Work Text:
Long Road Home
by BJ
The radio was playing softly, and the windows were down as he traveled on the long two lane road. With all the dips and hills and tight turns it felt more like a kiddie ride in an amusement park than an actual highway. The kid in him couldn't resist ignoring the speed limit signs and hitting the bumps faster than recommended just to feel the 'air time.' He smiled, enjoying the momentary distraction. The need to play now satiated he slowed back down and studied his surroundings.
Historical markers dotted the landscape telling of this part of the state's long history. He loved U.S. history, but only a cherished few understood that about him, and he knew he'd have to take his time going home once his mission had been accomplished. Said mission, his lover, was one of those few, and he felt the welcomed flutter pass through his heart just thinking about the man. Somehow it fit that Logan would end up here. Grabbing the crumpled map from the passenger seat, and glancing at it, he knew he had to be getting close now.
Another mile down the road and he finally saw the familiar motorcycle leaning heavily on its kick stand by the side of the road. His lips tugged toward a smile at the warm pangs of comfort and love it sent through him. His heart rate picked up slightly as he eased off onto the shoulder behind it and turned off the engine of his sleek black mustang.
To his left, behind a sign proclaiming it's name and it's founding year, an old farmhouse sat back behind a cover of trees. It was barely visible even this close, as if it was holding onto it's secrets for a later time. In the field to his right he noticed a lone deer look up nervously then melt seamlessly into the forest beyond. Killing the lights and stepping from the car he rolled up his sleeves as he made his way down the soft slope of the shoulder, and stepped carefully around the ruins of an old stone wall.
It ran the length of an ancient farm road, through a line of trees, and on beyond his sight. He put his keys in his pocket and twisted his hair into a tail before moving to follow it. With no sign yet of Logan, his eyes turned back to the wall. Scanning down it's length, bordered on the outside by vibrant purple thistles and dainty Queen Ann's Lace, he found himself wondering about the hands that built it.
It seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him; an intricate puzzle fitted together, it seemed, with nothing more than sweat and blood and tears. There were places where it had fallen over, but most of those spots were now patched back up again. He stopped a moment to run his finger over a fairly clean spot of white cement. He shook his head softly, a little sadly, not like back in the old days.
His mind kept turning to his lover, unavoidably comparing him to the wall that was commanding his attention at the moment. He was allot like this old wall; ancient and endless, damaged then patched up, but still sturdy and strong. Logan was able to hold him tenderly in the silent peace of night as well as carry the weight of the entire team in the throes of a battle just as this old wall had carried the weight of hundreds of people over time. There was, he was certain, long history filled with wonderful bounty and devastating famine and drought here just as there had been in Logan's long life. His mind filled in giddy moments of pure joy as Logan told stories of remembered past, as well as tearful, barely whispered confessions deep in the night. It, and his lover, were perfectly beautiful and timeless in their own imperfect ways. A chill swept up his spine as unseen insects began to sing, and he moved on with more determination; he needed to find his
lover.
He walked on for nearly a mile before he finally saw the object of his search sitting on the edge of the wall staring out over the empty field. From here he could tell that the man was lost in thought, or memories, and slowed his steps to allow him time to put them away or inspect them more closely in the early morning light before he arrived by his side.
Remy spoke softly as he came to rest beside the other man, easing his weight down and stretching his long legs out in front of himself. "I woke up alone three days ago." He tried to catch his lover's eyes, "Care t' tell me why?" His words were conversational, not angry or threatening. He waited patiently for his lover to answer; he was in no hurry now that he knew the man was safe.
Listening to the bird songs and taking a deep breath he once again took in his surroundings. It was beautiful here... silent, peaceful. He wouldn't mind staying until the magic of the place was broken by the first true rays of the morning sun.
Logan stirred, broken out of his memories by the sound of his lover's voice. It always sounded like music to him, that voice, and he found it impossible to ignore. It touched a place deep inside of him as if it, among all the billions of other voices in the world, was speaking to his very soul. "I saw this place in a dream," he stated quietly, "It... it called to me, I had to find it, touch it..."
A hand brushed his skin, long fingers combed through his hair and he felt a band around his heart release. His eyes drifted shut and he leaned closer to the man seated beside him; his constant in a world full of broken memories and confusing dreams. The hand, familiar and solid, slid to his shoulder. "Tell me about it?"
"I was here when this wall went up. I think I helped build it. I remember..." he stopped, his memories weren't always reliable, his eyes slid to the side, found cherished black and red staring back, waiting... wanting to hear more. "This farm had been here at least 150 years, same family, long history..."
"Your history." There was a smile in the voice, pride, understanding... "Lets go find out more." Somewhere in the distance a rooster crowed; the sun finally broke over the distant mountains and the quiet magic of the place was broken. Remy leaned into Logan's side, stayed there a long moment, then stood pulling Logan's hand up with him.
Logan looked up into his lover's face from his seat on the wall, returned his gentle smile with a chuckle, "I don't know what I was thinkin' leavin' you behind."
"Was best f' you t' come here first, see what you needed to see."
Logan stood then and sighed, "It was good, the time I spent here. I don't remember it all, but I can still see a few ghosts." He smiled at the younger man knowing he'd want to hear those stories in great detail later. "I was happy here. I did good, honest work." He pointed toward the dirt road behind the wall, "I remember when that road was nothin' but wagon tracks. I remember at the end of a hard day always knowing this road would lead me home." He stepped closer to his boy, felt the comfortable weight of his lover settle into his arms and smiled as he tugged his hair gently, "Looks like it still does."
He spoke the words quietly but it didn't matter, they still found their way into the younger man's heart. "I'll always be at the end of your road home."
End
(Welcome to my new hometown. :) I drive past this farm everyday. I may come back and play with this more later. I really want to learn a little of its history first.)