I Couldn't

Pairing: Jason/Kirk
Summary: Jason tries to explain
Warning: Mild spoiler for So What! 9.4
Disclaimer: I own not. I earn not. No harm intended. I only play.

The words run together in a fuzzy white blur on the black page. "Resentment... pisses me off... we were really good friends...."

Shit, that hurt.

We 'were' really good friends, Kirk? As in, past tense? Friends no more?

I slam the book shut, unwilling to read anymore. How can I make him understand? How can I make him see? I couldn't let them work it out for me. I couldn't let them talk me into staying. Have I ever told him that? I don't think I have. All the phone calls, all the lunches, all the jam sessions since I left. I don't think I ever explained to him why. I should fix that. I owe him that.

I check the time. He should be out of the studio by now. I'll call and explain. If I can put it into words. If I can force the words out. I pick up the phone and begin to dial his number, two numbers to go and my finger slams on the 'end' button. I can't do this over the phone. I need to see him, see his expression, his eyes. It'll be that much harder, but I owe him.

Ninety minutes later, I pull up next to his Land Rover at the ranch. I know he likes to spend the remaining daylight hours out here with Robano. He doesn't ride every evening; just spending time brushing and sitting with his horse is enough sometimes. I know the feeling. Maybe I'll get a horse again someday. I miss the unconditional love they give and how they want nothing back but kindness. I have all that with Kobie and Kayd I d I thought it was enough but the urge to sit on a powerful back, to feel warmth and strength between my legs has come back and now I want to ride more than ever.

A loud whinny followed by Kirk's high pitched giggle breaks me from my thoughts and I look up to see him playing a game of tag with Robano. He looks so carefree right now, crouched down, arms spread as he runs around at his horse, making sputtering airplane noises. The spirited horse tosses his head and spins away from his 'attacker', letting both barrels fly before he snorts and runs to the r sir side of the corral, mane flying and tail flagging. He knew it was a game; I remembered playing the same sort of game with my horse all those years ago. The way he carries his head, high up with his nose in the air, ears swiveling tells me they've played this game many times as well. He's coming my direction and as he draws near, I whistle softly at him. He slams to a halt and tosses his head at me before walking up to where I'm leaning against the fence. I put my hand out for him to smell which he does, his warm horse breath puffing against my skin before he pushes up against my hand to be petted. I'm scratching around his ears when Kirk finally arrives, his black curls tangled and wild, his eyes sparkling with the fun of the evening.

"Hey Jase, what are you doing way out here?" There is nothing in his voice to indicate I'm not welcome. For some reason, it set at at ease and makes me nervous all at the same time. I say nothing for a moment, just watch as he runs his hands down Robano's face and strokes the sleek neck. Talking in that soft voice reserved for horse people and their horses. My own fingers pick at the horse's forelock, combing it through before I absently begin to braid it. Now that I'm here, faced with him and his good mood, I'm reluctant to spoil it. Various ways to begin flit across my mind and I'm sure I'm making faces at myself as I reject each and every one of them.

"Jase?"

Startled out of my thoughts, I look up. "Huh?"

"You ok?"

Why does he have to look so concerned? So friendly? Like he really cares? He resents me; I saw it, printed for all the fans to see. His hand is reaching out, coming at me and I keep my eyes carefully trained on the long black hair that I'm braiding. I can still see his hand in my peripheral vision and yet I still jerk the slightest bit when his hand comes to rest on my forearm. I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn't. I can't stand it anymore and I look up, meeting his eyes and opening my mouth. What falls out isn't quite what I meant to say.

"Are we still friends, Kirk?" Oh man... that's not what I wanted to say at all. I nearly groan at my own stupidity.

The silence that follows is deafening. The hand on my arm slides away and I look up in time to see his hurt expression. There is nothing, no affirmation, no denial. Nothing. Just hurt. My heart hammers in my chest as I crawl over the fence to stand in the corral. Robano stands quietly between us as I struggled to figure out what to say to Kirk.

He just stands there on the other side of his horse, his bright smile gone as he strokes his hands lovingly over the shiny black coat. His eyes follow every movement of his hands as though they hold the answer to some deep secret. At last he speaks and I find myself holding my breath to hear him. "I guess you read what I said in that interview." I don't have time to respond before he looks up at me suddenly. "It's true Jase, I meant everything I said and there was so much more I couldn't say, things I didn't want the fans to know. Things I didn't want James or Lars to know either."

I am dumbfounded, what did he mean? What things? My curiosity is up now and I prop an arm on Robano's back, thankful he is such an easy going horse as I grasp Kirk's hand, halting his repetitive stroking. "Like what, Kirk?"

His fingers twitch in my grasp but don't pull away and my thumb begins drawing small circles on the soft skin of his wrist. Our eyes are locked, staring at each other. There's no challenge or accusation in either of our expressions, just an open willingness to communicate for once. "Like how I cried at night, at every picture I saw of you, of us, of the band. Every reminder that told me once again those moments were gone, never to be experienced again. Or how betrayed I felt, I thought of everyone in the band, you would have told me first, warned me, you know how sensitive I am. Why did you make me find out with the rest of them? Why didn't you warn me at least? When you left the building that day, I fell apart. I was so weak and I fell to pieces in front of them. You know how much I hate that! Damn you. I never wanted to seem weak in front of them ever again and you knew that but you caused it anyway. Why Jason? Why did you do that to me?"

I am speechless. What can I say to that? I have hurt one of my very best friends deeply, so deeply that I'm not sure it could be healed. Please God, let me not fuck this up anymore than I already have. My hand still has a hold on his wrist, my thumb still tracing over that silky skin as I struggle to fihe whe words that are locked in my heart. Most people wouldn't have waited for me to fight with myself. Most people would have grown disgusted and walked away but Kirk knows me better than most. He knows how I struggle sometimes because he shares the same thing. The inability to find the right words when they are needed. So, he waits patiently and his hand twists in my grasp so that his own fingers can grip my wrist in return as he waits. The small show of friendship and support gives me courage and I suddenly find more words than I know what to do with.

"I was afraid, Kirk. I tried so many times to tell you alone but I'd look at you and the words would just stick in my throat. I couldn't face bethe the one to hurt you and comfort you at the same time. I wasn't strong enough to do that but I couldn't just do that to you and then leave you alone either. I decided that I had to tell all of you at once. I did that for you so you wouldn't have to be alone. I knew they would support you and hold you together. I knew that you didn't want them to see you cry, but damn it, I didn't know what else to do. Leaving you, leaving Metallica...."

My throat tightens to the point of pain as I struggle to keep the tears at bay. He must realize this because I feel his fingers tighten slightly around my wrist. It's enough to send me over the edge and I feel my chin start to quiver as I choke on my tears. Damn it. I didn't want this to happen.

I take a deep breath and try again. "Leaving was the hardest thing I've ever done, Kirk. Leaving the band, ing ing you alone. I'm so sorry, baby. I never wanted it to come to this but I was suffocating. I had all this musiwantwanted to share with the world and I couldn't. I spent years trying to come up with a solution. I told myself it didn't matter, that I didn't have to release that music, that Metallica was enough. After so long though, I just... it didn't feel right. It wasn't right! Why was I forced to make this choice? Why did there have to be a choice? Why couldn't he just let me release my music? I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to hurt you...." By now I'm sng ang and I don't even realize that Robano has moved from between us until I feel strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me close to a lean, powerful body. Soft words are spoken into my ear as my arms close around him, drawing strength from him as I cry out the pain that's been building in my soul.

A long time passes before I finally get myself back under control. I've spent many nights crying into my pillow but it never gave me the release of guilt and pain that this moment has. Having Kirk's arms around me and hearing his sweet voice absolve me of blame is exactly what I needed to forgive myself.

Finally, we pull away by some mutual, psychic agreement and look at each other. We both have tear tracks down our faces and we smile as we wipe each other's faces. There's no need for an apology from me, I think it would only cheapen what just happened. We both needed this moment.

"Jason, I understand now. Thank you." And with those six words I'm free of all the guilt I've carried around. Hugging him close again, I whisper against his hair, "Friends?"

"Always."

The End.