Meme [Meta for Choices 'verse, as Adam doesn't actually have computer with him, atm]

TEN things you wish you could say to TEN different people right now: (these are Choices 'verse, the rest are pretty open to any 'verse)
1. I miss how certain of everything you made me.
2. I'm afraid of your ability to walk away.
3. I appreciate the way you let me be myself more than I can say.
4. I love you so much it terrifies me.
5. If you hurt her the way you hurt me, I'll kill you.
6. I'll always be here for you, no matter what.
7. I hope he appreciates how lucky he is.
8. I sometimes wonder if we understand each other too well to ever fully trust one another, or if we trust one another, because we know how rare an opportunity this is.
9. I think you're an extraordinary girl in ways that have nothing to do with your ability.
10. Don't get in my way again, and we'll get along fine.

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[TM] 304. What are you hiding from?

The cabin was an exercise in beautiful simplicity, perched on the edge of Lake Superior with its own beach and an unobstructed view of the expanse of water and, at this angle on a slight peninsula, both sunrise and sunset. There was no one else around for miles, no sounds but those of the water and those animals and birds still around. It wasn't winter, yet. Temperatures during the day were in the mid-50s, dropping to the upper-30s at night. The leaves had changed, though, into brilliant scarlet, yellow and orange, holding on to the branches of the trees with a fierce tenacity against the Lake winds which Adam had to respect.

He'd stocked up in Marquette with plenty of food and firewood. The cabin had central heat, but the wood fire at night made him smile, even though the expression was darkened by a wistful hauntedness. There had been another cabin near here, once upon a time. Not this one, full of its modern conveniences, however rustic. No, that one had been far more primitive. Just two rooms--a main one where they cooked and lived, and a smaller one for the bedroom, and to have the two was quite the luxury. It had taken him the whole summer to build, and he'd started to worry as the leaves changed that he wouldn't get the roof done and watertight before the snow started to fly. He had, but only just, and a good thing, too, as their first winter here had been colder than any in a decade. They hadn't minded, though, tucked away in their snug home, with plenty of game still around to be hunted, and plenty of wood to burn for heat.

Sitting out on the porch, sipping a cup of coffee, staring out over the water, Adam wondered if that was what had driven him here again. He hadn't been to this part of the country in 160 years. Even when he lived in Chicago in the 20s, he never ventured up here. It hadn't really been a conscious choice, not a decision that it was too soon or that he couldn't handle it or that he didn't need it or any sort of thing. Maybe subconsciously he'd been avoiding it, aware that the man he was chilling into was not one of which she would have approved. Maybe he just couldn't bear the contrast of lives. Maybe...maybe a lot of things, he thought, taking another sip of his coffee.

Whatever the reason, then, he was here now, pulled over the highway, through roads he'd never traveled to a city that had been just a village for mining concerns the last time he was here. It had grown, but not to really anything of any size compared to real size. Less than 25,000 people, it was still a good place to find the silence to get lost in for a while.

He'd run. There wasn't really any way to dress that up to make it seem better, he had to admit. He could say he needed to think, say he needed some space, say he needed to find himself, his purpose, his clarity, again, but really, he could have done it far better. No one would have begrudged him that, had he thought to tell anyone, but he'd just gone. Given it to do again...he didn't know that he'd do any differently. It was quiet here, he had his space and his silence, but his head was still too full and he was still torn. He couldn't remember when he'd been this torn, caught between who he was and who he presented himself as trying to be.

All his talk about making sacrifices for the greater good, and he couldn't even figure out what that was, anymore. He asked the world to sacrifice--then shouldn't he? Or when it came down to it, was he unwilling to make the necessary concessions when it was his own happiness and well-being at stake? Did he lack the power of his convictions when truly put to the test? It was a galling thought, making his stomach burn. It wasn't just about love and sex and who was fucking whom--the fate of the world was at stake, and here he was having a fit of jealousy, and pulling punches because of what people might think of him, because he might end up alone if he did what needed doing, or even what he wanted to.

It was pathetic.

Because if that were true, if he were so easily willing to toss aside the ideas, the goals he'd clung to for so many years, for the sake of a smile...what did that make him? Not some visionary, not some grand hero, no mythic figure with a destiny waiting to be fulfilled. It meant he was still just that guy, needing desperately to be loved, to be accepted, to be thought to be something more than he really was, hiding behind some grandiose mask, but, in the end, standing in the woods, watching his world fall apart.

And that realization was unacceptable.

[TM] 305. Write about something you've outlived.

Dueling.

It really was a wonderful practice. You had a dispute with someone; you challenged them; you fought it out; you settled it. If they ended up dead, but it had been a fair fight, so be it. All right, some places technically outlawed dueling and you could be arrested for it, but it still wasn't murder. After all, the other guy had a weapon, too, and a chance to use it, and you took the risk of injury or death. Or, well, you know, most people did. Admittedly, I had an advantage in the whole process, but that's not really the point. It was trial by combat and a gentlemanly way to avenge one's honor or deal with a grudge. There were rules, codes of conduct. It wasn't some brawl where you had to watch your back after.

Even in the West, it continued in its own way, though a bit more deadly, with gunfights. Two men decide to fight it out in the street, both of them armed, and one of them falls in a fair fight? No one was getting strung up that day--you settled things, you went your way, no need to sue anyone or get anyone else involved.

But now we're so "civilized." We ask the courts to settle our disputes. We fight through lawyers and paperwork and use money and time and no one really winds up satisfied in the end. There's always the argument that someone got cheated, still, or the jury was rigged or the lawyer dropped the ball. And if two people decided to fight it out and one of them ends up dead--even though he had just as much chance, or agreed to the fight, or even started it--the other could wind up in jail. There's no respect for the centuries of precedent of people settling their own problems. Big Brother is watching us all, and it really is a shame.

[TM] 306. How far would you be willing to go to prove a point?

I suppose, ultimately, that depends on just how attached to the point I was. Is it worth the time and energy to try and prove it? Do I really give a damn about convincing the person I'm arguing with? Does the person just need to be firmly put in their place for their arrogance or stupidity? Or, alternatively, is it in my best interests to maybe give in, and seem to accept their point of view for the moment in order to gain something greater down the road? Is the point one I believe in firmly, which I'm attached to and unwilling to bend on?

So many variables, but--how far would I be willing to go to prove a point that I believed in firmly to a person I really felt needed to understand the point, or to be put in their place?

That's easy. As far as it takes.

Adam/Peter table for un_love_you

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