Title: Scenario 3: Out of the Silence
Author: J'Kitty
Fandom: Askewniverse
Feedback: If you get this on the list, FB it on the list. Otherwise: 
jabinkle@unity.ncsu.edu
Pairing: Jay/Bob
Rating: PG, except for language.
Disclaimer: Kevin 0wns j00!
Archive: Lemme know where, as always
Type: Sunburst storyline
Summary: Jay Sad/Bob Happy
Notes: The cover of "Back That Ass Up" actually belongs to A New Found 
Glory (who're an ace punk band, gotta love 'em). I made up the other names 
and CD names, so if they resemble actual ones... well. Oops. Also, "One 
in a million chances happen nine times out of ten" belongs to Terry 
Pratchett (Yay Pterry!)



Boy, Jay reflected. When Bob disappeared, the boy disappeared with 
gusto. A one word note (not reflecting postscript), took only a few 
possessions, and maybe three pairs of pants and a shirt. Nothing else. He 
didn't take his writings, or his poetry, or anything.

And so, when it had all sank in, Jay lived in Bob's husk. He slept in 
Bob's bed, read Bob's books, watched Bob's movies, and drank Bob's beer 
(until it ran out).

And while this was all well and good, he couldn't help but think that he 
was missing something. So while Jay was in New Jersey, lying in Bob's bed, 
clothed in Bob's clothes and breathing Bob's smell, Bob himself was on an 
entirely different adventure.

When Bob left New Jersey, he wasn't sure where he wanted to go. The Big 
Apple seemed like a logical choice. Too logical, and he was too well known 
from earlier stints. He didn't want to risk Jay finding him before he 
could patch up some of the worst emotional wounds. So he went west 
instead, and to Chicago. He didn't know anyone there, so he started from 
scratch.

It was touch and go for a while. He got a hotel room, and started hitting 
the clubs. One of the few things he'd lugged away with him was his 
cherished bass guitar. He figured that he could do some easy bass for a 
few bucks, at least until he could find some other work. He had some small 
talent, and a little luck. While hanging out at the Indigo Flow one night, 
he met a group who wanted a bass player. Silent Boom, they called 
themselves. They had a passion for their music and, like he, had a great 
love of punk music, and especially of covers. So they practiced, and 
performed and obtained a small amount of local notoriety. And in this way, 
Silent Boom made their niche in the night life of Chicago.

There was a lot of music writing (a lot more partying) and a lot of 
fun. For the first time since New Jersey, Bob felt at home. And here, he 
wasn't Silent Bob. And when he mentioned that that was his nickname to 
someone, they had blatantly laughed and asked if his other nickname was Tiny.

Everyone agreed, however, that they were bringing some style to the punk 
scene. A few reviewers noted that the lyrics in their songs flowed like 
Shakespeare's sonnet. And the formerly Silent Bob smiled and kept reading 
Shakespeare.

When the lead singer (a frantic young man by the name of Adam) got an offer 
from his cousin to perform at his nightclub in Jersey, Bob had a few 
misgivings. But the club was in Northern Jersey, far north of his old 
life. The chances of Jay being there were a million to o
ne. (However, his traitorous mind quoted: "One in a million chances happen 
nine times out of ten.") However, the band longed to see some new country, 
and didn't think much of a short trip across the country. Especially when 
Adam's cousin was paying for their plane fare. So he had sighed, and 
agreed and packed his bags.

With these fell thoughts, he and his girlfriend of the week boarded the 
plane and flew into New Jersey, making a long bus ride to a small dive of a 
club out in the middle of nowhere. When he saw the locale of the club, he 
was comforted. It was a local hangout, and not much renowned, other than 
by the local punk aficionados of the town. Sparkle was a club like none 
he'd ever been it. It was small, sure, and a little dank (most clubs 
were), but it had a homey feeling, and a loyal crowd base. The wooden 
floors were comfortable, and lived in, and he felt safe there for the first 
time in a few years.

They went through the motions of setting up; everyone was in a great mood, 
and looking forward to hitting a new crowd of people. He'd never said it, 
but Bob thought Adam had some big dreams of going nationwide.

&&&

Friends had been begging Jay to get out of the apartment for weeks. After 
months and months, he had finally become functional again. What else could 
he do? Bob obviously didn't want him. Not that he blamed Bob, his 
cheating was unacceptable, obviously, but he wished that he'd at least been 
told this. He sighed and dragged on his boots. Sharkey was going on and 
on about this club his friends' cousin's uncle's son had been too, way 
fuckin' out in the sticks. It was called Glitter, or Shiny or something.

So with misgivings (and at least the promise of a good bar at the end of 
the ride), he loaded into Sharkey's car. The car ride wasn't memorable at 
all (if you count nearly slamming into a tractor trailer as a non-memorable 
event), and when he woke, they were in front of the club. Sparkle. Looked 
like a nice place. Better than where they usually hung out. And punk rock 
drifted out like a promise. Ah, nothing like raving to loose up some anger.

The sounds of the band were muted as Sharkey and the gang waited to be 
carded. They didn't sound half bad. Offhand, he queried the bouncer, and 
was told they were from Chicago, friend of the owner, all the usual 
rot. Jay sighed. If it was a friend of a friend type thing, the band 
usually sucked. When they finally made it through the door, and he could 
finally see the stage, his heart dropped in his chest. Bob was on the 
stage. He wasn't wearing his trench coat, but he had his black bass guitar 
(with some sort of elf rune he'd had put on it), and he was definitely 
eating up the fanfare.

"You guys ready to dance!?" The leader singer was great, Jay had to 
admit. He knew how to work the crowd. The crowd screamed as one, and the 
leader cued the band. They spit out a quick rendition of "Back That Ass 
Up" and the crowd screamed and writhed. Jay was even more boggled that Bob 
was doing backup vocals. _Silent_ Bob was doing backup vocals. And he 
didn't have on his trench coat. And he was moshing. And he was having the 
time of his life.

And he saw Jay.

When the song ended, he looked at Jay, pulled his girlfriend onstage, and 
kissed her. Jay's heart caught in his chest, and he very nearly cried 
there in the club. It was clear what Bob was trying to tell him. He bowed 
his head and took a deep breath. Suddenly, his knees felt as though they 
were going to give out. He looked back towards the stage, and made sure 
Bob was watching. He gave a brief wave, and made his way out of the 
club. He stopped by a table and bought one of the band's CD (aptly 
entitled, 'Out of the Silence') and sat in the car for four hours. He 
could hear the music, and hear people screaming for them to continue.

They arrived back at Jay's about four in the morning. Jay was cold and 
tired and heartbroken all over again. He grabbed the blanket from Bob's 
bed, put Bob's CD into the player, and stayed that way, listening to the 
entire thing through. There were fragments of Bob's poetry in the 
songs. He could tell, he'd memorized every word of it he could 
find. Afterwards, he cried, and then he sat, staring into the snow on the 
muted TV.

Finally, he decided. He stood slowly, as though it pained him, and walked 
to Bob's bedroom. He packed up all of Bob's poetry books, and all of Bob's 
writings, and put in a note. Then he taped the box. It was nearly 8, the 
post office was open. He addressed the box to Bob, c/o Silent Boom, and 
sent it to the address listed in the CD folder. It never came back to his 
address, so he assumed that Bob had it.

Every night, Jay would come in from dealing, and sit on the futon. He 
would watch Sixteen Candles, and cry, and then listen to Out of the 
Silence, and cry. His friend in Chicago kept up with the band for 
him. They had quite a following, and were probably going to be signed soon.

And Jay would sleep in Bob's bed, praying for the daylight that would never 
come.

&&&

When Bob opened the box, he almost cried. He had missed his writings and 
poetry. He picked them up and flipped through them. There were stains and 
fingerprints on the pages that he didn't remember being 
there. Strange. Jay must have been looking through them to see where he'd 
gone. Out of the last book, a note fell. His face softened as he read, "I 
loved you then. I love you now. Best of luck." It wasn't signed. It 
didn't have to be. Bob sighed, and glanced at the girl sleeping on his 
bed. He and Christina had been together for nearly six months now. Did he 
want to throw all this away? He glanced at the note, and then at the 
sleeping form. He tore the note to shreds, and climbed into the bed.

&&&

When Jay didn't get a response from Bob, it was no more than he 
expected. And one night, in a local club (Jay never, never went to out of 
town clubs again); he met a record producer for a pretty big company. Not 
a nationwide company, but a nice little regional number, known for taking 
risks on new bands. He slipped his copy of "Out of the Silence" into the 
guy's briefcase. And he left the club, and went home, and called his 
friend in Chicago, asking her to send him another copy.

And later, when Bob's band (for, to Jay, it would always remain Bob's band, 
no matter who led it) went regional, they were the talk of the town. And 
when they went national, they were the talk of the nation. Everywhere he 
went, someone was playing their ballads, their melodies, and their 
poetry. And every day, he went home, listened to his CD, and cried.