Fan Fic - Rainbows Have Nothing to Hide

[Beauregard]

I'll make a confession. Rowlf duologue is almost impossible to do That's why I steered clear of it. *glances at Renee*

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That Other Journal, morning, it's light

It's light and I have a headache. And I just found an incredibly stupid note in my journal from the middle of the night. And my mouth is dry from eating crackers. Dry like it's had tissue paper pressed all around it and ripped out quickly when I wasn't looking.

Train that man. Why would I even consider it! But I am considering it. My cloak's in the wash, but if I were to put it in the tumble, and pull my hair forward so it partly conceals my face. Deep shadow makeup. Who would know someone like that?

It's been so long since I saw him last. My dream notes place it over four months ago.

I find a comb and start brushing. My face looks back at me from the mirror. So I turn the mirror to face the wall, and keep brushing.

Love,
Me

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That Other Journal, after food, same place

I've eaten breakfast, raw oats in milk, and I made herbal tea for myself. I could sit for hours inhaling it's thick heady scent. It's good. And the taste explodes, flowing over the dryness, fixing my dry-cracker insides.

I decided to go find another client. To keep Mr R happy. And then there's the man...I'll have to keep two going at once, and one secretly. Mr R must not find out. He'd kill me...or him.

The first time I saw Mr R he was sitting beside my hospital bed, in a plain white suit. A splash of red from a carnation in his buttonhole. "Good morning." Darkglasses completely covered his eyes.

I'd sat up hurriedly. Maybe this was the answer. "Hello. Who..."

"I am not anything you know about," Mr R stated simply. "You never met me before I guarantee it. The mind," he tapped his temple. "Never forgets."

That was ages ago...

...right now I need to get on. I'll check in later.

Love,
Me

 

[ReneeLouvier]

Wow.....my goodness! I love how this story is going!!! WOW!!! Can't wait to see more!!!

 

[The Count]

Hey... A 2-fer... Thanks Bo... This other journal is rully keeping the story's interest... And so is Scooter's troubles at home. Hope for more later.

 

[Beauregard]

Scooter's Journal, train station, lunch time

I was in the train-station. I'd decided to leave, take the first train out of town to anywhere I knew. The first name that came to mind was Lealand...I'd been there by train many times. So I bought a ticket, got it stamped. The station-master was a mean looking man with bits of beard sticking from poke-holed skin and a squint. But he gave me a ticket, stamped it, and I found a place to sit until the train came.

There's something mysterious about train stations. Like you are about to meet someone, or like something important is about to rush by, a cliff-edge feeling. I stood up from my bench, and turned around.

And almost screamed -

That Other Journal, station, earlier

I lifted my cloak hood and let it fall forward over my face. I slipped arm-length gloves over my fingers, and over the sleeves of that t-shirt with double-length sleeves and a shadow-embossed coyote emblazoned on the front. My favorite t-shirt.

I stepped out of my car, and walked up the steps to the ticket-box. The man there was unpleasantly charming, a smile that showed browning roots of teeth. I paid for a ticket, and let it flutter from my hand to the ground as I walked towards the boy on the bench -

Scooter's Journal, train station, lunch time - con't

I don't know who she was. I don't know who she is. She stood there, face hidden, hands buried in silk gloves. When I got my breath back I managed to speak. "Uuh, hi."

She said nothing for a long ticking moment, then: "Hello."

"Hi," I repeated.

"Hello."

It was like one of those weird romance movie moments where all they can say is "Hello." Except, this was more like a thriller than a romance -

That Other Journal, station, whenever - con't

What was I supposed to say? I hadn't thought of that until he said "Hi!" And I was stuck with the choice of saying nothing and being either mysterious, or stupid. or just responding like a normal human being. Normal human over-ruled, apparently.

"Hello." Hello? What kind of greeting is that? From me to him!

What next then? You seem stressed, I need to train you, hurt you, and find out what you know about me? Yeah, that would work...no huh -

Scooter's Journal, train station, lunch time - con't

And then we stood there. And I heard the train coming, battering down the line, then brakes being applied, doors spoofing open, and highheels, boots, and men's shoes walking on the platform. We still stood still. People dispersed. The train pulled away, faster, faster, gone.

"Are you Clay?" I asked.

 

[The Count]

So is she? Or is she just the Swedish muffeen? And when can we get some more cliffedge thriller romance at the train station?

Tune in next time.

 

[Beauregard]

That Other Journal, station, whenever - con't

Clay. He caled me Clay... How? There was no way he remembered Clay and I didn't remember him! "I..." She stopped. "...am the person who is going...right now." I'd never been such an idiot. Never, ever, ever ever.

The boy, the man rather, blinked at me, his lids moving up and down once and twice, and, "My name's Scooter," he said. -

Scooter's Journal, train station, lunch time - con't

I told her my name. Didn't know her from Eve, and told her my name. "I'd really like to know yours, if you have a name?"

Her head bowed, shadow falling over more and more of her face until it dissapeared completly in blackness. "I'm sorry. I have to leave." She walked away. She was wearing dark-brown sandels. They stepped on an empty sweet wrapper, and dissapeared past the ticket-box.

I sat back down, mind whirling, and wrote this...

Ever...whoever she was I wanna know...
Scoot.

That Other Journal, station, whenever - con't

I found the car, pulled myself inside and started crying for all I'd lost. Tears trickleing through my shadow-paint, dropping down and dissapearing in my fur-cloak. Scooter, the name, means nothing to me. His face means everything. And he knew me...but not me...

I have to go. Have to get out of here.

Love,
Me

 

[The Count]

Aw man... Heartful stuff Bo... And we know it's gotta be hard on the boy, the man you keep refering to as Scoot.

 

[Beauregard]

Oooh! You quoted my "The boy, the man" thing! Yey! It's true though, he is a man, but he is still very much a boy at heart. In my eyes anyway. Now there are several ways for this story to move now, and I have several of them fighting for prominence in my head right now. I know where it ends, I know how it moves, I know who Me is, but not the exact way that relationships and feelings and this story shall move! it's very exciting to me, and actually, I'm just thinking of adding a subplot or two about now.

Beau

 

[The Count]

Just so long as you post more ASAP... Cause it looks like mine won't soon, unless I get no replies and just decide to improvise.

 

[Beauregard]

Scooter's Journal, Lealand, three days later

The cafe owned by Mr Juhl is a perfect place to think, besides bookshops, cafes are sometimes the only places where you can get your head back on. After the encounter at the train station, I was totally phased for about an hour, even started back to the boarding house until I changed my mind and came here instead. Lealand, land of the swamps. Kermit's old home, and one I became familiar with over time.

Jerry Juhl, the cafe owner, was one of those kewl old men types, who can be old and yet young at once. He winked at a young, athletic female customer, and ducked into the kitchen, tying a "Kiss the Cook" apron around his waist.

Clay.

I don't know who she is because I couldn't see her face, and because I couldn't recognsie her name or her voice or anything about her. Yet, the more I thought of her...the more I think of her, the more I want to know who she is. Where she is. And if she is in trouble, I want to help her.

I have no phone number for her, no address, nothing. Just that letter. Assumeing it was from her.

I gotta go really...
Scoot

That Other Journal, there, then

Well, I chose a client. He rang up yesterday out of the blue saying that he saw my advertisement and wanted to find his true inner self. I grabbed my green sweater, and the legal docs and dashed out the house. He lived in an appartment in an appartment building that was a photocopy of every other appartment building in this town. He answered the door on the first knock in a bathrobe, which was unexpected. He quickley mumbled an appology and closed the door. I heard bolts. He returned after a moment dressed, just pulling a black t-shirt over damp dreads.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was showering."

"Oh. I didn't realise."

"No, no, it's fine. I'm respectable. Come in." He kicked old magazines aside, and made his way to a sofa. I stood near the door, with the documents. "You wanna take a look at these? Fill in the meds. I'll be back in a couple of days to collect them." I bent down, placed them on the floor, and backed out of the apartment.

On the way downstairs, I called Mr R. "Hey, I found a guy. He's cool, and I think he's serious. Send someone to fetch the documents, and I'll contact him when I'm ready," I said.

I'm smileing as I write this. I'm glad I found a client.

Now to see if I can juggle.

Love,
Me

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Note from the author: There will be an explaination very soon of who her clients are and how things work! Please be patient!