laced-up Southern baptists. Believing so blindly because they've never experienced what I have. Ma says I need help. Says to go talk to the priest. Says I'm losin' sight of the path. Path -- What path? There is no path. I was blind to ever think there was one. Life is just a coincidence. A coincidence that shouldn't have happened. There was none of this divine intervention shit you hear them talk about. That's sugarcoated candy to make you think that there's somethin' after the end. Somethin' to make you think that the way you live your life matters, that it will determine your place in the next life. They want you to think that so there's this balance in society. There is no balance. There never will be balance. There is only injustice. Injustice, lying in the face of evil. Evil, such immense evil that children are taken away from us with no explanation. It's all we can do to shake our fists at the sky and ask why only to find that there's no answer. It's all we can do when we wake up the morning after finding out only to discover - it ain't no nightmare. It's real. It's the reality that will kill you. Nightmares may haunt you and disturb you, but reality will *kill* you. A human hand has the ability to scar and to steal, to make a wound that won't heal. I hear the blood of my blood crying from the ground. Our miracle. Barbara's and my *miracle*. In the ground. In the dirt. Tell me that's peace on earth. Tell me that's harmony, and justice, and peace. Shit happens. You recognize the existence of evil especially when you work with it, like I did. Do. Soon to be did. They all know I'm fallin' apart. They'll fire me, or I'll be forced to resign. The other detectives and officers are already growing more and more distant, and I don't want to hear their hushed whispers in the hall. I'm fallin' apart - they know it and I know it. Anyway, back to evil. Ya know it happens, 'specially when you have a job like I do. You have a fear, a fear of evil occuring, if you may, to the people closest to you. Ya never imagine it, though, because you can't. If you imagine that fear, you allow yourself to be consumed by it. I failed. I *failed* - I let him die. Failure was always my worst fear. At one point, I managed to convince myself I was invincible, that nothing could tear up our family. That's back when everything was peaches an' cream. I hear the blood of my blood crying from the ground and wonder - how could one create life, only to let it be destroyed in such a senseless way? I remember seeing his cold, rigid little body. Monica, standing on the hill. Luke, lying on the ground. My son - my son, always. My child, forever. Lying facedown. My child. My child. Not dead. Not dead. So alive. Not dead. Leanin' over him. Wake up, Luke. You need to wake up, mommy's waiting. It's time to go home. We need to go home. Please, Luke, wake up. Wake up, damnit! Don't DO this to me! Shaking his shoulder. Softly. Then hard. Talking quietly. Yelling. Frustration. Denial. Anger. Immense, incomprehensible anger. Cold. So cold. Like the snow. Not shivering, though. Just lyin' there, lyin' there, so still. Stiller than I ever seen anythin' - anythin' at all. He dinnt wake up. He's gone. Just gone. Barb's and my miracle, gone like the wind, gone just like that. Monica's here. Tappin' my shoulder. Get up, John. Time to go. You've been kneeling here, in the rain. Kneeling beside his headstone, and he's not here. I just can't let go. I still have his ashes. They're sittin' in the back of my closet. Let them go, Monica says. Let him go. No, I can't. I can't let go. Luke's not dead. He's not. After denial passes, there's only more emptiness. Emptiness, and maybe a rather selfish need for venegeance that will probably never be filled because I failed him. I failed him 'cause I let him die, 'cause I can't find his killer. I'm sorry, Luke. So sorry. Forgive me. Monica leaves after everything's resolved, till I call her back a few weeks later. She comes just like that. 'Cause she's sorry, I say. Because she cares, she says. Not pity. Not obligation. Wanting to be there. Not having to be there. Have faith, Monica says. Faith - what's that? Something I don't believe in. Have faith, she keeps pressing. Everything will be okay. She promises. Promises - empty promises, I say. Trust me, she says. I do. I trust you. Good. You have to trust someone. Well it's not like you can take anything else when there's nothin' left. It's not like I can fall any further when I've already hit rock bottom. All the while, I hear the blood cry from the ground. In my head, from the walls, all around - the blood is crying from the ground. Sorry for what happened that night, Monica. Sorry for... makin' that move. Shouldnta kissed you, as a married man. She stares stunned. Doesn't think I remembered, I know. Thinks I was too drunk. I don't get that drunk. Wasn't drunk, Monica. Shouldnta dunnit, though. Shouldta made the move, not as a married man. Not a married man anymore, though. I kiss her again. She says sorry. I say, don't be. Hands make way to her back. Soft. Soft, and she doesn't make a move to move them like Barb did. Barb said we can't do this anymore, it's a lie, it's wrong, we lost each other awhile ago, Luke was the only thing holding us together. Barb just kept pushing me away. Not my fault. You, Monica - you don't push me away. You welcome me. Can't take advantage of you, you're vulnerable. Monica looks concerned. This is me. Not you, Monica. This isn't me being vulnerable. Soft. So soft. So... not Barbara. Not like Barb, in any way. Opposites. Night and day. I want you - I need you. I need this. Monica... promise you won't leave. Tears. Tears in her eyes, and I don't know why. Nods. We're one, but we're not the same. Faith. Have faith. I think I'm doin' an okay job at finding my way there. Couldn't do it alone, had to trust someone. Luke - wherever you are, if you get there before I do - wait for me. In a little while, I won't be blown by every breeze. In a little while, I'll be able to stand on my own. Monica shows me faith and love, and hope and trust, an' somehow, I'm on my way to the road that I'll make my way back on. ______________________________________________________ AUTHOR'S NOTES/DEDICATIONS: If you've made it this far, all I have to say is, wow. Your tolerance for angst must be pretty high. I know there's some tense errors in here, but I saw it fit to leave it as it was, because it makes the story most effective, I feel. Shane Roush, my best friend in the world, was murdered this week on his way to Hilton Head, SC for vacation. He was murdered by a man named Quincy Allen at a Citgo. Shane entered the Citgo to pay. Allen, posing as the clerk, shot Shane twice and killed him. The loss has been tremendous and very indescribable for me, and has caused me to question several things in and about my life, including my faith. This story displays the struggles I have felt. I dearly loved/love Shane, and the loss has just really crushed me. I just had to find a way to get everything out, and honor Shane at the same time. Really, this is for him. I won't be doing any writing for a long time - as a matter of fact, there may be no XF fanfic for me. I won't say that for sure, though. I'll be around, I promise. It's incredibly hard to write in the wake of tragedies such as this, and I just need time to heal and move on. It may be awhile, but I wanted to pay homage to a very special friend, as well as describe what I'm feeling. I just wanted a positive way to channel my grief here, as well as share my loss and pain with others. I don't want Shane to be forgotten, either. If you'd like to find out more, you can check out my livejournal at http://www.livejournal.com/~AmericanPadme. There, you will find links to the news articles that describe exactly what happened to Shane, as well as my feelings on the whole situation. Thank you for your time, dedication, and devotion everyone! I would also like to send out three big thank you's and hugs to Kim, Amy, and Little Red, for their support and wonderful ears this week - I hope I haven't talked your ears off, and I hope you three enjoy this. I wouldn't have been able to write it had it not been for your support. It really means more than you will ever know.