I Don't Feel, by Emily

I Don't Feel

by Emily

Rated: Um... oh, dear. T I suppose... damn, couldn't even be an M. I must be losin' it...

Pairing: Dustin - angst. Vignette? Yeah, that too. Gen? You bet.

Spoilers: For "Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye," sure.

Disclaimer: Dustin and all the rest belong to FOX, not mine, never will be... yadda, yadda, and especially yadda. No money is changing hands here... Note: Happy birthday, Sue. Sorry I got it in late, but... better late than never... ? Thanks to Shael for a crucial comment, and to realitycek for looking over it and encouraging me during the process. I love you guys, you know that?

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Three days at the house and no one has come by or called. Oh, sure - Jarred did - he tried - but I sent him away with a mumbled excuse about not feeling very well.

Works for me. Might be the first thing I've said in a long time that wasn't a lie.

I've barely stepped outside the place these past few days. I have my books, my art - my thoughts.

My thoughts, running in circles that never end. An endless litany of if only and why didn't you. You should have and how could you.

Minnow would be my consience, but now it seems I've got two. Him, and my own, which I've always had but evidently stopped listening to long ago.

My stomach hurts a lot lately. Like nausea combined with heartburn, the two alternating in intensity, but the other's always there, in steady state...

When I was a kid my mother would sometimes give me warm milk and toast when I had an upset stomach, and send me to bed, saying I'd feel better in the morning, after a sleep.

I cannot sleep. To do so I would have to close my eyes.

When you work in film, you dream in technicolor and the reels spin even while you're awake, if you close your eyes.

I have an endless loop of dailies that I can't switch.

Want to see them?

Would you like to see and know what it's like to have killed an innocent girl, without meaning to?

Would you like to know what it's like not to even know her name?

I think you would. I think in a secret place inside of you that's exactly what you want.

To crack me open, to see if I'm real...

I don't feel real, not anymore. Sometimes, if I pinch my skin real hard, I can almost remember what real is. Almost.

But it's very fast, very fleeting.

You've always wondered if I'm capable of feeling, haven't you?

Well, I am.

That burns you, doesn't it? You'd like to believe I can't feel anymore, that it's all gone to my head and the waves crashed in long ago.

Then you could justify it to yourself. Justify the way you've forgotten me... and the way I used to be.

What's used to be, though? I haven't changed... maybe that's the problem.

I keep turning the events over in my mind, trying to find a out. Don't think I ever will, though.

Peel me like a grape, and then I'll be transparent to you.

Touch me where I'm raw. Make me bleed because you can't.

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The phone rings; I let the machine pick it up. It's too much effort to get up and answer it right now.

I hear Mackey's voice, something about needing to see the latest revision of a script for that pilot we were working on...

I have the script right here. But I almost don't care anymore.

Since *he* came and took my life over. Since he made me kill her after making me think I had.

Since he took you.

Why does that hurt? I always said I didn't care and you believed it was true.

It wasn't. But I never knew that.

But no one ever does, do they? Until it's too late.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Memories of the day. In constant revision, but not by my choice.

Or are they? And is it?

Do I *want* to believe I hit her eyebrow first, splitting it open, the bottle sliding up, up ... then falling again.

Cracked crimson over white teeth...

You think she's nothing to me. Just someone to use, a random girl to slake my lust.

And - that she was. But, she's so much more.

Now. In death.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

I get up and walk toward the sliding door by the pool. The water shimmers in the sun...

Shimmers the way her hair did, that night. Silking over my fingers...

Oh God. I don't want to watch this one right now.

Not ever, actually.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

How exactly did this happen? I want to know, but I don't want to remember.

I want you to know I'm real...

I want to know I'm real.

I'm not a killer. That isn't who I am...

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Sunlight scatters my senses, a wash of warmth over my body. All of a sudden.

Is it morning yet?

I get up off the couch, somewhat surprised to see I fell asleep there. Not entirely, though. Been happening a lot lately. Lately means three days? Yeah.

Walk into the kitchen, prepare coffee and an omlette.

The coffee goes fine. Grind the beans, grab the filter, pop it in, pour the water.

Cracking the omlette... makes me remember things.

The sound of a bottle against bone. The crack of certainty as realization hits.

The finality. The terrible finality.

I was so sure I was hungry... maybe I still am.

Three days is three days, no matter what you don't eat.

Somtimes I wish you were right. Sometimes I wish I couldn't feel.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

I can't keep sitting here. Sooner or later I know I've got to return to work, Mackey, and, yes, Minnow.

Minnow. For such a little fish, he's sure caused me big problems.

For some reason this is funny. This is a good thing. I'd forgotten what it was like to laugh.

Even a little laugh makes a big difference. Even if on hindsight it might be more self-directed... a shark like me, swallowed by a minnow.

Of course, I would never call myself a shark.

Maybe you would. Would you?

Am I a ruthless, cutthroat type? If I was once, I don't feel I am now.

I. Don't. Feel.

Not feeling is a good thing...

Isn't it?

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Evening. The night is cool for this time of year. I go sit by the pool, listen to the lapping sounds at the edges from the water kissing the tile.

Blue moonlight coruscates over the surface, rippling and reflecting off the statues.

For some reason there are no ghosts here tonight. Or if there are, they're silent.

Why is that?

Oh, that's right. Cause I don't feel...

Maybe. Just maybe...

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

It's late. 1 AM late. I wonder... am I done?

I think I heard Tara's voice today. I think she told me I'd suffered enough... for this month.

Felt like she said she'd leave me alone for awhile. Or was that just wishful thinking?

At least tonight I'm in my bed. That's a start.

Tomorrow, I think I'll call Jarred. See how he's doing.

See if I'm the same. See if I'm real.

Finis

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

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