Rainbow's Thought Volcano: Hey, everyone! Rainbow here with my next big story. And so quickly after the last one, too! Am I sick? Probably! Is that the point? Not in the slightest!
This story is heavily based on To the Moon, a PC "game" that can be found on Steam. The game is really more of an interactive novel, but boy is it well-written. I was playing with my friend the other day and thought "You know, Eva and Neil are a lot like Alfred and Arthur..." and thus, this fic was born. To the Moon has such a beautiful atmosphere that I tried to capture in my writing. I highly recommend that everyone play the game for themselves, or at least get the soundtrack/listen to it as you read.
This story is also going to be incredibly long. Well, compared to the rest of the work I've done. If I do the story justice, it will easily overtake The Freedom Phantom in length, which I suppose is great for those of you out there who are tired of reading short little one-shots from me. I also cannot promise a regular update schedule. My life is about to get very busy. But I can promise I'll update as often as possible, because I absolutely love this story. I hope you guys will grow to love it too.
Chapter 1: Between a Squirrel and a Tree
The old man was dying. He was trying hard not to because he couldn't die yet. But he was dying nonetheless.
He was hanging on to the thread of life as hard as he could, but his sweaty and weary palm was slipping. At the foot of the hill, winding through the mountain roads, sped a large van sporting the logo for Sig Corp and housing two of its employees. They had to reach him before he breathed his last breath, before his heart beat its last, and before his hand released its grip.
The gentle sound of soft piano notes danced through the air. The moon, full and illuminant, shined on the country home and the hill it overlooked. The old man lied in his bed, rasping and shuddering with each labored gulp of air while his loving caretaker and his petulant doctor attended to him.
Screeeeeeeeech…! CRASH!
The sound brought an abrupt halt to the piano notes, as its two young players jumped in fear and curiosity. Peter and Winona shared a bewildered look before deciding that the sound must've been some kind of animal. They continued their playing, blissfully oblivious to the tragedy looming over their heads.
The two employees stood at the sight of their smoking van. Their once pristine lab coats were now a bit smudged, but otherwise they were unharmed. The same could not be said for the deceased squirrel on the road.
"Where were you looking, Alfred!?" Arthur demanded. He was a feisty though proper immigrant from England who transferred to the American branch of Sig Corp almost 5 years ago. His once shimmering emerald eyes were now dimmer and clouded by emotional wear and one too many all-nighters. His pale-blonde hair was permanently disheveled, much to his dismay. He crossed his arms and looked to his partner.
"Well excuse me for heroically evading that squirrel coming out of nowhere!" Alfred retorted. Like Arthur, his eyes that once seemed infinite and bright as the summer sky seemed now more like a summer storm. A peculiar lock of his hair stood straight up, and bobbed with his head whenever he emoted. Which was frequently. His glasses sat slightly askew on his face from the crash.
"…You ran over it anyways," Arthur deadpanned.
"…Oh."
Arthur slapped a hand to his face. "You ran over it and hit a tree."
Alfred sheepishly rubbed his neck. "Look, don't worry, it's a company car," he reasoned, trying to lessen the damage he'd done.
"Are you joking? The boss is going to kill us!" Arthur shouted, looking once again at the wrecked van. Alfred put a hand to his chin in thought.
"Hm. . . We'll just say I was saving a puppy. He likes puppies, right?"
"He's more of a cat person. Not like that would actually help anything!"
Alfred let out an exaggerated sigh. ". . . Why does the world have to be so complicated? Fine, whatever furball he fancies. Crisis averted."
"Go write that on your report later. Let's get the equipment from the car and move already," Arthur said, pushing them towards the task at hand. He knew that despite their predicament, their crashed car would simply have to wait. Someone's life was on the line. Alfred opened the trunk of the car and pulled out an enormous toolbox.
Arthur walked over to the dead squirrel, hoping that maybe it still had a chance. Upon further inspection, the poor creature was completely smashed. At least it had a swift death.
"Tsk, tsk," Arthur scolded sadly.
"Aw c'mon, I crashed the car while trying to evade it! What more do you want?!" Alfred complained, readjusting the awkwardly large toolbox on his chest.
"Not crash the car and evade it?"
". . . That's asking too much."
Arthur allowed a small amused smile at his partner's words. The pair walked a few feet to find a wooden sign with the words "Vargas Home" carefully painted on it.
"Putting up a sign when they live in the middle of nowhere is like asking to be robbed," Alfred commented. Arthur shrugged.
"Perhaps they're simply very trusting people. Our client has been known for his cheerful attitude throughout his life," he reasoned before ushering for Alfred to move along. With their car out of commission, it was going to be a long walk.
By the time they reached the home of their client, it was nearly an hour later. Despite the wild weeds and flowers that grew all around, the exterior and the two flowerbeds on either side of the front door were well-kept. The sound of crashing waves could be heard in the distance, as well as a simple piano melody. Arthur knocked on the door. The piano notes came to an abrupt halt once more.
"Not a bad place to retire, hm?" Arthur asked, looking up at the quaint windows and intriguing architectural shape.
"I could do better," Alfred responded with a bit of a shrug. While he was very strong, the equipment was starting to wear on him. He put the toolbox down on the ground and stretched out his arms.
"Pfft. Not with your salary," Arthur teased, knowing full well that they both earned the same amount. Alfred gave a tiny sheepish smile.
"Nightshifts; love 'em or hate 'em?"
"You know the answer, you stupid owl."
" . . . It's probably gonna be another all-nighter, y'know," Alfred admitted softly.
"I know," Arthur replied tiredly.
"And I doubt they'd have any of the tea you like . . . "
"Shut up."
". . . And the ocean waves will sing lullabies . . . "
"Not through your blathering, they won't."
"And your eyelids will—" But before Alfred could finish his teasing, the door opened. Arthur glanced back at him snidely before entering. Alfred huffed before going in after him.
"Don't forget the equipment, moron," Arthur reminded. Alfred sighed and turned around. He picked up the 200-ton box with a grunt.
"I don't get paid enough for this."
"Dr. Arthur Kirkland and Dr. Alfred Jones, I presume?" asked a woman with long brown hair. In her long-gone days of youth, her hair was perky and smooth, but it lately had descended into a tangled mop on her head.
The pair in question nodded. Alfred set down the bulky toolbox and rolled out a kink in his shoulder. They took the moment to observe the inside of the house. There was a grand piano in the foyer, with a dining room table off to the left and a fireplace to the right. A grandfather clock stood next to a flight of stairs, unticking.
"I take it then that you are Eliza?" Arthur asked. The woman nodded.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice."
"That's okay, I tend to be bad at predicting deaths as well," Alfred stated, hinting that 'coming on short notice' was pretty par for the course for Sig Corp employees. Arthur glared at his insensitive comment.
"Are you the patient's daughter?" Arthur asked.
"Oh, no. I'm just his caretaker," she answered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. From behind a large vase appeared two children, both with uncannily bushy eyebrows. They surveyed the two lab-coated men before scampering off to another room.
"…And those were my children, Winona and Peter," Eliza noted, acknowledging their unhospitable behavior subtly. "It's not exactly a nine-to-five job, so Feli lets us live here."
"I suppose this 'Feli' is our man?" Arthur asked.
" . . . 'Feli'? Listen, if it's a kid we're dealing with, I don't think we're the ones you want," Alfred explained with a bit of caution. Eliza shook her head.
"No, no. He just prefers to be called that. His full name is Feliciano. He's upstairs right now with his medical doctor." She glanced up the flight of stairs with a pang of worry. "Come with me." She began walking upstairs, not waiting to see if Alfred and Arthur were following her.
"Come on, grab the case and let's go."
"…When my back breaks one day, I'll sue you with the insurance claim," Alfred threatened under his breath. He bent down and hoisted up the toolbox, nestling it in his arms. "Alright, let's head upstairs before I drop this on my foot." The two lumbered upstairs, Arthur pretending he wasn't worried every time Alfred almost tipped over.
"Okay! They're gone!" Peter shouted happily.
"First one there gets to play the melody!" Winona yelled. The two rushed out to the piano, but halfway there Winona tripped on the edge of the carpet and fell to the ground. Peter surged ahead and sat on the right side of the piano bench with gusto.
"No fair! You pushed me!" Winona cried.
"Did not!" Peter retorted, sticking out his tongue. Winona huffed.
"Whatever. You get the boring two-note part anyways." The two settled on the bench and began to play the music together, with as much sense of rhythm and tranquility that their tiny hands could muster.
"Those kids are pretty good for their age," Arthur noted aloud, peering down the stairs attempting to see the edge of the piano.
"Hey, you're the one who said there was no time to waste. And incidentally, I'm the one who is carrying the weight of a small meteoroid."
"Yes, yes, come on."
They walked into the bedroom to see their client lying on the bed, an IV drip and large heart monitor beside him. He had dark gray hair and a gray beard, with one strange curl that stuck out. Eliza stood at his side, grasping his unconscious hand. The doctor adjusted his glasses and took down a few notes on his clip board. His brows were furrowed deep with concern, and his nametag reading "Dr. Edelstein" that should've been pristine was crooked on his chest. He looked up to see Alfred and Arthur.
"He's unresponsive at this point, but from the looks of things, he's still hanging on. His breathing and heartrate, though slow, are stable. It's hard to say how long you have, but I would hurry."
"Let's look around a bit before we get into the meat of things. We can learn some important details about Feli from his room," Arthur reasoned. Alfred growled.
"Gee, y'know, I think I'd like to carry this excruciatingly heavy object around some more. Thanks for asking, though!" Arthur rolled his eyes and began to investigate the old man's room. He walked to a hallway with four paintings along the wall. The first was a painting of a lighthouse by the cliffside. The second was a woman holding some sort of strange yellow and blue object. The third an even stranger…animal, of sorts, if that's what it could be called. And the last was a casual picture of three people, one that could have resembled his client were he thirty years younger. Arthur noted a book that stuck out on the bookshelf; The Emperor's New Clothes, a children's book that seemed notably out of place in an old man's home. There was another clock as well, and this one too stayed silent and unticking.
"Are you satisfied now, Sherlock?" Alfred asked, whiny voice dripping with discontent.
"Just because this information doesn't mean much now doesn't mean it won't later," Arthur countered, walking back to Feliciano's bedside.
As the scientists began connecting wires and cables, Eliza looked with a bit of concern on her face.
"Are you sure common household power will be enough?" she asked. Alfred smirked.
"Don't worry, Miss Eliza! We're professionals!" But not a moment later, Alfred noticed something vitally wrong with the machine's power source. "…Oh, crap."
The lights of the house flickered once, twice, and then rapidly. Alfred swiftly manipulated a few of the keys and switches on the machine and the lights returned to normal.
"Heh, standard procedures. Just keepin' ya on your toes!" he lied, rubbing his neck. Arthur shook his head.
"How's he doing?" Arthur asked, distracting himself from Alfred's idiocy. Dr. Edelstein checked the heart monitor by Feliciano's bedside.
"Not so well. If I were to say, he's got just a day or two left," he admitted grimly.
"That's plenty of time," Arthur reassured.
". . . So you two can grant him any wish, yes?" Eliza asked, looking to the old man's struggling face.
". . . To try, at least," Arthur answered honestly. He didn't want to give her false hope.
"But we always succeed, because we're awesome," Alfred added, flashing a quick thumbs up. A tiny smile crept its way onto Eliza's face.
"So, what's the wish?" Arthur asked.
"The moon." Eliza replied.
"The moon?" Arthur repeated.
"The moon . . .he wants to go to the moon."
Rainbow's Thought Volcano: And thus begins our tale! Each chapter will be named based off of a song in the soundtrack, so if you haven't checked it out yet you definitely should now. Also, while you're checking out the OST, the song that Winona and Peter play is called "For River (Sarah and Tommy's Version)." It's a very nice song that is important to the plot, so go listen to it while you're waiting for the next chapter!