[Requiem]

[idony-fae.livejournal.com]

Trick cut the motor on her beloved red 1978 Harley Davidson FXE and leaned so far forwards that her forehead almost touched the handlebars. She closed her eyes and allowed the soothing autumnal air to wash over her, feeling the way it ruffled the shorter hair at the back of her neck and raced up the back of her thin cotton blouse, billowing it out behind her body. She was trying to forget the emotionless look on his face, the moment she realised he knew what she still felt. Wasn't this the punishment for exercising bad judgment and poor self-control all over again? Jack was right, love couldn't solve all of your problems. But it did give you a whole bunch more to deal with. Not for the first time, Trick pondered the fact that she wasn't ready for, and probably couldn't handle, a steady caring relationship with anyone.

She sat up again, blinking as she opened her eyes and a blast of chilly air hit her straight in the face. A wry smile played around the corners of her lips, thinking to herself that it was much better than being slapped, although a slap she would have remembered a little longer. She knew that she'd go home and sulk for a while with Lorna standing in the doorway, concerned and not knowing what to say, and then give it a few nights, and everything would be back to normal. Because they never did talk about the real problem, instead they hid it behind layers of soothing words and carresses and expected everything to be okay.

Perhaps she liked it better that way, and maybe it was better, but when the real trouble kicked off it just wouldn't be enough. Relationships needed good foundations, otherwise they'd have nothing to hold them upright when the storms blew in. The foundation of this one... hmmm. What was it? A desperate urge to be loved and feel wanted, his fear and her loneliness. Trick finally slid off the seat and stood up, stretching her arms and legs and glancing around the deserted country road. She didn't know where she was, but she figured the best way to find out was to turn around and go back.

Of course, under any ordinary kinds of circumstances, she wouldn't have gone back. This point was usually the point where she kicked it all in and started over again - what had it been, eleven months? It was so funny - not funny as in amusing, but funny as in weird - how duty and self-sacrifice changed everything. Pulling her battered silver mobile phone out from the pocket of her not-quite-clean jeans, she dialled a number slowly and then held the phone to her ear, silently hoping that she still had phone reception out here in the back of beyond.

"Hey, Lorna? It's Trick. Can you do me a favour? No, I ain't run out of fuel. Can you give Carl a call, his number's by the phone. Tell him I want to see him. Like as in, soonish. Cheers."

As she closed the call, Trick mused that this was such a cowardly way to fix things. But so was running away, and she was pretty good at that.