Plane of Existence

Title: "Plane of Existence" (1/1)
Author: Brian Gamble (brn_gamble)
Email address: brn_gamble_at_yahoo.com
Feedback: Appreciated.
Fandom: "S.W.A.T." (the 2003 movie)
Pairing: Brian Gamble/Jim Street (as portrayed by Jeremy Renner and Colin Farrell)
Date: July 5, 2005 (Tuesday)
Archive: GAMBLE-STREET -- Gamble-Street.Com
Disclaimer: Whether RP (real people) or characters, this is totally based on my own daydreams and fantasies. I don't claim to own anything, nor do I profit from writing and sharing fanfic.
Beta: Jimbo. (Thanks, Honey.)
Summary: Taking off after the end of the movie, this is my take on what happens to Brian Gamble.
Warnings: Slash (male/male), some major angst. Takes up where the movie leaves off, so Brian Gamble is dead. There are quite a few religious references.
Dedication: To my son, Chad, and my daughter, Katie Scarlett. I hope that someday they'll both get as much pleasure out of fanfic as Jim and I do!
Author notes: Many thanks to Mistress Marilyn and her incredible, moving fanfic "Untitled," which was an influence. I was also somewhat influenced by the amazing book "The Lovely Bones." I'd have to consider myself a 'seeker' when it comes to religion, so I don't claim any special knowledge of what happens after death, or whether or not there's an afterlife. (I hope that those who have strong religious beliefs won't find that anything contained here is offensive...)

= = = = = = = = = =

Is this Heaven?

Maybe.

But perhaps it's just another plane. You know what I mean -- that other 'plane of existence' that people are always talking about. Anyway, it's an interesting place.

It's funny, but this place reminds me of the very best days of summer when I was just a kid. Those days when I'd grab a pile of comic books and make myself peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of Wonder Bread. Then I'd pack it all in an old shoebox, next to a couple cans of soda. I'd tie it up neatly with string and mount my bike, with the package tied on back. Then I'd head to the park -- the big one that was several blocks away -- and hide inside the center of a dense cluster of trees. It was my own private spot that I never shared with another living soul.

There wasn't any grass in that hollow where I hid, but there was a nice layer of pine needles and plush undergrowth that cushioned me while I read, ate, napped and 'pondered the meaning of life.' I can still smell that thick forest-y scent of moss and dirt; I can still see the dappled sunlight and remember staring up at the jigsaw pieces of blue sky, broken by heavy tree branches and green leaves.

That sounds a lot like Heaven in my book. I suppose those were some of the best times I ever had growing up. I was mostly invisible at home with my folks, which seemed just fine to me. I didn't have expectations about being the center of my parents' world. Hell, why should I be? They have important, grown-up things that needing doing. It was my job to do my chores, clean my plate, go to school and do my homework. My grades weren't examined too closely, so I had no cause to push for the top or slack toward the bottom. It wasn't until I headed to high school that I suddenly felt reborn, seeing the power of my growth spurts come to full fruition.

Then I was suddenly attractive, physically strong, witty and fun. I became an almost-jock with enough brains to get himself -- and his hangers-on -- into and out of trouble on a near daily basis. Those days set a pattern for me that I happily clung to for the rest of my life, with the one and only Brian Gamble at the center of his groups' attention.

But, sure, this could actually be that Purgatory I was raised to believe in. As I sit or lie here and contemplate my former life on Earth, I can't help thinking this just might be the place where some dead must remain while they repent their sins. Purgatory is supposedly the reason the living say prayers for the dead, after all. Hey, think about it -- why would anyone need to pray for a person who was actually in Heaven? (And it's said that no amount of prayers can save those souls who have descended into Hell...)

While we're on the subject, I have to admit I have a long list of sins to repent.

'Do you remember, Brian?' I ask myself. 'Remember those discussions of mortal and venial sins?' Yeah, there are a lot of actions born out of evil that can trip us up along the way...

Me? I lied and betrayed, cheated and deceived the people who trusted and believed in me. I elevated my physical needs and desires, indulging my body in every possible way with alcohol, sex, drugs and food. I totally ignored moderate behavior and let my temper reign and my anger flare.

There was a lot of talk about the 'terrible' flames of Purgatory during my tender years. You know, there was a time long ago when I really used to believe -- when I used to pray to God and the saints for strength to avoid temptations. My parents believed strongly in the 'intolerable suffering' experienced inside Purgatory's hot fire and urged me to seek a life of avoidance (when they bothered to think about me at all). But I was still a kid when that day came where I realized I just didn't give a damn about their advice.

Most times here in this place I find I don't feel much in a physical sense, as I sit quietly in my fragrant wood alone with my thoughts. If there's pain to be suffered here, I don't think it can be called pain of the body, even though I pretty much feel like that I do still reside inside that same form I knew before my death. Actually I find it easy to glance into the nearby water and see the reflection of my face, looking the same way it did before that final brutal battle down on the railway tracks. And, no, I don't see any unusual scars that reveal how I died, struck down by a moving train.

It's strange, but when I kneel at the edge of the small pool, I'm surprised to realize there's no sun shining above my head. In fact the light around me is diffused and indirect, a murky white that reminds me of the reflection of car headlights against a heavy bank of fog. It was long ago when I discovered that peering into the shimmering silver water would allow me to gaze again at the world I left behind when I died. I've spent long stretches of forever-time in observance, unable to do more than watch and wonder...

Do I feel?

How do we define feeling? Here, in this place, my body seems to lack the ability to feel either physical pain or pleasure. Yet that doesn't mean I can't feel. Misery is really wrapped up in emotions, I've found -- and some days I'm caught up in terrible misery as I think back on the sins of my life. I guess it's a hard call to decide if it's tougher reliving that past, or to observe what's happening now, back on Earth. Is it a bigger bitch to deal with the watching and the remembering -- or with those long periods of reflection I'm forced to face each day?

As I mentioned before, when I was a boy I used to ponder the meaning of life and death -- and my place in the world. Even though it's true that I seemed to make little more than a ripple in the ocean that was my homelife, I still had a big ego and viewed myself as the center of my universe. I was important! I would be important -- and do important things. I was convinced early on of my own place in the world, and my place in the future.

Yesterday in this place was a numb day for me. I don't know if my days are really measured the same as when I was alive, but I'll call it a 'day,' even so. I suppose it's strange to try to express time here as days or hours, but it might be that I'm still not far removed from my life. I believe I still rise each morning and sleep each night.

Anyway, I was very much like the old, difficult Brian Gamble yesterday, resisting serious introspection and refusing to look into the pool and face the facts of Earth. I ignored my sense of longing and sat defiantly with my back to the water, smiling a nasty smile at thoughts of several prior life-actions that were both brutal and flashy. For I can't deny I ended my days on Earth by attempting to seek vengeance, power and attention. I guess it's no wonder I now find myself in this strange and empty place.

I guess if I'm facing it honestly that this is really only a hollow duplicate of my childhood haven. Who knows why Purgatory would take on this guise for me? Only God, I suppose. If He truly exists at all...

But today I've decided to skip the vain effort of avoiding the images from Earth. I've forced myself to creep out to the spot where the grass has been worn away by my knees and to lean low, with my hands pressed against the jagged rocks that line the pool. I'm ready to seek the main focus of my new plane of existence.

My former S.W.A.T. partner and best friend, Jim Street, remained behind when I made the journey to this place, whatever it is. In fact it was his body that pummeled back at me as I grappled with him on those railroad tracks in the forever-past of Earth.

I wonder if there might be a special title for such a terrible sin? I forced Jim's hand; I made Jim fight me to the death. I was the one who made this man who once loved me take my life. No matter how righteous Jim's actions were on that dark night, I know he'll carry that heavy burden of guilt with him to his own grave. Because of me!

I'm looking into the silver water now and can see his face, contorted by pain. He's alone in his darkened apartment with only his dog Chopper for companionship. I can see he's had several beers; he's taken the receiver of his phone off the hook and tossed his police beeper aside, along with his cell phone. Both are covered -- muted -- with a pillow from the sofa.

I really want to turn away and go back inside my sanctuary now, but I find I'm driven to lean closer. My knees and hands feel no pain from the cruel sharpness of the rocks, yet my heart aches as I watch Jim's suffering. All I need to do is tilt my head to hear his thoughts. But instead I'm struggling to pull away. Watching is bad enough -- I just can't bear to know the depth of what he's feeling.

I find myself wondering... Do I feel a sense of fire in the throbbing in my chest and hands? Are these, perhaps, the true flames of Purgatory? Or maybe this place is actually Hell! And will I be made to spend eternity here, alone -- only able to lean and watch? That would be hell, I think.

Yet I did good things once, back in those days before I turned away from S.W.A.T. and Jim Street. Maybe there's still reason to hope for some future end to this current plane of existence.

I remember I once read that people could pray to those who in Purgatory and ask for their intercession. Yeah, I also recall that some religious leaders in history believed the people condemned to Purgatory had no interaction with the Divine. Still there have been others who believed the souls residing in Purgatory could listen to prayers and pass them along. And could the prayers of true believers back on Earth help me? Could I, perhaps, offer prayers for them?

And how long a time does someone remain in Purgatory? That's a damn good question, Gamble! About time you wondered, isn't it? So what did I learn as a boy? It was something about death not being the end of our nature, but the end of our sins... Whatever wrongs I committed in my life, I'm no longer able to sin in death. I guess my here and now is actually about repentance.

'I am heartily sorry for my sins.' It's true, I am sorry.

But is it enough to feel sorry?

I remember once that Jimbo laughed at me when I said I was sorry about something I'd done. He asked me what exactly I was sorry for -- and I replied that I was sorry for everything I'd done that day, and the day before.

"You think being sorry is like a big blanket you can throw over your mistakes," he said, grinning. "You never just name one thing and say 'sorry' about it."

He was right, of course! I wasn't a guy who could never say 'I'm sorry' -- I was just a guy who didn't do a very good job of saying it!

So what should I do about finding ways to make up for my past sins? Is there something I can do, here and now, to truly seek forgiveness? Hell, do I even deserve forgiveness for the evils I did before my death?

Still, there's that thing about Hope. I remember there's a major sin that deals with the concept of 'despairing in hope' -- which means a person will cease to hope, and further cease to believe in salvation and the forgiveness of sin. God wants men and women to Hope, it seems. Even when we think things are hopeless!

I'm leaning even closer to the silver surface of the water now, wishing I could reach into the depths of the pool and touch Jim Street's head. I'd like to run my fingers through his thick, dark hair -- and touch the widow's peak -- then whisper comforts into his ear.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Jimbo. Not for a big random bunch of stuff, this time. I mean, I'm sorry because I was wrong. I shouldn't have walked out on you. I shouldn't have believed the worst about you when I knew you would never betray our friendship.

"I'm sorry, bro. I shouldn't have bad-mouthed you at every turn to any person willing to listen to my pack of lies. I shouldn't have goaded you when we came face to face that time in the bar. And I shouldn't have teased your friend Sanchez, either. You were my friend, Jim -- my true friend. You were my partner. I trusted you. And the truth is that you lived up to my trust every time.

"You know, I was jealous of your girlfriend, Jimbo. I wanted to have you to myself. I wanted to be even more than your partner and your friend -- I wanted to be your lover.

"But I threw it all away out of pride and anger. I forgot the good times, Jimmy. I fell into truly evil ways. "I hurt you. I killed some of your goodness. I took some of the light out of your life. I'm still hurting you, right now. I'm sorry. Forgive me, Jimbo. But most of all, forgive yourself. Please. None of it was your fault. I know that now...

"Some day -- hopefully in the distant future -- you, too, will die. Maybe by then I'll have expiated my sins. Maybe I'll be granted the grace of greeting you when you pass into a different plane of existence."

Well, the mists around me seem to have actually lifted a little! I'm going to risk tilting my head, I think... As I do, I can hear Jim's thoughts.

'I love you, Brian. I always did and I always will.'

So maybe this is Heaven, after all...

-the end-