Junk

6

The man formerly known as Michael Nesmith stared at his reflection in disbelief. He didn't recognize it as his own. After almost seven years and living four different lives, Daniel could no longer call his body and face his own anymore. His hair had grown again, in its natural light brown color and was now in a Beatle-like haircut. It looked very similar to how Peter wore it when they first met, especially the color. He had decided it fit better for "Sam Collins" than the black hair.

He turned around and saw Marie asleep on the couch behind him. He smiled as he threw a blanket over her and kissed her forehead. Poor Marie had just gotten tied in with all of this mess, and now because of him, she'd never be able to live a normal life. Have a normal house or a normal husband. She hadn't done anything wrong and yet had to pay the consequences for it. They both did. She deserved better. Daniel sighed and returned his focus to the mirror. It had been five months, and both Samuel Collins and Allison Carter now had valid driver's licenses, birth certificates, and the proper documents. They both were back working once again. Allison got a job as a secretary at a doctor's office. It was Sam who struggled to find work, eventually settling for a job at a record store. He enjoyed giving recommendations to customers and talking about music with them, but it all still felt so empty.

Daniel was used to this life, more than he wanted to admit. It was hard to remember a time where he and Marie were not constantly being relocated and changing their names. His life as Michael Nesmith seemed to be a little break from that, as short lived as it was. Those boys were able to give him something he had rarely felt before, a sense of security.

He wasn't even thinking when he left. Those last few days were all so fast. He remembered the last gig they were supposed to play. He remembered grabbing Davy and practically pulling them out of the restaurant, saying they had to leave. He remembered the tears filling in Peter's eyes as he told them there was nothing they needed to worry about.

Then the letter came and he panicked.

He looked over at Marie as she rolled over onto her side. He called her the second he saw the letter. It wasn't until past midnight as Daniel had done his best to hide it from the guys. It was a teary and hasty call, he was an anxious mess for all of it. But five minutes later, she was there with the car and a bag packed. She was already ready to leave. She had been, and he should've been too. However Daniel had spent three years breaking down the barriers that kept him closed off from the world. Barriers he had been building up all his life. He never wanted to get anyone too close because at any moment, he could leave. He never wanted them to get involved with his junk. For one minute, he felt safe. And for that one minute, he felt like he didn't need to run or hide anymore.

And his fears almost came true when he had his guard down for one second.

He took a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair, watching the reflection of a man that couldn't possibly be him. Eventually he heard movement and saw Marie sit up and look at him.

"Are you okay?" She whispered with a frown.

"Of course," he sighed. "Why?"

"You're crying."

He turned back toward the mirror and saw the tears streaming down his face. He quickly brushed them off with his sleeve and made his way into the couch. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him as he laid down beside her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, staring at the ceiling.

"For what?"

"Everything," he said shakily. She only frowned and pulled him closer, giving him silence to let him continue.

"I don't deserve you," he muttered and Marie started laughing.

"If I had a nickel every time I heard you–!"

"Marie, I'm serious!" He pleaded, turning his focus to her.

"So am I," she sighed.

Daniel frowned, ignoring her comment and continuing.

"It's just that...you know, you deserved a normal life, a normal husband. You deserved to be a-a teacher who would spend her weekends sailing and–!"

"Daniel!" She sat up, squinting her eyes at him. "I don't want any of those things. I don't care if I don't get a normal life with you, I have a life with you. It's a nice one, and I like it the way it is."

"Marie," he felt the tears fill his eyes again. "I-I can't give you anything close to normal."

"So?" She smiled. "I don't mind."

"You-you just didn't do anything wrong and—"

"Neither did you," Marie leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Remember that."

"Yeah, but I was there," he sighed heavily. "That was enough of a mistake. You had nothing to do with it."

"I was the one you chose to tell. You made me a part of it."

He looked at her and she shrugged.

"I don't regret anything, I hope you know that," she said happily. "I don't regret meeting you or marrying you. I don't regret going away with you. And I don't regret not living the middle class white picket fence life."

Marie grinned and blushed as she turned back to face him.

"As long as we were together, it was okay."

He nodded and she cuddled up beside him.

"I sometimes wish you left me," Daniel whispered. "I would sometimes wake up and think, and hope, that this is gonna be the morning you ask for a divorce."

Marie let out a laugh.

"Why's that?"

"I was afraid that you'd get hurt in our crazy life," he said honestly. "But I was always thankful for that, you know. You stayed."

She smiled.

"Of course I did."

"Seven years," he sighed.

"Eight," she smiled looking up at him. "We met in 62."

"Eight, then." He laughed lightly, wiping his eyes. "In all those eight years we've known each other, you were the only one that stayed."

"I bet those boys would've stayed with you if they could," Marie said with a slight shrug. Daniel's face changed as he pushed her off of him to sit up.

"Did I say something wrong?" She asked, placing her hand on his back. He tensed up at the touch but it went away with a heavy sigh.

"Michael Nesmith is dead," he said darkly. "He died the second we had to leave. I know you're only trying to help but it's so hard not to think of them and how they must be feeling. I still feel so fucking guilty over leaving them. So just drop it, please."