Title: A Tale of Surrender Summary: "...you can't run away forever, but there's nothing wrong with getting a good head start. you want to shut out the night, you want to shut down the sun, you want to shut away the pieces of a broken heart..." What: Whose Line is it Anyway? Written: on and off through-out the summer of 2005... but this last version is September 8th-September 9th Category: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Chapter: one-shot Rating: PG-13 A Tale of Surrender Los Angeles, California October, 2002 “Sooner or later, you’ll talk about this. And I’ll be there when you do.” The older man snorted and took another chug of his beer. “Be there all you want, but I won’t.” “You will,” the younger man replied softly. “Contrary to what you may think, no one expects you to be all right, Colin.” “I expect me to be all right.” The younger man shook his head. “You shouldn’t.” “Well, I do.” “Why?” Colin did not respond. Ryan heaved a rather loud and despondent sigh and leaned back in his chair. Rick was dead. He had put a bullet through his head the day that the police had found Colin. His funeral had been held during the first week of September, and Colin had gone. He hadn’t said much during the service… he had been, after all, still healing… but you could tell that the balding Canadian was about as far away from “all right” as he could get. Ryan sighed once more and reached for his own mug of beer. All of them… Wayne, Drew, Greg, Chip and Brad… had tried talking to him about what had happened, but Colin had always refused to talk back about it. Even to Wayne. “Colin,” he urged gently, “why do you expect you to be okay?” The older man yelled, “Because I’m supposed to be okay, Ryan!” Colin shook his head angrily and took another chug of his beer. Ryan had stopped counting them at two and had given up on trying to get them away from him at three. “I’m just supposed to be, all right? People expect that of me.” He looked back up at Ryan. “You all expect that of me.” Ryan involuntarily winced at the accusatory tone and the uncharacteristic frown that was sleeping on his best friend’s lips. He wasn’t Colin Mochrie anymore. He didn’t know for sure exactly when or why Colin had gone away, but Colin had gone away. Up, up and away… Ryan involuntarily winced again. “We don’t.” “Yes you do! All of you do. And don’t you dare go and tell me otherwise, Ryan.” Colin signaled for their waitress and ordered himself another beer. She looked a bit hesitant to bring him another at first but then nodded, regardless, and hurried off into the kitchen. He looked back over at Ryan. “You all can’t handle me not being all right. That’s why it’s been so… bizarre-feeling lately.” Ryan snorted and lowered his mug back down to the table. “It’s been ‘bizarre-feeling’ lately because you won’t let us help you. And, hey, we’re handling it better than you are, Col.” He smirked knowingly at him. “At least we’re handling it.” “… oh fuck off,” Colin replied flatly. He thanked the waitress when she handed over his beer and took a small sip before adding, softly, “What do you know, anyway.” It wasn’t a question. Ryan took it as such, though. “I know that you’re hurting. I also know that you’re mad at yourself for hurting.” Colin raised an eyebrow at the younger man. “That’s a given, Ry.” Ryan shook his head. “It shouldn’t be.” “Well, it is.” Ryan sighed exasperatingly. “Colin, what are you so afraid of? What have you convinced yourself will happen if you admit to yourself that you’re in pain and need just a little while to not be all right for once? Do you honestly think it’ll piss us off and we’ll all just up and leave you?” Colin sighed and shook his head. Ryan’s heart clenched at that sigh and all of the anger drained away from his expression almost immediately. The older man looked, for lack of a better word, defeated. Absolutely defeated. And that scared the Hell out of Ryan. “Why won’t you let yourself be hurt?” His tone was softer now. Colin wasn’t looking at him. “We don’t expect you to be okay, Colin, and you won’t hurt anybody by not being okay. You don’t have to do this to yourself for us… you don’t… - Colin, you don’t need to hide like this around us. We’re your friends. We love you. I love you. Please, just let us help you…” “Ryan, you don’t get it. It’s not that simple.” Colin whispered. Ryan responded by licking his lips and leaning forward. “Make me get it, then,” Ryan persisted, “make me understand. I’m willing to bleed for you.” Colin’s head shot up at that and he stared at the older man in slight bewilderment. “Don’t say that.” Ryan frowned at him. “Don’t say what? That I’m willing to bleed for you?” He shrugged. “Why not? It’s true. I am, and I will. I’ll bleed for you.” “Shut up!” Colin sighed shakily and allowed his head to fall into his hands. He started to shake it back and forth. “You don’t know the position you’re putting me in, here! You don’t…-” “What position? That you might actually have to admit that you’re in pain, here?” Ryan snorted. “I want you in that position, Colin.” “You don’t,” the Canadian advised quietly, “believe me. You don’t.” “Really? I don’t? Why’s that?” Colin raised his head and reached for his beer. “Because if I lose it now, if I take off the mask now…” he brought the mug closer to his lips and stared at the oddly colored liquid unhappily, “I’ll never be able to put it back on again. If I start crying now, Ryan, I’ll never be able to stop.” Ryan’s eyes were sympathetic. He reached across the table to lay a supportive hand on one of Colin’s arms. “Then so be it. I’m not going anywhere.” Colin winced and shook Ryan’s hand off of his. He picked the beer back up again and took a long drink before admitting quietly, “That’s what I’m afraid of.” “What?” Ryan asked confusedly. “That I’m not going anywhere? What do you mean, Col?” The Canadian shook his head. “No, that you are going somewhere. That my being found and brought back was just a dream and that soon I’ll wake back up in… that… that bed with my wrists handcuffed to something, somewhere above me.” Colin didn’t take his eyes off of the mug he was holding. Once upon a time, he had cursed Chip and Greg and Ryan and Drew and Brad for drinking like sailors and then going off at the mouth like them, too. Not anymore, though, because now Colin understood why they fancied the horrible tasting stuff so much; being blissfully detached was quite a lovely feeling and, besides, that “once upon a time” just seemed so long ago now. That had been another life and a different reality… a reality that had long since been shot and killed and then buried underground. In the cold. And in the dark. “And that… that would kill me.” He sighed forlornly. “Do you get it now, though, Ryan? Do you get that it’s just too scary right now to poke my head up from underneath of the covers?” “I get that, Colin,” Ryan answered sincerely, “but you can’t hide for forever. You can’t spend the rest of your life downing four beers a night and wearing long sleeved shirts. You just can’t.” “I know, I know, and I won’t, okay? But… I’m scared of the monsters right now, Ryan; I’m scared of the dark.” Colin shook his head. “Because you never know who or what is in the dark, and I’m just… I can’t… - Right now? The dark’s just too much right now, Ryan. And instead of… of, you know, poking my head out when I’m not ready, I’m…-” “Giving yourself time to get ready.” “Exactly! Exactly. And when I’m ready, I’ll face those monsters, but for now…” the Canadian raised his mug up into the air. A tiny, sad smile was resting lazily on his lips and shadows of a past and memories of a time and a place that the man longed to let go of were dancing and singing in his eyes. Rick had succeeded in scarring Colin; there was no doubt about that. Ryan frowned sorrowfully. “You aren’t okay.” Colin shook his head. “No, I’m not.” “But you won’t admit that to yourself,” Ryan sighed and took a drink of his beer. “Not in the way you want me to, no, I won’t. I have no intentions of bearing my soul to any of you at the moment.” Ryan cocked his head to the side and echoed, “‘At the moment’?” Colin smiled warily at Ryan. “I’m not ready to, Ryan. But when I am… when I finally face all of these monsters… I don’t want to go it alone. And I’m sure I won’t have a problem finding a hand to hold mine, if you know what I mean.” Ryan smiled back at him and nodded his head. Colin pushed his empty mug to the edge of the table and leaned his head on a hand. “See? I won’t. But, for now, I just want a friend. Just someone to be with, you know? I don’t need a tourniquet just yet.” Ryan nodded his head and replied, thoughtfully, “All right, then, Colin, until then, I’ll just be your drinking buddy. Getting drunk is no fun if you go it alone, anyway.” Colin chuckled at the younger man and the two lapsed into a contented silence that told each other all that the other needed to know. No, Colin wasn’t all right. No, Colin wouldn’t be all right for quite a while… and he would never really be that same person he was prior to August of 2002, either. But Colin was… in his own, abnormal way… letting himself deal and letting himself feel. And Colin knew that when the time came for him to bleed, for him to poke his head out from underneath of the covers and finally acknowledge all that had happened to him, Ryan was willing to bleed a little bit for him, too. He was, after all, the older man’s tourniquet.