PG-13, m/m, angst
Crazy Eddie's Private Journals: The Channel
By Tiriel
I said I wasn't going to help him. I told him that it was too big a risk, for either of us, really. I said he was on his own. Of course, I wound up helping him anyway. I am such a fucking pushover. In a choice between probably dying with him in some stupid way and living on, I pick death with Foster over life without him every time.
And, as always, I was right. It was too dangerous. Without Joshua's help, we would've been dead for sure. I tried to warn Foster off when I found out that the Gua were there, but he never listens. So then I tried to get that stupid cop to take care of the Gua problem, but I should've known better than to put any faith in law enforcement.
I still don't trust Joshua. He wants something. You can't deal with the devil and not expect to pay the price sooner or later. But I had to get Foster out of there somehow, and Joshua was the only ally I had.
And another woman in and out of his life. I hate watching those goodbye scenes, the unspoken statement that if things were different that maybe, just maybe, they'd have hooked up. Makes me nauseous just to think about it. The only thing that keeps me from tossing my cookies is the knowledge that when the babe of the week has watched him go, she'll be walking home alone, and he'll be driving off into the sunset with me. For however long this fight lasts, I have that much. Not very satisfying when I want so much more, when I watch him move or talk or sometimes even sleep and every particle of me wants to touch him, but it's all I have, and it's all I'll ever have. If I'm lucky, his little chat with Nostradamus has finally given him that sense of purpose and peace he's been searching for lately. Maybe now at least one of us will be able to sleep at night.
-More later, Eddie