I Remember

And thus it came to pass, that Rossi wrote the following:

"And what about Hutch and Tamsin? Do you think they could continue to work together if Hutch knew her Muse had betrayed her? It's been hard enough for Tamsin, knowing his Writer killed him."

Thus I must thank Rossi for inadvertantly providing inspiration for the following 'fic.

Disclaimer: The concept of Subreality is Kielle's. Tamsin is, nominally, mine. (So am I, yay!)

Feedback will be eagerly pounced upon at hutch @ jazmer.com.

I remember.

It's both my curse and my blessing, to recall the events that were whisked out of existence by an errant wish. Still, I keep the records, keep the knowledge. It's the only way to ensure that history does not repeat itself --

Even though it can't, because it never happened.

Should I be more specific? I can to myself, at least, if not out loud; like the Muse War, this is never to be spoken of aloud. Especially not to a Writer. If they knew, if they learned what had happened --

I know as well as anyone how dire the circumstances might be. Better that they never know.

Rossi remembers; we know that much, Frank's told us. Maria has nightmares. So does Joannie. And my own Writer, Hutch.

As much as it kills Flame to remember Asra and the fact of Farli's death, I know that my own memories hurt in equal measure. I couldn't have died peacefully, no. I chose life instead, without considering what price I might have to pay.

So I paid, and maudlin thoughts will at least keep me from making such a devil's deal again.

What price power? Oh, and the memory of that -- of godlike levels of strength, of lyrical energy, slipping through me to be accessed whenever I chose -- even memory's fog can't fully obscure the tantalizing whisper of that power. Nothing can, I think, except time.

She's writing now, my Writer; I'm trying not to hover excessively, as that tends to make her nervous. I'm glad to see her more socially involved with the others in the community; after years of hanging on the fringes, she's finally making herself known, and I'm happy for her, proud of her, even if it means that I'm being dragged in as well.

Despite the restrictions, a part of me does want to talk to her, to tell her about all that happened. In that alternate reality, she hated me. She killed me -- that's not something that can easily be set aside for any reason. Even knowing the whys and wherefores --

Could I talk to her -- were I allowed that breaking of the trust -- would it clear anything up? Would it serve any purpose other than to make me feel better? Or would it only make things worse between us? I can't help but lean towards the latter. She still trusts me, now. If she knew, that knowledge would be always between us, and it's possible she might always look on me with wondering, with fear of that potential.

On the other hand, there is the possibility that the truth will come out someday, from a foreign source. If it does, if she learns, it'll be much worse than if she hears it from me.

No. I'll keep my peace, I'll try to keep it from interfering with our work. We've got a good working relationship now; I'm genuinely fond of her, and I enjoy inspiring her. For that to come to waste...

It won't. My memories will remain just that; memories.

I'll remember. And that's all I'll do.


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this page last updated on 18 january 2003