How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?    "How Am I Supposed to Live
Without You?" 

 WARNING LABEL: (for those who don't want to read my rambling and just
want the story) G-rated M/M angsty monologue... with a few strong words, I
guess.	

 Well it finally happened. My Muse returned full-force, and I went from
struggling for over a week to make the slightest progress on one story to
spilling out a whole piece this morning before lunch. Not only that, but
I've got five or six more ideas floating around in my head... they kept
coming up as I was writing this. 

 And now I'm trying to remember _why_ I wanted my Muse back so much... 
;-) 

 Anyway, this is a Song Challenge piece-- a disclaimer which probably
makes sense only to my fellow FKFIC-L people. I guess people write around
song lyrics in every fandom, but on the FK lists it was easily the longest
and most prolific standing "story challenge" ever offered. I wrote four or
five of them myself, and the serious ones were much the same kind of
angst-fest and emotional dumping that this is. What can I say, at least
I'm consistent. 

 For all I love the great slash that's been posted to these lists, I
didn't think I'd be writing any of it myself somehow. Guess it was
inevitable, though. WARNING: Basically M/M in theme, but no action,
leaving it at I guess a G (with a few strong words). It's a downer, the
kind of stuff that I usually don't read much of because I get too
depressed. So, how did I write it? I have a perverse Muse, what can I say?
;-) 

 No, really. I could write it because it's not finished... at least not in
my head. It's only the hurt part of the h/c, but there's comfort in the
future somewhere in my mind, so I'm o.k. (Goddess, I'm such a sap! ;-) I
may even get around to writing it someday, you never know. Song Challenges
tend to do that to me. 

 O.K., you all know the drill-- I don't own them, they just started
talking in my head. No harm or trespass intended. If I could make money
off this, I'd be rich, but if you can actually find anything I possess
worth suing for, you're doing a lot better than I am. 

 Any errors are mine, my Muse denies all responsibility. Feel free to
laugh at my geography and travel plans... this is the best 45 mins on the
web could do for me. 

 Now, here we go... (is anyone still with me?)	

 "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?" by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. "la
Mercenaire")
 Cat.Goddess@pobox.com
 

  

  *I couldn't believe it, when I heard the news today...* 

 A note. A note on my damn desk! I come back after another pointless,
fruitless chase after some lead that went nowhere and I find this lying on
my desk. "Const. Fraser called. No ride home today," and the scribbled
initials of the desk sergeant. 

 You know my first thought was to apologize? A sudden pang of guilt that
I'd missed lunch chasing down that damned snitch and you were punishing
me. It was gone in a second-- utterly ridiculous. You would never be that
petty. It could be any one of a number of things-- off early, leaving
late, running errands. Anything at all. 

 Besides, you would never realize how easy it would be to punish me if you
wanted to. 

  *I had to come and get it straight from you.* 

 So I called the Consulate. I don't know why. It was silly, I mean it's
not like you need looking after, like you have to check in with me when
you change plans. But I still call right up without a thought and with a
certain righteousness, as if you were AWOL or breaking curfew or
something. It's not like you owe me any explanations. 

 All right, I lied. I know exactly why I did it. But that doesn't really
matter now, does it? 

  *They said you were leaving, someone swept your heart away...* 

 Paulatuk? Where the hell is that, Benny? Somewhere back out in the middle
of your beloved ice and snow, huh? You've always wanted to go home. You
hide it under that professional courtesy, that goddamned, stubborn Mountie
stoicism. You've never said a single word, but I can see it, you know. I
can see the way you're always pining away for the Frozen North. For a
place where you fit in perfectly, where everything around makes sense to
you. Where no one teases you or stares or rolls their eyes when you start
tasting or smelling or telling Inuit stories.... 

 Dammit, Benny, don't you think I know that? 

 Linda, huh? I barely remember her, wouldn't remember her if you hadn't
spoken of her those few times. Leave it for you to be that understated
about a budding romance. I didn't even see it coming. Or did I just not
want to believe it could happen? 

 Linda. A little mouse hiding in her apartment from that twisted
sonofabitch landlord, hiding from the terrors of the big wild city too.
She didn't belong here either-- is that what drew you two together? I can
see how miles of empty snow would be a relief for her. I bet she could
live her whole life that way, miles of nothingness... and you. 

 You know, Ovitz is a real gossip. The Dragon Lady should call him on the
carpet and chew his ass for that sometime. 

  *...And from the look upon your face I see it's true.* 

 "Ray!" 

 You know, for someone who hides their emotions away so carefully from all
the world, I can read you like a book. The genuine surprise at seeing me
at the door, turning almost instantly to pleasure. That much, at least has
changed. Your face is so open now anyone could read it. But could anyone
else see the pleasure at seeing me slip right into the greater pleasure of
the news you have to tell? 

 And would anyone else's heart tear itself apart at the sight? 

  *So tell me all about it, tell me 'bout the plans you're makin'* 

 It only takes a bare word or two and you're off and running, bubbling
over with news and plans-- a plane to Yellowknife, another to Inuvik, then
to Paulatuk... probably by dogsled or something, I'm not even listening.
For once I don't even feel any urge to shut you up. 

  *Tell me one thing more before I go:* 

 It's probably the most horrible thing I've ever consciously done. 

 Shooting you on that train platform, at least that was an accident. A
split-second and the world fell apart before I even knew what was
happening. But this, this I'm doing to myself. 

 Or am I? I can't move. I don't think I can survive hearing how happy you
are, how perfect your life will be. Yet I can't leave. The words pass over
me like water, burning me with just their tone of pure joy-- and yet I
can't get enough. This is it, and I know it. Soon -- far, far too soon--
you will be gone and I won't be able to torture myself like this. Ever
again. 

 And I'm afraid it'll kill me. 

  *Tell me how am I supposed to live without you?* 

 Do you even realize how completely you've become a part of my life? No, I
bet you don't. You weren't here to see my life before, to see how empty it
was, how meaningless it all felt. 

 And I thought I was even more a part of your life. You said once I was
your best friend, and that was way back, long before the triumphs and the
losses, the pain and the death, and the near-death more times than I can
even count and the ridiculous leads that made no sense and somehow panned
out anyway. 

 Or was it only by default? Was I your best friend because you had no one
else? You do now. Was all the time we spent together some kind of duty
with you? Some kind of debt you felt you owed me for taking you in when
you first arrived? For trying to explain this bizarre new world to you? 

 Oh no, God, please, Benny..... It was more than that. It _has_ to have
been. 

  *Now that I've been lovin' you so long* 

 Love is a monstrous thing, Benny. Look at what Victoria did with yours.
You of all people should know that, no? 

 I loved Irene, you know. I really did. If things had been different....
But they weren't, were they? And there's nothing that can change that. I
loved Angie too, but not the way I should have. I loved her like a
friend-- I still do. But not like a lover, not really. Par for the course
with me, huh? I go and marry the one I should have kept a friend and stay
just friends with.... 

 Oh damn, Benny. 

  *Too proud for cryin', didn't come here to break down,* 

 So you go on packing and talking. It's not like there's all that much to
take. But you, who can talk for hours on the minute properties of mud, are
talking on and on about your new love, your new life, and I think maybe
you'll never stop. 

 I'm deathly afraid you will. 

 Dief just lies there in the corner, head on his paws looking at me. He'll
go with you, of course, but I catch his eye and I can tell that he sees
what you don't. He won't interfere, he won't make a sound, but the
sympathy in his eyes is enough to break my heart all over again. 

  *It's just a dream of mine is comin' to an end.* 

 And you just go on, oblivious. Like you always did when some gorgeous
woman made a pass at you on sight. The few times you realized, you got all
flustered, uncomfortable. Long before I realized what was happening, it
gave me hope. Long before I could face the reasons why, your complete lack
of coherent response was like a reassurance, a promise I wasn't going to
lose you. 

 Then there was Victoria 

  *And how can I blame you, when I built my world around
  The hope that one day we'd be so much more than friends?* 

 That was when I faced it, you know. I had to. I sat there in the hospital
for hours, days, while you were dying. Dying by my hand. 

 I didn't know that kind of guilt and pain existed. 

 By the time they were sure you would make it, the guilt was so familiar I
could finally see through it. And what I saw should have scared the hell
out of me, should have sent me running for cover, burying my emotions away
where they would never see the light of day. But it didn't. I don't know
if it was because I was so strung out, so emotionally raw, or if it was
because somehow it was just so _right_. 

 I remember sitting there in the hall after they told me you were out of
danger. Ma and the girls were crying and hugging and praying and I just
sat there for an endless second. It was as if everything stood still for a
moment and I had all the time in the world. My first thought was a prayer,
a gratitude so heartfelt it didn't even have words. Then I reached for
words... and realized I didn't know what to say. 

 "Thank you, God, for saving... my friend"? It seemed so inadequate. "My
best friend"? Still it wasn't right. For that endless second I sat there
trying to find a word that was strong enough, that would mean what I
wanted to say. Had to say. Somehow I felt as if maybe if I didn't do it
right, wasn't sincere enough, honest enough in my gratitude, you might be
taken away again. 

 That did it, you know. That thought nearly doubled me over, as numb as I
thought I already was from the pain. "I love him, God." I just broke down
babbling in my head. "I love him more than anything on this earth,
please... I need him so bad." I thought my heart would break right there. 

 I suppose it wasn't the brightest thing to do, huh? I realized that
later, much later. But if I wasn't struck down by lightening right there
and then, I guess I figured I was pretty much home free afterwards. 

  *Now I don't want to know the price I'm gonna pay for dreamin'* 

 It was only after you woke up that I realized what I'd done to myself. 

 There was no way I could face you with this. Hell I didn't even know if
you could ever forgive me enough to be friends again, much less anything
more. Could there be anything more? I didn't even know what I wanted, I
still don't.

 All I know is what I knew then-- that ever losing you would probably kill
me. 

  *Even now it's more than I can bear.* 

 I waited too long, huh? We managed to put that whole nightmare behind us
and I was just gonna give us a little breathing room, a little recovery
time. Make sure that everything was all right before.... 

 Oh damn, I chickened out. 

 I didn't know what to say, I didn't know how to deal. I'm not sure if I
was more scared to think you might reject me or that you might actually
want me too. But we were back together and I saw you every day and it was
enough. Enough at least for the moment. 

 But the moment's gone. 

  *Now I don't want to know the price I'm gonna pay for dreamin'* 

 So what do I do now? Slap you on the back? Congratulate you? Offer to be
best man? 

 Oh God, I think I'd do it too... if only just to have the excuse to see
you one more time. 

  *Now that all of your dreams have come true.* 

 The look of happiness on your face as you talk takes my breath away. Were
you ever that happy here? 

 I guess I should take this as a sign that there never was a chance. Take
it as a gift from the heavens that I never tore up our friendship in a
vain attempt to make it something more. I mean, come on: a nice girl just
like you-- attractive, quiet, polite, a little shy-- who's happy to go
back to the middle of nowhere and adore you for the rest of her life, a
fairytale romance come true... 

 ...Or me? 

 Dammit, God, the bolt of lightening would have been kinder. 

  *How am I supposed to live without you?
  And how am I supposed to carry on,
  When all that I've been living for is gone?*
 

 

  

  

 Dianne
 Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- <cat.goddess@pobox.com>
 Vanity Web Page-- http://moonlight.dreamhost.com/lamerc/
 "If we live through this, I think it'll be fun. If we don't live through
it, for once it'll be *your* fault." -- Chris