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The Long Weekend 2	By : TimedWatcher Category: +S through Z > Weekenders, The Views: 1798 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weekenders, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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He found himself in the dream of the shore near another world. His lonely little island...

The whirlpool he had thought once to jump in, he knew to dive into; rather than water swallowing him whole, time's scar enveloped him with a surge, taking him back. Back to that night.

Between palm trees on the dark horizons, the double doors stared him down. He knew what awaited him - he always knew what awaited him.

His vintage jacket shrouded him, somehow able to fit perfectly; it was longer as well, flowing down and moving even when he wasn't, the words on the back changing, sometimes written in spray paint, sometimes not.

Gordon wandered through shadows creep to the tune of excited lads; a proud father admiring his work. It always went like this. "Hey." He turned from the crack of the door he was staring through only to meet a walloping blow to the face; the old man fell, skidding down the wall, holding out for anything to keep himself upright before hitting the ground like a bag of sand.

His foot met the door. "Knock knock." Sports pennants, posters and trophies belied the attrocity about to take place as they circled her and her bed from all sides, now turning their attention to him. He knew what would have actually happened, so instead, it was a choreographed ballet of violence. They seemed to line up for him, falling into blow after blow. No matter what angle they came from, he always had the perfect counter. He even caught some of them with sharp kicks; kicks in styles he had never practiced before in his life.

The only ones left standing were him and her. Laying above the fray in her bed, she lay cocooned in fright. She shivered and shook, her forehead covering her crossed together hands, as she slowly raised her face up when nothing bad came her way, eyes like diamonds and her pants halfway off. This young girl... this kid... he knew her... he loved her... she was his star stealing girl...

He reached out his hand. She was trepidatious, but eventually accepted. He moved with fleet of foot with her in tow; avoiding those that had fallen and leading her down the stairs back to the outside of the house, stealing this jewel from this viper filled manor. He didn't actually have a plan, he just knew she had to be away from this.

While walking through the dew laden yard, he let her go for just one second to think. "Y-y-you're not gonna leave me, are you?"

He took her by the shoulders and focused in on her, the lights in the night sky looming. "I won't leave you. I'll never leave you." As he tried to take her hand again, he ghosted right through her. He watched her face become wet as he started fading - he had become her ephemeral memory - just when she needed him most...

Sat in a booth surrounded by houndstooth patterned floors, someone was across from him. "Who are you?" Their face constantly shifting from an untraceable origin.

"I think you know who I am." The voice was intensely familiar - just older. He ordered a plate of scrambled eggs. "What kinda life are you living?" He asked while peppering them. "There are women - ACTUAL WOMEN out there." His hand breezed by the window, the world out there too bright to envision.

"But I love her..."

There was a hint of disgust in his breath as he rubbed his hands over his food like he hadn't eaten in years. "What? You can't love someone else? Or maybe YOU just can't FIND somebody else." The thing jutted his utensil out at him like it was a pitchfork. "Well isn't that pathetic... but you know what's even more pathetic? Think about this: Would she have even touched you if she wasn't touched first?" The man fed his sneer.

He restated his case, adding "Don't you get it? She was the first girl to teach me that someone could actually love me without having to be family. Without her I'd be nobody... I am nobody..." But he didn't just sit there and take it. "You know what? THEY'RE nobody. Lor chose me - she chose ME!" He battered his ribs. "I am somebody!" Gordon ran his tongue over his chipped tooth. "You know what else? You're never gonna experience this love I have. I'll make sure of it."

"First of all, you don't love a conquest, because that's all she should be at this point: A conquest. A notch in the ol' belt. Second - getting involved with family drama? You only do that when you marry them. What did I teach you..." His hands met his face in frustration. "I shoulda clipped your wings when I had the chance." He then brought up another helping of eggs. "Now stop crying and eat your damn pizza."

No matter how many times he tried, the pizza had no taste.

Then Lor woke up.

================================

"Bullshit. Bullshit. BULLSHIT." His vision turned red with blood again. He looked down to the floor. "Stop screen cheating, Carver." He used to like this game? Two years ago, yeah, it was cool. Now? It was just lame. Them kicking his ass at it didn't help - always coming in third - and this controller wasn't helping. He didn't have 3 hands for a three pronged dildo. He hated the blocky looking characters, blurry graphics and environments that didn't make a lick of sense. At one point he was running into a wall and didn't even know it - but they seemed to know where everything was, including all the armor. He already missed Lor's Xstation and that skating game she owned. That game was great, and he didn't even like skateboarding. The characters were actually detailed, the graphics weren't blurry and the framerate was buttery smooth.

Guess it was more about hanging out than actually trying to enjoy this archaic experience... to his left was his man, Tino. On the end was Tish, watching them play because Tino only had three controllers, and there he was; in one of Lor's hats and a pair of Carver's shades. He hoped the long hair and regrown 'stache was enough to keep his secret of who he was from Tino's mom, fearful of having been on a milk carton somewhere.

He was tired of the game though, and he wanted to pass the controller to... where was Lor?

Lor came from the kitchen, stepping over cords to finally reach Tish - she whispered something to her, and they both went upstairs - possibly to Tino's room.

"Deal me out guys."

He set his controller down, and did a diving motion to not block the game. If they had just gone to the bathroom, he'd feel like a chump -- but that wasn't the feeling he got. There was something more urgent in their body language. Was it what he feared from before? She couldn't... not while he was here. As he walked up the dark stairs, the kitchen light faded more and more. His feet felt like they were in syrup - his journey to the top took the breath out of him for some reason, as his hands met the top of the stairs, but not in a fall, but more like... he was just sucked of energy.

He watched the door in the hall to his right as Tish closed it and leaned against it; her chin met the top of her chest, looking astray.

He called to her. "Tish? Where's Lor?"

"Hey. Gordon." She tried to stand up straighter, but didn't have the spirit for it. "She's... she's in there." Her thumb, with a glacial pace, pointed back over her shoulder.

It was like he was injected with adrenaline as he went to face her. "What's going on? We're not doing this song and dance again - just let me talk to Lor."

"Wait. Lor's..."

"Yes?" His voiced raised like an impatient teacher.

"... Lor's..." Before he could prod her again "Lor's father has been released from prison... and Lor doesn't want you to know."

================================

"I thought you were bringing us up some pop?" He watched Tish climb up with fruit on her arms instead of drinks.

"Fruit is the candy and soda of the natural world... plus, Miss Tonitini said the fruit was gonna go bad soon." She tossed him the red apple, while she peeled at her orange.

We stood on Tino's outside observatory, overlooking a sunsetting world. Periodically, he kept looking back to the door, half expecting Lor to come out. Maybe she had gone back downstairs... he could only imagine how she might have discovered the news about him. Maybe in the school's computer lab... god forbid if she heard it from someone at school; a rumor passed around during lunch.

"I can't believe I'm still doing this hiding from Lor crap." He took a loud crunch of his red apple.

"How's she been?"

He answered in between his horse like chewing. "She's good. This news has been a slap to the face, I imagine -- you should be telling me Lor's reaction."

"That's why I wanted to talk; I'm worried about you both. How long do you keep expecting to go on like this?" Gordon didn't answer. "What if they see you? What if you get sick? What if-"

Gordon squinted to near blindness at her in annoyance. "Tish, enough with the questions about Lor and me. Are you just the question lady? Have we ever had just a casual, one on one conversation? God, I'm sick of even answering those questions to myself. You don't even like me, do you?"

Tish was straightforward. "I care about you because Lor cares about you."

His hands threw up in a mocking 'eureka' moment. "That's exactly my point! At least Carver's honest; we have nothing in common, so we don't hang out. Me and Tino do - but you" He produced his hand to her in a slicing motion. "You only want to talk to me when you want to play matchmaker or 'solve our problems'." He threw up quoting rabbit ears and put on a mocking tone for that last part, then went back to his normal, albeit miffed, way of speaking. "I appreciated it that one time, but please, just butt out now."

Tish stopped even pretending to pick at her orange. "The first year with Lor after you were gone... she wasn't like before. She wore baggy, black clothes. She preferred staying in her room and sleeping; yet she always looked tired with dark circles under her eyes. We would practically have to drag her out. We thought she had given up sports entirely."

He nearly spit his apple chunks at her. "What? Do you think I fucking did that?"

"Let me finish. The following school year, she seriously got back into sports and everything. I thought she was over it. We all did. Then, at a sleepover, she burst out crying and held onto me, telling me she still missed you. Lor and I had a cry about it... I cried that she was still in pain. These past few weeks while you were around her? It's like before - really, really, like before... I just don't want it to go off in your face, okay? Cause her friends will be hit too."

He flipped his apple to the other side, no longer looking at Tish. "Don't worry about us, I got it."

He bit down on it.

================================

He collapsed. Another set of push ups done. He struggled into a sitting position, wrist on his knee, other leg below the arch of the other, before downing a bit of water from the cup Lor gave him.

Lor wanted him to tell her shit and not keep secrets, now she was doing it to him. How did he even get out? Good behavior? Fuck 'em.

Gordon sprung up and started with the basics: Jab jab, cross

left left, right

left left, right

left left, right

He wished he had some equipment; doing it by shadow only helped so much - but a couple more nights of this would get him ready for it more than anything else he could do. If only he and Tino encountered... I don't know, a gang or something - he'd feel a bit more comfortable now.

He toweled himself off before sitting at Lor's chair. He turned on the computer like usual and... huh. A password prompt. Wasn't expecting that.

Was it because he looked at porn? Or maybe Tish said something. Said something about what he might do. Hmmm. He might have to take up her earlier offer and call her. As he stared at the rubbery digits, he weighed his options. Tish might not help him - and she could instead feed Lor information about what he was doing, and he didn't want Lor to know.

...

Screw it

BEEP BEEP BEEP

As it came to its fourth ring, he almost hoped she wouldn't pick up.

She did. "Hello?"

"Tish. You said two years ago, to 'trust me on this' -- and I believed you. Right?" The other end was silent. "Now I need YOU to trust me, because I need to get into her computer. What would her password be?" He rotated in Lor's chair back to the screen, ready to type in her answer, or for Tish to type it for him.

"It'll be her mothers name."

"Diane?"

"No. Her real mother." Tish hung up the phone. He thought about calling back, but knew he was pushing his luck. Gordon dropped the cordless and sat back in frustration. What was her name... what could be her name? He tried Martha first. That seemed like a typical mom name... and nothing. He tried Diane just to be sure, and still no. Did he really want to dig in her closet again just in case she had a photo album? He replayed past conversations in his mind, and nothing came up. What if Tish had given him a red herring? What if it was one of her friends names or even his name? Or... hmmmm...

L
Y
D
I
A

The slow load of her desktop came, icons pouring in, but only one held his focus as he double clicked it. The home page was a search engine, and he had some idea of what to type after what Tish told him at Tino's

bahia bay+predators

The search was quick; the only slow part was the computer and he only had to go through a few screens before he found him. The hand clicked the blue link and the top of his head begin to load into the frame. Gordon pulled back on reflex, like it was one of those screamers you got in the email, but he knew it was coming. He couldn't believe how mad he got when he saw her former father, throwing up an involuntary finger. Why was he flipping off a computer screen? He turned away, arm resting on the back of the chair before working up the nerve to look back.

His eyes unfocused, like he was staring at a 3D image in a book, trying to find the one thing that was relevant to him, so he wouldn't have to look at his mug anymore.

Clicking the blue browser on the desktop again, he opened up another window and searched for the latest Bahia Bay maps. He clicked between both, cross referencing the listed address on the profile.

He had the bastard.

He scribbled it down as the knock came; he then smacked the button on the front of the tower and turned back to the door as he stuffed his pocket.

================================

Gordon laid musty in a steamy room of his and Lor's making - though the California weather didn't help. This wasn't part of the plan, but Lor was getting antsy about the lack of sex and he wasn't trying to make her think he was deviating from anything. As sweat began to pocket in his neck, he turned, facing Lor. She had fallen asleep, her face cuddled next to her peachy, gentle wrist, a bracelet hanging loose. He pushed a bit of her matted hair to the side, wanting to kiss her.

He sat up.

Slipping out of bed, he slung his shirt over his shoulder as he kicked his shoes out from under the bed, thankful for her carpeting; even if it didn't matter thanks to her pill. More nostalgia; suiting up before leaving the safety and comfort of his new home in the middle of the night to visit a relative stranger. Except there was no anticipation. No excitement. No sense of discovery about the opposite sex. There was no princess in this castle. No Wendy in the grasp of Hook. Just cold nerves. He felt fuckin' reptilian, even with his jacket on.

So why was he doing this?

He looked again to her, projecting memories of the past days and weeks with Lor - memories that still felt warm to the touch. The ups, the downs, the pain, the pleasure, the problems, the hiccups, the quirks, her gifts, her smell, her laugh, her face, her love, her everything...

He felt short of breath.

He'd give her everything

And he'd prove it tonight

================================

It was an eggshell green, flat and small piece of crap that looked barely stiched together at the seams. An octagon shaped window had a crack that ran down from one end to the other with moss taking up residence all along the roof in dirty clumps. The cross fencing on the outside door was rusting near a set of numbers that only remained as shadows of the plastic that used to be there. Parts of the mosquito netting hung off in patches as the lawn grew wild into crabgrassy brown spots.

Not far off from some of the homes back in Grand Forks. He didn't know why he paid so much attention to the place or how it looked. Maybe his brain was trying to say 'Look at his home. Hasn't he suffered enough?' - and to that part of his brain, he says no. Besides. What if the fucker had cable? Or some kind of amenity that made living here bearable... what if he had a job lined up already? A good one that would get him out of here in two months. He remembered Lor's old place. Couldn't have earned that on welfare.

He was gonna get his.

Gordon sat on the roof, glowering over the street and neighborhood like a gargoyle, hunched over, but still a goliath. He was more of a protector than Tino ever was.

Then he spotted him, though clearly different, lacking that business casual look he used to have. No car - a long walk home; shabby looking clothes he got out of a donation box - Gordon relished in it. 'This is what you get, this is what you get.' He wished he was an old timey detective, a cigarette smoking man - striking fear in Lor's former father. First, the single dot of an ember glow, then emerging from the darkness in a puff of smoke - but Gordon had his own idea of theatrics, as he made his move down from the roof.

He listened for the foot steps. "I hope your prison stay was comfortable." Gordon announced his presence, sidling up to Lor's father from beside the empty parking space.

"It actually was." Lor's father was unflinching in his response, still keeping his eyes on his home, ignoring Gordon entirely. "Not everybody ends up on the business end of your pervert idea of justice. That's the thing you're gonna have to learn about being an adult, kid: Life doesn't always go as you planned. I mean..." He threw up his free hand, before slapping it back down. "Haven't you done enough?"

Gordon shook his head, nostrils flared. "Maybe you should have asked yourself that two years ago."

Lor's ex-father took the handle to his door. "I don't want to see myself in a court room video again, so..."

Gordon nearly lost his composure. He had to think of something. "No. No cameras. No tricks. Just you and me. Nobody knows I'm even here. If they ask, I'll say I was jumped at a park. You have my word."

With a single digit, he pressed the outside door back in. Turning with slumped shoulders, his eyes down, setting aside his single paper bag of groceries, he finally looked to Gordon. "Is this how you saw it going down?"

Thumb met thumb, his fingers cracked with bravado. It was strange to think that he had spent so long thinking about ways he'd beat up his girlfriends dad. Yet here he was about to make it a reality. "It went something like this." He pretended to reach for something in his coat, near his waist. The old man sidestepped. Gordon paused. He would have had him dead to rights... Gordon revealed nothing. He tipped two fingers from his forehead with a snicker. "You don't look so tough now when you're not flanked by your fifteen headed Cerberus. Or was it sixteen?"

"Seventeen, including the faggot." That was enough for Gordon. Opening the palms of his hands, he stared, rotating them into the orange street lamp light. Everything seemed to be adding up, the powers he had received, his arrival here, the release of Lor's father. His hands closed, nearly bumping invisible gloves together near his solar plexus. His knuckles seemed sharp... heavy.

Ready to knock someone's block off.

He faced her father, fists raised - he had waited for this moment, dreamed of this moment. He had ground down a side of his teeth whenever he thought about this man. He had thought about how when he was older, he'd come back to kick the old mans ass, regardless of his status with Lor. Gordon thought of how he even might give the old man a heart attack.

That was the intention, anyway.

They squared up, circling in the grass. Like the ring bell never went off in his head, Lor's father laid into him -- he thought he could take it, his powers giving him new resistances to prevent himself from becoming paste, but as lights flashed, Gordon tumbled into the green mat. He laid for a moment in a drunken stupor, before he fought to raise himself up, staring with wild and glassy eyes at the old man that put him down there.

Gordon took off.

He felt like such a fucking tool. He felt like he wanted to apologize, but he wasn't sure to who. Maybe to Lor. Maybe to his younger self.

It felt like he ran forever into the night, taking shelter inside of what he thought was Funville, the gamiest place on Earth. Instead of kids games, he found two grown men, a white and black one, playing pool, their drinks on the sides, as he took a moment to rest near them.

"Hey man, what's the deal?" Gordon grabbed a pool cue then broke it off on the white one that questioned him, then decked the other one onto the ground.

It's just food, son

"WHAT THE FUCK NIGGER-" His palm hit the back end of the broken stick, as he drove it into his throat. The voice gargled and snarled as more and more blood poured like a recently punctured crate of wine -- but his elation and demand for release subsided.

Gordon stood once the man stopped moving.

In a malaise, he wandered through the parking lot, slipping between two trucks, his head felt inflated, top heavy, and everytime he stepped, he felt like he was gonna topple over. He braced against a silver door that was turning a metal orange; almost looking like he was hanging off it, his exhales nearly whistling as he tried to figure out what to do next, spying out a knoll. He tread through some grass before hitting the sidewalk again, as he approached a group of teenagers that broke apart once they saw him. He pulled up his jacket and shirt, splattered with blood, pulling his hands away, they were just as stained.

This was beyond the pale.
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The Long Weekend 2