The Phantoms of Marvis Pass

Nine - Someone Is Hurting

        It is musty like an old tarp, and the scent of bare dirt and mothballs immediately slaps Al and Daryl's faces as they creep through the mill's entrance.  The roof is completely gone, and the remains of the ceiling are strewn about like abandon dolls and toys.  Al looks around at the gears and pulleys strapped to the machinery standing proundly.  These elderly contraptions know they are powerful enough to resist the scraping claws of time.

        "What are we looking for?" Al asks as he shuffles his boots through the dust, drawing out abstract lines with his footwear.

        "A book.  Quite small."  Daryl draws out the of the hardback book with his hands, gesturing a rectagular shape.  "Wes needs us to follow everything it says."

        Al ventures over to the workbench in the corner of the room and shuffles through some of the debris and foresaken tools left on it.  "Did she show you a vision?  To say where it is?"

        "No.  It was all through words.  Verbal instruction."

        "Damn." Al rubs his forehead, lifting his cowboy hat a bit off head hair.  "We might be here for a bit."

        Daryl is across the room, now filing through a small shelf filled with guidebooks and ripped up novels filled with penciled-in notes.  His knees jut into his pants as he crouches down, gracefully going through each one of the books, not overlooking a single one.  "That's alright.  She only described it, so I can't give you any hints about where it will be."

        "Okay." 

        Al peers in a crate next to the desk, but a brownish spider just stares back, shaken up about this sudden appearance of a human.  She flicks her mandibles, and her tiny eyes glisten in the blank sunlight pouring through the collapsed roof.  Al pulls his head away, mentally apologizing for creeping up on her.  He is suddenly brought back to the internal tussle he had with himself minutes ago, and he peers over at Daryl, who is now lining the books back up on the shelves.

        "Hey, Day?"

        Daryl turns around and blinks once harshly.

        "Oh, are you alright?"        

        "Oh, yes, yes.  Just a bit overwhelmed.  But nothing severe.  What's up?"

        Al doesn't want to stress him out even more with his own worries!  That would be such a cruel thing to do!  But maybe Daryl can handle it like he has handled all the horrors they have faced before?  Maybe a chat would distract him from the pressure of his mission bestowed upon him by the warrior they hardly knew.

        "I...I got some stuff I wanna talk about, but I don't want to...overload you, I guess."

        "Oh, yeah, sure.  What's going on?" Daryl gets up, straightening his back, and ambles over, putting his full attention on the distraught Al.

        "Oh, um, we can keep looking.  We can hear each other perfectly fine."

        "You sure?"

        "Yes."

        Al feels a satisfying rush of relief, like thousands of doves leaving their cages, as Daryl nods and resumes his search for the book.  He despises putting himself in the spotlight, and having Daryl's intelligent eyes strictly upon him is so intimidating yet awesome.  It is very, very pleasing in a sensual context, but in a time like this?  Absolutely horrible.  He cares so much, and seeing the seemingly neverending life leave his face is just a horrific experience.  

        Letting the scholar down is the last thing the miner wants to do.

        "So what's going on?" Daryl calls, now clambering over some knocked over chairs, his figure now facing towards the tables at the back of the mill.

        "I...I have some...uh...insecurities?  Some insecurities I want to talk about."

        "Oh, of course.  What's bothering you?"

        Al stalks over to a stack of baskets, and he inspects the contents of each one.  "Well...um..." Al nibbles his lip.  "Some envy, I guess?"

        "Okay."

        "I'm...I'm a bit envious of...you."

        Al looks up, and Daryl's head pops up over the clutter.  His brow is furrowed in a concerned manner, and his mouth is curved down into a delicate yet severe frown as he processes the beginning of Al's confession.  Daryl lets out a soft sigh.  It isn't of frustration.  It is more a sound expressing sadness that someone is hurting.  He scrambles back over the stools and whatnot and joins Al at the entrance to the body of the building.  He slips his hands over Al's fingers, and it is so quiety they could hear their skin slide together.  The soft sound of roughness meeting wear and tear.

        Daryl gazes up at him, his head cocked, welcoming Al to continue.

        "I see you sometimes...and you're so, so much smarter than me.  When I think about how smart you are, it sometimes remind me of how I sometimes feel insecure about my intelligence.  I was never the brightest of the bunch in school, and I always wanted to be super smart like you.  And sometimes I wish I was as graceful as you.  I love being strong, but sometimes I wish I could do things like being gentle.

        "But I don't want to make this a sob story.  I'm happy with myself, but I could be happier.  I still think about the things I really hate about myself, and it brings me down.  So...um...yeah."

        Daryl gives Al a small smile and places his hands on Al's hips.  "Our world puts a lot of emphasis on logical intelligence, which is the kind of intelligence I have.  People do notice this kind of intelligence, this academic intelligence, but there are many ways to be smart.  You do have logical intelligence, but you have also much more body, intrapersonal, interpersonal, and spatial smarts than I do. 

        "You are beautifully strong.  You worked your ass if in the mines, and this wonderful body of yours helped you gather so much.  You are in tune with your physical self.  You are also able to work with other people and talk to them flawlessly.  I could never to something like that.  I loathe talking to other people, and when I do, I can barely think straight.  I've seen you communicate with other people, and it is so, so amazing.  You have an incredible charisma, and it makes people trust you.

        "Your interpersonal intelligence is your connection to your self.  Realizing you feel this way is important because you are able to talk about it with yourself and me.  I don't even like to thing about my feelings because the truth hurts.  It hurts a lot, but you faced the hurt.  This makes you so, so strong."

        Tears of joy sparkle in Al eyes as he listens to Daryl.

        "And your spatial intelligence!  You are able to understand the world around you and navigate.  You were able to get through those mineshafts and navigate the river!  Al, you are incredible!  None of us can have all the smarts, but we must learn to love and adore who we are and what we are gifted with.  And, if you want, we can both teach each other things.  It will be such a great bonding experience."

        Al wipes his dripping eyelids and places a solid kiss on Daryl's forehead.  "And this is why I talk to you, baby."