h2_muses

"What can you say is truly yours?"

Nothing. I have nothing that I can claim as truly 'mine'. One may think one's memories truly belong to them - trust me. They do not. They can be taken. Easily.

Family? That can also be taken from you. As easily as your memories.

And how do I know this? Mine have been taken from me. I have only memories of the last seven or eight years. No memories of anything before that - well, few memories of anything before that. And no memories of any family that might still be mine.

Nothing.

All I have is what you see of me now and even that can be taken from me, just as my memories… my life… have been taken.

I have nothing.

"Connor, what happened to the refrigerator?" Rachel asks me as she descends the stairs.

"It broke," I tell her as I lift the door back into place. She's gonna smirk at me and glare.

She blinks and there's the glare - I can see it out of the corner of my eye. "Do I ask how?"

"Probably better if you don't."

"Connor," she puts a hand on my shoulder, "there is something you're not telling me."

I shake my head and continue working at the counter. I'm hungry.

She's smiling. I can feel it. Usually that means she's figured something out and, usually, she's right. She tugs on my shoulder and I turn my head over said shoulder to face her. I was right - she's smiling.

"What?"

Her smile grows. Dammit. "You're in love." Now she's glowing. And fuck-all, how did she figure that out?

"No I'm not." And I turn back to my lunch.

She rubs her hand over my back and steps closer, leaning in, hip against the counter. She doesn't believe me. Did you know it's very hard to lie to people who know you well?

"Connor, I know you better than that." Her hand travels down and she squeezes my arm. "Who is it?" she asks softly.

I sigh. She really does know me very well. "Her name is Faith." And I know she sees the smile on my face. Funny thing is, I didn't even try to hide it. Rachel's waiting; she's waiting for me to say more. I'm not gonna.

"Connor..." she leads.

I put down the knife and turn, leaning back against the counter, arms folded over my chest. "What more do you want to know? That's who she is. She's not from around here. I really can't tell you more than that."

Rachel smiles at me. "It's all right. You don't have to tell me anything. Just, introduce me to her before the end of the world." She's still smiling as she squeezes my arm again and turns to go back to the shop.

"Too late," I whisper and turn back to making my lunch, then I have to get a new refrigerator.

Have you ever regretted a wish you made? Why/what happened?



I don't make wishes.

More romance and poetry. Talk to Rachel about those things.

I don't wish for things; I just do them. Wishing accomplishes nothing.

Connor steps out of his room for the second time this morning (and it's a lot earlier than he'd intended) - his previous exit had been for to his sojourn into Faith's room to collect all of her things. That had been an unpleasant trip and he had had to fight himself very hard to not do something rash. Now, he is on his way down into the bar to get some food, some coffee, maybe chocolate… whatever. As he steps out of the room, the young lady from a couple days ago is coming down the hall.

"Dawn, yes?" he asks.

Connor and Faith step off the elevator into the loft. It's rather dark and very quiet, except for the light bubbling of the fish tank below.


******
( the trip... as it gets written )