Fan Fic - Rainbows Have Nothing to Hide

I'll make a confession. Rowlf duologue is almost impossible to do That's why I steered clear of it. *glances at Renee*

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That Other Journal, morning, it's light

It's light and I have a headache. And I just found an incredibly stupid note in my journal from the middle of the night. And my mouth is dry from eating crackers. Dry like it's had tissue paper pressed all around it and ripped out quickly when I wasn't looking.

Train that man. Why would I even consider it! But I am considering it. My cloak's in the wash, but if I were to put it in the tumble, and pull my hair forward so it partly conceals my face. Deep shadow makeup. Who would know someone like that?

It's been so long since I saw him last. My dream notes place it over four months ago.

I find a comb and start brushing. My face looks back at me from the mirror. So I turn the mirror to face the wall, and keep brushing.

Love,
Me

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That Other Journal, after food, same place

I've eaten breakfast, raw oats in milk, and I made herbal tea for myself. I could sit for hours inhaling it's thick heady scent. It's good. And the taste explodes, flowing over the dryness, fixing my dry-cracker insides.

I decided to go find another client. To keep Mr R happy. And then there's the man...I'll have to keep two going at once, and one secretly. Mr R must not find out. He'd kill me...or him.

The first time I saw Mr R he was sitting beside my hospital bed, in a plain white suit. A splash of red from a carnation in his buttonhole. "Good morning." Darkglasses completely covered his eyes.

I'd sat up hurriedly. Maybe this was the answer. "Hello. Who..."

"I am not anything you know about," Mr R stated simply. "You never met me before I guarantee it. The mind," he tapped his temple. "Never forgets."

That was ages ago...

...right now I need to get on. I'll check in later.

Love,
Me

Wow.....my goodness! I love how this story is going!!! WOW!!! Can't wait to see more!!!

Scooter's Journal, train station, lunch time

I was in the train-station. I'd decided to leave, take the first train out of town to anywhere I knew. The first name that came to mind was Lealand...I'd been there by train many times. So I bought a ticket, got it stamped. The station-master was a mean looking man with bits of beard sticking from poke-holed skin and a squint. But he gave me a ticket, stamped it, and I found a place to sit until the train came.

There's something mysterious about train stations. Like you are about to meet someone, or like something important is about to rush by, a cliff-edge feeling. I stood up from my bench, and turned around.

And almost screamed -

That Other Journal, station, earlier

I lifted my cloak hood and let it fall forward over my face. I slipped arm-length gloves over my fingers, and over the sleeves of that t-shirt with double-length sleeves and a shadow-embossed coyote emblazoned on the front. My favorite t-shirt.

I stepped out of my car, and walked up the steps to the ticket-box. The man there was unpleasantly charming, a smile that showed browning roots of teeth. I paid for a ticket, and let it flutter from my hand to the ground as I walked towards the boy on the bench -

Scooter's Journal, train station, lunch time - con't

I don't know who she was. I don't know who she is. She stood there, face hidden, hands buried in silk gloves. When I got my breath back I managed to speak. "Uuh, hi."

She said nothing for a long ticking moment, then: "Hello."

"Hi," I repeated.

"Hello."

It was like one of those weird romance movie moments where all they can say is "Hello." Except, this was more like a thriller than a romance -

That Other Journal, station, whenever - con't

What was I supposed to say? I hadn't thought of that until he said "Hi!" And I was stuck with the choice of saying nothing and being either mysterious, or stupid. or just responding like a normal human being. Normal human over-ruled, apparently.

"Hello." Hello? What kind of greeting is that? From me to him!

What next then? You seem stressed, I need to train you, hurt you, and find out what you know about me? Yeah, that would work...no huh -

Scooter's Journal, train station, lunch time - con't

And then we stood there. And I heard the train coming, battering down the line, then brakes being applied, doors spoofing open, and highheels, boots, and men's shoes walking on the platform. We still stood still. People dispersed. The train pulled away, faster, faster, gone.

"Are you Clay?" I asked.

That Other Journal, station, whenever - con't

Clay. He caled me Clay... How? There was no way he remembered Clay and I didn't remember him! "I..." She stopped. "...am the person who is going...right now." I'd never been such an idiot. Never, ever, ever ever.

The boy, the man rather, blinked at me, his lids moving up and down once and twice, and, "My name's Scooter," he said. -

Scooter's Journal, train station, lunch time - con't

I told her my name. Didn't know her from Eve, and told her my name. "I'd really like to know yours, if you have a name?"

Her head bowed, shadow falling over more and more of her face until it dissapeared completly in blackness. "I'm sorry. I have to leave." She walked away. She was wearing dark-brown sandels. They stepped on an empty sweet wrapper, and dissapeared past the ticket-box.

I sat back down, mind whirling, and wrote this...

Ever...whoever she was I wanna know...
Scoot.

That Other Journal, station, whenever - con't

I found the car, pulled myself inside and started crying for all I'd lost. Tears trickleing through my shadow-paint, dropping down and dissapearing in my fur-cloak. Scooter, the name, means nothing to me. His face means everything. And he knew me...but not me...

I have to go. Have to get out of here.

Love,
Me

Oooh! You quoted my "The boy, the man" thing! Yey! It's true though, he is a man, but he is still very much a boy at heart. In my eyes anyway. Now there are several ways for this story to move now, and I have several of them fighting for prominence in my head right now. I know where it ends, I know how it moves, I know who Me is, but not the exact way that relationships and feelings and this story shall move! it's very exciting to me, and actually, I'm just thinking of adding a subplot or two about now.

Beau

Scooter's Journal, Lealand, three days later

The cafe owned by Mr Juhl is a perfect place to think, besides bookshops, cafes are sometimes the only places where you can get your head back on. After the encounter at the train station, I was totally phased for about an hour, even started back to the boarding house until I changed my mind and came here instead. Lealand, land of the swamps. Kermit's old home, and one I became familiar with over time.

Jerry Juhl, the cafe owner, was one of those kewl old men types, who can be old and yet young at once. He winked at a young, athletic female customer, and ducked into the kitchen, tying a "Kiss the Cook" apron around his waist.

Clay.

I don't know who she is because I couldn't see her face, and because I couldn't recognsie her name or her voice or anything about her. Yet, the more I thought of her...the more I think of her, the more I want to know who she is. Where she is. And if she is in trouble, I want to help her.

I have no phone number for her, no address, nothing. Just that letter. Assumeing it was from her.

I gotta go really...
Scoot

That Other Journal, there, then

Well, I chose a client. He rang up yesterday out of the blue saying that he saw my advertisement and wanted to find his true inner self. I grabbed my green sweater, and the legal docs and dashed out the house. He lived in an appartment in an appartment building that was a photocopy of every other appartment building in this town. He answered the door on the first knock in a bathrobe, which was unexpected. He quickley mumbled an appology and closed the door. I heard bolts. He returned after a moment dressed, just pulling a black t-shirt over damp dreads.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was showering."

"Oh. I didn't realise."

"No, no, it's fine. I'm respectable. Come in." He kicked old magazines aside, and made his way to a sofa. I stood near the door, with the documents. "You wanna take a look at these? Fill in the meds. I'll be back in a couple of days to collect them." I bent down, placed them on the floor, and backed out of the apartment.

On the way downstairs, I called Mr R. "Hey, I found a guy. He's cool, and I think he's serious. Send someone to fetch the documents, and I'll contact him when I'm ready," I said.

I'm smileing as I write this. I'm glad I found a client.

Now to see if I can juggle.

Love,
Me

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Note from the author: There will be an explaination very soon of who her clients are and how things work! Please be patient!

Interesting...... Real good... and interesting......

yes, I could use an explaination of this clients thing

i am very curious.....

Well, it's nothing improper I assure you.

Beau. Re. Gard. Holy mosquitoes. Wow and oy.

Let's start from here.

It happens to us all, he explained. "Longer in dog years of course..." That time where nothing makes sence.

That time where nothing makes sense? THAT TIME? I... think I may know of That Time. That struck me, very hard, I must say.

Also loved the whole thing with the dotting the upper-case I's with a little O, and Scooter subconciously immitating, and... I like that.

And the flipping back and forth between journals when they met was SO COOL! It's like, we see it, from both of them, at the same time, and- OH! Very cool.

And, pardon moi, but- SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Jerry's! Thank you!

And I'd say more, but I gotta go.

MORE PLEASE!!!!!!

Wow! I love this!! Strange....I can't wait to read more of it when you're ready Beauregard!

This is so interesting! It certainly got intense there with the exchange between Scooter and Clay (if that was her) and wow. These internal emotions that the characters are feeling, it's just amazing! Wow. More please!

Important Message to people reading this story:
Unfortunately Beauregard has lost the ability to log into MC. His story is on hold currently, and will be restarted once he is able to log back in again. Thank you, and goodnight.

His message to the readers:

"He thought he had it fixed...he thought his troubles were over...He was wrong..." Hi guys! I am stuck out of MC agaaaaaaaaain! Becuase of my darn silly laptop. So, I can't do more story!!! So hold onto your hats and seats and teddies till i get back!!! - Beau

Ahh...

Beau, let me paraphrase a message displayed at the end of the computer game King's Quest II: Romancing the Throne: To err is human, but to really foul things up takes a computer.

Ok! MC is stable right now! If I'm quick maybe I can post!

Another Journal, my appartment, today

Alright. Today is a good day according to my basic judgement of a good day. I got up, ate breakfast, went jogging, met a fa-hab-u-lous woman, and got to work at the theatre without too many distractions.

I decided to take the risk and call the number on that leaflet that got shoved through my letterbox the other day. I found it stuck hanging from the fluffy black bits on letterboxes that stop dog's biting a postman's hand off or something. It was half folded unevenly, and advertised an agency that would, "Take you to the edge, ride a thrill, and find peace, and find yourself using ancient and modern techniques." Sounds quite a trip.

People at the theatre, and fans of mine, don't quite get me sometimes. So, I might as well find my inner self. I gave her a call on me mobile. Twas a great idea. She came over, and left me some forms to fill in. Strangest questians though...

And then she was gone again in a flash, and there's the door closing in my face as I start to stand from my seat. I get the feeling she won't dissapear from my life that fast though...

See ya!