lee_fallon | PSL - Private Debut

As a city at its core, Minneapolis isn't all that different from Atlanta or Boston or Denver. The sizes of the buildings aren't the same, the placement of the parks are varied, but a busy street is a busy street, and Lee doesn't feel any more or less at home here than he has anywhere else he's lived.

The clinical trial he's in started yesterday. It was the standard affair: fill out forms, sign consents, meet with nurses, get jabbed by needles. The IV catheter is the same generic style they use in every hospital and outpatient facility Lee's ever been to, the chairs just as uncomfortable. It's another beige room in a long line of beige rooms, permeated with the smell of antiseptics, occupied by empty-eyed, grey-skinned people staring through each other, everybody with one foot in the grave.

There's one woman who wears pastels and laughs too loudly at everything, but at least she seems happy. She's also young, younger than Lee, and he feels a sharp twist of sympathy for her. She's latched onto an older gentleman whose wife drops him off in a black Town Car with a brown bag lunch and a thermos. There's an investment banker who comes in his business suits, a carpenter who was a roofer before his diagnosis, an aging former model, and an angry blonde woman who nearly hit Lee with her car in the parking lot yesterday morning. These are his classmates; they'll see each other two hours a day, five days a week for three months, and then probably never speak to each other again.

Lee walks to the clinic today, rather than running in. He hates admitting defeat, especially with only two months of training left before the New Year's Eve Marathon, but the drugs he got yesterday seem to have sapped some of his energy, made him jittery enough that he hardly slept. After he's done today he plans to go visit the acupuncturist he found nearby, get a treatment and see about acquiring some Chinese herbs to help him sleep.

After signing in, Lee's lead to his chair, settled, and plugged into his IV. It's old hat at this point, his veins ready for the needle, his brain prepared to gear down while he sits through the session. Leaning back, he pulls his iPod from his pocket and slips the earbuds in, finding his playlist of modern violin tracks. As soon as the music starts, he lets his eyes fall closed, focusing on his breathing – in through his nose, out through his mouth – bringing his heart rate down and his focus into his breath.

He's lost track of time when his music stops playing. It doesn't feel like he fell asleep, but it's odd that he hasn't heard from a nurse, or had anyone come to check on him. Opening his eyes, he finds he's no longer in the clinic. Instead he's seated on a bench out front of what appears, upon quick investigation, to be some kind of public ice rink. His IV has been removed, but otherwise he has everything he should have on him: his keys, his wallet, and his mp3 player.

It's chilly out, mid forties maybe, and goosebumps rise on Lee's arms immediately, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He rubs at his forearms as he stands, looking around, heading toward the first person he sees, a boy who is exiting the building behind him.

"Excuse me," he says to them, holding up a hand. "Can you tell me where I can catch a cab?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'd decided to slip in some puck handling work in my practice today and, while I've taken to storing my skates, helmet, and gloves at the rink, my stick won't quite fit in the small locker I'm renting. Plus, it's in desperate need of re-taping.

So it and my backpack of sweaty clothes clothes are all I'm carrying as I step out into the cool November air. My cheeks are still flushed from skating and I nuzzle down into the collar of my coat as the door closes behind me. Funny how the chill never really bothers me when I'm on the ice, but the second I step outside, I suddenly can't help missing Georgian winters.

With my earbuds stuck firmly in my ears and Nicki Minaj filling my eardrums, I nearly miss the guy trying to get my attention as I start heading for my apartment.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry," I tell him, pulling one free. I recognize his face immediately from the fall festival. And from the internet, of course. He looks a little different than the last time I saw him, though, his hair much shorter and face a good deal more gaunt. Immediately, I wonder if he got stuck in that other Darrow as well with much, much worse results.

Frowning at his question, I shake my head. "Uhm... probably just about anywhere, I'd imagine," I tell him. If I'm honest, I've only seen a cab in Darrow once or twice, the city not exactly big enough to warrant a need for very many. "Are you lost? I can try to help you find where you need to go if you want. Goodness, aren't you cold?"

"I think I am lost, yes," Lee replies, feeling more confused by the minute. He certainly doesn't know where he is, though he's new enough to Minneapolis that it's not surprising, and he's not sure how he ended up here either. Weirder, though, is the way this young man is looking at him, like he knows Lee somehow.

"I'm new to town," he says, wrapping his arms around his torso as he begins to shiver a little. "I don't actually know how I got here. Do you happen to know how far we are from the Riverside Clinic?"

Oh, new. It's impossible to tell just how new - if he means he's been here a few days and still doesn't really know the lay of the city or if he's brand, brand new. Either way, it's obvious this isn't the man I met at the fall festival at all.

"I don't, I'm sorry," I tell him, shaking my head as I tug off my coat and hand it over, slipping my phone out of the pocket first, stick resting against my shoulder. "Here, put this on and I'll look it up." The cold is a little biting against my sweaty skin but after my skate, my blood's still warm on the inside for the most part so I barely shiver at all as I quickly type 'Riverside Clinic' into my phone's GPS, my frown deepening when I don't get any results. "You're sure that's the name of it?"

"Pretty sure," Lee replies, and he wants to tell the young man not to give him is coat, but he doesn't give Lee a chance to say anything, going right into his phone to check the map for the clinic. He pulls the jacket on, and while the sleeves are several inches too short, the rest fits better than Lee had expected.

"I'm from New Orleans," Lee explains, grateful for the extra warmth. "It's probably about 80 degrees there right now. Though it was warmer than this when I got to the clinic earlier," he goes on, shivering as a little gust of wind blows by. "I didn't realize the weather was so bipolar in Minnesota."

Minnesota. Oh dear.

I suppose that confirms my suspicions at least. Letting out a soft sigh, I pocket my phone before looking at him again, bracing myself for having to be the bearer of what is going to be some very confusing news for him.

"It's not, actually," I tell him. "Or, well. I guess it could be, but I've never been there myself so I can't really say. But you're not there at the moment. In Minnesota. You're in a town called Darrow and, unfortunately, there really isn't any way to get back to where you were. I'm sorry."

Lee opens his mouth, then closes it again, considering the young man's words. "I'm sorry, you said Darrow?" he repeats, and he wonders for a moment if maybe he's still asleep, or if the drugs are doing funny things to his head.

"What state are we in?" he asks when he realizes that he'd only heard the city name. "I've never heard of Darrow," he explains, his tone gentle and not at all accusatory.

"It sounds completely crazy, I realize," I tell him, grimacing in sympathy. "As far as I know we're not really in any state or country or even any particular world. There's just Darrow. People just sort of, uhm... arrive here. I've only been here a few months myself but I know people who've been here for years. And we can't leave."

Everyone has a different reaction to arriving here, I've discovered and, so far, I'm relieved to see that this man doesn't appear to be reacting with aggression at all. He still looks confused and I absolutely can't blame him for that, but he at least doesn't appear to want to punch me.

"Here, uhm. I can take you to train station. There should be an envelope at the information desk there that will-- well, it won't really explain everything, but it's more likely to help you believe me."

It'll be a long walk without my coat, but I'd like to think I can fare okay after surviving a Massachusetts winter.

The information is overwhelming, and Lee doesn't know what to say for several minutes, just looking at the young man's earnest face, his expression sympathetic and maybe a little afraid, worried about the bad news he's delivering.

In the long run, no matter where he is, Lee probably doesn't have much more than months. Even if this latest clinical trial had helped, it was only going to add weeks to his life, not years. He's spent the last few years of his life systematically separating himself from people, from things, ridding himself of attachments. There's nothing he had in Minnesota or Louisiana that he needs, nothing to miss, not really. And there's still a chance this is just a dream, or a hallucination. He's learned how to let fate carry him; he won't fight it now.

"How far is the train station?" he asks, blinking his eyes into focus on the young man's face.

It's not the first question I'm expecting from him if I'm honest and I have to think about it for a second.

"It's a ways," I tell him with a slightly apologetic smile, but I start walking, hoping he'll follow. "Probably won't take more than a half hour or so to get there, though. You'd think with a train bein' here, there'd be a way out, but trust me, I've tried it. I've tried almost everything I can think of, in fact, and I know a lot of people who've tried even harder, but no one's been able to figure it out. Oh!"

I stop my quiet babbling when I spot a familiar-looking manila envelope balanced precariously atop a fire hydrant. Glancing back over my shoulder for only a second, I reach over to take it, scanning the scrawl on the front before I look up at him. "Well, the good news is we don't have to walk all the way to the train station," I tell him with a strained sort of smile as I hold the envelope out to him. "The bad news is this is gonna look probably a little creepy. Your name's Lee Fallon, right?"

Again, Lee wants to protest taking the young man's jacket, especially now if they're going to be walking a ways. But he doesn't get the chance to say anything about it, the boy turning and heading in what Lee assumes is the direction of the train station, chatting along. He's telling Lee about how it's impossible to leave this place, and about all the people who have tried, and Lee really wonders if he hasn't had some kind of unfortunate brain event because the whole thing sounds totally insane.

But then the young man stops abruptly, and a moment later hands Lee an envelope with his name written on the front, and Lee thinks maybe he died and this is some strange manifestation of the afterlife. "Yes, that's my name," he says, and his fingers feel a little numb when he takes the envelope in hand.

Turning it over, Lee opens the envelope and looks inside. There are a variety of contents, paper and a little stack of paper money, a set of keys, and a plastic card. He takes the card out and finds that it's an ID with his name (his full name, one that almost nobody knows) and an address for him in this city called Darrow.

"How..." is all he can say, his eyes fixed on his picture on the ID card, wearing the clothes he's in right now.

Stepping back to give him room, I watch as he carefully opens the envelope and peers inside. I already know the sorts of things he's finding, of course, having gotten an envelope of my very own a few months ago. It's pretty strange to watch even from this side of things and, not for the first time, I find myself wondering why we've all been brought here, for what sort of purpose.

I suppose it's the same purpose we're born to begin with. Somehow, there's just something that feels a lot more... I don't know, manipulative about this place.

"Like I said, creepy," I tell him with an apologetic grimace. Pulling out my wallet, I show him my own ID card which sports a picture I never remember having been taken of me in my full Samwell gear. Well, everything but the helmet. "There should be a card in their with the address of your new apartment and a map. If you want, I can walk you there. When I first got here, I terrified that there'd be a murderer waiting for me in my closet, but I promise it's safe."

Though I still can't blame him if he doesn't believe me. I certainly hadn't believed anyone when I first arrived; I'd just assumed everyone was the product of a concussion-induced coma dream. (And sometimes I'm still not sure that isn't the case.)

Lee looks at the young man's ID and it's identical to his own, save for the picture, name, and address, of course. Lee notices that the boy's name is Eric, and it feels better to know that, at least. He's trying very hard to not panic, because it won't help for him to do it, and he doesn't want to scare Eric, though he seems ready to expect just about anything.

"If it's not far, I'd appreciate the help," Lee replies, going back into the envelope to find the card with his address on it. "It says Ocean View Apartments," he says as he reads, and it all still feels like ridiculous dream, having an apartment in his name in a city that doesn't really exist. "Do you know how far away that is?"

"I've never been there, actually," I tell him, shaking my head before glancing down at the envelope again as he hands me back my ID. "There should be a map in there though. The whole town really isn't that big so wherever it is, I don't mind walking with you."

I start walking as he digs out the map, mostly to try to keep myself warm since the chill is starting to break through. "So, you're from Minnesota?"

Lee places the card with his address and the plastic ID back into the envelope and finds the map, pulling it out. Unfolding it, he starts to look over the names on the buildings, trying to figure out where Ocean View Apartments is located.

"I'm from Louisiana, actually," Lee tells Eric as he takes a few fast steps to catch up to him, trying to study the map and walk at the same time. "New Orleans. I was only supposed to be in Minnesota temporarily, for a few months. I actually just moved there about a week ago."

Still scanning the map, he finally finds his building. "Hold up," he says, reaching out to touch Eric's shoulder. "Is there only one bridge across this river?" he asks, showing the map to Eric and pointing at a landmarked labeled Haight Street Bridge.

"Oh, I'm from Georgia!" I reply, unable to hide my excitement as he hurries to catch up. "I've only been to New Orleans once though, a few years ago. Such a beautiful city. What were you doin' in Minnesota?"

I trail off with my question as Lee slows to a stop, shivering just a little as I stop myself to face him and then frowning down at the map.

"It is, yeah," I tell him, glancing from where Lee's pointed to the area marked Ocean View Apartments. "Goodness, that's farther than I thought. Uhm. Well, I live here at Chelsea Cloisters," I tell him, pointing it out on the map. "If you wouldn't mind, we could swing by there real quick so I can grab myself a coat. And if you're hungry I have a few leftover lemon muffins that need eating."

Lee wondered when he might have to field a question like this, and he cringes internally. He doesn't like lying, but he made a deal with himself that he wouldn't burden people with his illness, and the last thing he wants is to bring down the mood of this delightful young man who is very thoughtfully and selflessly helping Lee with his current predicament.

Luckily Eric stops and moves in to look at the map with Lee, and he decides he can probably let the question drop in favor of figuring out their travel strategy.

"I would feel a lot better if you had a coat," Lee agrees, still feeling guilty about the fact that he's wearing Eric's jacket while Eric shivers softly in the cold. "And if you'd rather not walk me all the way over, I completely understand," he goes on, not wanting to take advantage of Eric's kindness. "I would really enjoy one of those muffins, though, either way," he adds with a smile.

"No, I'll walk with you! Believe you me, I know how intimidating this city can feel and I don't have anywhere else to be for a couple hours."

With one last glance at the map, I start walking again, making sure I haven't left him behind on accident. "A coat would be nice though. It's really starting to get chilly here. I suppose might not get as cold as what you've seen in Minnesota so far, but this is only my second really cold weekend and I'm afraid I haven't quite gotten used to it yet."

Lee follows Eric along, a little surprised he has to walk as quickly as he does to keep up, as small as Eric is. He's certainly full of energy.

"Well, you're warm blooded," he says, pushing his hands into his jeans pockets as they walk. "I doesn't seem to matter how long I'm out of Louisiana, I've never gotten used to the cold."

"I really don't mind the cold," I say, smiling over at him when he hurries to catch up with me. I'm probably walking a little faster than I normally would, but the sooner we get back to my apartment, the sooner I'll get to being warm again. "I used to play ice hockey and figure skate so I'm pretty used to chilly air. But indoor ice is still different from bein' out in it, you know? I remember goin' to my rink back home in shorts and a tank top!"

Though I know that Lee probably isn't exactly comfortable with being here yet, he certainly seems a lot calmer about the situation than I would've expected. I hope that's a good sign and not an indication that the panic will hit later when I'm not around. I'd hate for him to have to sit through that alone.

"I've never been ice skating," Lee tells Eric as they walk briskly toward the bridge, Lee counting the blocks down in his head as they go. They're only a couple of blocks away from Eric's apartment now, and Lee's glad. He still can't believe he's taken a coat from a kid. He's going to find some way to thank Eric as soon as he figures out what the hell he's doing here.

"I'm more of a runner than anything else," he says, trying to carry the conversation. "At least I have been the last twelve years or so. I swam in college."

"Oh, I should introduce you to my friend, Thomas!" I tell him, perking up a little and glad to find a common thread in the conversation to distract me from the chill.

"He runs every single day. Sometime we go together, but I'd much rather just go to the rink myself. That's actually where I was just before I ran into you," I tell him, holding up my stick as though in explanation. "Sometimes I just go in to skate, but today I decided to do some puck handling. Not that it matters I guess since I'm not on a team anymore, but it's fun. Why did you stop swimming? Was that just a college thing?"

"I'd like that, to meet your friend," Lee replies, and he realizes that he's never really had a running buddy before, mostly because he does his training in cities where he doesn't know anyone.

"I'm not sure why I stopped swimming," he says, answering Eric's question as they turn and cross the bridge over the river. "I think I got burnt out. We swam doubles every day but Wednesday and Friday, and Wednesday we did a dryland session instead," he explains, thinking back to those days, about how all he felt like he was doing was swimming and homework and working in the bar.

I make a mental note to introduce them once Lee feels a little more settled. Sometimes the only things that get me through being stuck in this place are the friendships I've made and Thomas is one of the best ones I have here. And I have no doubt at all so far that he'll like Lee.

"Oh wow, that is a lot of practice!" I agree with a nod. "I was on the hockey team back home and we had practice almost every day. Plus, my captain would take me out in the mornings to help me with checking. It could get pretty grueling sometimes. You know, there's a pool at the rink I go to here," I tell him, gesturing back the way we came. "I've never been in myself, but it looks nice from the outside."

Lee smiles at Eric's enthusiasm. He clearly finds excitement in all areas of life, which is definitely something Lee envies in him. He also talks a mile a minute, something Lee thinks is both endearing and adorable.

They're really close to Eric's building now; Lee can see the sign from where they are. "A pool," he repeats, following Eric as he turns down the path toward the building's front door. He hasn't swam much (outside dips in the ocean) in several years, but the idea of going here sticks in his head. If he's going to be in this strange place, he's going to need to find things to keep himself busy. He can think of worse things than swimming.

"I might have to give it a look," he says. "Once I get a swimsuit," he adds with a laugh, remembering all he has here is the clothes he's currently wearing and the contents of his creepy envelope.

"There's a beach, too," I tell him as I push open the door to my apartment complex, holding it open for him to follow me inside before heading toward the elevator. The warmth of the inside is an immediate relief and shiver a little as I struggle to get used to it. "Obviously, it's a bit too cold for a visit right now, but I went once this summer and it was pretty nice."

That's the day I'd met Derek, actually. He'd been so nice to me right from the start even though I'd just stared at him babbled.

"And a swimsuit won't be hard to find here. There's a sporting good store I can recommend and you can order almost anything you'd like online. Don't ask me how packages get here from the outside world, but they do. Unfortunately, I don't think we can mail anything out. I tried once. The box just came back all busted up. So what is it you were doing in Minnesota? Was it a business trip thing?"

Lee feels something light up in him when Eric mentions the beach. He's lived close to the ocean most of his life, and even though being on the beach is what's slowly killing him, it holds a very special place in his heart. He makes a mental note to go see Darrow's beach once springtime rolls around. Of course, based on the last scan he had, he's not sure he'll make it that long. Still, it's a nice thought, something to keep him going.

Lee smiles as Eric chats all the way up to his apartment, giving Lee information but not giving him a moment to comment on any of it. It's cute, and Lee decides he really likes Eric. He sort of reminds Lee of his little brother, but much more southern.

When Eric does stop talking, it's because he's asked Lee a question that's difficult to answer. He doesn't lie as a rule, but being honest here would be exceptionally heavy. Once he'd decided he wasn't going to tell his family he was sick, he's mostly kept it a secret from anyone he meets who isn't also involved in treatment. It's easier that way. And Eric is so sweet, Lee's sure he'll go about trying to do something for him, even though Lee knows there's already nothing that can be done.

"Something like that," Lee answers with a smile, deciding to just to give a vague, non-answer. "Is this your place?" he asked, changing the subject as they stopped at a door with the number 13 on it.

Lee doesn't answer right away and I'm pretty sure it's because I've barely given him a chance to get a word in edgewise. I'd feel worse about it if he wasn't smiling or seemed at all irritated, but his expression is still kind and as the elevator dings to let us out on my floor, he speaks again.

We're at my door in no time and I nod as I pull out my key to let us in. "If you don't feel comfortable stepping into the home of a complete stranger, I totally understand, but you're definitely welcome. I just need to drop off my stick and grab a coat real quick and we can be off. If you'd like, I can make you a cocoa or some tea, though."

I'm already halfway through my living room, still talking as I rest my stick against the side of the couch and grab my only other jacket from the hall closet. "And I wasn't kidding about those muffins. If you want one, please please have one. I'll never be able to eat them all myself."

The longer Lee spends with Eric, the more he likes him. He's kind and generous and sweet and Lee's not sure how things are going to go in this place, but he's already starting to feel protective of Eric. He reminds Lee just a little of his younger brother, and he has a pang of regret that he might not see Henry ever again. Though, he reminds himself, that might still have happened if he'd stayed in Minneapolis.

"A cup of tea would be wonderful," Lee says, thinking about how nice the hot mug would feel in his hands. "And I would love a muffin," he goes on. "We could use a few minutes to warm up a little."

"Tea it is then!" I say, grinning wide as I pull my jacket out of the closet and drape it over the back of a chair. Hurrying into the kitchen, I fill my little electric kettle with water and let it start boiling before grabbing two tea packets. Nodding over at the little tupperware full of lemon muffins, I tell him, "Please feel free to help yourself. The water shouldn't take too terribly long to boil."

Resting back against the counter, I take a breath then and get a better look at him. He really does look so much like that man I'd met at the festival. I know why now, of course. But I wonder if maybe I should warn him.

"So I feel like I should give you a better explanation of this place, but I'm not too sure where to start," I admit with a soft laugh. "I've only been here a few months myself so I'm definitely not an expert of any sort."

Lee pops open the container of muffins and takes one out, peeling off the wrapper. They smell amazing.

"It seems like a strange place," Lee says, breaking off a piece of muffin and popping it into his mouth. They taste better than they smell, and Lee hums at how much he likes them. "Based on what I saw in the envelope it looks like I have a bank account. Is that how we pay our rent here?" he asks, licking some crumbs off his thumb.

Lee takes a bite of one of the muffins and it's hard not to smile at the open approval on his face. Of course, he could be playing it up, just want wanting to be nice, but I like it all the same.

"There should be a little over a grand there already," I tell him, resting back against the counter. "Or at least there was when I got here. And every month, we get about that much to pay for rent. I have no idea where the money comes from, but we all get that same amount. For me, that's just enough to make rent with a little bit left over, which is why I decided to get a job on top of it. Well, that and I was getting bored."

Lee nods, taking another bite of his muffin. It tastes really good, the lemon flavor bright and fresh, and he thinks he might have to have at least one more of them before they leave to walk to Lee's apartment.

"Where do you work?" Lee asks, curious what sorts of jobs people get when they come here, if they're the normal sort of thing or if there's something specialized for this city and its unique populace.

"At the moment, I have two jobs," I tell him, plunking each tea bag into a mug and pouring out the hot water once the kettle flips green. "I work full-time as a waiter-slash-entertaining at The Enchanted Forest of Pizza which is just as terrible as it sounds. But I also work two days a week baking at my friend Derek's bar. He actually just offered to hire me on full-time though and I start that next week!"

It's hard to keep the excitement out of my voice, even now. I've had so long to get used to the idea, but it still floors me for some reason. I'm going to be making a living baking. I still can't really believe that people actually want to pay money for what I make, much less enough to actually sustain me.

"You should swing by there sometime," I tell him, handing over his tea even though it's still steeping. "If you let me know you're in, I'll sneak you a free slice of pie."