Hello. This isn't any of my big projects but just something that I needed to get out of my head, especially after reading A Madness Underneath. (So, yes, like the summary mentions there are spoilers.) And to be honest I wrote this extremely rushed and this isn't my best work. The desire to publish again was just, strong, you know? And when I was writing this I didn't actually have the Shades of London with me, so please know that I tried my best with my memory and bring any factual errors to my notice.
Enjoy!
[i.
Rory woke up one night to the taste of salt in her mouth.
She dreamt that she was swimming in a huge ocean, more drifting aimlessly than swimming. Her arms move through the waves with rhythm, falling into a trance.
I'm the last of the crazy ones, the ocean whispered to her.
I don't think you're crazy, she whispered back, between strokes, before she had a chance to question the circumstances. She was dreaming, after all.
Head wounds always bleed a lot, the voice was louder now, I can stitch it myself if it comes to that.
No, no, no, no, Rory wanted to whisper back, knowing that whoever was talking to her needed medical attention. Her strokes and her breathing slipped out of sync, and she choked on a mouthful of salt water.
There are probably instructions online. How hard could it be?
No, no, no, Rory held on to those words—but they were heavily anchored down in her throat, pulling her whole person down into the whispering waters.
Rory, the ocean protested.
Rory, the ocean sighed.
Rory, the ocean mumbled like she was something it would never give up.
Stephen! She realized as she sunk lower, deeper. Stephen! Is it you? Where have you been? She wanted to follow the voices, she wanted to find Stephen even if it meant that she would drown.
Rory! This time it was a girl's voice, cutting through her sleep, lifting her up onto the surface.
Her body surfaced but her heart sank.
She remembered now: the initial disbelief, the shaking and shaking but hejustwon'twakeup, and the long, agonizing wait when her thoughts played in her head like a broken record. Stephen please, please don't leave me. Stephen please, please don't leave me. Stephen please, please don't leave me…
When she opened her eyes she found Boo hovering over her looking very concerned. She felt the wetness on her face and knew, once again, that she'd been crying in her dreams.
Boo opened her mouth to say something, but Rory cut her off, her voice shaking, "I know. He wouldn't wake up."
And then the tears started again—salty water droplets that poured out of her eyes. She seemed to be drowning in them.
They looked up to her now.
With Stephen gone, their leadership had fallen into Rory's hands.
Boo and Callum glanced at each other slightly unsure of what to do, but Rory pushed on.
She drowned in oceans of her own grief at night but she's determined to sail the sea in her sinking ship—for Stephen. She needed to find Stephen.
[ii.
But that doesn't mean she dealt with it well all the time.
And Callum worried about her.
He found her on one of her off days sitting and looking at a map of London. She stared at it like answers would pop up and tell her where Stephen was.
"Rory," he said gently, moving between her and the map, "How are you doing?"
"Fine, I guess."
"You do know that we're hurting too, right? Boo and I?"
"Yeah," she answered softly.
"We're learning to deal with our grief too. But…we believe that he's out there. And I know that I'm not the person with the best attitude towards ghosts but he's out there, Rory. He's not lost to us. He's not dead. I mean, he's physically dead but we're the ones to know that dead doesn't mean lost forever."
"I know."
"Rory, sometimes I think you're the one lost to us. You're drowning in your grief and if you're not careful Boo and I will be swimming in it, too."
"I'm sorry," she said earnestly, "I just…miss him."
"I know," Callum sighed. "I do, too."
He sat down next to her and wrapped his arms around her small body, and even though she was right there in his arms Callum is pretty sure she was already floating out to Stephen.
[iii.
That night in her dreams she was standing in the rain on an empty street. The rain showered down on her, blurring the sights around her.
"Hey", a voice said behind her.
She whirled around, recognizing that voice and hoping that there would be a face to put to it.
Stephen Dene stood there in a long sleeved white shirt and jeans.
Stephen. Dene.
"You're crying," he noted with a concerned expression.
"No," she shook her head, "it's just the rain."
"You're crying," he insisted, and stepped closer.
Rory tasted the water running down her cheeks and maybe there was a slight tint of salt to the rain.
"Here," Stephen stepped closer, extending his arms, "Let me." He reached out, about to wipe the water from her face but Rory took a step back.
"Are you…are you real?" She asked stammering. "Are you…a ghost? Can I…touch you?"
He shook his head, "This is just a dream, Rory. You're not a living terminator."
She stepped forward, closing the distance, "And you're not a ghost."
He brought his hands up to wipe her eyes dry. "This is a dream, Rory," he said, "but that doesn't mean I'm not here. I'll come to you. You'll find me. Soon."
And then the streets of London were flooded from the rain and Rory held on to Stephen until he was swept away but "You'll find me" still echoed.
And then Rory's heart flooded and she sank into the murky waters but her eyes were dry.
[iv.
She felt funny.
As if in the months since she let Stephen go there was a tiny faucet inside her that was turned on. The little pool built to catch the sadness was overwhelmed, and constantly, constantly, it overflows. Oh, it overflows.
The next time she saw him was during the night following an exhausting day. Rory and her parents and Boo and Callum finally figured out how Rory should juggle schoolwork and her career as a living terminator. They were still searching for Jane and for Charlotte. That was something they had to tell Rory's parents. They were also still searching for Stephen, not aware that Rory already found him.
She climbed into her bed, sinking into the soft mattress, sinking into sleep.
"You're still crying," Stephen observed.
Rory turned on him and demanded, "Where have you been? It's been weeks, Stephen. Weeks! Why won't you show up?"
He said nothing, focusing on wiping her tear-stained face with his ghost-white sleeves. Her tears keep coming, and he keeps wiping them away, until his white sleeves are painted with her make-up.
"Is this how it is?" She asks through her tears. "The only place you'll show up is in my head. This is the only closure I'll ever get. I'll never…I'll never know what could have happened between the two of us. It'll never happen. Not even with me a living terminator and you a ghost."
Her eyes were suddenly flames, hot enough to dry any amount of tears.
"This is all just in my head! This is a freaking dream! How could I ever believed in this?" Her voice wavered.
"Are you still crying?" dream Stephen asked, and Rory about exploded.
"Of course I'm still bloody crying you bloody twat. When the hell are you going to bloody show up? Get out of my head. Get the bloody hell out of MY HEAD! I'll never trust you again you git. I'll never believe in you when you say you'll be back soon or I'll find you soon. You lying idiot," the words tumbled out of Rory's mouth like a gushing river. "You're still gone. You're still dead. You still never bloody woke up."
She sat up shaking violently, staring into the blackness of the night.
[v.
They looked on and on and on. They visited all the places that Stephen could be again and again, hoping that he would show up. But he doesn't.
Callum and Boo could tell that Rory obviously doesn't have her heart in it anymore, and they understand. It hurts to keep one's hopes up.
"You can move on, you know," Boo said one day. "I mean, I know Stephen would understand. Whatever it was that happened between you two, I'm sure he doesn't want you to keep hurting like this."
"I know," Rory said quietly. "I know that I'm allowed to move forward. It's just…I don't think I can."
"You have your whole life ahead of you," Boo tries, "you don't have to stay rooted this job. You don't have to stay rooted to us."
"Every time I try to move on, there's something tugging me back. Like I'm anchored down to this one place, one person, and that anchor is too heavy for me to drag along. It's tiring. I'm drowning constantly and I've forgotten how to swim. I'm choking on all the words I've never said to him. I'm dreaming about all the what-ifs."
She leaned into Boo's embrace. This is the part when I cry, she thought. But all her tears filled up someone else's ocean.
[vi.
She's learned to talk like a proper Brit, Stephen observed as he floated through nothingness. And she's still strong, even though she's weary. That's good, isn't it?
He pondered that for a moment. Of course it was a good thing that Rory was still strong, still doing fine on her own without him. He didn't actually want her to be one of those people who were crushed when their loved ones departed, did he?
And why didn't he find her in real life? To be honest, he was a little lost in the nothingness that made up the afterlife. He was able to find her in glimpses, but that was only occasionally.
I'm driving her mad, he thought of the last dream. And that's probably not a good thing. She's strong, but… too weary.
And she was driving him mad, too. Knowing that the only times he could touch her was in their dreams—visions that ended when the sun rose or when she broke off. Meetings that to her, weren't real. Her eyes, even when water logged, were still lit with fire. Her lips, even when they screamed at him, reminded him of their last (and first) kiss. Her figure, which was always just right, no matter if she was in her school clothes or in his old Eton sweats. Her mouth, still loaded with smart things to say, but lacking the occasion to do so.
He had a very strong desire, suddenly, stronger than before, to go home.
He needed to see her.
[vii.
And then he was there. In this flat that smelled like Callum and Boo but more importantly, Rory.
Looking down at his hands, he saw that they were translucent. Just like a ghost's.
He was finally a ghost.
Was that all it took? All he needed to do was to wish to come home and then, poof, he was there? That made no sense. No sense at all.
Stephen walked around the flat, figuring out what things were Callum's, Boo's and Rory's. It was surreal to be grounded in reality again, after all the weeks (months? Was it months yet?) of floating in nothingness or swimming in salt water.
He entered an open doorway before freezing in his tracks. There, on the wall opposing him, was a giant map of London. The map was littered with push-pins, some marking a spot and some pinning down pieces of paper with Rory's handwriting on them.
He inched closer to get a better look. One piece of paper said, "Place of car crash, visit one, Stephen not to be found." Under it in a different color and a date a week later was, "visit two, Stephen not to be found." And then there was yet another color and another week later. And another. And another. The full map of London was covered with little entries like this: "Point of insulin injection, visit three, Stephen not to be found." "The old flat, visit five, Stephen not to be found." "Jane's old apartment, visit two, Stephen not to be found."
How they searched for him! Stephen's chest felt a little tight and he—
CRASSH!
Something crashed from behind him, and he whirled around to find Rory standing in the open doorway no longer holding a bag full of books.
Hold it together, hold it together, she chanted inside her head, but it was no use. Her eyes grew blurry and misty and then there was no point in trying to hold it together anymore.
Stephen. Dene.
"Why now?" she croaked. "Why not when you told me that you'll be coming back the first time?"
He scratched the back of his head, "I was making promises that I had no idea how to fulfill. To be honest I said those words hoping that you'd stop crying and start hoping."
"You idiot," she whispered.
"Speaking of tears," Stephen said, "I would very much like to wipe those tears away for you."
Rory cracked a small smile, and then wiped them away herself.
"I swear that this is the last time I'm going to cry. Ever. Plus, you can't. You're a ghost."
Stephen grinned, "And you're a living terminator."
It was morbid humor, but for the first time since forever ago, laughter came easily.
Fin.
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Thanks!
Date Completed: September 25th, 2014