Issue 1 Downtime

Isabel was sitting on a bench in the quad, writing furiously in her notebook as she tried to process the emotions that the mission had stirred up. She was so focused that she was startled when her phone beeped, reminding her of an appointment with one of the doctors for a post mission check up. She shoved her things into her backpack, not bothering to shut it and not noticing when her notebook fell out as she hurried away.

Ross stretched as he sat down on the bench after his jog.

Huh? What's this?

He leaned down and picked up the notebook, looking it over and opening it up to try to figure out whose it was.

There would be no immediate clues, beyond the initials "IG" on the inside cover.

Ross frowned, starting to look through it to see if maybe there was some clue, like notes from a class or something so he could turn it in to a professor.

The notebook was pretty clearly not for a class, unless it was a class on writing free verse and making sketches.

"Oh man..." Ross quicky closed the notebook.

Maybe it's someone's Language notebook? No... but... well, maybe there's still something in here that'll tell me whose it is?

Sighing, and feeling a little guilty, but SURE it was the only thing to do, Ross opened the notebook and started reading through it.

The poems on the first part of the notebook were ones that would be new to Ross, but might be familiar to careful readers who might recall Isabel's earlier literary efforts.

Ross leafed through it, at first wondering who it was, then after a bit just reading. Oh my god! That's so sad, he thought, sincerely touched, as he read through the gloomy poetry that other people had already laughed at.

There was other poetry, mostly written on the same topic, and the same themes. Longing for her green haired beloved, longing to be with him, and then, a whole spate of poems that seemed to have been written more recently, accompanied by some deeply disturbing sketches of things she'd seen. The first poem read

I fell into hell
Watched as he fought
His wife by his side
stood by helpless
trying to help
trying to heal
knowing I was weak
helpless
hopeless

I fell back to earth
Watched as he went home
His wife by his side
stood by helpless
hopeless
alone.

Still in hell.

Ross lookd... immensely sad as he read it. What kind of a jerk could make someone feel this way? That was... just mean! And it's someone who was married? How could he! As if he couldn't stop, he read on.

The next poem was in a similar vein.

There is a universe
where I am evil
There is a universe
where I kill
There is a universe
where I am kinda
gay
Is there a universe
where he loves me?

Ross frowned, starting to think. Wait... that was the big news, right? People getting back from some other universe? So... was this one of them? God, that must have been horrible, just look at this...

This was the next poem....

The moon split asunder
and the world screamed
The moon split asunder
and the oceans heaved
The moon split asunder
and everyone saw it.
My heart split asunder
silently
unremarable
unremarked
my heart was split asunder
not even my beloved saw it.

Ross just seemed heartbroken at this. Who was this green-haired married guy? Seriously, he must be a complete douchebag! How could he do this all, hurt her so much! For a few moments, Ross reflected that it probably would have been useful to not have been so new to the school and not know anyone.

The last three poems would probably only confirm Ross's desire to white knight the mysterious "IG"

In a evil world
the moon is cut in half
unable to save the Earth
forever
In a good world
my heart is cut in half
separted from my beloved
forever

Although the last two might stir up some sympathy for the green haired beloved of the poems.

She loves him
in all universes
She controls him
in all universes
She shapes him
in all universes
She twists him
in all universes
She keeps him
in all unverses
keeps him away from me.


Their apartment is a scene of horror
Their apartment is a scene of pain
Their apartment is an abomination
Their apartment is a charnel house
Universal constants.

Ross sighed, closing up the notebook and putting it into his backpack. Well, he had the initials. He supposed that he could always look through the student directory and see whose name matched those initials. It was a start, at least, right?

Just as Ross was thinking this, Isabel was came running from the infirmary, a frantic look on her face.

Naive as he was, Ross wasn't stupid. Shit, think that's her? Guess we have to find out...

"Hey, everything all right?" he asked, a sincere look of concern on his face.

"Yeah." Isabel said, trying to calm herself "I think my notebook might have fallen out of my notebook. Um, I mean, out of my backback. My backpack."

"Oh, really? What does it look like?" Ross said, standing up. Shit, it is her.

"Its about so big" Isabel held her hands apart "black, and its got a red glitter poppy on the outside."

Yeah, that's her. Wow, she's hot... "And you think you dropped it out here?" Ross said, making a show of looking around.

"Yeah, somewhere. I was sitting on the bench." Isabel said "I don't know when or where it fell out?"

Something, some usually unheard of bit of common sense, seemed to kick in. "I... crap. That is the one. Thought it was too much of a coincidence," he sighed, as he peeked into his backpack. "I guess you're 'IG' then?" he asked, pulling the notebook out and handing it to her.

"Isabel Galen." she said taking the notebook. "Thanks, I'm glad to have it back. Its...kind of a diary."

And at that point, Ross turned red. "Yeah, I... sort of looked trying to find a name somewhere so I'd know who to give it back to," he admitted, his stroke of common sense evidently passed.

"Yeah, I should write my name in it." Isabel said, blushing in embarrassment "But, um, I hope you didn't have to look in it too hard before, you, um, gave up."

"Probably just, y'know, a quarter," he admitted. Of the notebook. Where the writing stopped. "It's really good, though," he added.

"You liked it?" Isabel asked, torn between pleasure , horror and embarrassment.

"Well yeah," Ross said. Shit, how would my English teacher put it? "It's really evocative... it pulls you in. I really did try to stop, but I just... well, I couldn't," he admitted, part complimentary, part apologetically.

"Thanks." Isabel said, looking please "I really try to use imagery, but I haven't really polished them or anything. I just kinda let what I'm feeling flow onto the page."

"Well yeah, but that makes it better, right? I mean, it makes it more honest if you're keeping it raw, and honest is more emotional."

"Yeah, that is what I try to do." Isabel said "Just...let my soul pour onto the page. Most people don't get that."

"Well, some people are stupid," Ross said, zipping his backpack back up, thoughts of green hair going through his head. "I can totally get not wanting people to read it, since... well, that's you in there, and that's personal, but... it is really good."

"Thanks for giving it back." Isabel said "I really owe you one. Maybe I could buy you a coffee or something."

"Well, I kind of feel like a douche for reading it, so how about I buy you coffee?"

"How about I buy you a coffee for finding my notebook, and you buy me one for reading it?"

Ross chuckled. "Okay, okay... you buy coffee for me finding the notebook," he said, nodding. "And I'll buy lunch for reading it. Only fair way to handle it."

"Ok, that sounds fair." Isabel said with a shy smile.

Oh wow, that worked? "So... um... did you want to go now, or do you need to get to class or something first? You looked like you were in a hurry, and I don't want to make any trouble for you..."