Title: The Journey
Author: Michelle Furnas
Comments welcome at: testhom@netzero.net
Rating: G
Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of Street Justice do not belong to me. This is for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made from it.
Author's Notes: This story takes place before Grady and Beaudreaux's reunion, and it is Grady's
point of view.
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The Journey
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It was a bleak, gray morning. Black clouds hovered threatening rain,
and there was a chill in the air. Grady Jamieson sat in his seat staring
out the window of the bus.
Grady had saved up the money for this trip. It hadn't been easy. The
martial artist never had much, but he wanted to do this right--no
hitchhiking and no cons to get him to his destination. He wasn't sure
why it mattered to him, but it did.
When the bus reached his stop, Jamieson walked off. He didn't have
a bag to collect so the young man simply started walking in the
direction he needed to go. When Grady finally stopped, he just stared
for a moment. He realized he was afraid to go any farther. The
reaction surprised him.
There were quite a few people there ahead of him. Grady could tell
some were crying even the men. He could see them reaching up to
swipe at their faces. Some used Kleenex, but most used their bare
hands.
The young man guessed that for most of them if not all, coming to this
place offered closure though he doubted it offered comfort. Still, they
probably already knew what they would find when they looked. For
Jamieson this place held an answer to a question that had haunted him
for over ten years--what had happened to Adam Beaudreaux? Perhaps
at the end of this journey, he too would have some sort of closure.
Determined to do what he come to do, Grady took his place in line. He
tried to ignore the sounds of grief directly around him, and he tried to
offer some privacy to those who found what they were looking for and
had stopped to place cards, flowers, photographs and other mementos
in tribute and in remembrance to lost loved ones.
Jamieson looked and then he looked twice more to be certain. His
shoulders slumped, and he backed away. The young man could feel
moisture on his face though the clouds had not yet released rain onto
the city. Catching his reflection in the smooth, polished surface before
him, Grady saw the tracks of tears on his cheeks. He barely registered
the sympathetic looks from tourists and the understanding gazes from the
others. The wind picked up blowing strands of his hair in to shield his
face from their prying eyes and his own emotional reaction.
The young man retreated further and found an unoccupied bench. He
sank down on it, his legs wobbly. The martial artist realized he was
shaking.
Grady had pictured this moment many times since arriving in the States.
It was nothing like he'd imagined. Adam Beaudreaux's name wasn't on
The Wall, and Jamieson had always thought not seeing it there would
dredge up his anger all over again. It would mean that it hadn't been
death that had kept B from keeping his promise that he would come
back for Grady. It would confirm that the young man had been
abandoned.
The anger never came.
All Grady felt was an overwhelming sense of relief. B had made it
home, and the little boy inside--the one he used to be--was filled
with joy at the knowledge. The anger he knew would rise again,
consume him as it had many times in the past, but for now he
embraced the calm.
The young man took one last look at The Wall then he turned and
walked away. He hadn't found closure this day. Instead he found
more questions like what had happened to B after the war? Was he
still alive? Knowing those questions wouldn't be answered there,
Grady Jamieson walked back to the bus station and waited for the
one that would return him to life as he knew it.
The end
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