FicWad

A/N: I tried a new experiment with this one. Look at the 'Puppet' part and see if you can figure out what's new.

Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to "Sitting, Waiting, Wishing".

Song Used: Jack Johnson's "Sitting, Waiting, Wishing".


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Eleven: Sitting, Waiting, Wishing
Puppet: Keefe O'Kane


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I was sitting, waiting, wishing,
You believed in superstitions,
Then maybe you would see the signs,
But Lord knows that this world is cruel,
And I ain't no Lord, no I'm just a fool,
Learning loving somebody don't make them love you...

“What'cha doin' out here, Keefe?”

I didn't need to look at the person to know who had come to sit with me on the porch of an old house made of wood. His voice had been easily recognizable throughout my entire life. I had known it to be the high one of a child when things were simple; the squeaky one of a teen when girls stopped having cooties.

And now I knew it as the deep one of a young man. No longer were things simple. There was work to do, people to talk to, things to do. Matters of the mind. And if that wasn't enough, we still had to deal with matters of the heart.

When one was a child, everything was about the mind; learning, teaching, growing. There was a huge world out there for us to explore and discover. All a child was interested in was learning how cars work or what electricity does.

As an adolescent, the heart became more important; emotion, attitude, reaction. We had already learned much about the world and the things around us, so now the people were more interesting. We were suddenly able to make a valid attempt at understanding intense emotions such as hate and love.

But adults had to find a balance between the two.

“Thinking.” I replied after quite some time, cupping my cheeks in my hands and resting my elbows on my folded knees. Still I didn't look at him, my eyes fixed upon something that was right in front of me but completely unseen.

“But it's 3:00am!”

I glanced darkly in my brother's direction. “And yet you're still up,” I observed, averting my gaze just as quickly as I'd directed it, “that's a little hypocritical, don't you think?”

Mac groaned softly, obviously trying to keep the sound under his breath but failing miserably. “It's too early for me to think.”

“Then go to sleep.” I grumbled, closing my eyes and wishing for the peace I'd been having before he'd arrived. It was hard enough trying to figure out what these country bumpkins had that I didn't; what it was that made a country boy more appealing than a city boy; I didn't need Mac around to complicate things even more with his groggy attempts at conversation.

“I can't,” he retorted, “not until you tell me what's been bothering you since we got here.”

Must I always be waiting, waiting on you?
Must I always be playing, playing your fool?

So he was on a mission to discover my secret, was he? Well, he was going to have to work a lot harder than that to get me to say anything. I pressed my lips together, obstinate as I've always been.

How could he understand, anyway? He had no idea what it was like to trip over a girl who wasn't at all interested. He didn't have a clue how it felt to know that you loved someone but they would never feel the same. He couldn't comprehend the pain of sacrificing his pride and dignity in order to gain the attention, only to lose it again after a minute of fame?

Oh, sure, he'd gone through all that with Paige. How could I forget his pathetic whining over how bad it was to love a girl who was already taken? How awful it was to have her so close but know he couldn't say anything? If I didn't love him enough to take pity on him during those times, I probably would've pounded his face in if he so even much as thought about opening his mouth to complain.

But who was he with now?

Who had he dragged along with us to this place?

With who was he sharing his cabin on this God-forsaken dude ranch?

He had always been the lucky one. No matter how bad something got for him, it always turned out for the better. It was like he was always moving at a one step back, two more forward pace on this road of life, while I felt like I'd had my ankles hobbled together before I could even walk. I'd been left behind.

But that was my purpose in life, to be the cripple; to remind others that their life wasn't so bad after all. That was what had been written in the stars before I'd even been conceived, I reasoned, and there was very little I could do. Complaining certainly wasn't going to do anything for me.

“Does it have anything to do with Casey?” Mac asked, his voice giving way to a hint of laughter.

I curled my lip irritably at the mockery. My infatuation with that silly farm girl was no laughing matter in any way, shape, or form. Still, I couldn't honestly say that I hadn't been thinking about her while I slipped into my meditation state, so I begrudgingly nodded 'yes'.

“Aw, ain't that cute!” Mac obviously hadn't noticed my agitation, because he talked in that horrendous 'baby voice' and patted my head as if I were a dog, “My brother's finally got a crush on someone.”

“It's not a crush!” I snarled furiously, batting his hand aside, “This is serious!”

“Oh?” My brother questioned and, though I was sure I sensed a hint of sarcasm in his voice, when I looked at him, his face was solemnly curious. He assumed a similar position as my own, for once in his life having the courage to look me in the eyes. “You're saying you love her?”

“Maybe.” I answered.

Maybe I did love her. Maybe I just really liked her. It didn't really matter. Either way, she couldn't tell.

I sang your songs, I danced your dance,
I gave your friends all a chance,
But putting up with them wasn't worth never having you,
And maybe you've been through this before,
But it's my first time so please ignore,
The next few lines 'cause they're directed at you...

“Havin' some trouble, greenhorn?”

I grit my teeth against my frustration as well as the sharp, bruising ache in almost the entire left side of my body, most of which had just borne the brunt of a fall from a horse. I carefully pushed myself up to my knees and glowered at the tall, sky-eyed, tow-headed boy. The horse, a big, elegant black stallion, snorted and stomped one of its hooves not far behind me. “What do you want?”

His hands went up as if to show me that he was completely innocent of any misdeed I might try and accuse him of. Yet still he smirked, his blue eyes glittering with cat-like superiority. “Nothin', Slick, nothin' at all. Case said you two were gonna be down here an' I just came by to see if you and Dagger were gettin' along, that's all.”

The boy's sister (for it was obvious that she was with the same blond hair and matching blue eyes) came up beside him and, in blatant spite against the pain, I smiled.

...But it didn't last long, because she was laughing.

And she was laughing at me.

“You're definitely not much of a rider, Keefe.”

At least she called me by my real name and not that ridiculous nickname her brother used.

“We're gonna get married in the spring, if you want to come to the wedding.” I growled sarcastically to Dallas (for that was the boy's name), slowly climbing to my feet.

I'd always liked to think that I had a high pain tolerance, especially when she was around. That being said, one should only be able to imagine how awful of a searing pain I suddenly felt in my side as I stood. With an involuntary groan I doubled over, clutching at my side as if it would somehow make the hurt disappear.

My head, which already had ached dully from the jarring blow just moments before, whirled and my vision spun. It felt as if I'd just been stabbed with a knife that had just recently been taken from a fire after a long period of time, the smoldering blade tearing and burning my flesh with unrelenting cruelty.

Dallas' insolent laughter drove me to stand up straight again, however, refusing to let him get away with what I knew he was thinking. I struggled to ignore the way the injury practically screamed in agonizing protest as I slowly started toward the small pen's gate, tears pricking the back of my eyes.

I'd probably just broken two or three ribs in an attempt to be like the other boys and attract her attention, but she didn't even ask if I was all right when I passed by. Had it been worth it?

I can't always be waiting, waiting on you,
I can't always be playing, playing your fool,
I keep playing your part,
But it's not my scene,
Want this plot to twist,
I've had enough mystery,
You keep building it up, then shooting me down,
But I'm already down,
Just wait a minute,
Just sitting, waiting,
Just wait a minute,
Just sitting, waiting...

“Wait, wait, wait...you were doing what?”

Once again I found myself sitting on the porch at an ungodly hour, head in hands and heart uncharacteristically vulnerable, Mac sitting at my side spouting nonsense as he usually did. Considering the spills others had taken before me, I had gotten off easily with two broken ribs and nothing but some minor scrapes and bruises.

Outwardly, that was all that was wrong with me.

Inwardly, the way my wounds often manifested themselves anyway, I was crushed.

“Trying to ride the horse,” I answered softly, once more staring out at the invisible object, not wanting to look my twin in the eyes, “I heard her say that anyone who even got in the same pen with that stupid animal was brave and I thought...I thought that maybe...”

“Maybe you could get her attention that way?” Mac finished for me, his warm hand resting lightly on the shoulder opposite to him, his arm draped comfortingly across my shoulders.

Had it been any other day, I would've told him not to touch me unless he wanted his fingers bitten off.

But I was too tired to fight, so I allowed him to get away with his attempt at making me feel better, nodding silently in answer to his question. To be honest, it actually felt kind of good to know that there was someone out there who actually gave a damn about what happened to me, but I wasn't about to let him know that.

We were silent for quite some time, until Mac finally decided to break the vigil for my KIA pride.

“Wow, this really is serious,” he remarked, withdrawing his arm and shook his head, “you're not even trying to growl me away or anything. Are you sure you didn't take too many painkillers?”

I didn't laugh, meeting his strange, oddly nervous chuckle with a stoic, unreadable expression. It really hadn't been that funny of a joke. I looked at him and sighed, cringing at the sharp stab in my side and only too late realizing that the horse had been a bad idea.

“It was serious.”

Well, if I was in your position,
I'd put down all my ammunition,
I'd wonder why it had taken me so long,
But Lord knows that I'm not you,
And if I was I wouldn't be so cruel,
'Cause waiting on love ain't so easy to do...

“Was? But you tried everything...you even almost got yourself killed, and you're just gonna give up?”

I nodded, turning my eyes dejectedly away and gazing out into the black darkness ahead. In a way, I guess one could say I'd known all along that I wouldn't have been able to compete with her other interests.

She was a country girl through and through. That's what had been what drew me to her in the first place, actually. She had been so new, so interesting after growing up with pampered city girls that I had to learn more about her. The idea that she might actually like playing a team sport with me or stargazing had been enthralling, and her strong, tomboyish attitude posed as a welcome challenge.

I'd wanted to learn everything behind that pretty stare so I could know I could trust her before I told her anything about myself. I'd wanted her to teach me to ride a horse so maybe we could go on a trail ride out there, just the two of us. I'd wanted to show her that I wasn't just a handsome rich kid; that I had a soul; a heart; a mind.

And she'd never know. She'd been blind to all my efforts, and now I was done trying. I couldn't afford to beat myself up, physically or emotionally, anymore about this.

It had been foolish of me to think that perhaps she could come to love a city boy. I just didn't know enough about roping cows and the innards of pickup trucks, I guess.

“Was. It's not going to happen.”

Mac's arm found its way across my shoulders again. “You're just pretending to not be taking it really hard, aren't you?”

As much as I would've loved to lie to him and say 'no', that wouldn't have been an honest answer. And truth-seekers, no matter how weak they may feel answering a question themselves, had to honor the unspoken law and speak the truth they sought. “Yeah,” I answered, feeling my shoulders droop in defeat.

“Well, ya' know...there's still plenty of time for something to happen.” Mac offered optimistically, patting my shoulder in fond brotherly love.

What he didn't understand was that I'd already wasted so much time sitting here, waiting and wishing for that 'something'.

Must I always be waiting, waiting on you?
Must I always be playing, playing the fool?
No I can't always be waiting, waiting on you,
I can't always be playing, playing your fool.


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A/N: I really love my lil' baby Keefe, so this was really interesting to write. He's so depressed all the time and I just wanna give him a big hug.