Waiting for you

by eternalpessimist

raist/dal slash, ti's one of my very sad attempts at a happy ending, kinda, but hey it's slash, so if you like slash, here you go

*WARNING: SLASH RANT*

This is, retrospectively, written for Kaeira. I don't mean to be rude honey, but when you do something really stupid, someone just needs to do something about it. For those of you who don't know that I can carry a grudge, and who have no idea what is going on, let me just sum it up for you. About a year ago May 25, 2002, I received a review for one of my stories. Which was fine at first. The reviewer said that it was good, that it would have been a good story, had it not been for the slash. IN MY SUMARY IT SAID THAT IT WAS RAIST/DAL SLASH! If you don't like slash, don't get pissy because you read a slash story and didn't like it when the summary specifically says that that is what it is. That is just a dumb fucking thing to do. Flame me, shame me, maim me all you want, but at least have it be for a good reason, and not because you don't really go for slash. And let me just say, it's called fanFICTION for a good reason, and you do not know that they weren't gay, haven't you ever read Lost Star? You'd have to be the most thickheaded person to not even think about the possibility that there was something beyond the sick and twister master/teacher/apprentice relationship they had going on. Oh and if you want to bash me, at least check your spelling please! And maybe you should shut up your WHINING when no one forced you to read the fic in the first place.

For those of you that none of the above applies to, this fic is dedicated to you, and I apologize for the rant, I managed not to say anything for a year, but I just felt the need to do something. If anyone wants to start some kind of slash uprising, please, please, please, contact me.

And if the story is crap go ahead and tell me, just don't get huffy because it's slash, it's not my problem if you don't know one of the few really good trends when you see one.

***

Krynn is my home. I remember it so well, though it has been so long. I remember the shadows, splaying off of the aspens, I remember the rain, splattering from one grand building to another. I remember the dark, dirty corners hidden away in Palanthas. The elves and their aloofness, always thinking that they had to consider the 'greater good.' I remember the way a fall to the ground would bend and ravage the bones of a dead body. The way the eyes would fill with blood when someone twisted the knife just right. Yet I can not remember my reflection in a river, can't begin to mutter one single incantation, I can't even remember what the light from the Staff of Magius looked like. Or, perhaps I just refuse to remember.

Travel does this to a person, makes them reminiscent. It is one of the drawbacks. The gods know that I have done enough travel to warrant whatever it will bring. I had once thought that Krynn was a sorrowful place to live. Now that I have traveled from one world to another, from planets overflowing with life forms to deserted, dusty planets, I realize my mistake. It is not Krynn that is cold, it is the universe. And now I could not possibly go back. Though sometimes, I truly want to.

I miss my apprentice.

There is nothing more to say than that, no way I could encompass the way I feel, knowing that he is not with me, that I am, literally alone. I may remember Krynn, but everything that I remember from that land, I remember because of him. He was so cold, so standoffish; it gave me a thrill. Knowing that felt some type of loyalty to me, but that he wouldn't stop in a second if he thought that betraying me would be good for him. I admired him. That was one of the last things that he said to me, in the real past, when time was still real and natural on Krynn. That he admired me, he always would. I thought it funny then, that he would admire me, someone who was so taken advantage of. By magic, by the gods, by my friends, by myself. That he would admire me, the thought is preposterous.
And yes, it may be true that I hate him. Just the little irrational part of me that can't stand to be outdone, it hates him as much as anything has ever been hated in that world. It hates him because he overcomes just what I do, and it doesn't kill him on the inside. It hates him because he wasn't as good as I was, wasn't as strong a wizard as I. Because he didn't need to be.

Dalamar had no need to be the best, he may have wanted to, but he didn't have to be. He didn't have to rise above everyone and everything around him and keep growing. Just to be able to say, to make sure that everything knew that he didn't need them, that he was better. That they were there simply because he allowed them to exists, that he could kill them in an instant. Dalamar had been content with his place on the planet, so long as he could alter it to his advantage. He didn't need to be the power behind everything, wasn't obsessed to the point that even Nunitari turned his back on him.

Surly Dalamar isn't alone right now.

He had been Dalamar the Dark before he had ever been my apprentice. He had literally been exiled by his people for nothing, and dealt with it. I killed my people, mocked them, and pointedly tried to brake them, only to be comforted and welcomed with opened arms on a slight whim that I was remotely sorry. That is really why I left Krynn. When something like that is the common occurrence, the people deserve to be punished.

So why am I the unhappy one?

Oh, right, because I'm always the unhappy one. I have to be, if I'm not something will just fall apart never to be fixed, and we wouldn't want that, now would we. Even the gods knew that I had to be punished every second. They made me feel like a pervert, forced me to watch Dalamar all the time, even when he and Jenna were doing something that I really would have preferred not knowing about at all. Why do gods and forcing people into realizations always go together?

I had fought it, as I fight everything that is not my creation. Only, this was my creation, completely, and I was fighting it anyway. So Paladine, sadistic old bastard, decided to take it upon himself to show me. I saw the great rug of time and life, as I have seen it before. Only this time, Gilean showed Paladine right where to take me. Two gray threads, running parallel at first, but then crossing and turning black. A deep, welcoming, warm black. Separating, getting far apart, then running parallel again. Then Paladine allowed me to see the future. The fixed future; one that I could not change. The two threads overlapped and tied together at the end of the rug, in the bottommost corner, holding the entire thing together.

Immediately, above all resentment, I laughed. Dalamar had also said that he would hate me forever, why would he spend eternity with me, and why would I allow it? So I left the gods. Used my meager, pathetic strength to get away and be on my own. I have felt them searching for me, and have evaded their power. If the gods can't find me when they are looking, then what hope does Dalamar have?

It was a mistake of course, to act on such an impulse, to think so rashly. Now, here where there is no magic, no people, nothing to occupy my attention, other than my thoughts, I almost wish I had a kender with me, preferably one by the name of Tasselhoff Burrfoot. I do not even know where I am, and I regret it.

The first realization that I came to was about Crysania. There was no question on whether or not, if the problem ever came up with her to choose between sacrificing herself, or living, she would have gone with Paladine. Her doubt had been with what was right, and pure, not with what she would have done. I had wanted to break my way into her and encompass that faith, keep it for my own. I was intrigued that a person could feel that. Impressed that she didn't realize what it meant. Above all, I was jealous that I didn't have it, so I tired to take it from her. I wanted what she felt, not her.

The second realization was that Dalamar had that quality too. Maybe that was why it was so entrancing coming from Crysania, because she offered it to me, showed it to me. I think Dalamar had made sure that I didn't see it in him, didn't want me to find out about it, because I would have tried to take it from him too, and I had already taken so much. Too much.

I didn't understand how they could feel that way. How they could put their trusts, themselves, in something that wasn't them. Some other entity, thought, idea, cause. I could only believe in myself. I have conversed with the gods, bantered with them, struck them down, asked things from them, tried to kill them and worked with them, yet still, I don't believe. I don't believe that they have any power greater than anyone else can. Don't believe that I owe them anything, and I don't think that I should serve them with myself, that I have a duty to.

I don't believe that the gods can help me.

Dalamar and I, we were a lot alike, still are. Maybe that's why I loathed him, just a little bit. In him I saw me, which is why I always thought that he needed to learn more, that I had to teach him since no one taught me. He, my apprentice, became everything that I had wanted, yet he was nothing that I wanted either. Riddles and riddles, there are too many shades of gray. Black is easier, black is beautiful.

But the difference between Dalamar and myself, the thing that makes him so much better, that makes that little part in me hate him a bit more, is that I love him. I do not even love myself, there's no way that I can love the magic anymore, but I love him. That was my third realization, and the one that made the most sense. I was so sure that I could not feel that way, that I didn't feel that way about him, but there are things that even I do not know.

Yes, Dalamar and I are a lot alike. We are matched from admiration to hatred. It would be too much for him to love me just the same as I love him. He has his faith, and I have my love, that is, perhaps, as it should be. Imagine though, if he did love me, how it must all feel to him. The endlessly infamous selfish sickly little mage that had once walked Krynn. What does our hatred matter. Everyone hates the same, hatred is just a grudge that someone carries, a memory to show that they will not forget, that what you did mattered to them. That they will not let it go.

I hope Dalamar hates me forever.

My apprentice was one of the rudest dark-elves I have ever met, I was his teacher. But not once do I remember Dalamar throwing my handicap back at me, which would be the admiration, I suppose. Now, as I sit and think over it though, I wonder. Shalafi is such an odd elven word. It sounds beautiful, ancient like all elven words do, but there's something different. Something simple and benign about it. It was Dalamar's name for me: teacher, master. I could agonize over the choice of the term for hours, the irony. I'm his master, even though he has been all that I think about. I miss Dalamar. I miss my love. The seven words can sound so different, I've spoken them all aloud in every language I can think of, I've even stumbled through blunt arcane meanings as well as the gods of magic themselves can. That was my last realization.

I remember working side by side with him. Leaning together over a book, helping each other carry scolding water from one end of the table to the other without flinching because we were both lost in our part in the difficult, complex spells that only partners can do. I remember the magic we used to create together. Even when he first came to me, young and a little arrogant, it all still worked out.

I remember the few conversations we had together. How it was almost impossible to detect any awkwardness in him, if it hadn't been for the almost apologetic look he would give me every time he had to leave. Had to leave to report back to the other wizards, the ones that sent him to spy on me. He never regretted that, never will. I admire that in him too, how he has no regrets. I remember the first time I saw him. I remember that I wasn't looking for a student, that I had no need to take on an apprentice. I remember how I changed my mind when it was obvious that he saw my plan, would know it anyway. I never told him that I had wanted him to understand that I didn't want him to think little of me for it. That it wasn't as simple as it looked. I remember every angle, every different color the shades of light created across his beautiful skin. I remember the two of us, looking up at Nunitari. I don't remember thinking the most cliched thought about how it was something for just the two of us, since so few can truly see Nunitari's beauty at it's brightest. But I do think that now, and I may regret it later.

It wasn't Krynn that is my home; perhaps it is just Dalamar.

Raistlin...

Shut up Paladine. Why must you mock me so?

Raistlin...

Quit it Gilean, this is truly beneath you.

Raistlin...

I would reprimand Takhisis, but she could not pretend, nor would she care enough to find me. And I know that there isn't a way that Paladine or Gilean could find me. I'm still alone...aren't I?

Raistlin...

If I could comtinue to be honest for just a moment I would be able to admit that there is something different in the air. That something sounds and feels slightly familiar, slightly new. That feels like Dalamar.

Raistlin...

"Dalamar?"

Shalafi?

"What is going on?"

You should know, Shalafi, you should already know.

"Where are you?"

With you, waiting for you to join me.

"Join you where?"

In death, dear Shalafi. Do not be afraid, I have been searching for you, and now I have finally found you. I must say though, I am surprised. What are you doing here alone and alive?

"Dalamar, how did you find me?"

I died. I died and I was sent straight to you. My soul, that is, was sent straight to you.

"You are dead?"

Yes, after all the near misses, I was finally left alone and let to rest.

"Dalamar...?"

Shh, hush dear Raistlin, there will be time for that later. First, you must join me.

"Join you?"

Yes, you must die Raistlin. I have to say it was an unexpected trick, you being alive and unaged. But we can remedy this inconvenience easily.

"You want me to die."

Of course.

"Honestly, I have thought about it before, was tempted by it before, but I didn't know what awaited me."

I await you, gladly.

"You, why are you waiting for me?"

Because I miss you, Shalafi.

"What have I done to deserve to have you wait for me."

You were yourself, old friend. Our souls are bound, one cannot move on without the other, and I wouldn't want to even if I could.

"But why?"

Later, Shalafi, first you must come to me. My arms are waiting to embrace you, as they never could in life.

"Life?"
Don't you want to rest Raistlin?

"Rest?"

Yes, come with me, we will be together forever.

"Yes..."

And as I watch all the flowers, plants and stones fall from my pouches. As the vials roll together across the dead earth. I feel happy. The liquid is so beautiful, so welcoming and warm. The taste is dark and addictive. It is all gone before I even get a chance to savor it. As my mind drifts off there's a smile on my face.

I won't remember my body shaking on the ground. I won't remember my lungs gasping for air, my loose robes fallen off my frame. I won't remember that I received bruises, my lips split open, my eyes swollen shut, all in an instant. I won't remember the foam flowing out of my mouth, trickling into my hair.

I will remember the feeling of warmth, closer and closer as I drift further and further away. I'll remember the feeling of something bound to me joining with something else. I'll remember being alone, for one awful, heart wrenching second. Then something nears me, so close, feeling so happy, the smile radiating.

I'll remember the feeling of arms fit perfectly around me as black closes in.