Almost Empty     Almost Empty

 by Cobalt

  

 Author's Website: http://www.geocities.com/norseblue/main.html

 Disclaimer: 
If you recognize it, lay odds it belongs to Alliance, Paul Haggis, or
Mickey Mouse. Please no lawsuits or otters (frozen, dead, or otherwise). 

 Author's Notes: 
This is an AU. In the DS universe, it takes place about a year and a half
after "Burning Down the House." Unless told otherwise, assume that none of
the events after BDTH actually took place, especially COTW. In real time,
it takes place at the beginning of January 2001, about 22 months off for
DS. It's that new math. Beta'd by Christal the Wonderful, lovely purveyor
of monkey crack. 
Special thanks to all of the people who sent comments about the first
installment. Sorry I didn't get this one out sooner, but thanks so much
for checking up on its progress. :)

 Story Notes: 
Archive: The lists can have it, and it'll be uploaded to Hexwood. Anyone
else who wants it--just let me know first. 
Spoilers: General spoilage for the first two seasons and the beginning of
the third. 
Series/Sequel: For a Winter's Night, Part Two (Takes place simultaneously
with "Six Feet Down and Wondering." This one won't make a whole lot of
sense unless you've read part one.) 
Other websites: http://www.geocities.com/norseblue/main.html or
http://www.geocities.com/norseblue/myfic/myfic.html 
Feedback: Pwetty pwease? 
Warnings: Oh yeah. R for naughty words and implied m/m. UST, Angst
abounds. If you were away from Benny for 18 months, wouldn't you be
angsty, too?

 

 

 Almost empty. No, that wasn't what Assistant Director Wendell had said.
Almost over. Now that's more like it. In less than 72 hours, I'll be
boarding a plane back to Chicago. 

 Almost over. No more pretending to be Armando Langoustini. 

 Almost over. No more playing double agent for the FBI. 

 Almost over. Back to reality. 

 Whatever that is. 

 A postcard. I sent him a postcard. This is becoming a habit. I walk out
of Benny's life, I send a postcard. I walk back in, another postcard. 

 I miss you. 

 --RV 

 God, I sounded so fucking asinine! 

 After all this time, all those lonely nights I've spent dreaming about
him, his voice, his body. All those times I've imagined what it would feel
like to be underneath him, on top of him, in him, surrounding him, tasting
him and being tasted. All the hours I should have been in bed sleeping
spent writing endless letters to him, telling him how much I love him, how
much I want him, how much I hope--wish--he wants me. 

 All of that and all I can come up with is "I miss you." 

 But it really says it all. Months of longing, and all it really boils
down to is that I miss him. Completely and utterly. 

 Ya know, I don't feel like it's over yet. Oh, I know it's really not over
for another three days, but I guess I just can't get it through my skull
that there'll actually be an end to this. I mean, I always knew in my head
that sooner or later the assignment would be over and that I might
honestly get out alive. It just never seemed real. 

 Almost empty. That's how I feel. Being a member of the Mafia for a year
and a half'll do that to ya. It's like some part of me has died, like a
limb that is starved of blood and eventually just falls off. But it's like
when they show somebody on TV losing a leg or something; they can still
feel their toe itch, even after it's gone. I still have those phantom
pains. I can still feel Ray Vecchio itching somewhere inside me; I just
can't get to him to scratch. 

 I should have thought about this sooner, should have planned for when I
was finally allowed to return to my real life. I should have made sure I
let Ray see the light of day every once in a while. But it was too risky.
I was so scared Ray would show through when I was around the wrong people.
And so I traded one risk for another. The risk of being killed exchanged
for the risk of losing myself. The truly pathetic thing is that I don't
know which is worse. 

 It was too dangerous to keep Ray Vecchio close to the surface. Those
first few weeks, I was so scared I was gonna be found out. I guess that's
what made me tuck Ray so far down. I've become, completely and thoroughly,
Armando "The Bookman" Langoustini. I'm not even sure if Ray Vecchio exists
anymore. 

 Yes I am. He does exist. It's just that I'm not him anymore. Some blond
kid is. I'm Armando, and that Kowalski guy is Ray. 

 Stanley Raymond Kowalski; he's taken my job, my family, my friends...
Benny. And you know what the worst part is? You know what the absolutely
fucking pathetic part is? I asked him to do it! Okay, I didn't actually
ask him, but I agreed to let someone else live my life and I agreed to let
this guy be the one. Just invited him to come take over my life. And with
my blessing! "No that's quite alright, move on in, flirt with my sister,
drown my car, steal my best friend. I don't mind!" 

 Stanley Kowalski... What kind o' name is that anyway? I hear his
ex-wife's name is Stella. Well isn't that sweet. Isn't that just perfect?
I bet she's even got a sister named Blanche and everything. 

 That's just great. 

 Turns out he went by Ray, though. I can understand that, given the
circumstances. Who wants to go around being called Stanley Kowalski? And
it just made him ideal for this assignment. You're on a bust; someone
yells, "Ray, get down!" You don't want to have to worry about hesitating
and getting your brains splattered across the pavement 'cause your real
name's Fred. 

 And I guess when the big boys were choosing this new Ray Vecchio, they
decided to improve on the original model, too. I've seen this guy,
Kowalski; blond hair, blue eyes, chiseled features, muscled and lithe. Not
like me; bald, dull eyes, almost no chin, out of shape. 

 He's a good shot, too, almost as good as Benny. Better than me, that's
for sure. A bit of a firebrand, but apparently since he's been hanging
with Benny, he's mellowed some. Benny'll do that to ya. When he's not
exciting every nerve ending in your body just by his mere presence, that
is. 

 I've seen the two of them together, I've watched them. It's not all limos
and Vegas penthouses and half-naked showgirls for the Bookman. Sometimes
it's a seedy Chicago motel and the piss-stained back seat of a taxi,
spying on a guy you'd give anything to be... and another you'd give
anything to be with. Knowing that this is a dangerous luxury you're
indulging in and that getting caught means getting rubbed-out. And not
giving a fuck, because you get to see him. A Mountie with an oral
fixation. 

 I've watched the two of them, seen how well they work together, what a
really great team they make. If I could pick one person to be Benny's
partner, it would probably be Kowalski. Yeah, he's a bit volatile, but
he's a good cop. And he cares about Benny. I don't know, maybe he even
loves him. I don't know. If he does, he keeps it hidden as well as I did,
or at least as well as I hope I did. 

 And now I'm just gonna walk in, and take back my life... a life that
isn't really mine anymore. It's his, too. Will he put up a fight? Will he
try to stay? Will he tell me to get lost? Will he make Benny choose? 

 Will... will Benny choose him? 

 God! I don't think I could take that! I don't know what I'd do if it ever
came to that. 

 But maybe that's what's best for Benny. Here he's got this young,
beautiful, golden child, who is so fucking good at being Ray Vecchio. 

 Then there's me. I'm not even sure who I am, Vecchio or Langoustini. I'm
living someone else's life. Benny doesn't need that. Kowalski's living
someone else's life, too, though. But if he gets too much into character,
all that happens is he starts having an unhealthy obsession for pasta
fagiole and develops male pattern baldness. If I don't shake The Bookman,
I could hurt someone. I could hurt Benny. 

 I can't let that happen. 

 A.D. Wendell hasn't told Welsh that I'm coming back yet. Maybe I can get
him to hold off on spreading the good word. Take a day or two for myself.
Get my bearings. See if I can find Ray somewhere inside me again. 

 Have I really done that? Have I lost myself? God, I hope not. Because
losing myself means losing Benny, too. If I've really turned into that
monster, Langoustini, I can never see Benny again. 

 Even if I do find Ray somewhere inside, I've still changed. The Ray
Vecchio I've become isn't the same one who left Chicago 18 months ago, and
he certainly isn't the Ray Vecchio who stayed behind. 

 If I've changed, I can accept that, as long as I'm still Ray. My family
will be able to accept me. They're my family; they have to love me. Ma
will just be so excited that I'm back, I don't think she'd care about
anything else. And even though she tries not to show it too often, I know
Frannie loves me, and Maria, too, and they always will. 

 I even think the precinct will welcome me back with open arms. I'll
return the conquering hero, even if that isn't how I feel. The guys'll pat
me on the back and tell me what a good job I did and how it just wasn't
the same without me, whether or not it really was. 

 And Benny? How'll Benny react when I come waltzing back into his life
after being gone for a year and a half? Can he accept that I'll be a
changed man? Maybe he won't. He's got a new, improved version of me to pal
around with, why should he accept damaged goods? 

 And you know what? I'm still gonna go back there and ask him to take me
back. I'll push my dignity aside and downright beg. I'd crawl over hot
coals to get to Benny, just to have him turn me away and call me a fool
for thinking he'd want me. 

 I'd do all that and more, simply because I love him more than I've ever
loved anyone. 

 A postcard. I'm sending him another fucking postcard. Maybe I should see
someone about this. 

 See you soon. 

 --RV 

 The only person I want to see is him. I'm not supposed to let anyone know
I'm coming back yet; I'm still officially undercover for the next three
days, still vulnerable. 

 But I have to give him some sort of warning. Don't I? Doesn't he deserve
at least that? 

 No, he deserves more. He deserved more than a postcard as a goodbye. He
deserves more than another couple of postcards saying I've missed him and
I'm comin' home. 

 Does he even want me to come home? 

 I hope so. 

 I can't be alone anymore.  

End