We Were Birds

Quinn and Vivian have made a silent pact to never speak of the kiss, ever again.

And as they walk towards the train station the next morning, they are more than a bit awkward. Guilt weighs down heavily on both of them, and the other knows it. But this guilt does not come without a bit of happiness. They have both taken something so strange and found some strength in it. For Quinn, it was knowing that he was weak - weak enough to find a moment of happiness within someone besides Fern. For Vivian, it is finding someone besides Ian. The smile she wears on her face can't be erased today. Today she is no longer Vivian, the sad-faced girl. She is just Vivian.

But what about Quinn? He doesn't feel cured the way she does. He understands and he does find happiness within this situation, but where is the strength that Cholena spoke of? Where is this so-called wisdom and hope that he'll get now that he's been weak? Before he thought that maybe it would come to him, like an epiphany. But he has felt nothing more than guilt, and then a little satisfaction and then more guilt at this satisfaction.

Taking a deep breath, Quinn almost wishes he still smoked, but do cigarettes exist in Death? He is doubtful. He is not craving for a cigarette, but his hands are trembling just a bit. He feels nervous, something he hasn't felt in a long time. He feels a little achy, it isn't his heart, it's just that his body aches. As if he's too tired. As if he needs to lay down and close his eyes and sleep. As if he should get on the train and never get off. He doesn't feel hope. He feels like giving up. The satisfaction, the tiny bit of happiness that came with his weakness is giving him so much guilt. It almost seems unbearable, and he doesn't understand the point of it. Why did he give in? Because Cholena said he should. Why did he listen to her? Because she understood him, even when he didn't feel like admitting it. But why didn't he just give in some other way? Because that was the only thing he could do.

Quinn kicks a rock on the dirt path, hard. It goes flinging down the riverbank and into the river with a satisfying ker-plunk. Quinn watches the rippling water for a moment. The two don't speak. Ahead, the train station looms closer.

Finally, from Vivian. "Where are we going?"

With a flick of his shoulders - upwards, downwards, a terrible and obviously annoyed shrug - Quinn looks at the girl who has singlehandedly given him more pain and anger than he'd like to admit. There were times when he fought with Fern, of course, but this was different. Their fights were always, always because he had done some something stupid. Because he could never believe that she'd given up everything to be with him. That she'd thrown her life away, for someone who was going nowhere. Sometimes he even resented her for it. She'd yell and he'd whisper his anger, but eventually Fern would break down. She'd sit down, she'd sigh and she'd say, "I'm sorry."

That was the worst of it all. That she said I'm sorry, when it was nothing she did wrong. He wanted to scream at her not to say that, because it was his fault, but he'd always been too cowardly. So he'd disappear for a couple hours. And when he'd come back, it would be like nothing had ever happened.

This didn't happen often. But it did happen.

When they come to the station, they wait in almost silence. Around them, the world is waking up. Birds, all around them, call. And with every song, Quinn only thinks of Fern. Shutting his eyes, he lets the noise infiltrate his body. He lets guilt consume him. His mind wanders back to last night, and then to Fern. She is here, he knows she is. But what can he say to her, now that he has hurt her in the most unforgivable way? He could never tell her. But then...will he be able to go on? Cholena said this place was for unfinished business. If he takes his secrets beyond Death, what happens? He doesn't know.

The train comes, chugging noisily into the station, interrupting Quinn's thoughts. As the train comes in, the scent of Neroli is strong on the breeze. Taking a deep breath, Quinn inhales memories. And they board the train, unsure of the direction they're going.

When they get on, Vivan sits down parallel to the windows. For a moment, Quinn thinks of not sitting with her. Letting her go off on her own. She is distracting him - simply because when he is with her it seems like he's doing everything but looking for Fern. But no, they have been bound by something far greater than themselves, and so they must stay together. At least, for now. Quinn sits down next to Vivian, who looks away from him.

The train takes off. Quinn leans back and stretches his legs out.

For him, she'd given herself so much pain. For her, he'd given nothing. This was the basis of their relationship, it seemed. She'd given up everything for him, he'd given up a life with a dead-end job and no hope of anything more. For him, she'd separated herself from her father, she'd betrayed him the exact way her mother had. For her, he'd left a town where no one would ever remember his name. For him, she'd turned down a good education at one of the best universities in the country. For her, he'd started on a journey that would lead him to a better life. She'd given up everything for him. He'd given up nothing.

It had been grey and rainy all day, which wasn't good, because the weather always affected Fern's moods the way nothing else could. She'd see the overcast sky and she'd become sullen, quiet and moody. She'd make a pot of coffee and skulk around for a couple of hours in her pajamas, reading a book. She'd pretend that it didn't exist, but the drizzle would soon catch up with her.

That day, she took out her picture album from the one suitcase she'd brought with her. This album was from when she was much younger, when her mom was still around. Before her mom had left them. Quinn watched her as she looked through the pictures, at herself, her father - smiling, for once, her mother - there in her life, for once. She looked up at Quinn and had forced out a smile. "I like remembering this kind of stuff," she said. But there was something in her eyes that betrayed her voice. She sounded happy...she always sounded happy. Quinn stood above her, drinking his coffee out of a large ceramic mug that they bought at a flea market. All of the furniture in their apartment was second hand, everything bought at an antique store or a flea market or a junk shop. The apartment itself was tiny, and on the top floor of a dingy complex right in the dirty part of the city. But it didn't matter. It was theirs.

Quinn sat down with Fern as she looked through the album. He still didn't know much about her family, she hardly said anything about herself. Truth be told, he hadn't either. The fact was that they didn't know much about each other's pasts, but it didn't matter. They were happy just being together. They were happy just talking about their dreams, what they should do tomorrow, where they should go next.

But as Quinn watched Fern, he saw her run her finger over her mother's smiling face in a elegant portrait obviously taken when her mother was younger. Fern forced a smile and looked at Quinn. "My mother..." she started, and then stopped, swallowed and then started again. "Couldn't stand being trapped in that house. She was a brilliant artist, but my father didn't like her having a name for herself...he thought that she'd meet a man half his age, a handsome artist, and leave him. He was always afraid she didn't love him. Which she did. But she loved art, too. So when he made her stop...he sort of...caged her. And she couldn't escape. So then one day, she let herself out of the cage. She just flew away, and only left a note behind. And I never saw her again."

Quinn was silent for awhile. "Oh." This was all he could say.

"I have abandoned him. I knew that when I left, but sometimes it still hurts." Fern's eyes were glassy. She wouldn't cry, but she looked sad. Quinn looked outside and grimaced at the weather. If it wasn't raining, she wouldn't have pulled out that damn album. She wouldn't be thinking like that.

"But he trapped you the way he trapped your mother. How could he expect you to stay? You couldn't live like that...I know that you couldn't."

Fern looked away from him and turned her body away from him. This was the time when it felt as if there was an invisible wall between them. There were always a few things about Fern that Quinn knew he could never understand. There was a part of Fern that Quinn would never be able to reach. Fern turned back and let out a very deep breath. "Quinn..." she said softly, and there were times when she said his name that made him melt with happiness, but then there were times when she said his name that made him wish he was never born. "Quinn, there are just some hurts that never go away."

He wished he'd never been born.

At this, Quinn got up, suddenly feeling angry. The barrier was thick around Fern and he'd never penatrate it. What was the point? "I'm going to the grocery store. I'll be back." His voice was rough. And then he looked down. He shouldn't have. Because the way Fern was looking at him made him feel as if he'd never known her. He never would know her. And there was no point in trying. Her eyes were full of some kind of expectancy...some kind of restlessness.

But what could he do? So he just turned away from her and walked out the door. And just like always, when he came back, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Damn it, Quinn thinks. He was so stupid. If he'd just stayed and held her close and comforted her and asked her to explain herself, or even had just held her and told her everything would be okay, it would have been better than what he'd done. But he loved her. And it had been impossible to see her shutting him out like that, pushing him away. He never wanted to be pushed away from her. He knows now, though. Instead of getting hurt over the fact that she wasn't always his, he should have just been there for her. Forced himself into her heart, the way she had so strongly forced herself into his.

She has so many reasons for not staying with him. But he can feel her here, still. Why? Why don't you just leave me, Fern? Why would you stay with me, I am so useless, so helpless, so idiotic!

Opening his eyes, Quinn looks behind him, out the window. Something is wrong, the sky isn't blue. Dark, purple clouds are fast moving over the train. In his two years here, it's only rained once. A torrent, a hurricane, and Quinn had dived into a nearby house, where an old man had been staying, all alone. The two men had played cards for hours and hours until the rain had stopped, and when Quinn finally noticed the lack of pounding on the tin roof, he'd gone outside. The world had been clear, blue, perfect. As if nothing had ever happened.

It seems as if that's going to happen again soon. But they need to get off. Quinn nudges Vivian.

She's been sleeping, because she blinks her eyes open softly, slowly. She moves herself up and it's as if she is thick like a paste. She takes a deep breath. "Are we getting off?" she asks.

"Next stop." Quinn pushes away the feeling of awkwardness between them. Vivian closes her eyes again, but Quinn can tell she's not sleeping. Just waiting. The train is slowing down, and they must be coming up to the station. Vivian opens her eyes again and leans over her knees. She exudes that sort of languid sleepiness that you get when you wake up from a nap. It almost makes Quinn want to smile. Almost.

She stands up when they stop and Quinn follows her. They make their way to the doors of the train, even though people are looking at them as if they're crazy. There aren't any houses around here to take shelter in. The rain has already started and there is a loud clap of thunder. The sky looks purple and green, a sort of sick combination of colors. They'll find shelter though, when they get off. It's just something about this stop that makes Quinn want to get off. As if someone is pulling him to get off.

And then the doors to the train open. And suddenly everything changes. Because there is a young man standing in front of them, waiting to get on, and the moment Vivian sees him, her eyes go wide and her hands go to her mouth.

This must be Ian. He doesn't say anything, just gets on the train with Vivian, and the way he looks at her is the exact same way that Quinn knows he's looked at Fern. Quietly, he gets off. He is disappearing out of Vivian's life and he doesn't matter to her, not anymore.

The doors close. Vivian didn't even say goodbye.

The train rolls by. The rain is pouring hard on him. There is no one else on the station. And suddenly, Quinn's legs go weak. Falling to his knees, he is gripped with the most overwhelming sense of grief. He is dead. He kissed another girl, a girl who is not Fern, a girl who forgot about him the moment she saw her own lover. Fern could be anywhere. And most of all, he doesn't deserve her. He never did. He has given her nothing. Until now.

For all the sacrifice she made, he will give her that much in guilt. For all the times she looked at him with glassy eyes, he will cry. The tears fall off his face, they are hot, such a contrast to the freezing, bitter rain. Death feels angry at him. But he will not run away this time. He will not hide, he will grasp onto this pain, grasp onto this sorrow. Because here, here is what it means to be weak. Quinn looks at the sky, lighting crashes along the dark clouds. For all the pain Fern held within her, for all the barriers she put up, for all the times when he could not get to her and never even tried - Quinn will wear that pain, that anguish on his sleeve. He is changed. He understands.

These new wounds that Quinn carries will never heal.