DISCLAIMER: The wise sage knows only that he knows
nothing. The wise writer knows that he owns nothing. The wise archivist knows to
ask permission. The fool MSTies. All is good.
Sleep Comes Easy
by Matt Nute
I can hear them.
Maybe not with my ears, but in my head. I know what they're doing, and what they're thinking as the stars shine down.
Wagner, for example. He sleeps content, knowing that his soul rests safe in his faith. In all the time I've been here, I've never once passed by the elf's room late at night when he hasn't been awake praying or studying his Bible. Odd, I thought, for a man cursed with a demon's body to have the soul of an angel. Wagner's good people. For him, sleep comes easy.
Then there's Rahne. Sweet girl, that one. She's got a soul like wildfire and pure as the morning. She's usually in there with Wagner, praying or reading or talking. Sometimes I think the two of them have got to be either the two most naive gits I've ever met, or the only two who've got it all together. And every night, her sleep comes easy.
Douglock. Feh. The jumble of wires and bolts that thinks it's a boy. Bleedin' Pinnochio complex. All he... it's got to do it take itself "offline" for a few hours. For him, sleep comes the easiest of all.
Some nights, I can hear Braddock and Meggan whispering to each other outside on their balcony. Those two kids are more in love than any two I've ever seen. And they deserve it, too. Both of them, strong as oak. I can see it when they look at each other. It's the same I feel when I look at Pryde. For those two, sleep comes easy.
And then, Pryde. Katherine, Kit, Shadowcat. My Kitty. But not really mine. She's her own woman, has been from the start. I like to think her heart's mine, but all said and done, it's her own. And that's why I love her. What she ever sees in an old bollocks like me, I'll never know. Every time I see her wake up in the morning, or walk on air, or knock some spandex-clad wanker's jaw halfway to his arse, I can't help but fall for her all over again. And every night, when I hold her so tight I never want to let go, she nestles close to me and sleeps, ocntent and safe. For her, above all, sleep comes easy.
Me? I lay awake here, staring at the ceiling, or the window, or the telly. I don't dare close my eyes. Because then I see them. Each and every person dead by my hand or because of me. Their voices haunt me most of all. I can't sleep a night without waking in a cold sweat, or reaching for a pistol in the morning. Sleep easy? Not for me, mate.
But tonight... I turn my head, just a little to the right. I smell her hair, and feel her warmth next to me. I close my eyes and give her a squeeze, letting her know I'm here.
Tonight, sleep will come easy.