Why God, Why?

DISCLAIMER: All the characters in this story belong to MGM Studios. The song "Why God, Why?" is from the musical "Miss Saigon" by Claude-Michel Schonberg.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:Having sworn to lay off the Reggie and Ian stories for a while, this one promptly blindsided me in the middle of the night, and wouldn't let go until I wrote it. Like "The Wedding Singer" it has nothing to do with the Same Old Lang Syne series, unless you want it to!


Ian Ware was a confused man.

For two years, he'd worked, studied, performed at the School of the Arts. And he had loved it. He'd come there to become better as a musician, and he knew that he'd accomplished that. He'd learned to read music for a start - that was something he'd never have done had he stayed in England. His musical style had changed as well, although he supposed that might have had something to do with the fact that he himself had grown up a lot. In reality though, he knew that the school, the other students around him, and the teachers, especially Mr Shorofsky, had been responsible for most of it. He still enjoyed rock music, but his tastes had broadened now. He listened to anything and everything, and had developed a real love for the classics - he, who had once told Mr Shorofsky that classical music wasn't really his thing. He, who had once refused to enter the Sikovia Music Competition, yet changed his mind and ended up winning it the next year.

And now it was over.

It was hard to believe, but he and all his friends had graduated. There would be no more classes, no more shows, no more all-night cramming sessions, just the hard work of getting real, paying jobs. In the name of finishing up as they had always lived, to celebrate the event, and to remember the past few years, they had just had one of the wildest parties in the history of the School of the Arts - and they had a lot of history to live up to!

It had been a great way to finish the year, a great way to finish that particular chapter of their lives. There hadn't even been that much emphasis on alcohol - the memory of Nicole Chapman, who should have been there with them had put paid to that. All the emphasis was on the good times and good memories.

Until now.

Ian looked around his appartment, and it's predictable mess. Neatness had never been one of his strong points. It seemed messier than usual tonight somehow - of course, he'd been preoccupied with other things during Grad Week.

Preoccupied with one thing in particular.

One person.

He wasn't dating anyone when prom time rolled around, so he did what he normally did in situations which required an escort, if not necessarily a date.

He asked Reggie.

And she, doing what she normally did in situations which required an escort, if not necessarily a date, said yes.

Neither of them knew it would end like this.

It wasn't as if their friendship had been strictly platonic over the years. Far from it - they'd dated from time to time, never exclusively, although Reggie had been known to turn green with envy when Ian went out with other girls, and especially when Joanna, Ian's old girlfriend was in town. Likewise, Ian was well-known to be disapproving of Reggie's dates, and whenever she did go out with other guys, it was advisable to stay out of his way. His temper was, unusually for him, on a short fuse at such times.

After a while, the student body figured out that they were crazy about each other, and waited for the two of them to wise up to that fact.

Reggie had realised first, probably the first time she had seen Ian. However, once she got to know Ian, she realised that he only thought of her as a friend. Deciding that keeping that friendship was more important to her than any of the other stuff, she kept her mouth shut.

The rest of the student body, torn between wanting to tell Ian the truth or pointing him towards the nearest optician, did likewise.

The penny finally dropped for Ian at the start of Grad Week, on the night of the prom. He had, for once, agreed to pick Reggie up at her place, and arrived right on time, in one hand clutching flowers (she had sworn she didn't want a corsage) for Reggie, and, in the other, chocolates for her mother. When Mrs Higgins had gone upstairs to help Reggie with some last minute crisis, he had stood in the sitting room, fussing with his bow-tie, making nervous small talk with her father, waiting for her to make an entrance.

And what an entrance it had been.

He and Mr Higgins had been summoned to the bottom of the stairs, to get what Mrs Higgins claimed was "the full effect"

And what an effect it was - and what an effect it had on Ian.

The peroxide had long since grown out of Reggie's hair, leaving it it's natural brown, although she had kept the customary spikey fringe. Tonight though, there were no spikes, her hair was simply parted in the middle and brushed straight, curling at the ends to frame her face. Her eyes were made up more naturally than usual - Mom had finally won the battle, getting her to forgo her deep black eyeliner. Her lips were dark crimson, turned up in an uncertain smile.

All this was dazzling enough, but the Dress - it deserved a capital D, Ian felt - the Dress was sensational.

All Ian could see was green - deep, forest-green velvet, the colour Ian knew without a doubt would be in every other guy's eye once they saw Reggie tonight. It was one long column of green, clinging to Reggie like a second skin, and as she descended the stairs, Ian could see the slit on the left side, running all the way up to mid-thigh. The Dress was halter-necked, and as Reggie did a twirl for him and her father, Ian realised that it was backless.

"Sweetheart, you look wonderful," Mr Higgins told her, stepping forward to kiss her on the cheek.

"Thanks Daddy," Reggie blushed, looking at Ian, trying to gauge his reaction. She knew that it was a racier dress than he was expecting from her, and between that and her more conventional hairdo, she knew she was going to surprise a lot of people tonight. But no-ones opinion mattered to her more than Ian's.

He stood looking at her, totally speechless. Where was the Reggie he knew, his friend, his buddy, his sidekick? A woman who looked like this couldn't possibly fall into any of those categories. "You look amazing," he said, when he finally got his mouth working again. "Really amazing."

Inwardly Reggie was quite pleased at Ian's reaction. The fact that he had obviously been struck speechless wasn't lost on her, and knowing Ian as well as she did, she took it as a compliment. Or at least the acknowledgement that the hours spent getting ready had been worth it. Outwardly, she didn't show any of that. She simply blushed again and said thank you, while her mom pointed out the flowers Ian had brought for her. "Ian they're lovely," she told him, drinking in their scent. "I love yellow roses."

"Yeah...for friendship," Ian told her. But as he looked at her, he knew, and she knew, that friendship was the last thing on his mind.

They had spent the entire prom night together, and as Ian had predicted, jaws had dropped when Reggie walked into the room. Several guys asked her to dance, but she said no to all of them. All she wanted was to dance with Ian, and enjoy the effect she was having on him. Several more would have asked her, but a glare from Ian froze them in their tracks. He didn't intend on sharing Reggie with anyone.

That had been at the beginning of the week, a week where they'd spent all their free time together. A week which ended here, after the biggest party of the year.

It was five o'clock in the morning, and Ian was sitting up in bed, unable to sleep, lost in his thoughts. Every now and again, he looked at Reggie, lying on her side, her right arm under her cheek, her left arm across his chest. With that contented smile on her face, he had never seen her look more peaceful. He should have felt the same way. Unfortunately, instead of love, and happiness, all he felt was confusion.

When he and Reggie had been just friends, it had been easy. He was sure that after graduation, they would go their separate ways, but they were going to stay in touch. Now, in one short week, everything had changed. He knew that he loved her, wanted to be with her, didn't want to lose her - but in a couple of days, he was leaving to go back to London. It had been planned long ago, before any of this, and he had a scholarship waiting for him at a prestigious music college there. Reggie, he knew, was planning her own career, based firmly in New York. Their lives were going in separate directions, yet he had only now discovered, after all this time, just how important she was to him.

The one thing that kept going around and around in his mind was a song, the last he'd ever performed as a student, when they put on a revue, featuring songs from Broadway shows. Mr Shorofsky had chosen him to sing an abbreviated version of a song from "Miss Saigon" and Ian had balked at first, wondering if his voice would be up to it. He needn't have worried. By the time he was finished, most of the audience were weeping and his friends backstage were too. He brought the house down and he had to take two curtain calls before the next act could go on. He had tried every trick he knew, but he couldn't get the song out of his head.

Why does Saigon never sleep at night?
Why does this girl smell of orange trees?
How can I feel good when nothing's right?
Why is she cool when there is no breeze?
Vietnam
You don't give answers do you friend?
Just questions that don't ever end?

Like Saigon in the song, New York was a city that never slept. Even now, at this hour, he could hear pedestrians and traffic going by outside, as a flashing neon sign cast a red light into the room. Inside though, there was silence, except for the sound of Reggie's breathing. Ian looked down at her, remembering the last two years, the last week, the last few hours when they had shared his bed for the first time. What at the time seemed perfectly right now seemed foolish - how could they have started something this serious, this wonderful, when their lives as they knew them were ending, and taking them in different directions? Deep inside both their hearts, they knew that it probably wasn't the wisest thing they'd ever done, but neither had been willing, or able to stop. As long as he looked around him, Ian couldn't come up with an answer. All he had were more questions.

Why God? Why today?
I'm all through here, on my way
There's nothing left here that I'll miss
So why send me now, a night like this

As much as he loved the School of the Arts, and New York, as much as it had given him, he knew that he wanted to return to England. It was his home, it was where his family was, where his career lay. His scholarship was a big deal both to his family, who never would have been able to afford to send him to college otherwise, and to the faculty at the School. Mr Shorofsky had never been prouder of Ian, and told him so, in front of his music class no less. Mr Dyrenforth had even made Mrs Berg announce it over the loudspeakers. There had been nothing specific about the city of New York itself that Ian was going to miss. As far as he was concerned, London had a special kind of atmosphere all of its own, and he couldn't wait to get back there. He would miss some of the friends he had made, but he knew he'd keep in touch with them. Day to day living without them would present no problem.

Until now. Until this night.

Who is the girl in this rusty bed?
Why am I back in a filthy room?
Why is her voice ringing in my head?
Why am I high on her cheap perfume?
Vietnam
Hey look, I mean ya no offence
But why does nothing here make sense?

Nothing in the past two years, or even in the past week, had prepared him for how he was feeling now. He had known Reggie as his best friend, as a fellow student, as a fellow performer - he'd never known her as a lover. In some ways, it didn't change anything, she was still the same old Reggie. But in other ways.....he didn't know her at all. There was so much more to her than he'd ever dreamed, so much more he wanted to learn about, to discover.

As he lay beside her, he could smell her perfume, the same one she always wore, some fragance that he had picked hurriedly and given to her at Christmas. All he could see was the look in her eyes as she danced with him. The way her body, wrapped in that incredible dress, had felt in his arms. The way she fitted in his embrace like no other woman ever had. Her hesitancy, her uncertainty earlier that night, followed by the look of peace and satisfaction she currently wore, even in her sleep. All he could hear was her voice over the years, as she laughed with him, talked to him, cried with him. The quiet declaration of love that she'd made on prom night as they danced the last dance. The soft whispers and sighs as they made love.

How was it possible he had spent so long with her without realising this depth of emotion? And why did this have to happen now?

Why God? Show your hand
Why cant one guy understand?
I've been with girls who knew much more
I've never felt confused before.

Ian lay back down, turning on his side to face Reggie. As gently as he could, so as not to wake her, he pressed his body against hers, allowing her to warm him. He smiled slightly as she shifted unconciously, so that their bodies were even closer together. Ian had been with other girls who had all been more experienced, most notably Joanna, but it had never felt this right. For Reggie, it had been her first time. She had told Ian that, but he'd already guessed as much from the way she was acting. He had told her that they could wait, after all, they'd already waited two years. But Reggie had insisted, and he wasn't going to disagree. It was a wonderful memory for both of them, and Ian thought that even on prom night, Reggie had never looked as lovely as she did now, asleep in his arms. There was a quiet beauty about her when she slept, an aura of serenity. A certainty that she was totally and utterly safe and happy and loved.

Why God? Why this face?
Why such beauty in this place?
I liked my memories as they were
But now I'll leave remembering her.
Just her.

Ian thought back over his time in New York. He remembered the many run-ins with Shorofsky, a man he now knew he owed so much. He thought of the shows that had been put on, sneaking into the hospital at Christmas to do a country number with Jesse to impress a producer. He remembered his stints at W.S.O.A, both with his own show, and as Nicole Chapman's assistant. He remembered Nicole, how talented she had been, and the pain of losing her. How Reggie had once nearly been expelled from school.How he once tried to romance her, but ending up suffocating her. He remembered her jealousy the first time Joanna had come back and he'd nearly left the school with her. And the second time that Joanna came back, when he realised that he was no longer in love with her. He remembered the hassles with organising Alumnus Day, and Grad Week, and the mix-up with the yearbook photos. All the crazy things that had gone on.

But most of his memories were of Reggie.

They had been friends from the first, two people drawn together because neither of them were exactly conventional. He hadn't realised that it was more than that, that he was in love with her until it was almost too late. And now, he had more memories of her. The words, the feelings, the sensations - he remembered every moment of it. He never wanted to forget. And he knew he never would. Now, every time he thought of New York, and the School, he would remember Reggie. And every time he thought of Reggie, this is how he would remember her.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he brushed the hair back off her face, etching every detail into his mind. As he did that, she stirred slightly, and her face contorted into a frown. "Ian?" she muttered.

"Sssh...." he whispered. "Go back to sleep." He lay down and slid his arms around her waist.

"Mmmm...." she sighed, once again pressing herself closer to him. "Nice."

Ian kissed the top of her head as she fell back asleep. He felt himself growing sleepy as he lay there beside her, and closing his eyes, he let himself drift away. For tonight, he was holding the woman he loved in his arms. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about questions that had no answers.

 


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