Blind Before I Stop
A Blues Brothers Fan Fiction
© 2006 by Ella Roberta Reamy

Jake knew the minute they stopped in front of the dusty window that they were in trouble. But Elwood didn't believe him. "C'mon, Jake. It'll be fun. You don't have to. I only have enough for one anyway."

The artfully hand-lettered sign in the window read "Past-Life Hypnosis. $10.00 Special."

Jake harrumphed and shook his head. "It's load of shit." But there was no swaying Elwood, who had been on one of his knowledge bends, this time reading about psychic phenomena and ghosts and synchronicity and the like. Jake sneered and reluctantly followed his brother into the dank shop.

Elwood stopped short at the sight of her. She stared straight ahead, lost in thought, a large steaming mug of what appeared to be tea held delicately in her hands. She appeared gypsy, Italian, and nondescript white girl all at once. She held her unfocused gaze as she spoke. "I hope you're here for the special in the window. It's about all I can do."

"Uh, yeah," Elwood replied. "Are you Madame Serena?"

"Serena is my aunt. She's out of town." The girl set down her mug on the low table in front of her and turned to face them. "I'm Kirima."

Elwood hesitantly walked forward and held out the ten. She looked at the bill, up at Elwood, then leaned and looked over his shoulder at Jake, looking pouty and irritated, his arms crossed as he looked disapprovingly around him. She righted herself and stood. The long strands of dark hair that had come loose from her updo brushed gently against her shoulders, bare except for the lace straps of her black top. "I'll give you two for one."

"No," Jake said simply. Elwood turned and gave him an imploring look.

"All you'll be out is thirty minutes or so," Kirima replied dryly. She moved about the room, lighting extra candles and sticks of incense. "Something tells me you two are more connected than you think."

"Listen lady, I don't give a—OW!" He rubbed his shoulder where Elwood had just punched him fiercely.

"We'll do it." Elwood answered for them.

Kirima lit the last candle and blew out the long match. She approached the brothers and took the ten from Elwood. "Very well. Sit."

Jake rolled his eyes behind his shades and complied, seating himself next to Elwood on a mildewy floral couch. The room was dark and looked very much like one expects from a palm reader's shop.

"We're starting off nice and simple. Sit back and close your eyes. Now I want you to start to take deep breaths. In. Now out."

"Is this like them pregnant women's classes?" Jake quipped.

"Shut up," Elwood protested.

"El, this is so—OW!" Jake whirled around angrily.

Kirima had come up behind him and pinched the top of his ear firmly with the tips of her short nails.

"It would be wise for you to oblige your brother," she instructed. "I have a feeling that you weren't a comedian in your past life, because you certainly aren't one now." She let go of his ear, pushing his head back onto the headrest of the couch. "Now, if you'll allow me to continue?"

Elwood snickered lightly as Jake looked bewildered and even angrier, but tightened his lips and kept his head where Kirima had left it.

"Release all stigma you hold, no matter what the reason. Relax. Clear your mind. Breathe slowly and naturally. Relax your mind. In…and out. In…and out. In…and…"

When had Kirima stopped?

I'm not in my time.

His inner eye merged with his outer eyes, and he saw a man—nay, merely a boy—in the mirror. He was in a suit, but not the mysterious black affair he knew like his own skin. This was brown, old, with a thin ribbon of a tie done in a limp bow. He ran a comb through his hair, a fairer shade of brown. He looked like himself, but something was off. It was him, but it wasn't.

It was as if he was watching a movie from a seat in a private theatre and he was operating the camera that was capturing it all, both at the same time. His body was moving, but he was not willing the actions. Moving on auto pilot? From memory?

He slid on a pair of small oval spectacles with slightly tinted lenses. The dull throb in his head that he had not been aware of until it subsided surprised him. He must have a light sensitivity. The lenses were prescribed, he could see clearer now.

The scene jumped. He sat in a dank drawing room sipping tea from a delicate cup. Across from him sat a mustached man and a woman. The man was telling an epic anecdote, the woman laughed giddily at his wild gestures. He chuckled and turned to gaze upon his seatmate. A girl with a curling red bob and a long sea green sack dress tittered gleefully, trying not to turn over her plate of finger sandwiches balanced on her knee. She caught his eye and smiled broadly. She was downright cute. She was in love with him. They were courting—no, betrothed. Sally…Sally Rutherford. Her family was rich but didn't show it off. His family was not. His suit jacket had patches at the elbows. They were to be wed the next year's spring.

The scene flash-changed again. He and Sally were at the cafe with Mrs. Rutherford, when Sally screeched gleefully next to him. He turned in his seat to see her rush towards a man he had not seen before, but his memories, his methodical drive, knew him well. The man's clothing was dusty from extensive travel, the style almost like that of the cowboys he'd seen in the moving picture theatres, but not quite. His jacket lay over battered traveling duffel, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his wide-brimmed hat pulled low over mischievous eyes. The other patrons of the café stared (without staring) in disdain at this man who was the antithesis of decorum and grace, yet in every ounce of his being carried more style and confidence than any of the trained poodles around him. "Trained poodles"—he remembered this dashing fellow saying this and yet he wouldn't say it to him until several weeks after this first meeting.

Sally rushed to embrace this man—her cousin, calling him only Norris, no last name—whom she had not seen since she was a young child. She brought him over and introduced Elwood to the man as Irving Sidwell. What a name, his ethereal self thought.

Flash. Elwood was seated beneath a willow tree. Sally was supposed to meet him here for a picnic. The Rutherford's car pulled to a dusty halt on the edge of the field, but instead of the redhead, Norris…Jake ambled steadily towards him. Sally sent him instead to tell Elwood she'd come down with a terrible head cold. "Women's issues," Jake added, waving it away as unimportant. Elwood blushed, looked away. Asked Jake if he wanted to eat Sally's share of the lunch. They dined and talked. Jake did most of the talking, telling of his travels out west in California and Montana, where a lot of the country still seemed so primitive and untouched even with more modern towns not far from the wilderness. He also talked highly of the women he'd been with, alcohol, gambling. Things Elwood had only heard disapproving rumors of. Sally had cut her hair, but she was virginal, good, didn't really like going out except with her family. And him.

"So, you and Sally ever…?" Jake prompted, raising an eyebrow. Norris' hair was the same dark shade, but free from all of Jake's wayward curls. It was stick straight and long, past his ears in the back, and hung in his eyes when he removed his hat. He smiled up at Elwood, his eyes burning with curiosity.

"You should not speak of your cousin in such a manner," Elwood protested prudishly. He took a pious sip from the bottle of sherry he had bought for the occasion. He had put the heirloom crystal tumblers back in the picnic basket. It would seem rather silly if anyone happened by.

Jake tilted his head, smiling, intrigued. "You never have."

"I don't believe that's any of your concern." Elwood shoved the cloth napkin off his knee and began to rise.

"Whoa, wait! I didn't mean to make you mad. Relax, sit back down." Elwood sat down reluctantly. "Anyway," Jake began. "I was just saying…you gotta start somewhere. What are you doing later?"

Flash.

It was a sensation like no other, one he knew well and yet he knew it was Irving's first time. Straddling him was a girl with straight jet-black hair, bobbed even shorter than Sally's. She moaned and sighed in gleeful ecstasy as she rode him. "Mmm, tall order to fill here," she'd said when Jake had paid their way and been led away into another room by a nymphet blonde. He squeezed his eyes shut as he came and bit his lower lip. "Damn, honey. You sure you never done this before?" she asked, lighting a cigarette in a long holder.

Flash.

Jake had consumed a ton of liquor but never lost his composure; only gained a mild headache and greater ambition. Elwood had had nothing yet still felt like he might be sick. "You don't look so good. Was she not very good? 'Cause it sounded like you two were having fun in there."

"No, that's not it," Elwood replied. He looked absently down at his pocket watch for the thousandth time that night. "It's nothing."

"It's a Friday night, I don't think the hour is that important," Jake said. He grabbed Elwood's watch, yanked the clip off of Elwood's person and shoved it into the pocket of his pants. "So you did enjoy it?"

"Yes…" Elwood trailed off. It had been fun, and it had felt terrific. But something had just seemed off. Elwood often felt this way around Sally. He loved her, but the few times they had kissed had seemed…strange. He usually just chalked it up to inexperience.

"Experience has nothing to do with it," Jake declared as if he had been reading his mind. They had just rounded the corner of the alleyway behind the small hotel that Jake was staying in. Cars rushed by on the street outside, horns beeping and passengers shouting jovial salutations at one another.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Elwood replied, desperately wanting to stray from the subject. He trailed his fingers lightly on the brick wall as he walked along, sidestepping dirty puddles.

"Maybe…" Jake prompted playfully, drawling out the word. Elwood suddenly found himself blocked in between Jake and the wall. Jake put his arms out on either side of Elwood's body, making it where he couldn't escape his companion's roguish gaze. "Maybe…you're just not into that half."

"What do you—" Elwood began, but never got to finish his question. Jake leaned in, pressing his chest against Elwood's and caught his mouth in a kiss. He tasted the sweet fire of the liquor on his tongue and something else, something that he knew only Jake tasted like, sweeter than that and Elwood's swimming thoughts couldn't form a word for it. Something welled up inside of Elwood as his lips moved against Jake's, a feeling that he hadn't experience with Sally or the darkly gorgeous flapper back in that room.

No.

He turned his head away. He wanted to sink into the brick wall and disappear. He wanted to be home in bed and have it be the way it was, to be sure of things and unaware of all this. "You're drunk," he protested, pushing Jake away from him. He moved and tried to walk away, but his feet wouldn't cooperate, staying planted where they were. Jake walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around Elwood and resting his chin affectionately on his shoulder. Elwood stiffened but didn't fight him off this time.

"You're the only one that can make the call," Jake said. "What's right for you. What you like." Elwood shuddered with pleasure as he felt Jake's warm breath and the ethereal coolness of his tongue as it glided lightly up the edge of his earlobe and lingered for a moment in the hollow at the very peak. "Whaddya say?"

FLASH.

It was wrong. It was wrong as hell and he didn't care anymore. When Irving was still alive he couldn't have told what the room looked like or how they tried to act natural on their hurried journey upstairs to get there. How they had kissed furiously, passionately. How Elwood found himself against the wall again, his arms pinned above him, and liked it. A lifetime of having to make decisions sliced in half with Jake's eager, yet controlled force. His touch like electricity as he disrobed him, the fingertips of Jake's somewhat calloused hands brushing an unknown sensitive area on Elwood's back as his shirt slid off his shoulders. The garment fluttered like the wings of a white moth as it landed on the floor at their feet.

They were on the bed, Jake's weight on top of him. Staring up at him, smiling down with that damn cocky grin he'll never ever lose. His entire body trembling, his heart quivering, his mind spinning and spinning like a demonic carousel. It seemed it lasted forever, that it would last forever, that he never wanted it all to stop while another part of his mind screamed in protest. He reached the glass ceiling and broke through, sending the shards in a shower all around him as a scream rose from the depth of his being, throwing itself against the back of his teeth as he bit it back. Only a low, frenzied moan escape into the air that was cloyingly sweet with sweat and hints of whiskey and a few tears and another scent that might have had a name or three, but he was too tired to think about it.

He lay on his back, draped over the top of the bed, not bothering to find his clothes and waiting for the yellow dots in front of his eyes to converge and disappear. Jake eased his pants back on, removing the belt from the loops and tossing it to the floor as he moved over to the window and slid it open. The night air pushed past the curtains and caressed Elwood's bare skin, making him feel like the dark midnight sky was calling to him from beyond the city. Jake rolled and lit a cigarette, pushing the curtains aside enough to see out. The jumpy notes of a piano playing an infectious tune, new to the world—jazz—floated in like a fresh ghost and danced around in the lamplight.

"Damn good music," Jake-Norris said. "All I heard out west was old-timey stuff." He took several long drags and blew them out the window, gazing thoughtfully at everything and nothing. Elwood-Irving gazed at him upside down. Smiled absently as Jake pushed a strand of hair out of his eyes with the same hand he held the cigarette with, careful not to ignite himself with the glowing bud of smoldering red. "That music's gonna change the world."

"You're beautiful," he said, speaking without thinking—blind before he stopped.

Jake turned and grinned back at him. Cocky, shit-eatin' grin. Always cocky, but never mean. Not to him. Not in all the lifetimes in the world. Jake stubbed the cigarette out on the windowsill and tossed the butt out the window.

"You up for more?" His voice was teasing, but his dark eyes held something more and his words had an extra note.

"Yes," he murmured, nearly begged.

Jake arched an eyebrow. "My turn, though."

FLASH.

"How could you!"

Elwood couldn't hear Sally screaming at him. It was like someone had turned the sound off; unplugged the amps. But he remembered her angry words, the anguish that plagued her delicate face. He could read her lips.

"Let me explain," he wanted to say. "It's nothing, he's gone. It wasn't about you. I love you so much, but I—" But the words stayed locked beneath his throat and all he could do was look at her pleadingly. His heart ached, for her, for himself.

"Leave me be!" she screeched. She picked up a glass perfume bottle and hurled it at his head. It missed and shattered against the wall behind him, sending glass flying and streams of scented water flowing down the patterned paper. Lilacs and exotic fruits, that scent and her face, streaked with tears to match the wall, the short perfect tendrils of hair stuck to her soaked cheeks. "Leave me be! Don't ever come back!"

All loud. All silent. Like a stained glass picture show. Sally's green eyes pleaded, confused—Why?

He flung open the door and flew down the stairs and out the door, nearly knocking over the Rutherford's startled housekeeper. Down the stairs, out the door, down the nearest street and into the alley. Always alleys, where it starts and ends and everything comes back. The words that lay in his throat, went bump in his mind, clawed their way across his tongue and spilled onto the ground, acid and green tea and hate and lovesick and salty from the tears that came too. Why oh why oh why oh why why why why why. Two in one day. Why?

You bastard.

A cloud of incense smoke billowed out behind the two brothers as they breezed through the door, both of them staring at the ground and neither bothering to look back to see dark-haired girl peek from behind the curtains. Her face hovered over her sign for a moment as she smiled Cheshire-like after them, her green eyes shining out of the dimming light. Her pale, disembodied-looking fingers grasped the top of the sign and plucked it from the window, leaving the deep purple velvet twitching at the empty street.

Jake and Elwood walked briskly in awkward silence for the longest time, until finally they had to stop for a funeral procession to go through a deserted intersection.

"Weird time for a funeral." Elwood said.

"Yep," Jake replied simply. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and looked up at the darkening sky with sudden interest.

Elwood watched some of the cars pass by. A little girl with blonde pigtails peered out of the back of a station wagon as they passed by. She looked puzzled, then smiled and waved at them. Elwood gave a shy wave back, then the girl's mother pulled her away from the window.

"So, what did you see?"

Jake turned and peered at Elwood from behind his shades. The last of the cars passed by. "Nothing. Not really." Jake ventured into the crosswalk and Elwood followed him.

"So…something?" Elwood pressed.

"Sort of." Jake snorted. "I think that was more than incense she was burnin' in there, I'll say that." He paused, still walking, then looked at Elwood. "Why, what'd you see?"

"Nothing, really." Elwood replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Jake nodded, then slowed down his pace a bit. They walked along in silence some more. Elwood's words were caught in his throat (again), his curiosity tapping at the back of his eyes. He finally couldn't take it anymore. He took a deep breath and was about to ask, but Jake said it first.

"Irving Sidwell."

Elwood lowered his head, but gazed at Jake out of the corner of his eye. He replied with one word, his tone smug, almost matter-of-fact. "Norris."

Jake whirled around and grabbed his brother roughly by the upper arm, shoving him backwards against the double-thick window of an abandoned storefront. He stood far enough apart from Elwood but kept his grip firm, digging his short nails into the jacket sleeve. "That little trip back there? That… Did. Not. Happen. You understand me?"

"What trip?" Elwood replied calmly. He twisted his bicep away from Jake's grasp, straightening his posture and sticking his chest out slightly. He looked across the street to a small restaurant with dirty windows. A few patrons were backlit and visible—and older couple having coffee and a family of four having burgers. He jutted his chin in its direction. "C'mon, I got a little money. I'm famished."

THE END

A/N: Holy crap, I made it! I took my time and made sure I got everything just PERFECT. This is the product of reading some new Francesca Lia Block novels and dying to see 'Brokeback Mountain' again...and the great demand for some BB slash. I think we all kept waiting for someone else to do it, so I figured I'd finally take the plunge myself. I must say, I'm very happy with the way this turned out! I hope you are too.