power_absolute: (Save me from the dark)
I'd fight for one kiss
On a night like this
You make me feel I could fly, like
I could save the world
Since the night your love saved me
Maybe I can't save the world
But as long as you believe
Maybe I could save the world*


I told her I wouldn't risk her. She couldn't go with me because I wouldn't risk her. It was stupid on a lot of levels, but even then, even with everything he'd done, none of us understood the depth of his power. That she wasn't safe anywhere. I was risking all of them by not having a better plan. By not having any plan. By not going to the families as soon as I knew who Chase was. Pogue's father. Reid's. Tyler's. Any of them might have been able to help at least protect the rest. Maybe they didn't have his power, but they're Ascended at least, and they've been doing this a lot longer than we have.

Even when Mom suggested it, though, I just couldn't involve them. I don't know if that was fear, or arrogance. Or if I thought they'd stop me from doing...whatever it was I thought I was doing. Is it bad that it's almost a blur now? I was operating in panic mode. Keep Sarah safe. Keep Pogue and Kate safe. Keep Chase from getting to Reid and Tyler and my mom and their parents and...over and over it was just there that I had to handle it.

I didn't want to risk her. I don't know why I thought they wouldn't, or couldn't, protect her. They would have tried, the same as Reid and Tyler, but they'd have underestimated Chase the same way I did and so it had to be me. That's the only solution I could come up with. He wanted me, so I'd give him me, but not what...Not what he wanted on any level. Not my power and not...that. He'd taken all he was getting.

It was stupid. I know that now. I only got out of there alive because of my father. I only saved her, saved all of them, because of him, and what he gave up. But I didn't think that going in. I didn't understand how strong he was. I figured once I ascended, I could beat him. Everything was going to be all right. We'd gotten so used to thinking we were invincible, that even seeing Pogue in the hospital didn't shake it.

It wasn't goodbye, when I kissed her. I told her I'd see her soon, and I meant it, but I wouldn't risk her. I thought being with me was the risk, that I couldn't protect her if I was distracted. So I kissed her and I put her in Tyler's truck and I figured I was the one Chase wanted, and he'd come for me and I'd handle it and everything would be fine. I drove away from the house still thinking I could beat him. She'd kissed me and she looked at me like I could do anything. With such trust that I would do what was necessary to keep them safe, and then come home to her. And with that kiss, she made me believe it, too.

How could I fail to?

Maybe I wouldn't have. I got a feel for the new power and I was holding my own. I was on my feet, at least. He hadn't squashed me like he gloated he would. But she was there, surrounded by fire and I kept thinking about that kiss and I started to think that she'd been wrong to trust me. Wrong to believe I could do this. He wasn't tiring, and I was.

And then it was over and it wasn't until I got her out of there, saw she was okay, that I realized what had happened. It's funny. That was the first time I actually felt scared. When the panic kicked in. And I keep wondering how many kisses it will take this time before it goes away.


ooc: Hello to rambly boy. I think there was a point in there, but that turned into far more stream of consciousness than coherence in my head. The beauty of 1st person journal entries? lol. Also, he didn't lock this, so feel free to rep if you feel so led. :)

Lyrics by Bon Jovi "Save the World"
power_absolute: (Nothing feels right)
Take a look around you, nothingĀ“s what it seems
We're living in a broken home of hopes and dreams


There's a scrap of lace on the dresser in the main bedroom. It looks like a doily, a little out of place in the rugged bedroom with its massive furniture, but a feminine touch to remind anyone who sees it that a woman does still exist, for all that she screams at the world to be forgotten.

He doesn't come in here often. He has his own room at the cabin, big enough to bunk with someone else when all four of them are up here, with the other two in the third room. This one smells like cedar, because Evelyn can't stand the smell of mothballs. She says they remind her of him, decaying in that room.

Only he's not in that room anymore. He's decaying somewhere else. The ceremony was private and quick. A man already dead the past three years couldn't be sent to the funeral home to be embalmed. Monday morning in the cool misty air they'd taken care of it. Caleb had dug the grave, since Gorman's back couldn't handle the strain. It wasn't like they could call the gardeners from the main house.

Caleb pushes it away again, wondering why he's in here, but he doesn't leave. His fingers brush the scrap of lace, picking it up and carrying it with him from the side table where she'd laid it so carefully to the bed in the center of the room. He sits there, holding it, fingers tracing the pattern of roses that were woven through it.

It just looks like doily, but he knows better. She told him once, tears in her eyes from grief and scotch, that it was a piece of her wedding veil. In the pattern of roses are woven all her hopes. Her dreams. Their future. The life they could have had that she's living alone.

He thinks of Sarah and the look in Evelyn's eyes when she came down the stairs. Was it only his imagination that it was pity mingled with the pride? She's so convinced he's just like him. The same promises. The same hopes. The same dreams.

The same power, now, running through him. If his grandfather couldn't resist, if his father couldn't, how can he? He knows she thinks it. For all that it was her doing, he saw the look in her eyes when the last shovelful of dirt fell. She was burying him in there with his father, too broken now to hope for anything else, knowing for certain inside herself that she'd saved him and doomed him in a single act.

Does Sarah think the same thing? He saw the fear in her eyes as the windshield came back together. A flicker, and then gone, and her hands wrapped tight around the hand he'd used to do it. To hold him down? Hold him back? Both of them tight there and clinging and the hand she held, clenching the lace in it now, shakes as he wonders if, like his mother, a scrap of a veil is all she'll be left holding in the end.

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Caleb Danvers

August 2009

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