Dane stood there, listening, but his mind wandered. Something in his heart felt hollow, just a bit, just enough to feel it. He kept trying to remember who she was. he could see her face clearly, he knew her from his memories, and that beach, that sunset...it had happened. He remembered the date clearly, and he remembered driving up there, and laughing about some joke...he remembered it all so clearly.
But he couldn't remember her name. It haunted him, because he could hear her voice, her laughter, he could even remember her smell, her taste...
But not her name.
He looked up at Doc, trying to keep focused, and heard his words. As he left, Dane turned to Reggie and shrugged.
"Tomorrow morning, i guess we'll go over some things. I need a suit, and time to gather my thoughts. More then that, i need food - Im gonna grab a bit, and get some more sleep, if i can..."
He let out a deep breath, ambling toward the cafe bar. Pulling up the menu interface, flipping through screens, his mind thousands of light years away, years in time, on a golden beach, a sunset in the background, and laughter...
He was halfway between looking at a plate of spare ribs, over wondering about pasta, when it hit.
The hollow ache turned into a wave, and he remembered...
He shut his eyes, but still couldn't stop the rush that flooded them. The feel of heartbreak was crushing, and he remembered. he remembered everything about it.
He remembered how he said he had loved her. He remembered her saying it to him.
And he remembered every thing he did, every wrong word, every single fight, every single lonely night, and all the times he cried, all the times he raged...
He remembered how she stopped saying it, and how the days grew longer, into weeks, until they grew into months.
He remembered how she was gone.
...and that his first love song, to her, couldn't bring her back...
"Hey, you OK kid?" Norman asked
"Yeah" Dane said, letting out a held breath, opening his flooded eyes, trying to hide them, too ashamed to show them, wishing he was in the middle of an open field, a thousand miles from anyone or anything.
"Ill have this" he pointed to a basket of fried chicken, "...and a bottle of bourbon, please."
Norman nodded, concerned, sparing a glance toward where John had left. "Ok kid...chicken and bourbon comin' right up."
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