Questions (open to reallyoldguy)

Fred was a little surprised to find herself speeding on the way home. A glance down at the dash and she eased up on the gas, until she felt the car slow underneath her, something steadier. Predictable, unlike countless other things she count name at the moment, starting with herself. She'd expected to drive for a while, not matter what she'd announced before. To take things in, and figure on their meaning. At least for a while, whatever came after, this was hers. For as long as it took to get from point A, to point B, from lobby to living room, it was just her. Not because that was really the way she wanted it to be, or they way she'd ever envisioned before she'd stopped envisioning it all all. For all the nausea that may or may not have a good reason for being there, the questions, and the very different thing, the lack of answers. It'd been just her before, she'd gotten past it. What did it mean to never be a just anything, ever again? Fred wasn't sure she knew the answer to that one yet either, but suspected it had an awful lot to do with what her folks were trying to tell her the day she left for LA.

She felt the car traveling faster again, and once again Fred checked herself, slowing down.

She wasn't really sure why she was so anxious to get home. It wasn't as if she knew what she was going to say. Okay, maybe there was a guess or two, but nothing specific and anything like result-driven was there. It was all ideas, something almost real because it wasn't supposed to be. It just wasn't. And maybe that was where all the questions were starting in her head. What else wasn't supposed to be, that was? Rules were broken everyday, the windows that folks viewed the world through streaked, then shattered, then rebuilt under lists of new learnings and expectations. She'd so rarely accepted just words in her life. Fred needed to see, and to touch, and to occasionly make it blow up to understand. She'd been told something wasn't possible, and she'd believed. Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn't have.

It was also, as far as she could figure, the last option she had left, that anyof this had sense to it. Sometimes the universerse didn't break or shatter around you, it just bent a bit. And Fred couldn think of only one person who might've seen it before, with his own to eyes.

Just once, just once was all she needed. One glimpse at the possibility of sense, to make it all stop spinning. And something with her stomach, there was something with her stomach too. She finally parked the car and headed inside, hoping to find Methos alone. This was one case she wasn't ready to face both at once. A few answers would probally help in the explaining too, with the finding of words.

She really, really wanted to find the right words.