Dragon Clans Bk 01 Pt 03

"This poor bastard is never going to pull out of this," Cole said to Fred sitting next to him in the nondescript blue four door sedan.

It had been three weeks since the funeral; in that time Michael Dane's life had spiraled out of control. Cole had watched Michael loose his grip at the funeral; it had been downhill for him since that day.

Ian had told Cole to stay close to him, keep an eye on him and give him a few weeks to put together how to get Michael to England. Cole didn't know how much longer Michael was going to be able to hold it together.

.....................

"I can't do this anymore," Michael said to no one as he sat in his living room looking at the flashing red light on the answering machine.

His partner kept calling him, wanting to know what he could do to help, wondering when he would be coming back to work.

Michael shook his head and walked into the kitchen; opening the refrigerator he was not surprised to find it empty.

Slumping into one of the chairs at the table littered with old mail, condolence cards and ancient Chinese food the tears began to flow again. It was hard to remember when he had been happy, when everyday was not just a swirling maelstrom of unyielding suffering.

His strength had left him, his will had left him, all he wanted now was to be with Sasha and their child, to hold them and forget the pain.

Walking up the stairs he passed by the nursery, it was done in neutral purples that would work for either a boy or a girl.

Sasha and he had decided to let the sex be a surprise, he knew now from the autopsy; that the child who should have lived and grown in this room was a girl.

She would have been Sarah Nicole Dane, she would have been loved beyond reason, spoiled beyond belief and had a wonderful life. Wiping away fresh tears Michael closed the door to the nursery and turned to his and Sasha's' room.

Standing at the door memories assailed him like uncaring banshee, blind siding him with their emotional power and overwhelming him with their fury. Overcome by the force of their oppressive weight, Michael slid down the doorframe unable to maintain his fight against the ghosts of his past.

Holding his head in his hands, the tears for his dead daughter gave way to gut wrenching sobs for his wife, for his Sasha.

..................

At thirty-three and unmarried, Michael Dane was the main topic of the rumor mill at Dane/Mathews Design.

"He has to be gay," Marcia said to Gale over lunch in the break room.

"He is too good a catch not to have women all over him all the time, hell I tried to get near him but he was always just the cool professional," she continued to a smiling Gale.

Gale had been at DMD for 12 years, being the first hire and the oldest employee she had insights that the newer members of the staff didn't.

"I've known him for along time," Gale said between bites of her sandwich "he has always been a loner, always polite, always professional but also a very caring and concerned individual," she finished, not chiming in on Michael's sexual orientation.

Marcia was not convinced, no man had ever been able to resist her charms in the past, 'yes, definitely gay,' she thought to herself as she finished her lunch and left to go back to her office.

Gale just smiled as she finished and headed back to her desk between Michael's and Steve Mathew's offices.

DMD was known for two things, innovative architectural designs and an attention to detail in the execution of those designs that was the exception not the rule for architectural companies.

Michael's grandfather was an architect. Spending his school years on jobsites, watching his grandfather suffer over the smallest details and standing with him in front of finished buildings that had only existed on paper months before had instilled in Michael a deep love for architecture.

"The design of a building or a space within that building should speak to peoples souls Michael," his grandfather Adolph had said to him; while standing in front of the just completed Monroe building. His grandfather continuing "An architect is an artist, his palette is space and light, if you design spaces that invoke awe, light them so those within can view the space in context with the design intent, then you have conceived a work of art."

Michael was 18 getting ready to head off to college to study architecture at the University of Florida. This was the last and most enduring conversation he would have with his Grandfather; it would echo in his head throughout his school and professional years.

Michael was excited as he packed up his stuff into his 73 Pontiac Firebird and got ready to head off to college. There were the customary weeping exchanges with his parents and the promises to call as soon as he arrived.

The drive to Gainesville gave Michael a chance to think about what was to come and what was complete.

He had enjoyed his relationship with Anna, learned a great deal about the dynamics of being in a relationship and had a lot of good sex. The parting with Anna had been sweet, with promises of future reunions, a life spent together after they had grown into the people they would actually be.

Michael knew that future would never come about. Anna and he were too different to be together forever; Michael was constantly evolving, modifying himself into new incarnations. Anna would make a wonderful wife and mother some day, but that is all she would ever be; it was her fullest potential.

Driving north on 75 Michael thought of this new beginning.

Being on his own would be interesting. His parents had never been overbearing or strict, he had had more freedom to come and go as he pleased than any of his friends. But he was anxious to try life on his own, without the safety net of his parents waiting at home.

Going to school on a full scholarship and with the money in trust grandfather had left; he would not have to work.

However, Michael understood that work was good for the soul and expanded his ability to deal with others and life, so he had already applied for internships with three local architecture firms.

He had left a week early for school to get settled in the dorm and interview with the three firms.

Gainesville was a change from home; the rolling hills and ancient oak trees made Michael feel...enclosed, cocooned.

The dorm was your standard one room, 2 beds, 2 desks, and 2 closets. The bare white concrete walls were a bit depressing but that was easily fixed.

Going through the boxes he found that his life, while full did not entail acquiring a great many things.

His tassel from graduation, a few cassettes, Motley Crue, Def Leppard, Bon Jovi, Poison, his high school yearbook.

Were there so few things to remember the last eighteen years by? It didn't take long before everything was unpacked and he sat alone in the quiet dorm room, being that he was early, no one but the floor SA was there yet and none of the student facilities were open.

It was about 4pm, strolling out of Tolbert hall, located on the western edge of the campus proper, Michael decided to get his bearings.

Walking down Stadium Rd, the campus stretched out before him, on his left was Florida field, "The Swamp". Football was a big deal at UF, however team sports were never high on Michael's list so he did not think he would be going to many games.

Stadium Rd. slowly ambled downward towards the center of the campus, he passed the physics building, the bookstore, moved past the massive edifice of Turlington hall into the courtyard with the bell tower.

Michael loved the campus, it was a pleasant mixture of old and new styles, with a scale that ranged from one-story structures like the bookstore to 5 story monolithic constructs like Turlington. Looking at his map he headed South East between the music building and the auditorium, rounding the corner he saw the architecture building and was disappointed.

Like most modern buildings that tried to be hip this one failed miserably. The tall thin concrete columns holding up the glass walled studios above lacked any real imagination, the building had no soul. 'Ah well, not everyone can afford a Stubbins or Pei design,' Michael thought as he turned around, heading back to his dorm.

The next week moved quickly, the interviews had gone well for the internships and all three had extended him invitations. Michael was on his way out the door of his room for a meeting at TRX Architecture to accept their offer when the door opened and a walking luggage rack stepped into the room.

Dropping his bags, Steve Mathews looked up to see the smiling face of, he guessed, his roommate.

"Steve Mathews, glad to meet you," Steve said extending his hand.

Michael took the proffered hand, nice firm grip, not to soft not too strong, excellent.

"Michael, Michael Dane, looks like we are roommates," Michael said.

"Excellent, what are you studying, sorry about the amount of crap here, mom wanted to be sure everything I needed was close, she didn't need to buy out Burdines though." Steve smiled as he worked his way past the mound of luggage and looked around the room.

"Sorry, but I gotta run, have a meeting with an architecture company and I don't want to be late." Michael said as he moved towards the door. "Ill catch up with you later, we can eat dinner and get to know each other." He finished as he walked out the door.

TRX was a newer firm, only in business five years. The architect was Terrance Riggs, a thirty-year-old African American originally from Oklahoma City. Looking across the desk at Michael, Terrance thought he looked very familiar.

"Have we met before," he asked Michael looking over the resume again, "you seem so familiar, Dane, your not related to Adolph Dane are you?" Asked Terrance.

"Yes, Adolph was my grandfather," answered Michael, somewhat surprised that anyone outside of his hometown would know of his grandfather.

This brought an immediate smile to Terrance's face as he continued, " I met your grandfather several years ago at an AIA conference, we spent a few hours talking over dinner, he left a lasting impression, I enjoyed meeting him very much, how is he doing these days?"

A painful moment, a moment that comes in everyone's life, the moment you have to tell someone that a person you loved is dead.

"My grandfather died about a month ago," Michael stated, surprised by the emotions that this simple statement induced.

Terrance rose from his chair and moved around the desk. Placing a hand on Michael's shoulder he said in a conciliatory tone "I'm truly sorry to hear that, he had a unique vision of architecture and was, well, just a really nice man."

"Thank you, it means a lot to me that others new how, unique, my grandfather was," Michael replied with an honest smile that conveyed his true thanks.

The rest of the meeting went well, Michael would start his internship in two weeks, getting the first week of classes out of the way. They would meet again to discuss hours and duties prior to starting.

Michael felt good as he walked back to his dorm, it was close to 6pm and dusk was falling, bringing an amazing mix of pinks and reds to the sky, which contrasted in the most unusual way with the deep greens of the heavily treed campus. Michael walked up to his door, 'time to get to know the roomy he thought,' as he opened the door to Bon Jovi being played at an appropriately high level. 'Yeah this will work out well,' he thought as he closed the door behind.

............

Michael looked around him; his and Sasha's room was dark. Moonlight played through the windows and cast odd shadows on the things they touched.

'Too much, too much for anyone to handle, I can't go on this way,' Michael thought as he stood on wobbly legs. Reaching up into the closet he found the box. Pulling it down and laying it on the floor in front of him, he considered that within lies the end of his pain. The answer was in this box, Sasha was in this box, Sarah was in this box, it was an easy decision to make.

Opening the lid the blue steel reflected an inky light when the moonlight struck it. The six brass tips looked like gold in this light. The weight felt good in Michael's hands, it felt...right. Popping the chamber, one, then another, then all six of the golden cylinders found its mate.

Spinning the carousel Michael smiled, knowing soon he would be home.

The black hole leered at him as he looked into its dark depths, the pain was too much, and he couldn't be alone anymore. A shaking finger moved to the arching metal that would send him home.

And, just like in the movies, in that instant, everything that mattered, all the love, all the pain, all the joy and sorrow spilled forth in his psyche. It was a whirlwind that began and ended with the same person, Sasha, the one person who defined him as a human. The first image was from 6 years ago, Sasha crossing the park in front of the DMD offices, the last, was Sasha lying on an embalming table, 6 weeks ago.

The metal arch felt good against his finger as the pressure built and the images flashed one last time.

Sasha, in a white silk dress, it moves against her body like a cloud, accentuating her hips, then shifting, pulling tight over her breast showing her breeze hardened nipple and then her belly, flat and firm. She is perfection.

The look in her beautiful green eyes as we share a glass of merlot and speak to each other of our lives, hopes and dreams.

The warm embrace of her womanhood grasping and enveloping me for the first time, warmth, strength, passion, serenity.

The light of the sunset setting fire to her hair, looking up at her and placing the ring on her finger. Pure joy.

The first tender kiss as husband and wife.

The positive pregnancy test laid on his pillow, wrapped in pink and blue ribbon.

Painting the nursery, purple, the color of power of magic.

The last tender kiss on cold lips; loss unbearable.

"Go in right now Cole," Ian screamed over the phone, "stop him!"

A brilliant flash, a feeling of peace, a feeling of oneness. 'Sasha, I'll see you soon,' Michael thought as he drifted away.

A talon stretched, finding purchase in the hard granite floor of the cave. Ancient eyes blazed with a power gained from millennia of life. The earth trembled as its passage towards the lake began.