Band On The Run (Fanfic) - The Return

Am I doing the right thing?

Fuck yeah, I am. What I did wrong was four years ago. It is too late to back down now anyways. Will and Jake are counting on me to talk to her. Though with this cab stuck in the traffic, I doubt I would be getting there anytime soon. It’s a good thing Will hauled me a cab to get to her. Otherwise I might crash in anticipation of getting to her. But when I get there, what would I say to her? Nice to see you again after four years of no contact?

And what do I expect to find there? The fun, blunt girl I met the first time? The angry, bitchy drunk I left behind? Or the broken and haunted woman I see in the tabloids? People said that pictures say a thousand words. Every single picture of her hurt like a thousand knives to the heart. It hurt to see her so fucking shattered. She should have known – I should have known – that this shitty life could extinguish her brightness. I fucking underestimated the effect this life would have on her.

Now she is said to have moved on. Moved on from me. Moved on from us. Moved on from the Spares. She probably hasn’t but if she has, I’m truly happy for her. Because I haven’t. Neither have Jake or Will. Considering how intensely we all fucking exploded over each other in the end, it should have been easy but we couldn’t do it. Spares was our lives. Our friendship. Our loves. Our everything. We couldn’t move on.

Rebel. Even speaking her name reminds of every single memory of her. Of my first sight of her in that restaurant. Of the first time she sang If You Wanna Be My Lover in the limo while going to that U2 concert. Of our first kiss. Of all of our song-writing moments. Of her touch. Of her laughs. Of her smiles. Of our private moments even on the stage. Of how she felt to every single cell of me. Of her smooth skin. Of her trusting heart. Of her love. Of every moment of her. Even near the end of Spares, I never could resist her. It was infuriating. It was an addiction. She had been and always will be my life.

And now, she is someone else’s. She is with that guitarist of Fly Way. Nick. She would be with them right now. Producing them. It hurts deep within to even consider her with someone else. This meet would be good for me to see their relationship first-hand. To see if she truly was happy. I lightly brush my hand over my jacket where I keep covers of all of her albums post-Spares. Deadbeat Holiday. Last Goodbye. No song was ever just a song to her. And I keep whatever piece of her I can with me.

The past isn’t easy to face but life can’t be forever abandoned either. For these four years, my heart has fucking rotten into nothingness, getting alive only when I saw something of her. And now, it is alive once again, pumping into me with a renewed anticipation. Of seeing her again. Of drinking the sight of her with my eyes again. Of talking with her again.

We will meet again, even if the reason for this reunion isn’t pleasant. Every inch of me craves to be blessed by that pure light of hers once again. But it also fears what it might mean for her. From the building in front of me, the cab is finally here. I blindly throw some twenties at the driver and walk in. Every single one inside stares as if I am a fucking ghost. Maybe I am. But I am about to live once more. The receptionist stutters in shock while telling me where they all are. Where she is. As soon as I reach the door knob, I pause for a moment as the same worry nags at me again.

Am I doing the right thing?

And once again the answer is the same. Fuck yeah.

******

(After the meeting and getting out of the studio)

Ah, no. I was fucking wrong. This life hasn’t extinguished her light. It has dimmed her but it hasn’t killed it. She’s still there inside. And she’s isn’t happy though she has tried to convince herself that she is. That Nick is like a puppy to her. Her reason of sanity. I need to help her. If only I could figure out the why. 

She’s changed. She is a mix of the three versions I expected of her. And although my balls hurt like fucking hell, I can’t help the inner joy. She may be shocked. She may be hurt. She may be confused.

But she’s still as lovely as ever.

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Author's note: Sorry but this one probably isn't up to the standard of what any of us wish for. None of it is forced but it still feels a little stiff to me. Not insinuating anything that might affect actual BOTR plot so as to maintain the flow.

I made Vaughn very cheesy, didn't I?