Damaged Ones
by A.j.

***

Hey, babe.  It's me.

Can you do me a favor?  I need you to sit down for a minute.  I have 
something to tell you, and it's not going to be pretty.  In fact, I can 
guarantee that it's going to hurt.  At least, it's hurting me.

I'm gonna start with saying that I'm bad at this.  I'm fucking brilliant at 
telling things like they are.  You'd be the first to agree, I'm sure.  But 
this is different.  I'm gonna open up here, Nate.  Emotional cow pie dead 
ahead.

The second thing I'm going to say is that I'm sorry.  For a lot of things.  
For this letter.  For how you're going to feel afterwards, but most of all, 
I'm sorry that I'm not her.  That I'm not Aliya.

Told you this was gonna suck.  It gets worse.

Nate, I'm tired.  I'm tired of us, I'm tired of my life, but most of all, I'm 
tired of not saying anything.  And maybe I don't really believe it yet, maybe 
I never will, but I have to end this - because I'm starting to believe
I deserve better.  Better than being second best.  Second found.  Second 
loved.  Because no matter how different I am, or how strong, I won't be her.  
I won't be first.  I won't be most.

And I won't even be last.

This is over now.  We are over.  The end.  I will not walk back into your 
life someday with a song in my heart and a condom in my pocket.  I'm more 
than a warm body laid upon this earth for your physical pleasure.  My brain's 
been telling me that for awhile now.  It's just been recently that my heart's 
been agreeing.

It's finally stopped hoping that you'll come around and that we'll find some 
way past all of our baggage.  Some way to be what we could have been - more 
than just broken.  Because that's what we are, Nate.  Broken.  And as much as 
it burns to say it, I don't think we can fix us.

There are just too many pieces that are shattered or lost.  We don't fit 
anymore.  Maybe we never really did.  Maybe I got too romantic in my picture 
of us.  Maybe the thing that was us was nothing more than a friendship that 
over-stretched its bounds.  Maybe it's all three.

Right now, I don't really want to think about it.  Because if I do, this 
little bit of clarity will burn away like mist in the sun and I'll be right 
back where I started.  Loving you with no hope.  And if there is one thing 
that you have taught me Nathan, it's that everyone has a right to hope.  
Before you - and during a long stretch *with* you - I'd thought that right 
had been scoured out of me.  But it wasn't.

So I'm handing you back your heart because I've finally realized that it's 
this or my hope.  And as beautiful as this thing between us can be, it's not 
worth that.  It isn't worth it because I've never REALLY lived.

Don't laugh, old man.  You know it's true.  You've known me almost my entire 
life.  Of the eighteen years you didn't know me I only remember three.  
Everything before that is patches and guesswork.  But my memory, or lack 
thereof, isn't in question.  I really don't remember a time when I wasn't 
fighting, Nate.  When my every breath wasn't a constant struggle - whether 
for survival or sanity.  That's changing now.

I'm over forty years old, and, for the first time, I find myself grasping at 
the undefinable thing that is life.  I look out this window and see more than 
a set of parameters for a battle sim.  Instead, I see trees.  Short ones.  
And the sun.  I see the sun, Nate.  And it is so beautiful.

That wouldn't be possible if it hadn't been for you.  But that still doesn't 
change where we are, and what I know needs to be done.

I don't really know just what I want, Nate.  I honestly haven't thought about 
it all that much.  I've never really had the chance.  I've always had to jump 
from one situation to another with no time to stop and deal with what just 
happened.  I've been living in a constant state of limbo for as long as I can 
remember, and it's time that ended.  I have a lifetime of shit that's 
starting to catch up with me, Nate.  And a hefty portion of it has to do with 
you.

I'm not giving you all the blame.  I have no right to do that.  My choices 
were my own, but dammit...  You did put me in a lot of those situations.  
Quite a few more than you know about.  And I'm tired again, Nate.  Tired of 
shielding you from my pain because you deserve to know its depth.  Not only 
because you were my partner, but because it's time you face up to just how 
responsible you were for it. 

Tyler hurt me.  Vanessa's impersonation broke me.  But you're reaction?  You 
scarred me.

A fucking year, Nate.  A *year*, and you didn't even have a clue.  Three 
hundred and seventy-eight days of having my every limit pushed.  Nine 
thousand sixty seven hours of hell.  And when I finally felt the slap of that 
brutal winter air, it wasn't over.  Instead, I come back to a life in 
progress.  A life lived by an impersonator who was so much better at being 
me.  One you fell in love with.

To make matters worse, you wanted me - the *real* me - to pick up where the 
other one left off.  God help me, but I did.  I turned around and fell in 
love with you.

Oh, Nathan.  It's taken me six years, but I've finally realized just how 
entirely sick that is.  And I can't do it anymore.  I've been strong for you 
too long.  It's time I was strong for myself.  Heaven knows you haven't been 
all that strong for me.

I love you, Nate.  I want you.  Sometimes, I even need you.  But for all the 
times that I've kept quiet and been a shoulder...  Well, your return record 
has been pretty dismal.

Maybe that's my fault.  Maybe it's not.  I just can't help but think that you 
should have tried harder.  Pushed more.  I wouldn't have been ready, but at 
least I'd know now that you really did care. And maybe I wouldn't be standing 
here watching my heart break.

But this isn't about blame, Nate.  It's about me.  About the fact that I 
cannot do this anymore.  I won't.  It's not fair to either of us.  There's 
not choice for it, babe.  We've been at an impasse for what feels like years 
now.  Both too damaged to go forward and too stubborn to turn back.  Well, 
I'm calling my own bluff here.  I can't do it anymore, and I love you enough 
to know that you can't either.

So this is it.  I'm doing the only thing I can to save my own sanity.  I'm 
leaving.

Goodbye Nathan.  Find a life and live it.  Because, in the end, that's all 
people like us - the damaged ones - can do.