#whffoggyjack

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/81416395

Chapter 74

They caught Nick. They came from all sides, eventually overwhelming him. He was already past various blows with their truncheons when one of them yelled: “Don't kill him! We need him alive!” “Let me go! I'm not Foggy Jack!”, Nick shouted, but he only received another blow for that. “What do we need him for?”, one of the Bobbies snarled. “Well, as proof?”, his colleague argued. “Sure, we can kill him now and tell everyone we caught Foggy Jack, but nobody's gonna believe us! When we bring him back alive, I bet we'll get a shiny medal!” “But I'm not...Foggy Jack!”, Nick tried again, gasping for air. “I'm Nick Lightbearer!” The Bobbies broke out in laughter. “Sure, and I'm the King of England”, said the one who stood closest to him. “Don't you recognise my voice?” “All I'm hearing is some pathetic whining of a captured criminal.” “I have to speak to Constable Hunt! He'll recognise me!” “You're not quite in the position to make demands!” “Come on! One of you should identify me!” Nick looked around. “Constable Rowley! Constable Whistler!, he blurted out. “You know me! Haven't I been always good to you?” The Constables he called shoved the others aside to look at him, but their faces weren't friendly.

“You fucked us over, that's what you did! Made us look quite stupid for thinking you've been stumbling around drunk in all these nights”, Constable Rowley spat. “But tonight you went too far!” “It was about time you snap”, Whistler added. “Besides, Constable Hunt is so stoned he'd even take a flowerpot for Nick Lightbearer. Whatever you drugged him with, it backfired!” “That wasn't me! The other one is Foggy Jack!” “How convenient. The one who's dead and can't defend himself!” “You have to make sure he's really dead!”, Nick begged. “No worries, we take care of everything, especially of you, celebrity”, the closest Bobby said smirking and ended the argument with a dose of knockout drops he drove into Nick's right upper arm.

Nick woke up in a prison for the second time in his life. Now it didn't look like he'd get off lightly. His first reaction was to rattle at the bars of his cell and call out for the Constables. When a tall man in a red uniform walked into his direction, he backed away a little. “What's up, little one? Need attention?”, the Bobby asked, playing with his electric truncheon. “You have to hear me out! I'm not Foggy Jack!”, Nick  continued to beg. “I see, you're our main attraction”, the tall man said quietly, stepping closer to the bars. “Did you find the other one? James? Is he...?” Nick gulped, avoiding the Constable's piercing gaze. “This is a sad day for Wellington Wells and a sad day for us Constables”, the Bobby began lamenting. “You brought great misery upon us all and we have the excruciating task of spreading the news.” “But I'm not Foggy Jack...”, Nick repeated in despair. “I'm...” But the man interrupted him. “Do you believe we can tell the horrible truth to our orderly citizens? Break their hearts like that and tell them that their most beloved idol has turned into their worst enemy? Can we allow the smartest of them to ask questions? Can we afford to make all the others unhappy? No, you see, we can't. It should've never been revealed. You should've never interfered.” Nick was confused. "But I..."

"Oh, don't worry, we won't put you to shame. Actually, it's easy. Uncle Jack went on holiday, Nick Lightbearer too and their names remain untainted. Nobody would want it any other way. But you...you're still here! You'll be the town's next great news! Your name is Norbert Pickles, right? Pays off to read the gossip magazines...You'll be a splendid Foggy Jack! Just try to look a tad bit guilty when you're being hanged." "...hanged?" The man's mocking grin turned wider. "Remind yourself, we're doing you a favour. You should be happy that we stopped you." "You know I'm innocent! You can't do this to me!" "Innocent, ey?" The Bobby laughed. "Think again, Mr. Pickles! We'd keep you anyway and let you rot in this cell. Instead, you get one last fancy show for yourself! You won't be able to hear the applause afterwards, but...you know what it sounds like...just imagine it." The Bobby continued to laugh, turned his back on Nick and vanished into the corridor.

Nick watched him go, his fingers still cramped around the bars. The Bobby's laughter faded away, leaving room for gloomy silence. Nick was out of words. He had no strength left to scream. Letting go of the bars, he slumped back on the plank bed. Wiping his face, he noticed he was still wearing the silver mask. He removed it and stared at it in disbelief. Foggy Jack. The way he had accepted it without asking questions... He had wanted it.

Nick dashed it against the brick wall. It made a little crack, not enough to satisfy him. Shame and regret spread in his chest. And disappointment. The friend he had met once in a lonely night, to whom he had opened his heart...he had lied to him, used him... Nick couldn't bear how stupid he had been. It made sense now. His mind had tried to warn him by showing him memories, but he had never understood. It had felt so good to be near James. The drug had blurred his sense. And then one thing had led to the other. Nick had stopped asking questions. Even now he didn't see everything clear, but he assumed things...He recalled the most important memories.

They made him shiver. Only a few hours ago he would've done it again. He had been so sure that this was the only way. He had even been looking forward to finally try out his gift. He still knew how he would've done it, how he would've moved the blade...If the Constable hadn't interrupted him... Nick broke out in tears and hated himself for it. He didn't want to cry for himself. He didn't deserve it. And still, he couldn't help but to feel pity for his former self that he had betrayed. He had never wanted any of this! He had always wanted to make other people happy, and to be loved in return. Yeah, he had also wanted to be famous, but not for hurting people. Nick didn't know what he regretted most. His stupidity or his lies.

Now he'll end in shame, hated and feared, hanged in public and sneered at by the masses. It was the worst show he could imagine and it would also drag his real name through the muck, the only part of his personality that was still of value. Memories overwhelmed him, scenes of former innocence, in the park with his first guitar, in the shop with Bates who had always welcomed him until he had fucked it up...He was glad to remember his old life again, but now it was hard to handle the memories.

Nick pulled down his wig and threw it away without giving it a glance. A crying fit shook him until he didn't even have enough energy to cry.

Perhaps he should be thankful that it ended, he then thought, lying on the plank. All the pain he had caused. It would be over. He should've died in his bathtub with the power cell. That would've saved other lives. Poor Arthur, having been entangled in all this... Nick comforted himself with the thought that Arthur was free now. He couldn't claim to be happy that his former lover ran away from him, but he understood. It hurt to remember how Arthur had yelled at him with this angry and panic-stricken expression, how he pushed him away. But he escaped James' clutches like that, he would survive. And he himself would be over it soon...

Nick wondered if the band would watch him too. He could imagine the whole town coming to see Foggy Jack hang. It hurt to imagine. Perhaps they'd think it's a different Norbert Pickles, not theirs, he mused. If they even thought much. Nick wished they would keep him in better memory, but there was still a tiny chance that they would. If his execution was long forgotten, they wouldn't link Foggy Jack to their old friend Norbert, right? A deep sigh escaped Nick. Sadly, it was time to leave the afterworld to it's own devices.

After all, he had gotten the chance to put a few things right, to find his friends again and be a part of the Make Believes for one last time. He couldn't prevent that they'd forget him, but on the contrary, nobody could take the good memories from him again. Nick even smiled a little, thinking about the excessive life he had led. He'd like to see anyone else do that!

Arthur didn't look behind once. He ran back to the Parade District and struggled his way through it. It was easier now. The Wellies were all sloshed enough to not pay attention anymore. Most of them were still trying to dance, some of them sang off-tune. They had parted into small groups and didn't care about who passed by. Like this, the night faded away and the next day came. Nobody made a move to get back to the usual business. The whole town was in trance. Drunken, stoned, tired. Arthur did everything in a hurry and didn't even make time to rejoice when he finally entered the rail tunnels.

He walked through the building, or rather climbed through the maze that the building had become in time. He felt like he had entered a different world. It was so quiet. His ears were still ringing from the noise in the town and suddenly all he heard were his own footsteps echoing from the empty, dirty walls. The emptiness felt  eerie. Arthur concluded that the Bobbies had abandoned their shifts for this special occasion. Nobody cared about Skippers as long as they could stuff their bellies or get high from Coconut Joy. After all, it was the biggest festival of the year. Arthur couldn't believe how lucky he was.

Finally standing on Britannia Bridge, he had to pause. He felt the cold wind running through his hair. Where did the wind suddenly come from? Had it been so chill in the town too? Arthur only now noticed something as usual as the weather. And the smell...was that the ocean? Arthur hadn't really paid attention to smells since his first shock from withdrawal. After getting a noseful of motilene, dead rats, mould and chemical waste he had gone numb. But this...Arthur couldn't remember smelling this in the Garden District. At his favourite place, the cliff... This was different. He was so close to the water. He could also hear it hiss and fume. It was quite loud. Walking closer to the balustrade, he could even see it. The stone felt cold and wet. Did Bobbies patrol here without noticing all this? The moonlight reflected in the water. Arthur had the feeling that even the moon was closer here. The sky was speckled with stars. It looked much clearer without the motilene fog. As if he could touch it. It was like the sky had arranged a welcoming committee for a petty Skipper like him.

Arthur turned his gaze, following the course of the bridge. He was surprised about how far it went. It showed him how tiny and narrow the town was, with all it's contorted alleys that all went in a circle. Arthur wondered how long it would take to cross it. The bridge faded into the dark horizon. And there, wrapped in blackness, lay the mainland. It looked so calm, untouched by all the madness. Did they know what happened here? And what happened to them? Arthur had never had the time to ponder over what the war had done to the rest of the world. But judging by the view he was provided, he thought they were better off.

Arthur made his first steps along the bridge. Here as well, he could hear his own footsteps. They mixed into the rushing of the ocean. “I'll be right with you, Percy...”, he whispered, as if he had to bolster himself up. “I'm almost there...”

He didn't get an answer. Suddenly, Arthur's heart sunk. He was disappointed, as if the ocean, the bridge or the moon were supposed to support him. Arthur's footsteps became slower, until he finally came to a halt. The balustrade had to stabilise him again. He didn't feel it's cold as intensely as before, because his own hands were cold now. Arthur leaned over it, sucking in the air. He looked up to the sky. What was happening to him? That was all he wanted. The freedom. The calm. But he didn't feel free. He felt awful.

“Percy, I...”, he began. The howling wind interrupted him. “Arthur!”, he heard Percy shout in fear. “Arthur, where are you?” I have to go, Arthur told himself. He forced himself to go on, left the supporting handrail and struggled his way forward. “Arthur!” He heard it again. But this time, it was a different voice. Arthur froze, staring at the wide horizon, as if he could hold onto it. The view was beautiful, a symphony of light and dark. Auspicious. It must be wonderful to join it.

But it wasn't meant to be, Arthur thought. Not for him.

He turned around and made a step. Then another.

Arthur ran back the entire way, possessed by only one thought. He didn't pay attention to how the ocean fell silent, how the fresh smell of salt in the air vanished and made room for the usual mould. He didn't look at the various desperate scribbles at the walls, messages from former Downers that had tried to escape, not at the faded poster of Uncle Jack, explaining that all Skippers were crazy. He was highly focused when he entered the town again and sneaked through the district. Still, nobody noticed him. The whole town was sloshed and sleeping and Arthur cold move freely.

He stopped at a big, unpleasant looking brick building to check the situation. It seemed like here of all places the town was still in order. A Bobby in red uniform sat at a counter and looked very awake. He also fought for staying awake. Arthur saw him slapping his own face and almost chuckled at it. What a shame that some Bobbies still kept their principles.

“What do you want?”, the man asked grumpily. “Visiting hours are in the afternoon.” “Wouldn't it be too late then?”, Arthur said mysteriously as if they shared a secret. “Too late for what?” The Bobby only looked warier. “Well...I heard you made a good catch last night.” “Did you?” The Bobby was unimpressed. “I still don't see why that's your business. Come back in the afternoon like everyone else and see if you're lucky.” “Perhaps this explains why I'm in a hurry...” Arthur held out his press pass. "This is the last chance to get anything useful out of him. People would die to read more about him...I mean, they don't die anymore...weird choice of words there..."

"'O' Courant, ey?” The Bobby read the pass. “Excuse me Sir, but our special guest isn't available for interrogations by the public eye. It's too risky, you know? A very unpleasant experience." "So, you're afraid he might say something...inconvenient?" Arthur could watch the Bobby regret his words. "Er, no, no...of course not like that...but he's...er...sleeky. We shouldn't give him any options to cause havoc." "So, I better go and write about that instead...", Arthur thought out loud. The Bobby didn't look amused. "What are you implying?" "Just what I said. I can only tell the public what I'm hearing. And besides, you do want a big story on the most cheerful event right after Memorial Day, right? I need to give them a monster they can hate, and therefore celebrate it's end! If he's not the monster we all think he is, I better go and correct that image." The Bobby flared up. "You shut your goddamn mouth you...!" But he changed his mind right after and sat back down. His look turned benevolent. "My apologies, Sir...It's been a tough night...Your reasoning makes sense. I'll let you through, but it's at your own risk, are we clear?" "Crystal clear", Arthur said, eagerly to go on.

He entered the prison, looking into every corner because he didn't trust them. But nobody seemed to care about their guest. Bobbies at another counter focused on some papers. Or perhaps they only pretended to work. Arthur decided to ignore them in return and walked on by. When he descended a long and wide staircase that led deep into the dark core of the building, he realized that he needed help or else he'd wander around in here forever. Arthur regretted that he hadn't gotten a welcoming committee and now had to explain it all again. When he heard footsteps behind him, he decided to use the opportunity. Every Bobby was just as good. Arthur turned around and found three of them walking towards him.

“Mr. Hastings, I presume?”, one of them asked. Oh, there was his welcoming committee. Arthur affirmed shortly. "You shouldn't go alone, Sir”, one of the Constables said. He was a lot friendlier than the one at the entrance. “This building is quite the maze, you could get lost. Let us guide you to our special guest. He's lodged in a special place." Arthur saw that he had no choice anyway and went with the Bobbies, feeling uncomfortable in two ways. First, they made his plan more complicated and second, he didn't trust them one bit. He began to wonder if the Bobby at the entrance gave up to soon, if it all had been to easy. That was why he kept his distance for them. No chance to be drugged by surprise or quicky hit with a truncheon.

They descended more stairs and went along more dark hallways. This truly was a maze. Arthur was glad he had quite a good memory, because no one would guide him outside. His heart sunk when they stopped in front of an empty cell. "Where is he? Is it too late?" Arthur tried to sound not too worried. The Bobbies gave each other a look. Then they brought out their electric truncheons. "You're arrested, Mr. Hastings, for illegal investigation!" "This is ridiculous!", Arthur shouted out. "You better cooperate, Sir. See, it's not so bad. You'll have a nice cell for your own, we'll feed you daily and you'll have nothing to worry about ever again. You can even take Joy." The Bobbies came closer, herding him towards the cell. Arthur figured the Constable only bothered to argue with him because he thought this was a done deal. Three armed men and one helpless reporter.

They didn't expect him to through a Banger at them. The selfmade bomb exploded in their faces and when they fell, arms up to protect their faces, Arthur dashed at them. He took the truncheon of the first and let it clash against his head. The second grabbed him but Arthur kicked him in the stomach and got free. He needed two hits to take him down. The third was pulling himself up at the wall when Arthur turned to him. It was a dirty fight. The Bobby was disoriented and flailed around. He still had his truncheon and Arthur had to make sure he didn't get hit by accident. Arthur striked a blow on the other man's long legs and made him stumble, leaving his head unprotected for a second. Another hit against the neck later he lay on the ground, still mourning. Arthur used the chance and kneeled down on the man, fixing him in place.

"Where is he?", he hissed at him. "Where's Foggy Jack?" The Bobby frowned and turned his head away. Arthur shook him. "Tell me or I'll blow your lights out! Do you really want to die for this?" The Bobby winced, then he stuttered a descripiton: "He's in...block A...in the east wing...left from the entrance...five stairwells down...at the end of the hallway...left..." With that, he fell unconscious. Arthur went on, looking for any sign that pointed to the direction of block A, hoping he didn't have to go all the way back to the entrance hall. He found one and followed it, then hoping he would descent the right stairwell. All he could make out of the description was that they kept Nick in a cell very far down, probably the safest area. Arthur gulped. Descending into hell couldn't be more uncomfortable.

To avoid the Bobbies he crawled along the vents and pig pipes that came out of the wall here and there. It was more confusing to orientate this way but Arthur set all his trust in his intuition that had saved his life so many times by now. Five stairwells later he actually found a long hallway that he followed, viewing it from his high above position on a pipe. Then he had to leave it to go left, but he had to wait for another red Bobby to pass by before he could to that. The Bobby slowly strolled, whistleling a song. Arthur frowned. How could this man be so happy despite everything? All the suffering prisoners. They didn't even give them Joy. Arthur heard them beg for Joy or cry about their missing children. He understood Nick a bit more now. If he had the chance to open all cells he would use it and he'd be happy to watch the chaos unfold. When he finally went on, his heartbeat began to pound in his temples. He was craving to see him again but he was also afraid of the moment. And also, he was afraid that he had gone the wrong way. There were many empty cells in this hallway and Arthur wondered if it was even still in use.

One cell had a prisoner that made Arthur's heart miss a beat. He walked towards him with high hopes, because he had seen the person wearing a black suit. The man lay on his plank bed and stared at the wall with an empty expression. Arthur eyed his face and hair and saw nothing familiar in both. This man was probably here for a long time, considering how empty he was. Disappointed,  Arthur turned his gaze away and went on. He found more empty cells next to this and his heart sunk.

Suddenly, he heard a faint voice say his name. Arthur froze in his tracks and looked around. He saw that the man in the black suit had gotten up and clutched the bars. Arthur walked back to him, eyeing the prisoner up and down. When the man saw him from up close, his eyes widened. "Arthur?", he said again in disbelief. The voice didn't fit the image. "Nick?", Arthur asked, doubting. The other man seemed to notice something. He put a hand on his cheek. He was wearing no mask and he also wasn't wearing any facial hair other than a few stubbles. His hair was darker, shorter and an utter mess. It was lacking the caramel tone that Arthur adored so much. He also looked younger, despite being all pale, having dark rings under red eyes and being unshaven. It was his expression, his eyes that finally made Arthur see something familiar in him.

Nick blushed. "Yeah, it's me...If I knew you would come, I would've made my hair..." He gave a little adorable smile. Arthur melted. He reached out and put his hands on the other man's, so that both were grabbing the bars. "Nick!", he sighed. Nick's eyes watered again, but this time out of happiness. Simply feeling Arthur's hands on his was a gift from heaven. "Are you a prisoner too?", he asked. "No, I'm here for you...", Arthur answered, now recognizing and adoring the green eyes. Nick looked down as if he was flattered, smilling widely. "You came back for me?” “U-huh.” Arthur nodded happily. Nick palpated the other man's hands. “Do you have the key?" Arthur beamed at him. "Who the fuck needs a key?"

Arthur admitted to himself that causing an explosion in a prison full of enemies was a big risk, but it was simply what felt most satisfying. When the damn cell door blew up, deforming and screeching as if in pain and finally shattered on the floor, Arthur was about to dance with joy. Well, a second later it seemed like someone had had the same idea because they heard another massive explosion that even made the walls shake for a moment. "What the hell was that?", Nick gasped, looking up to the ceiling. "Not a part of my plan", Arthur assured him. "We better get out of here quickly."

They heard hasty footsteps and screams coming from the upper floors. Stairs were run up and doors slammed shut. However, Arthur sensed that their hurry wasn't directed at them. None of their footsteps came closer. Instead, Arthur and Nick approached them. They ran along the corridor without meeting a patrol. Then they reached the pipe that Arthur had climbed and for the first time Arthur doubted his plan. “It would be better if we...”, he said and pointed at the pipe. Looking at Nick, he hoped the man understood and wasn't too scared. Nick's gaze shortly wandered along the pipe, up to the ceiling. “Go ahead, I follow you”, he simply answered.

Relieved, Arthur started to climb. He kept looking back at Nick, checking how he was doing and offering help. Nick copied his every move without protesting and Arthur soon calmed down. They tracked through the prison as if they had been practising this for ages. They saw Bobbies running along, cussing or lamenting. None of them sounded like he knew what was going on. They only complained about the fuss. Also, none of the prisoners were free. They jeered at their guards, but it was obvious that this wasn't a revolution. Arthur felt sorry for that but he had no time to make any change.

A few floors later they could see the big staircase. Arthur gestured Nick to stop. Fuck in a bucket, Arthur thought. This didn't look good. Any and all Constables gathered here and lined up. Also Nick saw it. “Oh dear...I guess they won't let us pass for an autograph?” Arthur searched the staircase, finding out that they could climb on a ventilation shaft, even though they would be seen by everyone. It also meant that after climbing, they couldn't just get down from it and walk out. However, at the ceiling he detected something that looked like a hatch. He hoped he could trust his judgement at a long distance, knowing that he had no other chance anyway. “We have get up there”, he explained his plan to Nick. “Just try not to look down and don't get distracted.” Nick approved with a nod. “Okay.”

They ascended the shaft that provided more support than the greasy pipe. It didn't take long until a Bobby saw them. "Oi!", he cried out, pointing at them. "They escape!"  It didn't matter who "they" were, as long as they had someone they could blame all the chaos on. The Bobbies started to yell and reach out for the shaft, trying to climb on it. Arthur's heart skipped a beat when he saw that one of them climbed on another Constable's shoulders. "Don't panic, just climb a little faster", he said to Nick and fastened his own pace. He didn't imagine that a Bobby could get on the shaft and chase them down on it. Nick went along and tried to ignore the howling of his enemies. Soon, they had to step on the hands that reached the shaft, but that didn't stop the Bobbies from trying. Arthur had to go for drastic measures. "Hold on!", he said to Nick and threw a bomb right into the mob. The power sent them flying, slapping against the walls and each other. As funny as it looked, the show was accompanied by the sound of bones breaking. The Bobbies' yells of pain mixed with their howling and the smell of burned flesh spread in the air. It was a bloodbath.

Arthur now focused on the hatch. "We're almost there!", he shouted over the noise to bolster Nick up. Finally, they climbed up the ladder to the hatch. Arthur threw himself against it and was surprised by how easily it opened. He almost fell upwards and yelped. "What is it?", Nick asked fearfully. "Nothing, nothing, we're safe, just get out..." Arthur climbed up and crawled onto the cobblestone. Then he grabbed Nick by the arm to pull him out. "Holy shit!", Nick gasped right after landing on the cobblestone himself. Arthur turned his head to where Nick was looking. "What the...?" The town had changed completely. Houses and cars were burning, corpses lay on the street and some remaining Wellies ran around, wielding truncheons or frying pans, looking like they got into a fight. Perhaps this was the revolution. It could also be Coconut Joy at it's finest. "What happened?" Nick was confused. "I have no idea, but we should stay out of this at any cost. Follow me."

Nick didn't ask any further questions when they went on. They heard screams in the distance that made Arthur's hair stand on end and he begged inwardly that they didn't get into a fight. They ran through clouds of smoke, holding their breath. Turning a corner, the sight didn't get better. The district descendet into chaos. The former order didn't apply anymore, as all the TV screens were demolished and the drones lay on the ground, burning to ashes. There were no Constables, at least no living ones. Ripped banners and destroyed marked stalls were the remnants of the once happy festival. It looked like the Wastrels had taken over. “Liars!”,  was scribbled on a poster, right over the false smile of a model. “They were so small”, was painted on another house.

"They are off their Joy!", Arthur stated. "You were right! This town is falling apart!" Nick eyed the chaos with terror. They ran down the once glorious alley that led to the train station. It's door was open. Arthur had a bad feeling about having to fight through a bunch of hysterical Wellies in there, but he also admitted that it wasn't a surprise that others wanted to escape, too. They ran throught the open door, passed by the shredded poster of Uncle Jack and went on downstairs. Arthur calmed down a bit when they walked along the rails, towards their freedom. "This is the way out of town, right?", Nick asked after a while. "Yes", was all Arthur could say. Nick didn't answer. Arthur was already glad that he didn't protest. They began to hear muffled voices in the distance, as if there was a group of people nearby. "Oh, perfect", Arthur gasped. "Let's hope they're friendly." It didn't seem like it thought. They could hear yelling and running and things hitting other things. Arthur was about to discuss a plan with Nick when another sudden explosion shook the building. The walls gave in, the floor cracked open and the tunnel got filled with a thick plume of dust. It was impossible to see where to run. Nick and Arthur just held onto each other.

When the dust had set and it was silent again they opened their eyes. They were kneeling on the ground, embracing each other. Arthur let go first to climb up the debris, to see how bad it was. "No!", Arthur screamed at the mountain of rubble that blocked their way out. He tore at the chunks of wall, but they were too heavy to be moved by one person alone. "Nick, we need to do this together!" Nick quickly stood by his side and pulled at the chunk too. It didn't move. They were giving their best, but Arthur also knew that they both were exhausted. "Goddamnit, I wasted my last bomb on the Bobbies! We need to find another way!" Arthur let go and climbed back. "Arthur..." Nick's voice was quiet and consorting. "I think this is blocked, too." Arthur looked up and saw the tunnel being clogged up by debris. "No...", he gasped and searched the other walls for a way out. A vent, a pipe, a hole, just something. Nick looked around on the other side. But no matter how throroughly they searched, the wall didn't grant them their wish.

"So this is it?", Arthur yelled, punching the wall with his fist. "This is how it ends? I wanted to save you, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you! This isn't fair! Nothing is ever fair in my life!" He slumped down on a chunk. He thought about Percy, who he had failed to protect, who would now never know that his brother still cared about him, he thought about Sally who he had driven out of his house for something that hadn't been her fault. He saw how he had met her again, scolding her instead of saying sorry, how he had refused to help her when she had needed it the most. And how he had abandoned Nick, left him to deal with this insane killer. If he had taken Nick with him at his first escape, they would be on the mainland now, being free, viewing the stars together... Arthur's eyes welled up. "Why am I such a failure?", he shouted out, looking at the ceiling as if there was a god to answer him. The tears broke loose and made him huddle up, being too embarassed to look at Nick anyway.

Nick walked over to his desperate, sobbing lover and sat down next to him. Soon, Arthur was wrapped into a caressing embrace. "You did save me, Arthur", Nick whispered to him. "From being hanged in public. From being insulted, pelted with trash and spit on. From having the town dance on my grave..." A little rumble in the distance made him look up. However, nothing but silence followed it. "You will still die here...", Arthur rasped. "You'll starve if we can't find rats to eat..." "I was already dead", Nick replied. "But you came back for me, proved me your love like that...showed me that after all this I'm still...I'm still worth loving...this is the most beautiful thing you could've done for me..." He stroked Arthur's back. "I'm sorry you have to pay such a heavy price for this...You did enough to deserve a happy life and I wish I could make it up to you, prove my love in return. Also I'd love to spend more time with you." He kissed the other man's cheek.

Arthur sobbed, but less deeply than before. He palpated Nick's arm. "We still have some time left..." "Hmm, that's the spirit", Nick purred. Arthur let out the air and smiled a little. "Nick, if you really feel like that, if you feel it was all worth it...then I don't regret anything!" "Well, I guess you had your reasons, doing all this for me..." Nick squeezed his hand. "You're a crazy fucker, Nick and you deserve a beating for not telling me the truth!" Nick held up his arms and bowed his head. "Well...feel free to give it to me now..." Arthur grabbed him by the shoulders. "I know a better way to spend my last bits of energy..." Nick smiled. "My luck..." His hands explored the other man's upper body. "And mine..." Arthur closed his eyes and kissed Nick. The touch caused his synapses to flare up and his body to want more.

They busied themselves, ignoring the rumbling noises around them. There was nowhere they could run anyway. All Arthur cared about was if he could make Nick beg for mercy before they died. When they both shouted out their exstasy there was a moment Arthur thought the ceiling would give in.

A few moments later, when Arthur crawled off of Nick, gasping and moaning with pleasure, his lover cuddled into him and whispered: "I think the tunnel is about to collapse..." "Yeah, I figured that too...", Arthur sighed out of breath. They both eyed the ceiling as if they were lying in the grass stargazing. "I like to think it's because of us." Nick laughed. "Perhaps we'll make it into the history books." Arthur joined the laughter. "We fucked so hard the town got destroyed..." They had fun imagining this until a thin crack wandered along the ceiling of the tunnel. Arthur instinctively pulled the smaller man closer and pressed his head against his chest.

"I'm not scared, you're scared...", Nick muttered from under Arthur's arm and the taller man giggled. "I won't risk to die in fear before this show ends", Arthur advised him. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this by the way", Nick brought it up and grabbed his hair. "If I knew you were coming, I..." Arthur waved him off. "You've always been ugly." "Yeah, but I mean I would've made myself extra ugly," Nick deadpanned. "Nevermind, I have to deal with it now. It takes a lot to be your boyfriend, I figured that, but I'm used to suffering", Arthur answered sternly. Nick chuckled. "My sexy Downer..." Arthur had to grin at that. "I wonder, did I seduce you?" "How could I resist?", the rock idol blurted out. "With your formfitting suit, tightly parted hair,  sharp cheekbones to die for and always towering above me like that...I mean no, not at all..." Arthur stroked the other man's dark hair. "Poor thing..." "Yeah, my thoughts exactly." Nick folded his arms. "I am the victim in this." Arthur kissed him again.

He was just wondering how often he could kiss Nick before it was over when there was another rumble that made dust ripple from the walls. Arthur looked up but Nick's gentle hand pulled him back down. "Thank you", the rockstar whispered and kissed him again. The ceiling came down with a roar.

Darkness. Silence. Then something. A noise. Like a beep. A beep? Yeah...a beep. And light. A flashing bright light that hurt his eyes. He blinked, frowned, moaned. The light split up into colors. The shadows in front of him slowly turned into figures. Could it be? No...no... Oh, please, no...

"Welcome back, Mr. Worthing", the hideous face of a doctor cheered. "Thank goodness we found you in time! We would've lost you forever! You shouldn't be so careless. Also, you caused quite the trouble out there." He tutted and shook his head. "I can't believe you fooled us for so long, but don't worry, it was simply the wrong formula that made you do this. We have a much more advanced one right here." He showed him a syringe with an ominous pink fluid in it. "No!", Jack cried, hammering against the glass wall of his cell. "No, please, just kill me!" "Aw, why would we do that?", the doctor said with a pitiful face. "Killing you for a little accident." He waved him off. "You're everyone's best friend. Their uncle!" "You can't go on with this forever!", Jack spat. "You don't even have a working formula! You'll never have one!" The doctor scratched his beard. "Hmm...you should let the science to the experts, Mr. Worthing. Your own attempts of self-medication went terribly wrong, didn't they?" Jack frowned. "Aw, what's that face? We want your smile back, Mr. Worthing. Do you remember it?" "Stop! Stop this bullshit!", Jack blurted out. "If not, then you're lucky. You're just in time for another News Hour with...well, with yourself! Isn't that funny, haha! Who else can watch himself on the telly, you're truly blessed!"

The doctors started to laugh. The one who had been talking pointed at the TV in a corner of the room. Jack cursed the damn thing. Why couldn't at least the doctors stop watching this shit? They didn't believe a word of it but still enjoyed hearing the happy lies. Jack suffered when the screen lit up and the stupid jolly show began. Well, when he closed his eyes he at least didn't have to see his own awfully forced smile.

This was his punishment, he concluded. Endless torture. This time they wouldn't be so stupid to trust him. They perhaps didn't really care about healing him. They could broadcast the old shows for all eternity and nobody would notice. Oh, Nick... He did this to him...He was such a smart boy...He did the right thing...still, it hurt... "She loved them, you know...She had dozens of them...You'd think at twelve your daughter would be over dolls...but she made these darling little costumes...", he heard himself say. Oh, yeah, my dear Margaret...she didn't deserve any of this...but wait, why was he talking about her?

Jack opened his eyes and saw himself shiver, struggling to speak. The smile was gone. The doctors watched the show in horror. "What is this?", one of them gasped. "Someone has to stop that!", the other one shouted. "Send a message! Now!", the third one ordered to the first. Jack stared at the screen, having goosebumps all over his body. This had been his last broadcast before they had brought him here. This was his old, innocent self. "Stop taking Joy!", his old self shouted. "The food has run out! We're starving! You have to stop taking your Joy! We've come to the end of our time! We've come to the end of our time!" The doctors ran around the room in panic, trying to figure out who to message first and yelling commands through the speakers. Then something very big detonated with an earshattering noise and made the room shake. The doctors stumbled, yelled, fell onto each other, others ran in, some ran out, glass tubes fell on the floor or the delicate machines and spilled their insides, it was pure chaos.

Jack laughed. He laughed out all his pain, his suffering, his misery that he had bottled-up in all those years. It felt so releaving to see their panic, to see how his own doing caused this. Also, it was very funny to watch. He hadn't had so much fun in years. Another glass tube was knocked over by a Doctor and it's liquid ran over a console, causing a loudly hissing short cirquit. Seconds later, Jack's cell door opened. Nobody noticed. Jack walked out and enjoyed his tour through a building full of his enemies' despair.  He noticed it wasn't Haworth Labs and he liked to think that something even worse had happened there so they couldn't bring him to his old cell. What a shame though. He would've liked to pay Verloc a visit. But he also knew that the game was over.

Stepping outside, he found the Parade Disctric in a horrible state. His own broadcast had stopped playing, but the Wellies nevertheless had obeyed their good old Uncle Jack once more. He sighed deeply, looking around with a smile. He was at peace.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/80966515

Chapter 72

The Annual Victory Memorial Day neared. Nick worked hard to prepare his show while he was happy to leave all the annoying paperwork to James. He found that they both worked very good together. In fact, it all went so smoothly that he didn't have to worry about anything but the show. His band was also good to handle, since they usually didn't disagree with Nick's plans. Birdie again was there to give creative contradiction. Still, Nick's excitement grew. Also the band knew how important the Memorial Day was. The evening right before the great event, James asked Nick to come into his office. Nick complied with it, looking at his manager with anticipation.

“How are you doing?”, James asked him warmly. “Great, just great”, Nick said eagerly. “I feel like I'm in peek form.” “That's good to hear”, the other man answered. “Why, are you worried?”, Nick teased him. James' mouth corners twitched. “I'm always worried about you.” “Aww, James”, Nick waved him off. “Nothing to worry this time. Relax a bit and enjoy the party. You deserve a rest anyway.” He didn't bring up that he was a little anxious himself. “I guess you're right”, James admitted. “You look in good shape, I'm really proud of you.” Nick grinned widely at that. “Is there more you want to tell me?” “Actually, yes.” James began to wriggle about on his chair. “Hmm...I've got something for you. A gift.” “A gift?”, Nick repeated. “It's for your show...if you want it.” “James, you didn't have to!” The other man held up his hands. “Ah, don't thank me too soon. I don't know if you like it. You can be honest with me...” Then he produced a package from under his desk and placed it in front of him.

Nick stared at the surprise, darted a glance at James and then put his hands on it. After opening the box he continued to stare. This time it was his gift that made him speechless, with a half-open mouth. “I made sure it's your size, Nick. Still, it's up to you if you make it your style.” Nick reached into the box and picked up a neat silver mask, similar to the one James was wearing. Nick's gaze also wandered along the suit that still lay in the box. It's black fabric shimmered a little in the lamplight. Then he stopped, eyes widening, fixed on a certain spot. He breathed a silent gasp. Also Jack tensed. Nick put the mask on the desk and reached into the box once more. His fingers curled around cold metal as he lifted up a little scalpel. The silence remained. Nick turned the tool in his hands, noticing the neat ornament decorating the silver handle. Then he tested how it lay in his hand. “It's...beautiful”, he sighed. The two men locked gazes and their expressions told each other how inseparable they were.

The town was harder to take than usual, even though most of the holms were just about empty. The few unlucky Bobbies that were chosen for duty today walked their patrols, and either they did their job rather halfheartedly, or they kept meeting each other for long chats, seemingly out of accident. Still, Arthur needed to take care, since there were barely any Wellies left on the streets. Everyone who was still there looked suspicious. And if not suspicious, they were still very easy to be found and to be interrogated. Arthur didn't look forward to that at all. He was angry at himself anyway, for wasting so much of his precious time. Escaping the town wasn't easy even with the Letter of Transit. He had learned that the hard way since many obstacles he had never imagined suddenly stood in his way.

Nothing worked in here! Not only the people were wrecks, all the machines and their administration were too. They created actually the best protection line against skippers the town could have. And then Arthur even ran into this fucking festival! Now, the Parade District was crowded with Wellies. It was almost imporssible to cross it unseen, especially without taking Joy. He had to take a few pills here and there in order to not get slaughtered. And then he needed to focus deeply, so that the drug and the overly excited people couldn't cause him to celebrate with them and forget his mission. Even if the Bobbies didn't pay much attention, the Wellies did, and Arthur didn't fancy antagonizing this gigantic crowd.

He had only noticed the festival when it was too late. He had waken up in his house in the Parade to see the street being filled with people as an actual parade came through. Everyone was wearing white and brown, the color that announced the new flavour of Joy, coconut. He later found out that the whole town was decorated in these colors. Arthur was sure he had to escape before the new Joy turned everyone into monsters. He didn't believe that this stuff did any good, not after what he had seen in the Labs.

It was impossible to buy anything in the Parade since the shops were closed and when he wanted to cross the bridge to the other holms he caused suspicion. Why on earth would any decent person want to leave the glorious Parade District today? This problem could only be solved by force, and after doing that a couple of times he was sick of that too. His only hope was that especially today, nobody would take much care about the Britannia Bridge. If he even got there, that was, because the passage to there was locked. It was well protected by it's own technical defects. Gloomily, he pushed himself forward, squeezing through the slaphappy masses for the umpteenth time. With resentment he noticed that he couldn't stop thinking about a certain item on the Memorial Day's programme. He had seen it on a wallpaper. In fact, the town had been plastered with wallpapers about it so that he had been unable to protect himself against the information. And however much he tried to convince himself that he would be on the Britannia Bridge at that time, a part of him just didn't want to believe it. The more time he wasted by walking back and forth to solve problems, the more unrealistic this goal became anyway.

Eventually he became tired, sloppy even, and caused a horde of Criers to shout after him, alarming the whole street. He ran like hell to save his life and barricaded himself in his house until the coast was clear again. After that incident, it was already evening. Great!, he thought and exhaled, going outside again. His feet went to a certain place all by themselves, even though he tried to resist. His head argued. He didn't even want to see him! His concerts had always been trouble, they had never been fun, why would he go there? And still he couldn't help it, while his nerves began to flutter. What did he even expect to see, he asked himself. Grief? Dark rings under his eyes from crying all night? The worst performance he ever gave? The saddest ballad and begging for forgiveness in public? It was all ridiculous! But he finally stood in the masses before the stage and waited for the biggest show of the day, just like everyone else.

Jack enjoyed the show, just like Nick had asked him to. His protégé had been right, there was nothing to worry about. It was a rather entertaining spectacle, seeing all these people celebrating their own demise, their descent into insanity. The whole Memorial Day was a farce and had no use but to waste even more of Wellington Well's precious and rare resources. But he felt no pity for them. He enjoyed to be in the thick of it and to be the only one who knew what was really going on. Of course, as Uncle Jack, he went along with it, giving his confident smile. He was wearing the same white and brown suit that was prescribed for the day, to celebrate the beginning of a new era. He liked how it made Nick stand out of everything. Uncle Jack had the honour to lead the Wellies through the programme. The people craved seeing him in the flesh. It had it's advantages, being the most popular man in town. He enjoyed to announce his ally Nick Lightbearer, making everyone cheer and shout.

He had to admit that him and Birdie were a smashing sight indeed. It worked, at least for today. But Jack knew that their harmonic coexistence wouldn't last much longer. He was looking forward to  test Nick's abilities once again. Today, they would take the last step to seal their friendship and nobody would stand in-between them. Finally, he would share everything he with Nick and they would become the two most powerful men in Wellington Wells. Both popular and infamous, they would decided upon the town's fate. Content with himself, he watched the fans dance and shout in ecstasy. All of Nick's scandals seemed to be forgotten. Good Wellies, he thought, they always did what he wanted. He didn't even need to use violence. They were so predictable. Also, if Uncle Jack said it was a wonderful day, they believed it without any doubts. For a moment, his expression became obviously gloating.

Suddenly his smile faded and he stared at a spot in the masses, surprised and alarmed at once. For a moment, he sensed betrayal, then he calmed down again, seeing the facial expression of the other man.

What Arthur saw made his hair stand on end. The man in a black suit and the silver mask – was that really Nick? That outfit didn't match him at all! What a weird new image was that? He looked downright eerie. The Wellies didn't notice it of course. Perhaps even Nick wasn't aware of what he looked like. Still, Arthur couldn't ignore the bad feeling he had. It was similar to what he had felt when he had found Nick's jacket full of blood stains. Don't be stupid, he scolded himself. It's only an outfit! And why do you even care? The worst aspect of the show wasn't even Nick's outfit. Arthur couldn't believe who stood by his side. That intrusive blonde bombshell that they had seen in the Avalon hotel, the one with the unbearably flattering smile, yeah no one else but her was allowed to be by his side, sharing the show. Her hair wasn't even natural, how could Nick fall for that? And the way he looked at her! Arthur's stomach turned.

So much for grief, he concluded bitterly. Nick Lightbearer forgot him already. He simply snatched on of his many worshippers and moved on. It didn't harm his career at all, if anything, he was even more popular than he had been before. Seeing him like this felt downright disgusting. Arthur caught himself wishing he could get the old Nick back, the one who's career was over, the one who needed help and clung to Arthur. Then Arthur wouldn't advise him to try again. He'd keep him, escape with him and... Arthur's train of wishes stopped when Nick took Birdie's hand and started to dance with her. He took her by the hips and lifted her up. She obviously enjoyed it, beaming at the rockstar. That moment, Arthur's heart broke. He was sure he deserved it for being stupid enough to come here, to expect anyone to miss him. But the way Nick had cried after him... There had been something in his voice that Arthur couldn't escape ever since. But now he  blinked and his face burned. That had been their dance. It had been a dream. He turned away from the scene and squeezed himself through the crowd again, eager to get as far away as possible.

So, you don't want to leave, Arthur Hastings?, Jack thought to himself. You don't want to let go? Well, I can help you with that... Jack left his post unseen. Actually, he hadn't intended to harm the Downer. The fate of his brother moved him. Also, Arthur had been one of the very few Wellies that managed to escape their self-made cage and tried to make amends. Jack hadn't planned to stop him. The Downer had made the right decision by leaving Nick to him. But it looked like Arthur wasn't quite convinced of his mission. What a shame, Jack thought. He had had a chance and didn't use it. Jack wouldn't allow him to interfere once more.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/80557750

Chapter 70:

The next day, Nick felt as calm and save he hadn't felt for a long time. Lying in his bed, he was happy to experience that he didn't have a blackout, and that he knew where he had spent the night. It had been right here, among friends. He also remembered fondly that James had brought him to bed, after keeping a clear head hadn't been necessary anymore and Nick had just let all worries go. For the first time, it felt alright to wake up as the only person in his bed, because he knew he wasn't alone. And even if his friends were a bit out of it, they remembered what was most necessary, that they were a team. Nick left the bed and prettied himself up, putting on one of Hackney's new creations. It was just the right time to wear something completely new. And the designer had been right, yellow was his colour.

Strutting down the stairs, he noticed a delicate smell coming out of the kitchen. “Oh, dear”, he whispered in awe. “Is that...pancakes?” He wondered who in the band suddenly cared enough to cook. Hurrying through the door, he found a pile of freshly made, steaming hot pancakes on the table, and James at the stove, pouring more dough in a pan. “James”, Nick gasped. “You're cooking!” He sounded as if the other man didn't notice what he was doing. “Apposite observation, my friend”, James answered happily, pointing at the already filled plate. “You think this is too much? It's supposed to be enough for four hungry mouths but I'm not sure if you even eat that much for your usually late breakfasts. Coffee is on the way, too.” Nick looked around the kitchen, gaping. “It's alright...It's just...alright...”, Nick muttered and sank into a chair. “Are you okay, Nicky?” James asked worrying. “Yeah...I'm so happy...” Nick wiped his eyes. The other man was quickly by his side to hold him. “You're looking good in that”, he commented his rags. “New collection?” “Yeah, Davy picked them for me...I mean Davy Hackney.” James nodded and Nick leaned his head against him, smiling.

“These are edible, by the way”, James gestured towards the pancakes. “First come, first served.” Because Nick's mouth watered at that, he helped himself to a big portion of the rare meal. Adoring the taste of melted sugar and lemon juice on his tongue, he leaned back. “James, this is delicious!”, he swooned. “Why didn't you tell me you can cook? I would've let you move in without hesitation!” The other man laughed. “To be fair, I haven't done this in a while. Luckily, this is just like riding a bike, you can't unlearn it.” “Can you ride a bike?”, Nick wondered. “I think so.” James furrowed his brows. “You can't?” “I don't know.” They laughed and James finished the second round of pancakes, serving them on another plate. “Don't you eat too?”, Nick asked him after a while. “Or do you want me as your food taster first?” “Doesn't the cook eat last?” “Nonsense, this isn't a noble house anyway.” Nick shoved a plate into his direction. James turned away again. “Oh, I forgot to serve the coffee...” When he was finally done and they both had their hot drinks and filled plates, James tasted his own recipe. “This isn't bad, I think”, he judged himself, “For a first try in years.” “It's the cutest thing you could've done as a manager,” Nick purred. “The others will love you too.” “They'll have to bear with me for now...” “Could be worse”, Nick said with a grin and James smiled back.

Nick was proven right about his band. When they found out their new manager had made them breakfast they keenly pitched into it. “Virgil can take a leaf out of your book”, Brad said, looking at the piece of golden pancake on his fork. “I'm not sure I even want him back”, Chris approved. Nick forced a smile. He knew they didn't have as many good memories with Virgil as he had, and also they forgot many of them already, but it still hurt. On the other hand, he was glad that James won them over bit by bit. They were simple minds now. Nick sighed, looking at his once best friend Matt who enjoyed his breakfast too. He hoped they'd stop overdosing one day, so he could really make up to them. For now, he had to admit this was working, too. Matt returned his gaze promptly. He waved a hand in front of Nick's face. “Hey, Nicky, you're still with us?” Nick blinked. “Yeah...only in thoughts...” “What are you up to now?” Nick must've looked startled, because Matt put a hand on his shoulder. “No, no, no, it's fine. This is all great!” The others nodded. “Don't worry, we're at your side, whatever is your next coup.” He made Nick smile and also blink more. Someone was cutting onions all of a sudden. “Would you mind if I talk to James first?” He gave the new manager a look. “As long as you don't forget about us”, Matt urged him. “Don't worry...”

Later, he helped James with the dishes, so he could talk to the other man in private. “What's our next plan?”, he asked worriedly. “We can create a new record by ourselves, but we need gigs. And promotion.” “Well, the biggest event of the year is already coming up”, James explained and Nick searched for information in his brain. “You mean Christmas?” James smiled. “The Victory Memorial Day, Nicky. And guess who's gonna be the main act?” “M...Me?” The other man gave him a meaningful look. “I made it?” “Of course, my friend! The Make Believes are what everyone is talking about! You're more exciting than Coconut Joy! This is better than what I hoped for when I first met you.” Nick almost let a plate fall when he dashed into the other man's arms and hugged him tightly. James gasped, taken by surprise. “You made me a star again”, Nick whispered. “We made it, Nick”, James corrected him softly. “And now it's time to reap our reward.” Nick didn't see how his eyes lit up for a second.

They consensually parted from each other for the next couple of hours. Nick said he needed to go for a memorial walk because he wasn't done saying goodbye to his beloved ones. James' reaction was understanding. The manager also needed to see through Nick's documents and needed some time alone for that. Nick's first destination was a little shop where he bought flowers from the surprised keeper. Then he sought the fountain and sat down on it's brim. “Hello Morrie”, he whispered, plucking at the blue blossoms of the forget-me-not. “I kept my promise, see, I brought you flowers...” He gulped and tried to put into words what had happened in the last few days. “I'm such an imbecile”, he concluded, “...a complete idiot...and now I lost both of you...The funny thing is, or well, perhaps the thing that would bring you to the verge of a mental breakdown...I don't regret  it...I mean, I regret losing you,  I regret lying to you, but I don't regret loving Arthur...does that make sense?” He paused as if he was waiting for an answer. “I guess not...I just wish I gave you a chance...a real chance to understand me...this is what I should've done...right after I met Arthur again and figured I loved him too.” He shrugged helplessly. “Well, what use is my insight now? I'd be pushing up daisies already if I didn't have such good friends. I keep going for them...But I wish you could be with me on Memorial Day...” Once again, he imagined taking Morrie's hand, holding him close. He closed his eyes for some time, dwelling in memories. Then he knelt down before the fountain and planted the flowers. He watered them with handfuls from the basin and afterwards took his time to look at his handiwork. “There, your very own memorial”, Nick whispered proudly. He remained kneeling there for some more time, leaning against the stone brim, listening to the rippling of the water and simply relaxing, dwelling.

He got up when it was time to visit someone else. “I've got to look after Virgil now...”, he quietly said to the flowers. “I miss him too...I'll be back, my love.” Nick walked away. He began to like these strolls, they helped him to calm down. It was very helpful that he didn't have to hide since he was going out at a decent time. He didn't stop right in front of the statue this time, instead he sought a bench in the park from where he could see it without being seen. From there he viewed the scene, watched the hotel guests stroll by, or the trees in the park swaying in the wind. “I guess I'm not completely useless without you...what a surprise”, he whispered. “I wish you could see me at Memorial Day. Perhaps you wanted to leave me, but in the end, you gave me a second chance and I wonder if I made you proud. I was proud of you, my rock manager extraordinaire...” Nick smiled. Then he had to wipe a tear away, still smiling. He felt more at peace today. If that was the last chapter in his life, it wasn't too bad. Virgil had given him so many good memories. And now he was prepared to do the rest, until the end. “Rest in peace, my Virgil...I'll do my best...” Nick also dwelled in thoughts for a while, enjoying the view.

Leisurely, he went inside the hotel, seeking the lounge. He had started to like this place too. Also this time it didn't disappoint. The room was imbued with a mellowing voice, a song that felt like balm on his wounds, that told him everything would be alright. And he knew the voice, and he sensed an emotional attachment to the singer. Taking a seat at a table from where he could overlook the room, he watched Birdie, smiling. She had accompanied the piano player for a presumably spontaneous performance. The one reporter who had been lucky enough to be there eagerly took photos, but it didn't harm her show. The guests applauded her when she was finished and she bowed shortly. Nick joined in the applause. Sadly, she didn't see him when she hurried out of the lounge. She probably wasn't keen on talking to the photographer. Nick left his seat and followed her. He felt the urge to tell her something. However, it looked like the reporter had the same feeling, so Nick had to get rid of him first. He fastened his pace and approached the man who was about to follow her into the elevator.

“Where do you think you're going? I'm right here!”, he proclaimed and threw himself into a pose. “Nick Lightbearer!”, the reporter blurted out. “This is my lucky day.” Nick chuckled, enjoying the little photo session. “Don't tell me you were looking for someone else.” “How are you getting along since your manager is on holiday?”, the man unfortunately asked, unable to suppress the usual journalist's annoying habit of coming up with awkward questions. “Just peachy, actually. I have a surprise coming up for you,” Nick answered confidently. “Any hints for your longing fans?” “Well, it wouldn't be a surprise then.” Nick winked. “Ah...Why did Virgil need a break, by the way? We thought it all worked out well with the Make Believes Reunion. Are there arguments in the band?” “Not that I remember...You know, Virgil was always working very hard for me and he never took a break. He very well deserves one now and I promised to behave, so don't worry, I'll be okay.” “The fans will love to hear that”, the man said, sounding a tad bit disappointed he couldn't get a fierce reaction out of the controversial rockstar. “Still, the fans are worried. You stopped giving concerts and you don't reply to fan letters. Can you give them a message right here and now?” “I'll be back”, Nick said firmly. “I'm sorry I didn't respond to my dear fans...Tell them I'm thankful for backing me up in all those years, for ignoring all the dirty lies that go around in town and just enjoying my music. That's what I'm living for. I'm glad I can cheer them up and I'll do it again, don't worry, I'm working on a big surprise and you'll love it.” “We never see you around with the other band members. Are you sure it's alright?”

Nick would've liked to slap this prick. He was giving a tearful speech for his fans and all this guy cared about was grubbing out a scandal. “Yeah, I'm absolutely certain. Listen, I'm a bit busy actually, but I think you deserve a treat...My colleague Birdie Callagher resides in this parts, I bet she'd be happy to say a word or two to her fans as well...why don't you go into the first floor, room number 115 and pay her a visit?” The reporter lit up and forgot all his bad intentions, at least those regarding Nick Lightbearer.  “That's a splendid idea. Thank you, Mr. Lightbearer, for the brightening conversation.” With that, he hurried away, avid for the next big story. Nick wasn't sorry for fooling him, although he would probably pay for it later, when the guy would finish his article. He went into the elevator himself, when it came back, and ascended to the second floor. He made sure the coast was clear before he knocked.

“Birdie?”, he whispered. “It's me, Nick.” She opened and peeped through the crack of the door until she recognized him. She gave him a mild smile. “Hi, Nick.” “I wanted to talk to you in the lounge, but I guess you can't go back there right now without being assaulted...that guy is still around. I got him off your back but it's only a matter of time until he finds out I led him a merry dance...” “Oh dear...”, she rolled her eyes. “I guess it serves me right for not keeping my mouth shut. Thank you for saving me.” He waved her off. “No problem. Hey, you want to come over to my suite? We'd be save there, since the guy is after you.” “Is that another invitation?” “Uh...yeah...it is...if you can squeeze me into your schedule...” She smiled again and went out of her room, closing the door behind her. Nick was happy she came along, so he didn't have to wait until he randomly met her again in the lounge. Nearing his suite, he started to wonder about the state of it.  The last time he woke up in there, after his blackout, he didn't pay attention to it at all. Opening the double door, he saw that the staff had made an effort cleaning the place. After all, it had been a while since his band had used the suite for a spontaneous party. And he had slept in this bed with Morrie. “Is something wrong?”, Birdie ripped him out of his thoughts. “Er...no...it's been a while since I've been here, that's all...It's so clean, I can't believe I ever used this...”, Nick explained, looking around. Birdie let her gaze wander around the large suite and silenced. “Ah, nevermind, didn't mean to be a killjoy...”, Nick backed away. “Why don't you take a seat?” He offered the sitting area to her, the one beyond the big sparkling disco ball. “I could make you a non-alcoholic drink too if you like.” Birdie sat down and nodded. “Yes, please.” Later, they had made themselves comfortable.

“What did you want to tell me in the lounge?”, Birdie took up the thread. “You mean, except that you have an outstanding voice?”, Nick said charmingly. She giggled. “You can tell me that, too.” “Honestly, you took me by surprise...touched my very soul...”, he admitted, “There aren't enough songs like these in the world.” She leaned back, flattered but playing it cool. “Oh, I was just...getting stuff out of my mind...I'm deep in thoughts lately, very un-wellie.” Nick nodded. “I see...it made me feel better though, so it had a sense of happiness...” “I'm glad...I'll never forget the face the pianist made when I asked him to play a song for me”, she said smiling at something in her mind. “I can imagine...doesn't happen every day.” “Hell no, I have to keep that a surprise. Stupid paparazzi would swarm the place and Davis would kick me out.” “That wet blanket.” Nick made a face. “Does he ever take Joy?” She giggled. “Only the bad badges.” “Good call.” “He's okay though...” Nick gave her a surprised look. “Yeah. He seems like he has a humour bypass, at first sight, but he's only caring for his hotel.” “His business.” “It's his baby,” she pointed out. “He won't hurt you unless you hurt it.” Nick pondered it. “It's just a building.” “But a pretty one.” Birdie looked around in the suite. Nick was reminded of Arthur for a second. “That it is”, he answered, staring into his drink.

“Nick?”, she reminded him of where he was, darting a meaningful glance at him. He looked up. “You didn't invite me just to compliment me, or did you?”, she asked with a soft voice. “Don't you like compliments?” “I do, but I also like knowing what I'm getting involved in. What are you up to, Nick Lightbearer?” He began to look a little embarrassed. “It may sound crazy...”, he said and shrugged. “I only know you for a couple of days, but I think it could work...” He darted a glance at her. Birdie didn't move. “Would you like to sing along with me at the 14th Annual Memorial Day?” Birdie opened her mouth but no sound came out. “Yeah, I know, it's a little sudden, but I couldn't help thinking about it.” Nick turned to his drink again. She looked puzzled at first and later lit up more and more. “You mean...you and me...on stage...at the biggest event of the year?” “Yeah...I think we've both been quite big this year, we deserve it.” “And your band? Would they agree to this?” “Well...right now, they're not really able to say 'no' to anything...not that I want to exploit them, but...I'm sure they'll have fun.” Birdie lifted an eyebrow. “They're just very happy at the moment”, was all Nick explained. “You don't have to answer now...just consider it. Perhaps it'll be easier for you to find a really good manager after you've been the main act at the party.” “Sure...”, she said, still overwhelmed. “We can rehearse at my place. We don't need to improvise”, he said grinning. Birdie put a hand on her chest. “This day is getting better and better...”, she gasped. Then she looked at him again. “Do you really mean it?” “You can take it to the bank.” She smiled. He could see that something else came to her mind. “Do you have a new manager?” Nick leaned back, trying not to look too proud. “Yes. He's a good friend and he's taking care of things for now. I guess I'll keep him anyway.” “Of course.” He didn't know if she was jealous or amused. Perhaps both.