Frank takes a walk.
Oct. 17th, 2006 11:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
frankmartinAfter spending a little over two weeks in and around the bar, bound, it finally occurred to Frank that it might be a good idea to go outside and get some exercise, even if it was just walking. He'd been outside, yes, but never far from the bar - just in case he got outside and it vanished on him.
The bar didn't seem to be going anywhere though.
At least being away from home and from everything he would usually do gave him time to think. Home. That was a strange word to use. London was and wasn't home. It was where he had grown up. It was where he lived now. Was it really home? A place he belonged? Frank wasn't so sure. Miami had been nice, but again, that wasn't home. It had never been home - he had only been there to do a favour for a friend and to give himself some time to think about what he was doing.
Something he hadn't really managed in Miami. Or really in London.
Marseilles came closest to being his home. He would wake up and have a morning coffee with freshly delivered milk. He would potter about for a bit, maybe give his car a wash and a wax or do some kind of exercise. Go down to the market to pick up something for lunch, get a newspaper to read in the afternoon, come back, cook and eat lunch. In the afternoon, he'd read the paper with a cup of tea, maybe go diving, do a bit of reading or watch a film. Then sleep and wake up again the next day to do the same. Unless he was working, of course. Even then though, his life was rules and routine. Rituals.
After what had happened with Lai and all those people her father had been smuggling into the country, he couldn't stay there. Miami was supposed to give him a break from his normal life, some time to think and re-evaluate what he really wanted to be doing. What he had done in the past. Life didn't work like that though and Miami had dragged him into more of the heroics, more of the fighting for someone else, for himself. And now he was here, at the End of the Universe, at Milliways. Life, or Fate, or whatever it was and her mysterious ways, rearranging his plans.
Forcing him to think, as there was nothing else to fill his time. Nothing else to help him not think.
So Frank walked slowly around the lake, ignoring the chill in the air, and thought.
The bar didn't seem to be going anywhere though.
At least being away from home and from everything he would usually do gave him time to think. Home. That was a strange word to use. London was and wasn't home. It was where he had grown up. It was where he lived now. Was it really home? A place he belonged? Frank wasn't so sure. Miami had been nice, but again, that wasn't home. It had never been home - he had only been there to do a favour for a friend and to give himself some time to think about what he was doing.
Something he hadn't really managed in Miami. Or really in London.
Marseilles came closest to being his home. He would wake up and have a morning coffee with freshly delivered milk. He would potter about for a bit, maybe give his car a wash and a wax or do some kind of exercise. Go down to the market to pick up something for lunch, get a newspaper to read in the afternoon, come back, cook and eat lunch. In the afternoon, he'd read the paper with a cup of tea, maybe go diving, do a bit of reading or watch a film. Then sleep and wake up again the next day to do the same. Unless he was working, of course. Even then though, his life was rules and routine. Rituals.
After what had happened with Lai and all those people her father had been smuggling into the country, he couldn't stay there. Miami was supposed to give him a break from his normal life, some time to think and re-evaluate what he really wanted to be doing. What he had done in the past. Life didn't work like that though and Miami had dragged him into more of the heroics, more of the fighting for someone else, for himself. And now he was here, at the End of the Universe, at Milliways. Life, or Fate, or whatever it was and her mysterious ways, rearranging his plans.
Forcing him to think, as there was nothing else to fill his time. Nothing else to help him not think.
So Frank walked slowly around the lake, ignoring the chill in the air, and thought.
