Walk Away
by Eternal SailorM (Angel)
Archive: FanFiction.net, DarkMagick.net. Anywhere else, ask first.

SCENE I.

Scene. A bar, very late night, late winter/early spring. The bar itself is against stage right, with the door leading outside opposite it on stage left and a door to the backroom behind it. Several clean and bare tables sit around the floor. It’s almost empty, and the few people that are still there have either been there or other bars for quite some time. One man is asleep, curled up on a table in the far corner. Another is passed out at the bar itself, an empty glass clutched in his hand, wearing a long dark blue coat. On the other side of the bar, the bartender (Jay), a younger-looking man with an eyepatch left over from a particularly rowdy bar fight and dressed mostly in black and grey, has apparently given up trying to get the glass from the unconscious man’s hand and is wiping down the bar all around him. At a table towards the center of the stage, another man (Chris) sits. He’s wearing tight black pants that look like leather, but probably aren’t, and a long hunter green blazer that hides the white shirt he has on under it. A bottle of beer sits on the table before him, still full. He’s talking on a cell phone clutched in one hand and smoking the cigarette held in the other.

CHRIS: Yeah, thanks for help, Brad. You’ve been a lifesaver. *A long pause* I dread the thought. You’re a slave driver. *Another pause, this one shorter* Okay, okay, you’ve got a deal. And Brad? Thanks. *very unenthusiastically* I’ll... see you tomorrow then. Bye, Bradley. *hangs up the phone and places it on the table* *muttering* The things I do for you, Rana. *He takes a sip of the beer and nearly spits it back out* Hey, Jay!

JAY: *looks up, continues wiping the bar* What do you want now?

CHRIS: Something that isn’t hot or stale!

JAY: That’s what you get for talking instead of drinking. *He fishes out another cold bottle and brings it over to Chris* You’re going to be in debt soon, the way you keep wasting perfectly good beers. I hope she’s worth it. *walks back behind the bar again*

CHRIS: *takes a long drink* You and me both, Jay. You and me both.

JAY: Why do you keep doing this?

CHRIS: Hell if I know. She’s making me give up singing, take a desk job.

JAY: Why can’t you do both? Sing at night, desk job in the day?

CHRIS: When would I ever see Rana then?

JAY: When you do see her, all you ever do is fight.

CHRIS: *shrugs* What can I say? I think I might love the woman.

JAY: God save us all. The world is at its end. Just don’t trash my bar having another of your “spats,” okay?

CHRIS: I’m not the one who threw the barstool.

JAY: ... which have all since been nailed down. I swear that woman has the worst temper of anyone I’ve ever seen.

CHRIS: It can be pretty damn scary sometimes.

JAY: I bet, since it usually seems to revolve around you. *looks at something out the window* Heads up, Christian. She’s here.

CHRIS: Pass us another beer over here... then it might be wise to hide.

Jay hurridly brings a second beer over and starts toward the backroom, when Rana opens the door. She’s dressed in black slacks and a purple sweater top and a black trenchcoat that probably is real leather. She is a confident woman, and it shows in the way she bears herself, even in a bar at this time of night. She frowns slightly in Chris’s direction then turns towards where Jay is trying to escape and steps over to the bar, as far from the unconcious man as possible, purposely ignoring Chris for the moment.

RANA: Jay. Long time, no see. How’ve you been?

JAY: *turns and nervously smiles in her direction* I’ve been good, Rana. No complaints here.

RANA: That’s good. Can I have something to drink?

JAY: *even more nervously* Christian already bought you something. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to be... uh.... counting the till. *starts talking faster and bungles a few words* Yeah. That’s it. Counting the mill. See you around, Rana. If those two guys wake up, just kick them for me. Bye!

Jay disappears as quickly as he can through the door to the backroom, and Rana slowly turns to the table where Chris is sitting, still leaning against the bar. They stare at each other for a long, tension-filled moment.

CHRIS: *singing softly*
Some people lie,
and some people cry,
and some people just walk away.

Rana has walked over and sat in the empty chair across the table from him while he was singing, taking off and setting her jacket on the table behind her. She picks up the second beer and holds it in her hand, taking a small sip before speaking.

RANA: I hate that song, you know.

CHRIS: *still softly singing, apparently finishing the song’s chorus*
And love’s all that really matters
in this crazy little game called life.

RANA: You can be such a brat sometimes.

CHRIS: Well, I try. *lifts cigarette to his lips once more*

Rana plucks the glowing stick right from his lips before he can enhale and crushes it in the ashtray by her drink. He sputters a bit and glares at her.

RANA: You really shouldn’t do this to yourself, Chris.

CHRIS: I happen to like my nicotine, thank you very much.*starts to grab another cigarette out of the pack in his blazer pocket then stops* Thank you for coming down here tonight, Rana.

RANA: *takes a slow drink* I wanted to see what you had to say this time.

CHRIS: *deep sigh* I asked Brad to get me a job up in the Towers.

RANA: *coughing, sets the drink down hard enough to be clearly heard* You did what?

CHRIS: What? Doesn’t make you happy enough? Rana the Ice Princess won. AGAIN.

RANA: Oh, I’m happy all right. I just thought you swore you’d never give up singing.

CHRIS: So did I. *takes another long drink from his beer* So you’re happy I’m going to be saddled to an office job, like you and Brad?

RANA: A steady and assured income? Yes.

CHRIS: Bored out of my mind, you mean.

RANA: I just don’t like you living from gig to gig. If you can even get a gig.

CHRIS: I can always get a gig.

RANA: At some bar seedier than this one. *calls over her shoulder* Sorry, Jay!

CHRIS: Techno clubs.

RANA: Bars.

CHRIS: *muttering into his beer* Fine... Sometimes I think the only reason you keep me around is because I’m the only person who will argue with you.

RANA: *reaches over table and plucks an imaginary piece of lint off his blazer* Isn’t that like you always wearing the same jacket everytime we make up?

CHRIS: It’s my favorite jacket.

RANA: You wear it because you know I like it. At least better than your stage outfits.

CHRIS: Guess I should probably sell them, shouldn’t I?

RANA: *looks up sharply* What?

CHRIS: I’m not going to have much use for them anymore. But I guess I could always wear them out clubbing.

RANA: You’re pouting...

CHRIS: Damn straight, I am. You’ve already gotten your dream, Rana. You’re telling me to give mine up.

RANA: But isn’t there a music company in the Towers?

CHRIS: And my chances of getting in there at such short notice is exactly zip.

RANA: Well, maybe Brad and I can pull some strings.

CHRIS: *sounds shocked* Brad? Mr. Stick-up-his-ass himself? Pull strings? That’ll be the day.

RANA: Well, this is the night for firsts. Maybe something will happen.

CHRIS: Chances are better that the Towers’ll come down than Brad’ll risk his precious reputation for someone.

RANA: Even you?

CHRIS: *shrugs* Hey, we’ve only been friends since high school. If you think that matters, you don’t know Bradley Crawford very well.

RANA: We all knew each other pretty well in college.

CHRIS: *smiles faintly* *voice nostalgic* Those were the days, weren’t they? You, me, Brad, Kendra, Jay, Owen, and Naomi were quite the odd team, weren’t we?

RANA: You can say that again. Anyways, I’ll ask Kendra. She’s in the Towers too. Maybe she can come up with something.

CHRIS: Please, don’t put me in Kendra’s debt. I’d rather work here for Jay - No offense, Jay! - than be in that idiot’s debt.

RANA: She’s not an idiot.

CHRIS: She just walks into walls all the time.

RANA: So she’s a bit... clumsy. Doesn’t mean she’s an idiot! *stands up, apparently furious* Why do you always do this?

CHRIS: Do what?

RANA: Go out of your way to make me mad!

CHRIS: I didn’t know stating an opinion was a hostile action.

RANA: Chris -!

CHRIS: *calmly takes another sip of his beer* Just don’t try to throw the barstools again. Jay said he had to nail them down after last time. *looks down at beer* Damn.

RANA: You’re impossible! Why do I put up with you?!

CHRIS: *snags her beer and drinks out of it* Because you love me.

RANA: *collapses back in her seat, grabs her drink back, and gulps* You’re a bastard. You know that, right?

CHRIS: I know. That’s why you love me.

RANA: That, or I’m a masochist to put up with you.

CHRIS: A masochist? You? Not a chance.

They are quiet for a moment, not really looking at each other. The door to the backroom slips open, and Jay steps quietly out.

JAY: I heard screaming.

CHRIS: Nothing major, Jay. Can I have another drink?

RANA: *icily* Don’t you dare give it to him, Jay.

JAY: *nods slightly* So was it nothing major, Rana?

RANA: Just a little disagreement.

JAY: You said that last time, and it took me two weeks to repair the bar.

RANA: *looks a bit ashamed* Sorry about that. *stands again, this time picking up her jacket and folding it over her arm* I’d better be getting going. I’ll talk to Kendra tomorrow, Chris. Maybe we can get something worked out.

CHRIS: Call me tomorrow. Not -

RANA: Not before noon, I know. I know, Christian.

CHRIS: “Chris.”

RANA: *gestures towards Jay with her free arm* You let him call you Christian.

CHRIS: He could kick my ass. I’m not going to tell him no.

RANA: That’s true. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. *walks towards the door*

JAY: Pull the signs on your way out, please, Rana.

She nods slightly without looking back and pulls the cord beneath the neon sign as she walks out the door.

JAY: And you, Christian, have a huge tab to pay. *frowns a moment, looking at the other occupants of the bar* But I’ll cut it down if you’ll help me throw those yo-yo’s out.

CHRIS: You’ve got a deal.

The stage fades to black as they move to manhandle the sleeping drunks out of the bar.


Scene II.

Scene: On top of a tall building. City skyline in the backdrop. It’s the faint beginnings of light that signals early morning. As the scene progresses, the stage is progressively brightened as the day gets older. There are a few raised pieces of metal encasing various bits of machinery that are just low enough for someone to sit on. Two men stand on top of the building. One is dressed in a dark blue business “power” suit, wearing glasses and carrying a briefcase. (Brad) A few random sheets of paper are sticking out the top of the briefcase. The other wears blue jeans, a white shirt, and a long hunter green blazer. (Chris) A pack of cigarette peek out from the blazer’s right-hand pocket.

CHRIS: *leaning over and checking Brad’s watch* Do you think she’s going to show up?

BRAD: *voice of long suffering* This is all your own fault anyway.

CHRIS: But...

BRAD: Live with it. *starts to walk away, stops, turns back* For what it’s worth, I think she’ll show up. Rana was never the type to be late to anything.

CHRIS: *sounds like he’s remembering something in particular* Isn’t that the truth... Hey! What’s with the past tense?!

BRAD: *shakes head slightly and adjusts glasses* Just let me know how it goes, okay?

CHRIS: Will do.

BRAD: And I’ll be expecting to see you at work tomorrow. The rash excuse only works just so many times.

CHRIS: *shrugs* I’ll... tell them my pet monkey got sick.

BRAD: I’m glad I’m not the one who laid my ass on the line for you.

CHRIS: Cruel, Bradley.

BRAD: I hate to say it, but I can see why Rana dumped you.

Brad walks off-stage left, and a few seconds later, there is the faint sound of a door closing quietly. Chris sits down on one of the metal blocks, reaches in the right pocket of his blazer and fishes out a cigarette and lighter, and lights it up. It takes three tries for him to get a flame from the lighter, and even then it is barely enough to light the cigarette.

CHRIS: *looks down at it without smoking it yet* Rana would kill me if she saw me smoking again.

RANA: *from off-stage-left* It’s a bad habit, and you know it, Christian.

She slowly walks on stage, dressed in a maroon and violet dress suit. She looks like she should be on her way to a some sort of a corporate office job, not standing on the roof of a building in the early morning hours. She walks over to where Chris sits, plucks the cigarette from his fingers, drops it, and steps on it.

CHRIS: Damn it! That was my last one.

RANA: It’s just as well. You told me you were going to quit a long time ago. *She leans against the block Chris is sitting on.* So what did you call me up at eleven o’clock at night and beg me to meet you up here today for?

CHRIS: I wanted to talk about us...

RANA: There is no “us” anymore.

CHRIS: You have to admit we were good together.

RANA: *laughs quietly* We were good at fighting together, Chris. That’s about it. Even Kendra says a relationship can’t be built on just that.

CHRIS: *muttering* And Kendra’s an idiot.

RANA: *starts to get up* Now, if you’re going to insult my friends, I’ll -

CHRIS: *grabs her arm and holds her back* I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t say anything else about Kendra. I promise.

RANA: *stops trying to move away and Chris lets go of her arm* You promise? One more lie, and that’s it. *slumps against the block* I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Christian. I’m so tired.

CHRIS: I thought we were back to “Chris.” *slides an arm around her shoulders* You push yourself too hard, Rana.

RANA: *glances at his hand then over at his face* *dry voice* At least I go to work. How many days have you been to work this month anyway?

CHRIS: It’s still early!

RANA: *deadpan* How many, Chris?

CHRIS: Eight.

RANA: *stares and sounds impressed* Eight out of eleven? Not bad... Not bad at all. Not for you anyway.

CHRIS: *shrugs* If you say so. When did you get up here anyway?

RANA: Right when your friend was leaving. Chris, can you at least try to make it in this job? I called in every favor I had left to get you in there.

CHRIS: I’m working on it. I can say this for Kendra, though: she knows her stuff when it comes to music.

They are silent for a moment. The stage has now reached full-brightness. The backdrop is now recognizable as New York City. Skyscrapers loom in the background, none taller than the one they’re on and its twin beside it.

CHRIS: So does this mean there’s an “us” again?

RANA: *sigh* Yes, I suppose it does. This is your last “last chance,” though! Mess this up, and that’s it!

CHRIS: *pulls her into a loose hug* Of course, Rana.

RANA: *pulls away and stares at something over his shoulder, off-stage right* What’s that?

Sound of plane approaching. As Chris turns to look, the stage quickly goes black.

CURTAIN.


20 November 2001

Thank you, Goddess, I'm done!!!!

Cast:
Seen characters:
Jay = Farfarello (Jei... theatre debute)
Brad = Brad Crawford (Oooh... sculpted role?)
Chris = Schuldig (Thank Sidara-senpai for the name idea!)
Rana = Aya-kun/Ran in drag (ooh... can I keep?)
drunk guy sleeping on the bar = Yoji (where'd THAT come from?)

Unseen characters:
Kendra = Kenken in drag (can I keep?)
Owen = Omi-chan (ugh... this was the closest English name I could come up with)
Naomi = Nagi-chan in drag (This is wrong on many levels... And I thought little shota-Nagi was kawaii...)


Angel-chan: *pops up, entirely too happy* Yay!!! I finished!!! I finished!!! No more plays ever again!!!

Aya: You. Put. Me. In. Drag.

Schuldig: But you were cute in drag.

Ken: At least she didn't make you an idiot.

Crawford: It wasn't THAT far of a stretch.

Ken: Hey!!!

Aya: You. Put. Me. In. Drag.

Nagi: *looks up from necking Omi* You're not the only one, you know.

Farfarello: *looks up from garbage disposal* Are we done hurting God?

Angel-chan: *nods happily* 'Fraid so, Farf. Maybe Crawlie can think of a few new ways to hurt God, but personally, I'm just gonna go finish Kizuna.

Farfarello: Yaoi hurts God a LOT... That's what Schuldig says anyway.

Schuldig: *looks up from trying to snuggle on Aya* Well, it does. Doesn't it, Ran-chan?

Aya: *snorts and turns a bit red*

Omi: *looks up from necking on Nagi* Oooh... Schuldig's copping a feel!

Angel-chan: *whips out a big bag of popcorn* Hot damn, this is gonna be better than I thought! Someone wake Yoji up, and let's go watch Kizuna


Thank you, gods...

THE END.