Breakdown, Dreams, and Resurrection

I love you, Billie, and I'm trying to help and support you, but..
You're a fucking idiot.

Finally!
Welcome to the dark side, Nance.

I don't think you did anything wrong, Billie.

Wow, the voice of reason.
Too bad your reasoning is fucked up.

He just protected his son.
What the hell is wrong with that?

Uh...everything.

Why am I getting blamed?
Fink was dominate, wasn't he?

Fink was dominant..
Fink's always dominant..because Fink is not Billie.

Don't talk in third person, you little fuck.
And where the hell is Rev!? I want him the fuck here!

Rev?

Yeah! Billie, think about Rev.
Maybe he'll pop into your stupid head randomly.

I'm not going to think about anything right now other than my son's show. I have to take him down now, and I plan on staying to watch, so please don't fuck anything up for me. I can't stop you from screwing me over, but I would appreciate it if you guys held in the fucking-me-up-ness until later.

I assume this is directed towards Jimmy and I?

How the hell could you have guessed?

I enjoy it when Blow Job acts sarcastic.
I like it when he thinks we'll obey his order, too. Haha.

Exactly! It's like he doesn't know who we are at all!
No one expects you to know Jimmy and Nancy that well, but, sheesh, Armstrong.
You should know that I am going to revolt against the honor to obey.

Fascinating stuff there, Christian.
But guess what? Nobody cares.
No one wants to here your bratty voice, so shut the fuck up.

...Gloria?

..Yeah?

Oh, sorry. I just wasn't sure it was you.
You acting like a badass is like Armstrong acting smart.
I mean, you fucking swore! High-five, sister!

Fuck off already, Chris.

I find Chris's statement quite amusing, actually.

Why are you two agreeing again!?

Because we're buddies, and we don't like you gals.

Bros before hoes!

Yeeees!

I just sighed as I pulled my Chuck Taylor's on. I didn't know how or why Christian and St. Jimmy were agreeing again, but I didn't have the time to contemplate it much. I had to drive my fourteen year old son, Joey, to Gilman Street, a punk club that I used to play at all the time twenty years ago.

Joey was a drummer in a band he formed with his friends, and they got a gig there, which was the coolest thing that's probably ever happened in my life. I couldn't wait to watch my son up on a stage I used to play on. I was worried about fucking it up, though. I was in debt to Gloria and Whatsername, hoping they could stop St. Jimmy, Christian, and Fink from screwing things up, but I couldn't help but feel that this was going to be a disaster.

Adrienne and Jakob were visiting her family in Minnesota for the weekend. Her father had invited her, me, and the kids, but Joey had the show, and I wasn't healthy enough to go. Adie wanted me to go, and I think it's just because she didn't trust me alone, and she shouldn't. I didn't trust myself alone; not when I have five voices inside of my head that can control my every whim.

I considered going, but I wasn't sure if I could face my wife's family or not. I mean, I lit Adrienne's deceased mother on fire at her funeral. Well, Christian did, but it was still me. Adrienne told me that she explained everything to her family, and that they want to talk things through with me, but I'm not sure I could stomach speaking to any of them again. I haven't seen of talked to any member of Adie's family since the funeral, which made me feel lousy, but...I just hate awkwardness, and this situation was the definition of awkward.

"Dad?" I heard Joey ask. I looked up as I finished tying my shoelace, and he questioned, "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I told him. I stood up and grabbed my keys off of the dining room table. We climbed into the car and I started the ignition.

I looked at my son and took note of him cracking his fingers and tapping his foot impatiently. I couldn't help but smile as I backed out of the driveway. "Nervous or excited?" I asked him.

I let out a small laughed. "A little of both, I guess."

"How are the guys taking it?"

"They're anxious," Joey informed as we started down the road. "Corey isn't, though. At least he says he isn't."

This kid bores me beyond a measurable degree.

Why?
I think he's great! I'm actually excited to see him play.

He looks just like you, Billie.

And he acts like him too, which isn't a good thing.
I might overdose from annoyance with double the Armstrong.

You think Billie's annoying?

By the way you exaggerated 'you' and 'Billie's', I'm assuming you think Billie thinks I'm annoying?

Gee, how'd you guess?

Shut up/
Gloria, I trust you to keep everyone quiet.

Can do, Billie!

No she can't.
You think she can keep Fink quiet? That's impossible.

I'm not Billie!

I'm going to tw-

Be quiet, Nancy!
You too, Fink!

Wow. How productive.

Stuff it.

I sighed slightly, annoyed that I wouldn't be able to fully enjoy such an important moment in my son's life due to people that didn't even exist. It was so fucked up, and I felt nothing but angry, and that was upsetting.

"Are you alright, Dad?" Joey asked.

Great. I don't want him to be on stage and be worrying about me instead of enjoying himself. I should've left with Adrienne and had one of my brothers or sisters come to see Joey play. I shouldn't be here with him on such a tender night when I'm completely mentally and emotionally unstable.

I'm such an idiot.

The fact that you finally realized that makes me happy inside.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Joe," I pathetically fibbed.

"As fine as you were last night?" he quickly inquired, a hint of frustration drenching his voice. I didn't know how to reply to that, and it must have showed on my tired face, because Joey automatically apologized.

"No, you're right," I told him. "I wasn't OK last night and I'm not OK today."

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I thought for a minute. "Did your mom tell you and Jakob anything?"

"Just that you were sick like last year," he answered. "But I don't know what to think. I mean...sick? What kind of sick? You don't have a cold or anything. I don't know what I'm supposed to think about anything. I don't know if you and Mom are lying to me to protect me, or because you don't think I will understand...or maybe I'm over-thinking everything."

Your son is smarted than you give him credit for.

Apparently, intelligence isn't genetic because Armstrong and the wife have shitty brains.

Oh, c'mon, the kid isn't smart!
He just has common sense and was able to put two and two together.
I think he's stupid, actually, for taking this long to realize it and speak up to Blow Job.

Nothing impresses you, does it?

Why should this impress me?
You an Rusty are impressed by everything.

That's why I fell in love with you.

Burn!

I bit my lip, ignoring the voices in my head as I tried to digest Joey's multiple questions. I felt like I let him down. I felt like I was misunderstanding how responsible and smart he was. I felt terrible for not telling him the first time, and I felt like confessing everything to him right there, just to tell someone else other than doctors and Adrienne.

But I mostly felt like a complete jackass.

We came to a red light, and I looked over at my son, wanting to be deliberate and give him an answer that would clear up every bit of worry I could see through his eyes, but I honestly had no clue what to tell him. I was speechless, and I hated that I couldn't comfort my own son in a way I was proud of.

"I'm sick, and, no, it's not like a cold or anything," I started. "It's much more serious than that, Joseph, but I don't want to tell you about it right now. I know you want to know, but I don't want to keep you from fully enjoying your night tonight. I promise to tell you right when we get home after the show, OK?"

I could tell that response didn't satisfy him, or quench his burning desire to know what the fuck was wrong with me. But Joey was a good kid, and he knew not to pry at things just for his individual benefit, so he just nodded casually.

The light changed green, and we were moments away from Gilman. I felt anticipation, excitement, and insane panic wash over me. The anxiety was unbearable, and I almost wanted the night to be over so I didn't have to worry about my alter personalities screwing things up for me. On the other hand, I didn't want tonight to come because I didn't want to explain things to Joey. I realized it was something that needed to be done, but the idea of sitting him down, looking in his auburn, sad, and curious eyes and telling him about my disorder made me want to run far, far away from this situation.

"Can I just know one thing?" Joey's steady voice questioned.

"Of course," I said as I parked the car by Gilman. I put the vehicle in park before pulling the keys out and the consistent vibration of the motor ended abruptly, and silence fell over us. That is, until Joey asked his question, and I heard what sounded like my heart drop.

"Are you dying?"

Aw, no! No, Joey!
Tell him, Billie!

But what if I am dying?

What are you talking about!? You aren't dying! MPD doesn't kill you!
At least, none of your doctors said it does!

I wish it did.

If it did, you'd die if Billie died.
Remember the logic behind the disease? Fucking idiot.

Tell the kid you're dying. I wanna see his reaction.

You're a real bastard, Jimmy.
I can't believe you would say that.

Seriously? 'Cause I do.

Yeah! Chris does! Thanks man.

He's just saying that because of how you treated him before.
Remember THAT?

I sure do. But I apologized for it, and Chris and I are cool now.
Don't you remember when we started agreeing again?

I can't believe you two are friends again.
That makes me want to find a plastic bag and pull it over my head.

Nobody's stopping you, Rusty.

"Dad?"

"Uh..," was all I could say. I blinked hard, trying anything to get the voices to shut up so I give my son a coherent answer. Finally, I said, "No, I'm not dying, Joe. I'm not dying."

He just nodded, and I felt terrible for not telling him anything, but I just couldn't - not now.

I sighed lightly, and said, "You ready, Mr. Rockstar?"

Joey flashed that familiar grin of his, and nodded. We stepped out of the car and into the 924 Gilman Street doors together moments later.