(no subject)
Okay, here it is, in all its glory. I'm actually very proud of this chapter. ^^ Probably my favorite in the whole story.
Chapter Twenty-Six
// Death, Neil thought, was not as exciting as it could have been.
He only dimly recalled going to the apartment he and Rowan had shared. Most of what had transpired once he reached the apartment was blurry if not gone completely. The only thing he remembered clearly was finding the pills and deciding to take them.
“Neil?” a voice asked softly. A gentle, familiar voice, filled with love and longing.
Neil opened his eyes. He had been drifting through darkness, wondering why, if he was dead, he was conscious but there was no light. He opened his eyes to see light, a pearly cream sky above him, and sneakers. Old, battered sneakers, torn jeans.
His gaze slowly traveled upwards. Holes in the knees of the pants, hands twisted in the hem of a worn black T-shirt with no logo or decoration. Pale arms marred with scars, brown hair just long enough to be made into a ponytail. Clear, forgiving blue eyes.
He threw his arms around Rowan’s knees without getting up and wept unashamedly.
Rowan sank down to the ground slowly, pulling Neil into a loose embrace. It was a long time before the other man stopped crying. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, burying his face in Rowan’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Please . . . please forgive me.”
“It’s okay,” Rowan said. “This wasn’t your fault.”
“I promised . . .” Neil’s voice choked. “I promised that I would protect you and I didn’t. I . . .”
Rowan smoothed his hair. “It’s all right,” he said. “There was nothing you could do, and I know that.”
Neil sniffled and managed to calm himself, not wanting to upset Rowan by showing that he disagreed. “Where . . . where are we?” he suddenly asked, realizing that he did not know. He didn’t think that he could be in Heaven, but at the same time, this hardly qualified as Hell. He had a sudden, horrible thought that it was a dream, and clutched at Rowan tightly.
“It’s sort of an in between place,” Rowan said. “I’ve been here a few months . . . waiting for you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Neil whispered, turning his face into Rowan’s shirt.
“It’s all right,” Rowan said. “I would have been peeved if you hadn’t even tried to live without me. But . . . I watched, and you did the best you could. And maybe it makes me selfish, but I’m glad you’re with me again. This place, though . . . it’s changed me, I guess. There’s a lot I understand now . . . that I didn’t before.”
Neil wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he clung to Rowan in silence.
“I’m stronger now,” Rowan said. “I . . . I know what I need to do in order to survive, to stay with you.”
“What do you mean?” Neil asked.
Rowan smiled a little. “We get to try again,” he said. “Born again into new lives. Without him there to take this away from us. We get to live again, fall in love again, meet ag - ”
“No!” Neil let out a panicked cry and wrapped his arms around Rowan’s waist tightly. “No,” he repeated softly. “No. I don’t want to live again. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I just want to stay with you. Please . . .”
Rowan’s arms tightened around him. “It’s okay,” he said. “I promise we’ll be together again. It’s just that we have to start over. We have to meet all over again, fall in love all over again. That’s the only way the universe can set itself right.”
“I don’t care!” Neil said desperately. “I don’t care about the universe, I don’t care about any of that! Just don’t LEAVE ME AGAIN!”
He began to cry again.
Rowan held him, rocking him back and forth. “Shh,” he whispered, tears trickling down his own cheeks. “Shh, Neil. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave you. The last thing I thought of was you, and how sad it was going to make you. I promise we’ll be together.”
Neil continued to cry, curling in on himself, a shivering ball in Rowan’s arms. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget the agony he had gone through after Rowan had died. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t risk going through all that again. We’re here, we’re fine, we’re okay. I can’t go back. I can’t. I can’t.”
“Neil - ”
“I CAN’T!”
Rowan began to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said. “We don’t have any choice. I don’t want to hurt you, but we don’t have any choice. We have to go back, the universe has to be put right. We don’t have any choice.”
“No. No, I can’t. I can’t lose you again. Please . . .” Neil’s voice trailed off into a whisper.
Rowan held him in silence. It was a long time before he composed himself.
“When?” he asked softly.
“You’re . . . going to go now,” Rowan said, unable to meet his eyes. “All I know is that because we’re lucky enough to get this chance, one obstacle will be imposed, and that will be some sort of age difference. I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait.”
“Lucky.” Neil laughed bitterly.
“I’ll wait for you,” Rowan said softly.
“I don’t want to go.” Neil clung to him.
“You have to.”
// there was an odd shifting, and Rowan’s height grew a few inches, and his hair shortened, became black
“Please, Neil, wake up. Wake up, I need you.” //
“I can’t - ”
// “I need you now. I need you to protect me. Please, Neil. Please.” //
“I CAN’T - ”
// “Be strong for me, love, be strong and protect me. You have to wake up. Please.” //
Neil let out a stifled sob. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go.”
“I know, love, but you have to go.”
Neil wiped the tears off his cheeks, pulled Rowan into a tight embrace. “I’ll never love anyone but you,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ll never. Never. Never love anyone but you. Please . . .”
“I know.” Rowan’s voice was becoming faint, his form insubstantial in Neil’s arms - except then Neil opened his eyes and realized that he was the one becoming insubstantial, he was the one disappearing.
“Never love anyone but you,” he whispered.
“I’ll wait - for you - ”
“Rowan - ”
“I love you - ”
Neil opened his mouth to reply in kind, but he would never know if the words made it past his lips before he was gone. //
^^^^
Neil’s mind was awash with sleepy confusion. He didn’t think he could have been asleep very long; the dim glow of false dawn was starting to penetrate the heavy drapes that shielded them from the balcony. For a few moments, he just stared up at the ghost fuzzily, his mind unable to comprehend why the man was there.
Then the ghost reached for Rowan.
Neil did not think; he merely reacted. His arms were looped loosely around Rowan’s waist, and the ghost did not seem to realize he was awake. He rolled, taking Rowan with him and landing on the floor with a thump. Rowan let out a little shout was he was jolted awake.
“Rise and shine,” the ghost said, learning down at them. Neil tried to untangle himself from the blankets and get to his feet. It took him a few seconds longer than he would have liked, and by the time he had managed, the ghost was less than a foot away.
“You can’t be here,” Rowan managed in a shaky tone.
“Hey,” the ghost said, sounding offended, “live and learn. I have a few minutes left.”
Neil’s eyes darted to the curtain. Dawn. Sunrise. The day wasn’t over until the sun rose on it.
“No fair!” Rowan’s voice wavered. “You only had until midnight!”
The ghost chuckled. “Oh, you two tried to fool me,” he said gleefully. “You came damn close. But I’m drawn to wherever you are, you little shitstain. I didn’t need a map. I just followed your trail.”
“Stay the hell away from us,” Neil snarled, standing between Rowan and the ghost. His mind was racing furiously, trying to find a way out of the situation. They had to stall. It was after six. Full sunrise couldn’t be more than half an hour away - but half an hour seemed to stretch on interminably in his mind. “What are you going to do?” he sneered, buying time. “You can’t even touch - ”
The ghost grabbed him by the front of the shirt and dragged him close. Neil realized, absurdly, that he could smell his bad breath. “You think so?” he asked. “Don’t be so sure. I waited eighteen years for this day. I’ll touch whatever I want to touch. That was the deal I made.”
He tossed Neil easily. Neil sprawled over the mattress and went over the other side, landing with a thud on the floor.
“Now,” the ghost said, as Rowan cringed away. “Now for the fun part.”
“Don’t,” Rowan whispered. “Please don’t.”
The ghost reached for him.
Neil dove back across the room, slamming the ghost into the wall. They both went down in a tangled heap. Rowan let out a short, sharp scream and scrambled over them, dodging for a safe corner of the room.
The ghost threw Neil off of him. Both of them got to their feet, breathing heavily. The ghost wiped a trickle of blood off the corner of his mouth, and Neil had time to marvel at the fact that ghosts could actually bleed when they were corporeal, before he went tumbling to the ground again.
“Get help!” he shouted to Rowan, but Rowan didn’t move; he was frozen immobile by his own fear. Neil knew in that moment with a peculiar certainty that even if Rowan could move, even if he called 911 or went downstairs to bang on Leigh’s door, no one was coming. They had to handle this on their own. They were caught in some sort of unreality, out of space and time. No one was going to help them.
He and the ghost struggled back and forth for interminable minutes while Rowan hid in the corner. Neil tried to force him out of the room, thinking bizarrely that perhaps they could just lock him out. All the rooms had locks, since it was a sort of hotel.
Unfortunately, the ghost took exception to his plan. A particularly hard right to the jaw sent Neil staggering backwards. He hit the screen door to the balcony and crashed through it, swathed in the curtains. He tried to shake them free, but before he could, he hit the railing. It splintered underneath his weight and gave.
He began to fall.
Neil let out a scream and shook the curtains off, groping upwards blindly. His hand caught one of the slats in the railing. It, too, cracked underneath his weight, but held firm enough to not send him falling. Neil flailed in panic, trying to get another handhold.
The ghost walked onto the balcony.
“Neil!” Rowan darted over to help him, breaking free of his paralysis. The ghost aimed a swift punch to his stomach, sending the teenager sagging to his knees. He held one hand out to Neil briefly, before the ghost grabbed him by the collar and tossed him back inside.
“Say goodnight,” the ghost said with a cruel smile. Neil saw him lift his foot and braced himself for the pain, sure that the ghost was going to kick his hand and try to make him let go.
Instead, the ghost kicked the slat he was holding onto. It shuddered. Neil heard the wood crack.
“Oh, Jesus,” he said, trying again to get another handhold.
“I’ll let gravity do the rest,” the ghost said, grinning. “You’re not who I’m after now. You’ll never get up here in time to stop me.”
He turned and went back into the room.
Neil heard Rowan’s shrill scream. He struggled violently to get a better grip, and the wood cracked again.
Seconds passed with agonizing slowness while he hung there. He realized quickly that he had to be still, had to think. Flailing blindly was only going to result in a three-story fall. Even if he lived through it, he would be badly hurt, and he would have no way of getting back up to the room in time to save Rowan.
He forced himself to be still, made his muscles relax, drained the tension from his body. Once he stopped moving, the slat stopped creaking quite as alarmingly.
Rowan screamed again. It was cut off abruptly.
Neil lifted his arm. The wood held firm. Slowly, he grasped another slat. Once he was able to put more of his weight on the one arm, he swung himself over a little and grabbed the railing a few feet away from where he had hit it in the first place. The wood was firmer there; less likely to give underneath his weight.
He had two firm handholds. He began to pull himself up, still slowly, not wanting to make things worse. One hand got hold of the railing bar. It creaked. Neil took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Only silence now from inside.
He forced each movement to be much slower than he wanted it to be. His breath was coming in short gasps.
He pulled himself onto the railing and collapsed onto the balcony floor.
He crawled towards the door and made it back inside. Rowan was lying in a heap on the floor, with the ghost hunched over him. There was no noise, but Neil could see the ghost’s hands around Rowan’s throat.
Neil did not move for a long second.
The ghost rose to his feet. “Told you,” he said, with a smirk. “Told you that you couldn’t make it back in time to save him.”
“He’s not dead,” Neil whispered. His lips were cold.
“Bet my ass,” the ghost said. “You lost again. And now, just for a bonus, I’m going to kill you, too.”
He charged forward. Neil did not think; he could not even find the strength to move. He was light-headed and dizzy, trying to find some way to rationalize what was happening to him. Rowan was dead. Rowan was -
Neil’s knees unhinged and sent him tumbling to the floor.
The ghost, having expected some sort of attack or retaliation, stumbled. He was unable to cut off his momentum in time, and tripped over the curtains that Neil had left, in a heap, on the balcony. Without another word, his own running start carried him through the remnants of the railing and over the edge.
Neil didn’t even see him go. He was focused on Rowan. He didn’t have the strength to walk, so he crawled over to his lover. “Rowan,” he whispered. “Rowan, please . . .”
The logical, rational part of his brain, the part that had decided to be a biology major, the part that still could not believe any of this was happening, kicked in. Rowan wasn’t breathing. People who weren’t breathing got CPR. CPR made them breathe again. A simple cause-and-effect relationship that his stunned brain was capable of handling.
He leaned over and tilted Rowan’s head back, keeping one hand beneath his neck. He had been taught this more than once, and knew, to some extent, what he was doing. Instinct had kicked in. He pressed his lips against Rowan and breathed into his lungs.
// Rowan was looking into a mirror, except that the figure in the mirror had brown hair and no glasses, was shorter and skinnier. “Are you . . . me?” he asked, pressing his hands against the glass. “The me from last time?” But that was silly, his reflection couldn’t talk to him.
“Why are you here?” his reflection asked curiously.
“I . . . don’t know,” Rowan said. “I think because I’m dead?”
“If you were dead, you’d be somewhere else entirely,” the figure said, sounding irritated with him. “It isn’t your time. This isn’t where you need to be. Don’t you remember anything we learned?”
Rowan looked at him. He remembered, vaguely, the four years he had sent waiting, in between life and death. He remembered, not as well, the vast understanding of the universe that he had somehow gained; the understanding that had allowed him to accept their reincarnation so much more easily than Neil had.
“It’s always been you, hasn’t it,” he said quietly. “That strong part of me, inside. The voice I sometimes hear that tells me that I’ll be okay if I just hold on.”
“Was I wrong?” his reflection - his past self - asked him.
“No,” Rowan said. “No, you weren’t wrong.”
“Then why are you standing here?”
Rowan pressed his hands more firmly against the mirror, and realized that his reflection’s hands were still down at his sides. “Are we . . . strong?” he whispered.
His reflection lifted his hands and pressed them against Rowan’s. Rowan could feel the warmth, the press of flesh against his own. “Stronger than you know,” his own ghost said quietly. “Now go on, get out of here. He needs you now. He’s protected you for so long . . . it’s high time you returned the favor.”
Rowan nodded. “Will I ever see you again?”
“Always.” //
Rowan lurched upwards, coughing and gasping. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He retched, once, before his stomach settled. “Neil,” he murmured, leaning into the shelter of his lover’s arms.
“God, I thought I’d lost you,” Neil sobbed, holding Rowan tightly. “I thought you were gone.”
Rowan shook his head and smiled. He looked over at the window. Dawn had just broken, and daylight was starting to trickle through. “This time . . . this time you saved me. I knew you would.”
Neil clutched at him.
The door to their room opened, and the ghost walked inside. “How dare you - ”
He saw Rowan, and stopped short.
“Don’t come near us,” Neil said through clenched teeth. He didn’t think he could fight anymore. His limbs weren’t working properly; his hands were cold. He just wanted it to be over.
“You’re supposed to be dead!” the ghost snarled, and stormed across the room. Neil scrambled to his feet, pulling Rowan with him. The teenager was still weak; his legs weren’t working any better than Neil’s were. They backed away a few steps, then a few more steps. When they started getting too close to the balcony, Neil shied away, moving into the corner where they had dumped their bags.
“Don’t think you can just - ”
The ghost stopped. He swore.
He had stepped into the sunlight.
“Neil,” Rowan whispered.
“I see it.” Neil felt numb. The sunlight was wrapping around the ghost like a physical thing, holding him in place.
And then the blackness came.
Neil saw it first, a patch of darkness gathering in the far corner of the room, closest to the door. He choked on his own fear and said nothing, not even pointing it out to Rowan, unsure if Rowan would have heard him anyway.
They all heard it when it spoke.
/ IT IS TIME. THE DEAL IS CONCLUDED. /
“NO!” the ghost screamed, trying to wrestle free of the bands of light that held him. “I’m not going! You’re not taking me! HE ISN’T DEAD!”
/ DAWN HAS COME. IT IS OVER. WE AGREED. /
“I’m not going until he’s dead!”
/ HIS DEATH IS OF NO CONSEQUENCE. THE AGREEMENT WAS THAT YOU WOULD KILL HIM. YOU HAVE. WHETHER OR NOT HE RETURNED HAS NO BEARING ON OUR AGREEMENT. HIS EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY HAS PASSED. YOUR TIME IS CONCLUDED. /
“You’re not taking me!” the ghost screamed. He struggled free of the sunlight and launched himself at Rowan. The teenager barely had time to scream before Neil shoved him roughly to the floor, moving in between them. The ghost grabbed Neil by the wrists, and icy cold shot through him.
He felt himself falling.
“Neil! NEIL!”
Rowan scrambled over Neil. His body had gone rigid; his eyes fixed in his head. His skin was ice to the touch.
“And now it’s your turn - ” the ghost snarled.
Rowan groped for a weapon - any weapon. His hand fell on his backpack and he yanked out the baseball bat he had brought to show Neil that he had been able to play baseball.
// “It’s not that he’s a bad player, Mr. Weatherby. Quite the contrary, actually.” The Little League coach let out a rueful laugh, pushing his hand through his hair. He would never know that Rowan was standing outside the door, listening to every word he said. “It’s just those fits he has, you know? I can’t count on him. Sure, when he hits the ball, he hits it damn good. But sometimes he forgets to swing. And he’s a disaster in the field. He gets distracted by - by something.”
“I know,” Jack said with a sigh. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll try to break it to him gently, I guess.”
The coach laughed again, then said, “It’s kind of a shame, though. When he has his wits together . . .” He let out a low whistle. “Damn, that boy can hit.” //
Rowan looked up at the ghost. He was not angry or afraid. He felt nothing anymore except a strange numbing strength that was slowly spreading throughout his body.
He kept his eyes glued to the man that had once been his father. He drew back and swung as hard as he could. The movement caught the ghost completely off guard, and the bat hit him squarely in the chest. He stumbled backwards a step. Rowan didn’t think. He swung again, catching the man underneath the chin.
The ghost fell into the light.
He screamed.
Rowan’s knees gave and he crumbled to the floor. The bat slid from his loose fingers and hit the ground with a dull thud.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. The sunlight was again attacking the ghost, and now the darkness had joined it as well. Bands of light and dark twisted around the (his father) ghost. After just a moment, Rowan could see nothing but his face, and then that was gone as well.
/ OUR DEAL IS CONCLUDED. /
And it was twisting further - further - a never ending spiral of dark and light intermingled -
Until it dissipated, and all that was left was the soft light of dawn.
Rowan felt the hysteria building up in his throat, but he pushed it back. He knelt next to Neil, who was still stiff and seemingly frozen. For a brief moment, he panicked, but then he pushed that aside as well.
// He needs you now. //
Rowan leaned down and kissed Neil on the lips. Warmth spread from the point of contact, through Neil’s face, down his neck, his chest, his arms. He let out a convulsive sob and wrapped his arms around Rowan, pulling him down.
Neil sat up abruptly. “What - ” He stared around at the empty room.
“He’s gone.” Rowan managed a tremulous smile. “Oh, God, he’s gone. He’s gone.” He threw himself into Neil’s arms and the hysteria escaped him. He sobbed full force into Neil’s shirt until there were no more tears left.
They sat there for a few more minutes.
“You okay?” Neil finally asked.
“I think so.” Rowan nodded a little. He felt a little giggle coming on. “I told you I played baseball.”
“Jesus Christ, yes,” Neil said, and kissed him. “Are you tired?”
“Exhausted,” Rowan admitted. “But I don’t think I could sleep.”
“Mm.” Neil knew how that felt; the total exhaustion of the body but the wide awake mind trying to comprehend what had just happened, trying to wrestle it into some semblance of sense or natural order. “Me neither. What should we do, then?”
“I dunno. Hang on one sec?” Rowan stood, shakily, and went over to the nightstand. He pulled out a battered, leather-bound book. “It’s my journal,” he said, with a slight laugh. “I guess - maybe writing it will make it seem more real?”
“Oh. Okay.” Neil waited while Rowan scrawled down a few sentences.
“There,” he said, putting the book down.
“I have an idea,” Neil said, and told Rowan. Rowan smiled and nodded.
In full agreement, they went out onto the balcony. They sat down together and watched the last of the sunrise.
^^^^
And now, my disclaimer:
I planned that scene back when I first mentioned Rowan played baseball. It was at least a year before Signs was even *released*, let alone before I saw it on DVD several months later. I swear to God I did not steal the baseball thing from Signs, and I'm really *pissed* that it seems like I did, because it was too cool to let go. Karasu says she doesn't think there's too much similarity, so I left it in. So.... thingy. Screw M. Night Shamalyan anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Six
// Death, Neil thought, was not as exciting as it could have been.
He only dimly recalled going to the apartment he and Rowan had shared. Most of what had transpired once he reached the apartment was blurry if not gone completely. The only thing he remembered clearly was finding the pills and deciding to take them.
“Neil?” a voice asked softly. A gentle, familiar voice, filled with love and longing.
Neil opened his eyes. He had been drifting through darkness, wondering why, if he was dead, he was conscious but there was no light. He opened his eyes to see light, a pearly cream sky above him, and sneakers. Old, battered sneakers, torn jeans.
His gaze slowly traveled upwards. Holes in the knees of the pants, hands twisted in the hem of a worn black T-shirt with no logo or decoration. Pale arms marred with scars, brown hair just long enough to be made into a ponytail. Clear, forgiving blue eyes.
He threw his arms around Rowan’s knees without getting up and wept unashamedly.
Rowan sank down to the ground slowly, pulling Neil into a loose embrace. It was a long time before the other man stopped crying. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, burying his face in Rowan’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Please . . . please forgive me.”
“It’s okay,” Rowan said. “This wasn’t your fault.”
“I promised . . .” Neil’s voice choked. “I promised that I would protect you and I didn’t. I . . .”
Rowan smoothed his hair. “It’s all right,” he said. “There was nothing you could do, and I know that.”
Neil sniffled and managed to calm himself, not wanting to upset Rowan by showing that he disagreed. “Where . . . where are we?” he suddenly asked, realizing that he did not know. He didn’t think that he could be in Heaven, but at the same time, this hardly qualified as Hell. He had a sudden, horrible thought that it was a dream, and clutched at Rowan tightly.
“It’s sort of an in between place,” Rowan said. “I’ve been here a few months . . . waiting for you.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Neil whispered, turning his face into Rowan’s shirt.
“It’s all right,” Rowan said. “I would have been peeved if you hadn’t even tried to live without me. But . . . I watched, and you did the best you could. And maybe it makes me selfish, but I’m glad you’re with me again. This place, though . . . it’s changed me, I guess. There’s a lot I understand now . . . that I didn’t before.”
Neil wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he clung to Rowan in silence.
“I’m stronger now,” Rowan said. “I . . . I know what I need to do in order to survive, to stay with you.”
“What do you mean?” Neil asked.
Rowan smiled a little. “We get to try again,” he said. “Born again into new lives. Without him there to take this away from us. We get to live again, fall in love again, meet ag - ”
“No!” Neil let out a panicked cry and wrapped his arms around Rowan’s waist tightly. “No,” he repeated softly. “No. I don’t want to live again. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I just want to stay with you. Please . . .”
Rowan’s arms tightened around him. “It’s okay,” he said. “I promise we’ll be together again. It’s just that we have to start over. We have to meet all over again, fall in love all over again. That’s the only way the universe can set itself right.”
“I don’t care!” Neil said desperately. “I don’t care about the universe, I don’t care about any of that! Just don’t LEAVE ME AGAIN!”
He began to cry again.
Rowan held him, rocking him back and forth. “Shh,” he whispered, tears trickling down his own cheeks. “Shh, Neil. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave you. The last thing I thought of was you, and how sad it was going to make you. I promise we’ll be together.”
Neil continued to cry, curling in on himself, a shivering ball in Rowan’s arms. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t forget the agony he had gone through after Rowan had died. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t risk going through all that again. We’re here, we’re fine, we’re okay. I can’t go back. I can’t. I can’t.”
“Neil - ”
“I CAN’T!”
Rowan began to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said. “We don’t have any choice. I don’t want to hurt you, but we don’t have any choice. We have to go back, the universe has to be put right. We don’t have any choice.”
“No. No, I can’t. I can’t lose you again. Please . . .” Neil’s voice trailed off into a whisper.
Rowan held him in silence. It was a long time before he composed himself.
“When?” he asked softly.
“You’re . . . going to go now,” Rowan said, unable to meet his eyes. “All I know is that because we’re lucky enough to get this chance, one obstacle will be imposed, and that will be some sort of age difference. I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait.”
“Lucky.” Neil laughed bitterly.
“I’ll wait for you,” Rowan said softly.
“I don’t want to go.” Neil clung to him.
“You have to.”
// there was an odd shifting, and Rowan’s height grew a few inches, and his hair shortened, became black
“Please, Neil, wake up. Wake up, I need you.” //
“I can’t - ”
// “I need you now. I need you to protect me. Please, Neil. Please.” //
“I CAN’T - ”
// “Be strong for me, love, be strong and protect me. You have to wake up. Please.” //
Neil let out a stifled sob. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go.”
“I know, love, but you have to go.”
Neil wiped the tears off his cheeks, pulled Rowan into a tight embrace. “I’ll never love anyone but you,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ll never. Never. Never love anyone but you. Please . . .”
“I know.” Rowan’s voice was becoming faint, his form insubstantial in Neil’s arms - except then Neil opened his eyes and realized that he was the one becoming insubstantial, he was the one disappearing.
“Never love anyone but you,” he whispered.
“I’ll wait - for you - ”
“Rowan - ”
“I love you - ”
Neil opened his mouth to reply in kind, but he would never know if the words made it past his lips before he was gone. //
^^^^
Neil’s mind was awash with sleepy confusion. He didn’t think he could have been asleep very long; the dim glow of false dawn was starting to penetrate the heavy drapes that shielded them from the balcony. For a few moments, he just stared up at the ghost fuzzily, his mind unable to comprehend why the man was there.
Then the ghost reached for Rowan.
Neil did not think; he merely reacted. His arms were looped loosely around Rowan’s waist, and the ghost did not seem to realize he was awake. He rolled, taking Rowan with him and landing on the floor with a thump. Rowan let out a little shout was he was jolted awake.
“Rise and shine,” the ghost said, learning down at them. Neil tried to untangle himself from the blankets and get to his feet. It took him a few seconds longer than he would have liked, and by the time he had managed, the ghost was less than a foot away.
“You can’t be here,” Rowan managed in a shaky tone.
“Hey,” the ghost said, sounding offended, “live and learn. I have a few minutes left.”
Neil’s eyes darted to the curtain. Dawn. Sunrise. The day wasn’t over until the sun rose on it.
“No fair!” Rowan’s voice wavered. “You only had until midnight!”
The ghost chuckled. “Oh, you two tried to fool me,” he said gleefully. “You came damn close. But I’m drawn to wherever you are, you little shitstain. I didn’t need a map. I just followed your trail.”
“Stay the hell away from us,” Neil snarled, standing between Rowan and the ghost. His mind was racing furiously, trying to find a way out of the situation. They had to stall. It was after six. Full sunrise couldn’t be more than half an hour away - but half an hour seemed to stretch on interminably in his mind. “What are you going to do?” he sneered, buying time. “You can’t even touch - ”
The ghost grabbed him by the front of the shirt and dragged him close. Neil realized, absurdly, that he could smell his bad breath. “You think so?” he asked. “Don’t be so sure. I waited eighteen years for this day. I’ll touch whatever I want to touch. That was the deal I made.”
He tossed Neil easily. Neil sprawled over the mattress and went over the other side, landing with a thud on the floor.
“Now,” the ghost said, as Rowan cringed away. “Now for the fun part.”
“Don’t,” Rowan whispered. “Please don’t.”
The ghost reached for him.
Neil dove back across the room, slamming the ghost into the wall. They both went down in a tangled heap. Rowan let out a short, sharp scream and scrambled over them, dodging for a safe corner of the room.
The ghost threw Neil off of him. Both of them got to their feet, breathing heavily. The ghost wiped a trickle of blood off the corner of his mouth, and Neil had time to marvel at the fact that ghosts could actually bleed when they were corporeal, before he went tumbling to the ground again.
“Get help!” he shouted to Rowan, but Rowan didn’t move; he was frozen immobile by his own fear. Neil knew in that moment with a peculiar certainty that even if Rowan could move, even if he called 911 or went downstairs to bang on Leigh’s door, no one was coming. They had to handle this on their own. They were caught in some sort of unreality, out of space and time. No one was going to help them.
He and the ghost struggled back and forth for interminable minutes while Rowan hid in the corner. Neil tried to force him out of the room, thinking bizarrely that perhaps they could just lock him out. All the rooms had locks, since it was a sort of hotel.
Unfortunately, the ghost took exception to his plan. A particularly hard right to the jaw sent Neil staggering backwards. He hit the screen door to the balcony and crashed through it, swathed in the curtains. He tried to shake them free, but before he could, he hit the railing. It splintered underneath his weight and gave.
He began to fall.
Neil let out a scream and shook the curtains off, groping upwards blindly. His hand caught one of the slats in the railing. It, too, cracked underneath his weight, but held firm enough to not send him falling. Neil flailed in panic, trying to get another handhold.
The ghost walked onto the balcony.
“Neil!” Rowan darted over to help him, breaking free of his paralysis. The ghost aimed a swift punch to his stomach, sending the teenager sagging to his knees. He held one hand out to Neil briefly, before the ghost grabbed him by the collar and tossed him back inside.
“Say goodnight,” the ghost said with a cruel smile. Neil saw him lift his foot and braced himself for the pain, sure that the ghost was going to kick his hand and try to make him let go.
Instead, the ghost kicked the slat he was holding onto. It shuddered. Neil heard the wood crack.
“Oh, Jesus,” he said, trying again to get another handhold.
“I’ll let gravity do the rest,” the ghost said, grinning. “You’re not who I’m after now. You’ll never get up here in time to stop me.”
He turned and went back into the room.
Neil heard Rowan’s shrill scream. He struggled violently to get a better grip, and the wood cracked again.
Seconds passed with agonizing slowness while he hung there. He realized quickly that he had to be still, had to think. Flailing blindly was only going to result in a three-story fall. Even if he lived through it, he would be badly hurt, and he would have no way of getting back up to the room in time to save Rowan.
He forced himself to be still, made his muscles relax, drained the tension from his body. Once he stopped moving, the slat stopped creaking quite as alarmingly.
Rowan screamed again. It was cut off abruptly.
Neil lifted his arm. The wood held firm. Slowly, he grasped another slat. Once he was able to put more of his weight on the one arm, he swung himself over a little and grabbed the railing a few feet away from where he had hit it in the first place. The wood was firmer there; less likely to give underneath his weight.
He had two firm handholds. He began to pull himself up, still slowly, not wanting to make things worse. One hand got hold of the railing bar. It creaked. Neil took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Only silence now from inside.
He forced each movement to be much slower than he wanted it to be. His breath was coming in short gasps.
He pulled himself onto the railing and collapsed onto the balcony floor.
He crawled towards the door and made it back inside. Rowan was lying in a heap on the floor, with the ghost hunched over him. There was no noise, but Neil could see the ghost’s hands around Rowan’s throat.
Neil did not move for a long second.
The ghost rose to his feet. “Told you,” he said, with a smirk. “Told you that you couldn’t make it back in time to save him.”
“He’s not dead,” Neil whispered. His lips were cold.
“Bet my ass,” the ghost said. “You lost again. And now, just for a bonus, I’m going to kill you, too.”
He charged forward. Neil did not think; he could not even find the strength to move. He was light-headed and dizzy, trying to find some way to rationalize what was happening to him. Rowan was dead. Rowan was -
Neil’s knees unhinged and sent him tumbling to the floor.
The ghost, having expected some sort of attack or retaliation, stumbled. He was unable to cut off his momentum in time, and tripped over the curtains that Neil had left, in a heap, on the balcony. Without another word, his own running start carried him through the remnants of the railing and over the edge.
Neil didn’t even see him go. He was focused on Rowan. He didn’t have the strength to walk, so he crawled over to his lover. “Rowan,” he whispered. “Rowan, please . . .”
The logical, rational part of his brain, the part that had decided to be a biology major, the part that still could not believe any of this was happening, kicked in. Rowan wasn’t breathing. People who weren’t breathing got CPR. CPR made them breathe again. A simple cause-and-effect relationship that his stunned brain was capable of handling.
He leaned over and tilted Rowan’s head back, keeping one hand beneath his neck. He had been taught this more than once, and knew, to some extent, what he was doing. Instinct had kicked in. He pressed his lips against Rowan and breathed into his lungs.
// Rowan was looking into a mirror, except that the figure in the mirror had brown hair and no glasses, was shorter and skinnier. “Are you . . . me?” he asked, pressing his hands against the glass. “The me from last time?” But that was silly, his reflection couldn’t talk to him.
“Why are you here?” his reflection asked curiously.
“I . . . don’t know,” Rowan said. “I think because I’m dead?”
“If you were dead, you’d be somewhere else entirely,” the figure said, sounding irritated with him. “It isn’t your time. This isn’t where you need to be. Don’t you remember anything we learned?”
Rowan looked at him. He remembered, vaguely, the four years he had sent waiting, in between life and death. He remembered, not as well, the vast understanding of the universe that he had somehow gained; the understanding that had allowed him to accept their reincarnation so much more easily than Neil had.
“It’s always been you, hasn’t it,” he said quietly. “That strong part of me, inside. The voice I sometimes hear that tells me that I’ll be okay if I just hold on.”
“Was I wrong?” his reflection - his past self - asked him.
“No,” Rowan said. “No, you weren’t wrong.”
“Then why are you standing here?”
Rowan pressed his hands more firmly against the mirror, and realized that his reflection’s hands were still down at his sides. “Are we . . . strong?” he whispered.
His reflection lifted his hands and pressed them against Rowan’s. Rowan could feel the warmth, the press of flesh against his own. “Stronger than you know,” his own ghost said quietly. “Now go on, get out of here. He needs you now. He’s protected you for so long . . . it’s high time you returned the favor.”
Rowan nodded. “Will I ever see you again?”
“Always.” //
Rowan lurched upwards, coughing and gasping. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He retched, once, before his stomach settled. “Neil,” he murmured, leaning into the shelter of his lover’s arms.
“God, I thought I’d lost you,” Neil sobbed, holding Rowan tightly. “I thought you were gone.”
Rowan shook his head and smiled. He looked over at the window. Dawn had just broken, and daylight was starting to trickle through. “This time . . . this time you saved me. I knew you would.”
Neil clutched at him.
The door to their room opened, and the ghost walked inside. “How dare you - ”
He saw Rowan, and stopped short.
“Don’t come near us,” Neil said through clenched teeth. He didn’t think he could fight anymore. His limbs weren’t working properly; his hands were cold. He just wanted it to be over.
“You’re supposed to be dead!” the ghost snarled, and stormed across the room. Neil scrambled to his feet, pulling Rowan with him. The teenager was still weak; his legs weren’t working any better than Neil’s were. They backed away a few steps, then a few more steps. When they started getting too close to the balcony, Neil shied away, moving into the corner where they had dumped their bags.
“Don’t think you can just - ”
The ghost stopped. He swore.
He had stepped into the sunlight.
“Neil,” Rowan whispered.
“I see it.” Neil felt numb. The sunlight was wrapping around the ghost like a physical thing, holding him in place.
And then the blackness came.
Neil saw it first, a patch of darkness gathering in the far corner of the room, closest to the door. He choked on his own fear and said nothing, not even pointing it out to Rowan, unsure if Rowan would have heard him anyway.
They all heard it when it spoke.
/ IT IS TIME. THE DEAL IS CONCLUDED. /
“NO!” the ghost screamed, trying to wrestle free of the bands of light that held him. “I’m not going! You’re not taking me! HE ISN’T DEAD!”
/ DAWN HAS COME. IT IS OVER. WE AGREED. /
“I’m not going until he’s dead!”
/ HIS DEATH IS OF NO CONSEQUENCE. THE AGREEMENT WAS THAT YOU WOULD KILL HIM. YOU HAVE. WHETHER OR NOT HE RETURNED HAS NO BEARING ON OUR AGREEMENT. HIS EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY HAS PASSED. YOUR TIME IS CONCLUDED. /
“You’re not taking me!” the ghost screamed. He struggled free of the sunlight and launched himself at Rowan. The teenager barely had time to scream before Neil shoved him roughly to the floor, moving in between them. The ghost grabbed Neil by the wrists, and icy cold shot through him.
He felt himself falling.
“Neil! NEIL!”
Rowan scrambled over Neil. His body had gone rigid; his eyes fixed in his head. His skin was ice to the touch.
“And now it’s your turn - ” the ghost snarled.
Rowan groped for a weapon - any weapon. His hand fell on his backpack and he yanked out the baseball bat he had brought to show Neil that he had been able to play baseball.
// “It’s not that he’s a bad player, Mr. Weatherby. Quite the contrary, actually.” The Little League coach let out a rueful laugh, pushing his hand through his hair. He would never know that Rowan was standing outside the door, listening to every word he said. “It’s just those fits he has, you know? I can’t count on him. Sure, when he hits the ball, he hits it damn good. But sometimes he forgets to swing. And he’s a disaster in the field. He gets distracted by - by something.”
“I know,” Jack said with a sigh. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll try to break it to him gently, I guess.”
The coach laughed again, then said, “It’s kind of a shame, though. When he has his wits together . . .” He let out a low whistle. “Damn, that boy can hit.” //
Rowan looked up at the ghost. He was not angry or afraid. He felt nothing anymore except a strange numbing strength that was slowly spreading throughout his body.
He kept his eyes glued to the man that had once been his father. He drew back and swung as hard as he could. The movement caught the ghost completely off guard, and the bat hit him squarely in the chest. He stumbled backwards a step. Rowan didn’t think. He swung again, catching the man underneath the chin.
The ghost fell into the light.
He screamed.
Rowan’s knees gave and he crumbled to the floor. The bat slid from his loose fingers and hit the ground with a dull thud.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. The sunlight was again attacking the ghost, and now the darkness had joined it as well. Bands of light and dark twisted around the (his father) ghost. After just a moment, Rowan could see nothing but his face, and then that was gone as well.
/ OUR DEAL IS CONCLUDED. /
And it was twisting further - further - a never ending spiral of dark and light intermingled -
Until it dissipated, and all that was left was the soft light of dawn.
Rowan felt the hysteria building up in his throat, but he pushed it back. He knelt next to Neil, who was still stiff and seemingly frozen. For a brief moment, he panicked, but then he pushed that aside as well.
// He needs you now. //
Rowan leaned down and kissed Neil on the lips. Warmth spread from the point of contact, through Neil’s face, down his neck, his chest, his arms. He let out a convulsive sob and wrapped his arms around Rowan, pulling him down.
Neil sat up abruptly. “What - ” He stared around at the empty room.
“He’s gone.” Rowan managed a tremulous smile. “Oh, God, he’s gone. He’s gone.” He threw himself into Neil’s arms and the hysteria escaped him. He sobbed full force into Neil’s shirt until there were no more tears left.
They sat there for a few more minutes.
“You okay?” Neil finally asked.
“I think so.” Rowan nodded a little. He felt a little giggle coming on. “I told you I played baseball.”
“Jesus Christ, yes,” Neil said, and kissed him. “Are you tired?”
“Exhausted,” Rowan admitted. “But I don’t think I could sleep.”
“Mm.” Neil knew how that felt; the total exhaustion of the body but the wide awake mind trying to comprehend what had just happened, trying to wrestle it into some semblance of sense or natural order. “Me neither. What should we do, then?”
“I dunno. Hang on one sec?” Rowan stood, shakily, and went over to the nightstand. He pulled out a battered, leather-bound book. “It’s my journal,” he said, with a slight laugh. “I guess - maybe writing it will make it seem more real?”
“Oh. Okay.” Neil waited while Rowan scrawled down a few sentences.
“There,” he said, putting the book down.
“I have an idea,” Neil said, and told Rowan. Rowan smiled and nodded.
In full agreement, they went out onto the balcony. They sat down together and watched the last of the sunrise.
^^^^
And now, my disclaimer:
I planned that scene back when I first mentioned Rowan played baseball. It was at least a year before Signs was even *released*, let alone before I saw it on DVD several months later. I swear to God I did not steal the baseball thing from Signs, and I'm really *pissed* that it seems like I did, because it was too cool to let go. Karasu says she doesn't think there's too much similarity, so I left it in. So.... thingy. Screw M. Night Shamalyan anyway.