The Girl The Dreamer Loved - Epilogue.

Well, here's the epilogue. As promised. Don't really know what else to say. Except, here goes!


jenna
-_-*-x-X-x-*-_-

'Well, here goes nothing,' I told myself, and stepped gingerly into the room where the Dreamer could usually be counted be to be found in - to find, sure enough, Galileo, along with Khashoggi, Meat, and for some odd reason, Robbie Williams.

"Yo," I greeted them, stepping round the door. Meat, as soon as she caught sight of me, immediately shot me a look that said, very clearly, "If ya don't tell him this very minute, hen, I swear I'll..." I winced, and fell heavily into a chair. The sound of several people giggling leaked into the room through the still half-open door as I sat down, making both Meat and I scowl. I tried to stand up, but Meat gave me another look, this time telling me to, "Sit down, and ah'll care of it." I knew who it was, of course. As Meat stepped round the doorframe, we clearly heard a squeak of terror. Galileo gave me a blank look, and Khashoggi smirked. Actually, unless you studied their faces carefully, you couldn't really tell any difference in their facial expressions. Smirking, I leant back, taking my time.

"Scaramouche, why are you in here?" Gaz asked, lookimng confused. Well...not that I could really blame him. As a general rule, I don't tend to go into the sound base, unless some idiotic bohemian has tried to start fixing an amp or something, and then decides thay don't know how to do it. Still, I was his girlfriend.
I raised an eyebrow.

"Do you have a problem with me being in here?" I asked, keeping a level tone.

"Well, no, obviously, but you always say that you don't like coming in here, because you reckon electronically altered guitar riffs soung like cats being strangled with shoelaces." Gaz watched me carefully, as though wating for a snappy comevack. However, I didn't come to talk to him just to throw snappy comebacks at him, for rock's sake. I had a very important job to do - well, not that I'd class it as important, but I knew Meat would personally forcibly dye my hair pink if I didn't tell him soon. And, thanks to the incident with the purple, I have realised that my hair and permanent dye don't usually get along well together. I shuddered.

"Actually, Gaz I need to tell you something."
Khashoggi opened his mouth, smirking, but I gave him one of my infamous looks, and he shut it hastily.

"Look, Gaz, I'm-"
Suddenly, Meat chose to enter the room again, breathing hard, but looking quite pleased with herself. I scowled at her. "Incredible timing, as always, Roast." I muttered, using one of Meat's most hated nicknames, invented by Mack (that's Sir Paul McCartney, to you), and used widely by all the Bohemians. Behind Meat's back, obviously, but this was a special occasion. Especially beacuse I was about to tell Gaz that I was... but anyway. Now Meat was back, I could tell him.

"And jest WHO came up with THA'?" Meat demanded, flicked her pink dreads out of her face so she could train her practically award-winning glare on me with more precision. Kashoggi stood up behind her, and put his arms round her, presumably to stop her from lunging at me. Which, given the current circumstances, was probably quite a god idea. I nodded to Khashoggi in thanks, who in return gave me a smirk. He knew what I was trying to tell Gaz. Hell, everyone did...except Gazza. God grief, the boy was quite clearly deranged.
Suddenly, there was a loud scream outside the door, and everyone stopped what they were doing. I stood up. There was a grand variety of muffled thumps and bangs coming from the other side of the wall. The door opened, and Charlotte poked her head round it.

"It's them." She answered our unasked question. "The Secret Police. They're here." She vanished again.
Robbie's mouth dropped open.

"Crap." He muttered, and ran out of the door. Khashoggi followed. Meat went to follow him, but he pushed her back.

"Stay here!" He shouted, as he tried to prise her away from him.

"NO!" She screamed, as he pushed at her ineffectually. "THA'S HOW BRIT LEFT ME, HE ALWAYS SAID HE'D C0ME BACK, AN' THEN HE DIDN'T AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!"

Khashoggi stopped moving as Meat finished screaming, tears streaming down her cheeks, and breathing hard. He put a long thin finger underneath her chin and tilted it up, so she had no choice but to look at him.

"I'm sorry." He told her, looking her in the eye. "I am, Meat, honestly. And that's why I'm going, and you're not, and that is also-"

"THE HELL AH'M NOT!!!"

"And, that is why you're not arguing." Khashoggi finished, as though Meat hadn't spoken. She looked furious, and I made a mental note to myself that if Meat ever looked at me like that, I would either run as far as I could in the oppsosite direction, (yes, me, Scaramouche the invincible,) or go and find Galileo, and make him run with me. I shuddered.

"Hey, Mouche,"
I turned to face Gazz, who had just spoken, already guessing what he was about to tell me. And if he was about to tell me what I thought he was, then I wasn't arguing. Well... no, Scaramouche. Don't argue.
"You have to stay too, Babe." He told me, using his 'I'm going to try and kid myself she'll do what I say' face. I shrugged, mentally smirking at the look of complete and utter stunned disbelief on his face as I did so.

"Whatevs." I murmured, standing up to gently trace the outline of his face with my index finger. He slid his arms round my waist, pulled me close to him, and breathed,

"Keep safe, Little Mouche," in my ear, so only I heard. I buried my face in his chest, inhaling a scent that was half a kind of woody smell, kind of like the van had, after I'd been building guitars in it for six months, half something uniquely Gazz. It was then that I realised that this could be the last time I might smell that scent that I relied on, and the magnitude of that realisation hit me like a large iron pole, and my eyes started to water. 'Crap.' I hissed, furiously rubbling at my eyes with the had that hadn't magically found it's way round Gazzer's neck. He put his finger under my chin as Khashggi had done with Meat, except he moved his head forward, and kissed me softly on the lips.
"Mouche," he mumbled, in between kisses,
"I need to-"
*kiss*
"know exactly what-"
*kiss*
"you needed"
*kiss*
"to tell me." He grinned, happy to have finally got out the sentance, which had been somewhat broken down, but still legible. Or understandable, at the very least. But still. I had Gaz in front of me, about to kiss me. I wasn't about to argue.
"What the hell." I told him, and pulled him back into another kiss, (yes, I actually had to pull him. How embarrasing. He knows I hate being short...) that was prolonged slightly unnecessarily by...well, by both of us, to tell the truth. He pulled away first.
"Love you." He told me, very seriously, kissing my fingers.
"I know." I told him, trying not to giggle - well, it tickled! "Now, go save the world." I grinned.
"Anything for you, Scary Bush," He smirked, and left the room behind Khashoggi.



*-*-*-*-*



As Meat sat in a chair, staring listlessly out of the window at the dark street, I paced the room. It wasn't natural, being stuck in a tiny cupboard while Gazza was outside fighting, it felt like being stuck in an 18+ war movie, with no stop or pause buttons on the remote control of life. I growled, turning to face the wall, and gave it a hard kick with the toe of one of my infamously indestructible boots. This sucked. Well, it didn't just suck. It was quite possibly one of the most bloody irritating, annoying, freaking...Yeah, it sucked.
"Scara?"
I looked up. Meat hadn't spoken in the last 10 or so minutes.
"Yeah?" I asked softly, walking over to her and kneeling down. "Hey, what's wrong?" I rubbed her back in what I hoped was a comforting way, as she started to cry. To say I was pretty shocked at that point was a bit of an understatement. Seeing Meat cry was like...


Well, it was strange. As far as I know, not many people have seen Meat cry.