Disclaimer: I don't own Everworld. ^_^ Honestly. It's getting there, though, so watch out.
Author's Notes: Oh. My. God.
It's a Christopher/David slash story. Whoa. Whoa. Never, ever tried one of these before. ^_^ Then again, I thought Duck-K and Queen needed some incentive to write more "Praise Chourus!" SQUEE! Therefore, this weird and badly written piece of carp is dedicated to them. And because Duck-K is nice. She deserves more C/D slash. *beams*
Jalil: I suddenly feel unloved. ;_;
Also. I know nothing about baseball. I've only seen two games in my life. ^^;; I am, however, also sure that this is wrong and it sucks, because let's face it, Christopher would never play baseball. He WOULD talk to himself, though. He does it in the books! Hah! ^_^ So there. Yeah.
… enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~
You always breathe harshly at six, then five
It's gone and won't come back alive
We've always tried to ignore
The ways you make me feel
Like time's not real
"Bottom of the ninth, and all the bases are loaded. Christopher Hitchcock steps up to the plate."
The field had been empty and rough, the soil too dry and gritty to plant anything but sparse weeds within its depths. Even now, the colors were washed out and tanned brown against the vivid greenery of the other land surrounding Daggermouth-- almost a thorn bush among the rose blossoms, so to speak. Although, in Christopher's significant opinion, it was difficult to compare the "nicer" plots of land to rose blossoms. Everything seemed either too thin or too marshy here.
But no one had been using this little bit of earth, and it was the only place where no one would come to bother him. Etain had given him a concerned look when he asked if it was okay to mess around with it, but had granted a worried assent. It was enough. It was discreet; hidden from the castle view by groves of trees from more prosperous growing areas. A place where he could be alone.
He needed a place like that during these days.
"He swings his ultimate, awesome bat towards the skies! Pointing out a distant horizon as the crowd watches anxiously!"
It hadn't been hard to snitch four flour packs from the kitchens-- the scullery maids were enthralled with his clean teeth and shining blonde hair. They practically handed him the bags of flour. All he had to do was flash a few smiles, woo a couple of ladies…
Getting a stick was easy enough, too. He asked one of the carvers, Melion, to strip down a slightly thick tree branch. It wasn't in exact proportion to a baseball bat, but it was better than he'd expected, which was more than enough.
It was the actual ball that was the difficult part.
"The pitcher spits viciously in the ground, ready to cream the famous player any moment. Hitchcock tenses, bat at ready for the final pitch…"
He'd tried using one of the wooden balls the dwarf children had concocted, but it was too heavy to hit. Every time he attempted it, his teeth would end up chattering in pain from the force of the blow on the bat. After his hands were too bruised to play, he gave up on the little oak sphere.
Of course, he'd been stupid, really. The answer was in front of his face the entire time. Then again, he liked to ignore things that he didn't want to do, and begging Jalil to make him a real baseball was on that very long, very irritated list. Still, there was the fact that Christopher needed the little globe.
All he had gotten in return was a raised eyebrow. It was a relief, because he didn't really want to explain to Jalil exactly why he needed a baseball, or make up some elaborate lie used to disguise his own, truly foolish intentions. In the end, the young scientist had come through with a crude but improved baseball made of rawhide and various, stitched hard leathers.
He'd put down the flour bags on the unused ground. They were bases. As long as he didn't step on them, they were, at least.
It was best if he waited until nightfall. Christopher knew that, and he waited until the twilight was gently touching the edges of the skyline, at the time when the shadows were beginning to creep into his small bedroom provided by the dwarfs. Then he'd gotten up, slugging his makeshift baseball bat over one shoulder and gripping the ball in his right hand.
He'd managed to catch one of the dwarf servants on his way out-- a small, grunting midget man who looked more annoyed than pleased to serve him. For some reason, it made Christopher feel better. At least someone else was having a hard time during the war besides them.
It was a perverse pleasure to know strain was in the air. He didn't care.
But he needed the man, and told him to seek out the Great Davideus. The leader of the forces. David Levin, bedroom only three doors from his own, but too far for him to walk and give the message himself.
He told the dwarf, "Tell him to come outside, behind the trees and stuff. I've got something to show him."
"The anticipation's like nothin' else, folks, this game's a real hard one. Hitchcock looks as though he's about ready to bolt, but he'd still giving the pitcher the evil eye. This is the moment the crowd has been waiting for…"
Christopher didn't know why he'd invited David down here; there was something like a reason behind it, but he didn't want to figure it out just yet. He wanted to say some things. No real reason. Well, maybe there was a reason-- a lot of reasons that made no sense to him. Because Etain now walked with a slow, drugged gait, and no one smiled anymore with the upcoming war. Because David locked himself in studies more often than Jalil did for the libraries, and that was saying something.
Because he wanted to share this childish, ugly piece of life with him.
Maybe he didn't want to be alone as much as he thought he did.
"The silence is amazing, everyone's focused on the two men on the field…"
Christopher squinted up at a bruised, ash-scattered sky. The stars were mere pinpricks in the distance, glimmering down in an unfamiliar pattern that was too unique to be from the Old World. He'd chosen a good night. He liked the way the air was cool and fresh on his skin, tugging at his sleeves in light camaraderie.
The rawhide baseball lay untouched at his feet. His hands, gripping the homemade stick, were starting to grow clammy. He took them away, still holding the bat in place with his feet, and wiped them over his pants.
Christopher wondered if he would come. If he even received the message. If he wanted him to receive it.
"The time's winding down-it looks like this showdown will come to a halt any moment… yes, Hitchcock is readying the bat. He's-"
"He's an idiot," said a voice from behind him, and Christopher straightened unashamed, glancing over his shoulder at the figure in the shadows of the trees.
Of course he received the message. Of course he came.
"General," the blonde acknowledged, tilting his head in welcome. His hands took up the bat again, and he narrowed his eyes at the sky.
David came up behind him silently, staring at the bases. At the bat and ball. And then, finally, in bewilderment as Christopher's calm face. It was an expression he rather liked on their fearless leader.
"What's all this about?"
Christopher pretended to consider, and maybe he really was-the words that came out of his mouth were a little different than what he planned. "It's a baseball diamond, duh."
"Well, I can see that," the inevitably sarcastic reply came. David rolled his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest. The blonde looked at him for the first time, realizing that the other teenager must have been asleep. Levin's hair was mused and wild, tousled as though he'd tried to tame the locks with his hands instead of a brush. It didn't matter. The mahogany strands slipped over his dark eyes, but they hid nothing, and it didn't look nearly as bad as Christopher's hair on a bad day.
He was also wearing nothing but pants, tightened with a belt-like apparatus, and a long, thin shirt made of some gray material.
Christopher frowned. "Aren't you cold?"
David gave him a thoughtful frown, as though unsure of what he was saying. "Not really. It's a warm night out-not nearly enough autumn here yet. Maybe it's like this year-round, though."
"I'm cold," the blonde said suddenly. He wasn't sure why he said it, because he wasn't even getting goose bumps. But it was like the message to send David down. Spontaneously correct.
"Maybe you should go inside."
"No. No, I'm trying to do this." Christopher looked out over the "baseball field" critically, swinging the stick idly in one hand. David frowned deeper at him, blinking with slow, confusing purpose.
"I didn't know you liked baseball," he finally said lamely. It almost made Christopher laugh. Almost.
"I don't. My brother does."
And there's an endless plain of needs
You haven't fulfilled a single one of my greeds
But when did I expect you to?
Forget the way you love to mess with me
The ways you die to confess to me
"His name's Mark. Mark Hitchcock. He used to want to be the best homerun hitter in the entire league when he grew up."
"Oh," David said. That was it. There was no emotion in it, nothing but a vague confirmation that he understood the meaning behind the words. It made Christopher sigh and gaze up at the sky.
"I'll never get to see him play. You know that? Because I'm here, stuck in the middle of this war. I'll never see him outrun that one dude at shortstop, or slam more balls over the fence than Sammy Sosa. I won't be in that crowd."
"It was your choice," the other boy said quietly.
Christopher shook his head, slips of golden hair falling over his face as he lowered it. "That's just it-- it was my choice. I have no one to blame for it but myself. But god if I don't hate it sometimes, when I remember what they must be going through. I promised him I'd be in the front row in the Major League, you know. When he broke all the records…"
David seemed to consider this. Slumping down to sit Indian style on the ground, he ran his hands through the rough, pebbly dirt. Christopher noticed the calluses on his fingers in an absent fashion, staring at them as he continued.
"I can't even be on the sidelines to cheer him on now. For what? To save a bunch of hard-assed idiots and freaks that don't even belong in my world? Because there was a pretty girl up in that castle that really seemed to love me?" He shook his head heavily. "I missed seeing him do all that for nothing, General Napoleon. Is that something you can understand? For nothing."
"You're fighting a great war effort--" David started. The blonde whirled on him, dark oceanic eyes blazing with fire, and interrupted the tired words.
"Screw that! Who's war is it, anyway?! It's not ours-- not something we can even claim, because they're the ones who started it. Not us. Not me. Not Mark." His breathing was suddenly very harsh and fluctuating. David was staring at him as though he'd grown another head. He looked down at the ground.
"Why did you ask me out here?" David asked tiredly. His face suddenly seemed a million times older than it should have been, with the shadows dancing across exhausted eyes. He wasn't scowling or upset; it was a more disturbed, lost sort of movement on his mouth. "So you could bitch about your life, is that it? Christ, Christopher, you think you're the only one to loose something?"
The blonde scowled. "No, no, that's not all. I'm sayin' that I've lost a lot for reasons I can't even believe in, too. I gave up television, Oh Fearless Leader. I gave up my dad's lame jokes, and my mom's favorite method of making eggs every morning. I gave up my little brother's dreams. For what? I want you to tell me. Make me see what you see. Make me believe why we're here."
He felt like there was something desperate clawing its way up through his chest. He stared at David on the ground, exhaling hard, inhaling sharply. These were questions that had laid heavily on the blonde's mind for weeks now, never failing to agitate him in the odd hours of the night.
He needed these answers. He needed David to give them before he forgot things he needed to remember.
David stood up and got right in his face-- so close that Christopher could see the blackening shadows under his eyes, and the way his features were too worn to look really angry, but instead looked more abused and anxious. The glare in his eyes was as direct and powerful as always.
"Christopher, look. I can't tell you what to believe in, man."
"Then why are you here?" the blonde snapped back, resisting the urge to grab the other boy by the shoulders and shake him wildly. It didn't look as though he was in any condition to withstand that attack. "Why are you up there, working yourself to death over these idiots? Never sleeping except a few hours. Always taking the hard parts on your own shoulders. You're being a jackass!"
"I'm doing what I have to do!" David snarled, eyes igniting furiously. "I'm doing what's right, that's what I'm doing!"
"You're doing what makes you feel important! You're not, David, you're just like me, stuck here. Stuck here with nothing except this stupid war. Is that the only reason you do it? Because it's right? Because you get to swing a sword around and give out orders? That's bull, man. That's not all of you."
He wondered where the words were coming from. Thought maybe they were always inside of him. David looked like he was about to scream or cry or laugh-- they weren't words he was ready for.
"Christopher… what the hell do you want?"
The blonde bit his lip harshly. "Tell me… tell me why you're here. I don't understand it anymore. Things are bad, David. I don't get it like I used to. Tell me why you're still here…"
The boys were silent, and the night sounds approached in a gentle wave. David finally sighed, plopping back down on the sparse grass sleepily, his head buried in his hands as he thought.
Christopher watched.
I fall back down and then
It all comes around to greet me
Like a punch to the face, you were there
And I'm breathing out your breath
So let's forget the times
When sidewalks scraped our knees
And please, please like cherries
Let's twist together into a dream
Let's bring together something like a dream
It had only been lately that he'd worried. That he'd been doubting. Only for the past few weeks, as the ever-coming battles approached their grounds, warning that the tentative peace they had going wasn't lasting for long. Ka Anor was growing restless with the wait for bloodshed.
Christopher was also restless, but for other reasons.
It seemed like the closer the time came, the more he forgot why he was here. Why he stayed behind to fight this overwhelming force of evil. He wasn't a hero-- there were people who could be, ones like David and April, who wanted to rid the universe of unjustified things. Of the bad ones. He'd never been like that, though. He couldn't be a savoir or leader to anybody, not even himself. There had never been the urge to hold a sword or gather an army into battle.
It couldn't be why he stayed behind.
Nor could it be Etain; the girl had become something of a fading illusion to his mind. She now walked the halls of Daggermouth as Baldwin's wife and queen. There were faint, pitying smiles sent his way, but no words of kindness, no lifeline to his raw, disappointed soul. She would not be coming back.
Once he looked at her with love and desire. Now, a bitter and metallic betrayed feeling rose in his taste buds whenever he caught sight of her beautiful figure gliding across the floor. She wasn't Christopher's to have anymore. It was over.
Somehow, he felt angry at her for not even trying.
It was no longer for her that he stayed.
So why? There had to be something that tied him down, because he remained in the castle. He watched April make friends with the court ladies and gain purpose in her time there, spreading knowledge about medicine. Jalil had become a lord of sorts-- there wasn't a single person in the castle that didn't give him grudging respect and admiration for his mind. The young scientist now carried a resigned, pleased smile where he went, accepting this fate. They'd both found places here.
Christopher hadn't found one yet. He remained in the background, watching things happen with a frown and the ever-growing doubts in his mind. Day after day, he tried to find a way to fit in with the hustle and bustle of the war effort, only to be thwarted. So, instead, he watched the plans go into action. Watched everyone have something to do that was important, some faith they put all their might into.
Most of all, Christopher had watched David.
General Davideus, the leader of the armed forces of the Greeks, and the carrier of every burden and obstacle the war came upon.
"You idiot," Christopher had wanted to say, as he watched the dark haired boy work himself into near exhaustion. David tried too hard for his age and mental stability. The door to his room was always closed securely, masking everything except the pacing footsteps sometimes heard late at night from three doors down.
Christopher found himself staring at the ceiling to those steps more than one night.
The young leader had more purpose than any of them. But Christopher couldn't see the reason anymore behind it. Why David strived so hard, worked so long, and strained so violently towards the final goal. Exactly why he was so pale and tired, circles under his eyes and a nearly empty dinner plate every night.
"Tell me why you're still here," the blonde whispered again to the other boy sitting on the makeshift baseball diamond. The answer was very important.
It could perhaps give Christopher a purpose of his own.
David was looking blurrily at the ground, eyelids slipped halfway shut. He massaged his temples. "I… because…"
Sitting beside him with a grunt, Christopher bumped his shoulder against the young general's. For a moment, David's body leaned towards the other presence, perhaps seeking a solid base to rest against, before he tensed and jerked away. It didn't go unnoticed.
"David," the blonde said simply. "It's not a hard question."
"You're right, it's not," the boy muttered in return. He shot a faint, weary smile at Christopher's face. "But it's a difficult answer to explain."
"You have all night. You can come up with something."
"I guess."
The nightlife's getting too rough for my taste
Let's break out into a place that's been erased
And shatter it away
Because it's how you roll your eyes
It's the bittersweet tang of your lies
The silence fell like a curtain between them, wavering slightly in the soft winds coming from the east. David was drawing small circles and rings in the gritty dirt with his fingers.
"I guess… I guess it's because it's the right thing to do. That's all," David finally said softly. "That's everything. Because not doing it is wrong."
Christopher shook his head. "That can't be enough." He ignored the other teen's fierce glare, and added, "You have to have another reason."
"What more can there be?!" David demanded in exasperation, gesturing madly with his arms. "Because people are suffering, and we have the means to stop them, Christopher. We're the only ones who think the right way. We're it; it's our duty as human beings to do this. How else can you look at it?"
"Like reality," Christopher shot back. He kicked the rawhide ball near his foot away viciously, watching as it rolled off towards 'first base'. "All that righteous bullshit, the golden, American humanistic approach? It's an ideal. You can't possibly be that unselfish."
"It has nothing to do with being selfish," growled the brunette through gritted teeth. "There's no thinking about it. It's the right thing to do."
And, Christopher suddenly reflected, that was probably the truth. Because David couldn't possibly not do the right thing in his mind-- it was who he was. It was everything he wanted to become. There had been no choice for him, it was just the way it was.
It wasn't fair that it was so easy for him.
"Do you honestly want Ka Anor to win?" David continued, pursing his lips unapprovingly at the silent, larger boy. "Do you want Etain to have been married off for nothing? All these people… dead and lost… how can you not want to stop that?"
"Because," Christopher responded truthfully, a tired note in his voice. "It's exactly who I am. I'm not like you, General. I don't need to prove myself, and I don't want to save the world from all darkness."
'I'm selfish,' he added inwardly, and smiled bitterly at the ground.
'I just wanted to watch my brother play some baseball. Get the girl and live happily ever after in suburbia. When did all that change? Why am I here?'
He didn't have the answers. Obviously, neither did David. The realization made something inside Christopher feel crushed and betrayed, because he thought of all people, the most dedicated one would be able to give him purpose.
Part of him wanted to hate David-- the easy way he could accept his fate, eagerly stepping up the challenge. Because he only needed a few simple answers stuck fast and determined inside of him, and that was all he needed to win. The leader wanted to protect the people. That was the way it was.
Christopher felt nothing for this world. He glanced over at David, wishing he could be furious with him, but finding nothing but an empty void when he saw the boy's face. The intent dark eyes were fixed upon him in something close to concern, brimming against the night with a dawning understanding.
It made something in his chest lurch and fix itself.
'I guess I can't be mad at him. Damn it.'
"Do you wanna talk about what's bothering you?" David asked.
Blue eyes flashed towards him in deep contemplation, before Christopher asked, "Have you ever felt like you had no meaning in the world? Like… like you were just walking through the walls, unnoticed? No purpose, nothing but… like you had no reason to be there at all. And you hated it."
The words felt good to say.
It felt better when understanding glowed in David's eyes, and his face settled into sympathy, as he said, "I felt that way every day in the old world."
"I feel it every day here."
David looked a little worried at that, tilting his head to regard Christopher's shadowed face. His tousled brown hair slipped over his eyes, and he impatiently drew it back so he could peer closer at the blonde boy. "But… you are helping here. You have a purpose."
"To make bad jokes and bother everyone?" Christopher asked sarcastically. The other boy bit his lip uncertainly.
"No. You're…"
When he trailed off hesitantly, Christopher rolled his eyes. "A menace to the Everworld society?"
"No!" It was a sharp sound, and after the tired, lost statements from before, an almost welcome tone. David pinpointed irritated, displeased brown eyes on his own, narrowing them into slits. "Look, stop making things difficult. You're as helpful as anybody here, and… damn it, Christopher, why the hell are you so upset over it, anyway? I thought you said you didn't want to be like that."
"Because it's driving me insane, and I keep regretting ever being here!" shouted the blonde, fumbling to his feet and pointing accusingly at David. "Goddamn it, I want to figure out a way to be happy here, because I'm stuck! There's no going back, David, I know that. I just wish I hadn't lost my reasons, okay? Can you get that, or do I have to ram it into your thick skull?"
David swelled in anger, drawing back like a rattlesnake ready to seize his prey. His eyes were blazing in something akin to hurt and anger. "Screw you, man! I'm trying to help here, and you just keep throwing shit into my face, over and over. I'm getting sick of this. You think you're the only one trying to be happy here? I don't have time for your bullshit, Christopher." He stood to leave, stumbling as vertigo hit his head. Christopher was already regretting it.
"David… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" He growled suddenly, jerking a rough hand through his blonde hair and squeezing his eyes shut. "No, I did, but it wasn't okay. I'm sorry. Please… I didn't mean…"
David stood stiffly, tense back to Christopher, and didn't look behind him. He didn't move either.
The blonde wondered if it was too late to explain the other reason he brought David down to this place.
"I'm sorry," he tried again. It sounded lame, and he cleared his throat to try once more. "I'm really sorry."
Glancing back quietly, David studied him with calm, almost uncaring eyes. He frowned. "Christopher…"
He said his name very quietly. It made Christopher's head feel a little funny, and he leaned forward attentively.
"It wouldn't be the same without you here. I can't imagine… if…"
The slow, nearly inaudible words were the vulnerable things that would eat away at Christopher's soul for a long time. David trailed off, face starting to burn at the softness in them, but he didn't leave. Just stood there, looking ancient and burdened in the glow of the moonlight, his shoulders slumped as though the light shirt was too much weight for them to handle. It really was too cold out to not have a jacket.
Christopher looked at the baseball diamond, feeling the silence stretch uncomfortably between them, and asked, "Wanna play a game?"
I think I might be coming again, you know
Oh, I promised I wouldn't though
Guess it's too late to say hello
I think you're made of something ugly, man
I think you want to paint me your colors again
David's head jerked up in surprise, startled dark eyes wide. "What?"
Picking up the baseball bat again, Christopher smacked the ground experimentally, eyes roaming over the fields in thoughtful perusal. "Do you wanna play a game? Well, sort of a game. It's not a lot with two people, but…"
David was looking at him as though he'd lost his mind. In a way, the blonde figured he did, and took no offense.
"Christopher… it's really late. And stupid. And if anyone saw us…"
"No one's going to see us. You said it yourself, it's getting late. And why would it matter?" The blonde flashed a smug, satisfied grin at the other boy. "It's just a game. You've played baseball before, haven't you? I used to practice with Mark all the time."
"Actually… I've never played it." The uncomfortable, embarrassed scowl blossomed on David's face, and he looked away. It made Christopher want to laugh. (That would have been rude, though, and made David angry. Bad thing, so he didn't do it.)
"I'll show you. You need to take a little time off of work, anyway," he said truthfully, thinking that was much closer to what he'd wanted to say in the first place to David.
"I don't like baseball," the brunette leader stated firmly. He was eyeing the baseball bat nervously.
"Neither do I," Christopher said airily, waving a hand in dismissal. "But it's better than going off to our rooms and sulking, right? Now get your ass over here and I'll explain everything."
Maybe it was the flippant way he stated it. Maybe because David knew part of it was the truth, and they would both be going to sleepless nights after this meeting. Actually, some part of Christopher thought maybe he was a little curious, too, and that's why he came up to stand next to the surprising blonde tonight.
For whatever reason, standing next to Christopher and looking up with shrewd, contemplating features, David asked, "So how does this work?"
The blonde pointed out the four flour bag bases. "Those are the bases. The one by that oak tree is first, then going in the counterclockwise direction, second and third. We're standing on home." He emphasized this by slapping the stick against the base they stood next to. It puffed up a little and released some white fluff into the air.
David arched a skeptical eyebrow.
"As long as you don't step directly on them, they won't burst into clouds of flour," Christopher added sheepishly.
"I thought the object was to make sure you stepped on them? Or you could be counted out?"
"Well, this is improvised baseball. The same rules don't apply."
David snorted, but there was a suspicious curving of his lips that suggested a smile. Christopher bluntly ignored it, pointing out the small pile of dirt in the middle of the diamond.
"That's pitcher's mound. Whichever one of us goes first, that's where we'll stand to throw the ball. When you can't hit it, it's a strike. Three of those and you're out, we switch places. Every time the someone misses the ball, he has to go and get it, since we don't have a catcher to do it for us. If they hit it beyond the trees, it's a homerun. And we're going inside for the night after that, because I'm not running my sorry ass through that burr-infested forest for that piece of crap, got it?"
David laughed openly at the last line, throwing his head back. "Got it."
"Good." Christopher studied the bases critically. "And no stepping on the bases. I have to return these flour bags when I'm done, or the chief cook will spread my inner guts across the walls of the kitchen."
"I'll be sure to step on them."
"Try it, and your sword gets tossed to the eager castle blacksmiths again."
David shuddered at that threat, remembering the way the dwarf blacksmiths had requested to borrow his weapon, tiny black eyes glimmering with anticipation. He'd refused them, but not without a great deal of trouble. They hadn't forgiven him since. He'd stayed clear of them afterwards. "Alright, no stepping on the flour bags. Now can we get this over with?"
Instead of answering, Christopher flashed him a grin. "Batter or pitcher?"
"What?"
"Which one do you want to be first? I'll warn you, I've gotten pretty damn good at hitting a ball."
"Then I'll be batter," David said hesitantly, glancing at the rough version of a bat that the blonde held. He suddenly looked as though he were going to change his mind.
Christopher just handed him the bat, and ignored the way his fingers slid against the other boy's skin. It made him turn abruptly, snatch the rawhide ball off the ground, and jog to the pitcher's mound.
'His fingers are cold. I should have brought something for us to wear when it got this bad out.'
He forced himself to ignore how warm it was under his garments, and stepped onto the tiny mound of dirt.
I fall back down and then
It all comes around to greet me
Like a punch to the face, you were there
And I'm breathing out your breath
So let's forget the times
When sidewalks scraped our knees
And please, please like cherries
Let's twist together into a dream
Let's bring together something like a dream
It was obvious three pitches in that David had truthfully never held a baseball bat before.
"Strike," the blonde said mock-sympathetically, trying not to smirk openly at the frustrated expression on his friend's face. David was glaring halfheartedly at the bat clenched awkwardly in his hands.
"Christopher… this is stupid. I'm going inside now." The words were short, angry things. David made as if to put down the stick in his hands, and Christopher suddenly felt guilty for almost laughing.
"Wait-you're just holding it wrong! I can show you how." Fumbling and shoving the ball into the ground to keep it from rolling away, he jogged up to home base. David frowned at him but didn't move.
It was true that he'd been holding it wrong. The general's hands were wrapped at odd angles around the bat, causing his arms to stiffen and blow any chance at a proper swing. It made the movements too slow and rigid to follow through with any power. After he explained this to David, the boy just made a face at him.
"Just fix it, Christopher."
So he did.
Moments later, he would curse and berate himself for not thinking of what his actions may bring, but when Christopher stepped up behind David's tense form, he never imagined what would result of it. The dark-haired teenager looked back at him suspiciously, but didn't move.
"Here, let me help." He couldn't think about how close he was to the other boy now, how his hands were slightly more shaky than usual when he stood behind him. If there was one thing the blonde was good at it, it was denial. "Just relax and I'll place your grip right, okay? Trust me."
'Trust me. I won't mess you up, General.'
David didn't say anything, but he didn't move. Taking this as an assent, Christopher carefully wound his arms over David's own, steeling his body against shivers when he felt the cool fabric of the brunette's shirt slide across his bare skin. He had to concentrate fiercely on David's hands and the bat-- ignoring how close he was to him, how really wrong this was, and how he shouldn't want to let more of their bodies brush against each other. It was like a balm to the blonde's aching soul. It had been a very long time since his last physical contact, and for someone who thrived on such things, it was taking every ounce of Christopher's will power to not savor the moment.
David's hands were ice-cold. He enclosed his larger fingers over the other boy's, trying to gently maneuver them into a more satisfactory position.
He tried to ignore it when David's breathing tucked in tightly.
'He's freezing. Like the Iceman or something. It must have shocked him when I grabbed hold.'
Carefully twisting those callused fingers into a correct position, Christopher tried to swallow the ball of damp cotton in his threat. "Yeah... that should do it. And flow through with... with the motions. Don't seize up."
"Like this?" David asked, sounding rightly uncomfortable and awkward. He swung lightly, trying to force his arms to relax. When the bat moved, Christopher's arm nudged up against his side, pinning them closer together. Strands of darkened mahogany tickled Christopher's cheek, and he let out a small breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Yeah, like that."
It shouldn't feel this strange to hold a friend. It shouldn't feel so right to hold David Levin either, and that was what made him wonder about things. Things like his reasons for asking the leader down here tonight. His mind was rebelling against him again, however, and they were soon lost among the threads of reality. They weren't thoughts he was ready for.
He let go and stepped back. Avoided looking at David's unnaturally dark, infinitely deep eyes that looked back at him emotionlessly. His pupils seemed to take up everything in his face, turning polished black in the moonlight.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," the blonde said. It was true, after all. He walked over to the pitcher's mound again, bending flippantly to pick up the rawhide ball again. "Ready for another go, General?"
"Just one more. I want to sleep a little tonight, you know," David replied, but he was smiling and trying to make sure his grip on the bat was the same when Christopher had formed it. It was. Or, at least to them both, near enough as it would stay.
"Sleep is overrated," Christopher said airily, deftly avoiding his first, natural response-- that the brunette leader didn't really sleep anyway, so it didn't matter. Whether by baseball or war attack formations, one being the far more pleasurable, no one would be immersing in slumber tonight. It was only for the better that they spent it outside, doing what any normal teenager should be doing.
Something about it made him feel heavy, when he considered they weren't really "normal teenagers" anymore.
"Alright, I think I'm ready," David's voice called, breaking him out of the slowly shadowing funk. The blonde blinked and looked up.
"Oh. Yeah." Quickly picking up slack, Christopher grinned wildly, using elaborate hand gestures before he actually took the stance to pitch the ball. "Here we go! And here's the pitch--"
He threw the ball, letting it fly without a thought to where it would land, only watching in a sort of detached excitement at the surprised look on David's face. The primitive, childish pride when the bat made that certain cracking sound against the baseball, as it spread throughout his features and made him let out a loud, breathless laugh of triumph. He'd seen it on his brother's youthful face, on thousands of almost bored players on the television, but he'd never seen it on that of someone who'd fought in a war and seen blood, who had nightmares and made horrible decisions.
It was like seeing him reborn again.
Like, in the middle of the inky night, there was a sudden glimmering of yellow sunlight from his memories.
David laughed again as the ball flew over Christopher's head, and threw down the bat. He began to run. The blonde didn't look at the ball, didn't turn back to run to get it, but whirled to greet the exuberant, smug light dancing over his friend's features-- and he laughed with him. Turned to keep his eyes locked on the form when it cleared first base, started for second...
'That's why I asked him down here.'
"You're just going to stand there?!" yelled the brunette leader, laughing at the dumbfounded expression on Christopher's face. "The ball, moron! Get the ball!"
He was clearing second and going to third. Leaping over the bases carefully.
So Christopher did was he was meant to do. He went for the ball.
"You'll never make it to home, Levin! You run like a girl!"
"Hah!"
And it's like crimson, heady wine
It's like whirling on slippery grass
Waiting for endless time to pass
You're mine
All mine
Let's call it to the finale? Finally!
They played all night long.
That was okay; they didn't keep track of the time. After David's first miraculous homerun, the rules melted together into a mess of nonsense, and soon neither one could tell who was throwing the ball and who was hitting it. David showed remarkable improvement after his grip was corrected, and managed to outrun Christopher every time he hit it into the "outfield."
The hours passed. Their laughter and banter were light-hearted, the things Christopher could remember from the Old World-- all the same words and mockings, trussed up in the boy who supposedly had wanted to escape from there all along. It was David who remembered half of the taunts children their age created, not Christopher. And it made them laugh even harder to realize that.
The flour bags had long since been ruined beyond repair. During the first two hours, the blonde had made a spectacular leap-- and landed directly on top of second base. Which, naturally, sprayed gusts of flour eight feet in the air, covering half the field in snowy white powder. Christopher's hair was dusted with the stuff, and when he shook it wildly, he looked something like a golden retriever.
They both laughed.
The third base went shortly after, when David slipped and landed, as Christopher had cackled, "right on his ass". His jeans were now painted pale, speckled blue. He had chased Christopher with "first base" after the blonde had made a smart alec remark about his lack of grace. After smacking him directly in the back, the young general got a cloud of flour all over his face and Christopher's shirt.
Home base was the only one left, and they simultaneously decided it looked better on their clothing, anyway. Sacrifices had to be made.
The fourth hour and they were playing baseball again. No bases, no rules, nothing except the forceful crack of the bat on their little makeshift baseball, and watching as it sailed high into the trees. Neither one went after it when it was lost into the grove beyond-- Christopher was too busy chasing David across the flour-splattered field, trying to get him out.
Then they played, and the stick was swung out into the darkness of the trees as the two boys ignored it and kept running. There was nothing to run to anymore, but they did it anyway, and when Christopher looked down, he was distantly surprised at how fast his sneakers were moving. Had he ever run so fast? It didn't feel like it. He looked over at David, breathing heavily and gasping for air, his hair disheveled to the point of absolute rebellion. The leader's shirt was coming up from the tugging of the air, revealing the smooth waistline and tanned flesh.
He nearly tripped, and decided it was not a good thing to be distracted.
When they had run as much as they could-- to the point where time blended together, and there was nothing but slippery green grass and mingled, intertwined breathing-- they collapsed together on what remained of home base.
The sun was peeking warily over the horizon, its pink gaze almost hesitant to look down upon the two boys.
They laid there still, panting for breath and curled on their sides, the sweat and heat from their bodies weaving together. Christopher had been the first to fall; he laid on stomach, face pressed sideways into the ground and his arms splayed open, gazing blurrily at David's figure. The brunette leader was his exact opposite, as always-- resting gently against the ground on his back. His arms were folded close, and he stared up at the sky almost dazedly.
The oranges were beginning to highlight in the sky, when one of them spoke.
"We... we lost the ball."
Christopher cracked open an eyelid thoughtfully, looking at David's bemused face. "Yeah... Jalil's gonna kill me."
"He made it?"
"Yeah. Smart ass, how could he pass up the challenge? Like takin' candy from a baby, man..."
"It was a good game," the general whispered. He had an idle, quiet smile on his face that Christopher thought he liked. The blonde grunted his agreement and propped his head up on an elbow, cradling his dirty, sooty cheek in one hand.
"Thanks for coming down here. For... y'know. Talking to me and stuff."
David glanced over at him, but it was an unreadable flash of emotion and quickly gone from his eyes. He smiled, and echoed, "Like I could pass up the challenge?"
"Heh. Guess not."
They fell silent, and Christopher kept a lazy eye open so he could watch his friend trace small circles in the gritty dirt with those callused hands. He knew he'd have to move soon, but his limbs felt heavy and weighted from their sporting activities all night, and it was too difficult to persuade them to try differently.
David's breathing fell to a nearly inaudible sound, gently escaping over his cracked lips. The blonde found himself trying to catch it, but once he realized what he was doing, forced himself to ignore the noise.
When the sun was finally beginning to peak over the trees, David let his eyes flutter shut. The blonde watched curiously.
'He's not going to sleep out here, is he...?'
"I didn't always have a reason to fight, you know."
I fall back down and then
It all comes around to greet me
Like a punch to the face, you were there
And I'm breathing out your breath
So let's forget the times
When sidewalks scraped our knees
And please, please like cherries
Let's twist together into a dream
Let's bring together something like a dream
Christopher looked at David and said nothing. Just waited.
The teenager general gave him an awkward, uncomfortable smile. It was a smile none the less, and his lips had curled up with it, so there was no worry.
"I guess not," he finally answered simply. "Why did you do it, anyway?"
"Because I figured it didn't matter," David said immediately. His fingers pawed gently at the ground, and he stared up at the sky pensively. "Because I thought... that somewhere along the way, wherever I was going, there would be a reason. Someday. That having a reason right away didn't matter."
He jerked up and suddenly pinned Christopher with a harsh glare. "You get what I'm saying? Everyone feels helpless one time or another, okay? They don't know what they're doing. They get scared. Things get confusing. Sometimes I didn't know up from down, or where I'd put my foot next, much less where we'd end up once I put it there. I was terrified that'd I'd mess up, and we'd be stuck in even worse situations. And then it'd be my fault."
"But you didn't," the blonde said quietly. He looked at David very carefully, and in the end, the boy deflated back down the ground.
"No... no, I didn't. Sometimes I thought I did, but no."
"That was good."
"Yeah." The general thoughtfully put a hand over his eyes as if to press eloquence within himself. "I was lost sometimes... but it wasn't because I didn't have a reason. If you can't find a reason, believe that one will show up later. No one can go through an ordeal in life and not find something to stake their claim to. Something to hold onto..."
"You found it pretty soon, I guess."
"Maybe. Or maybe I just picked the simplest one. I don't know. I don't know why it's good enough for me, but never enough for you. All I need is for something to be justified... you actually want something more."
"I told you I'm selfish." A quick flash of a self-decrepitating grin, and Christopher turned his head back into the dirt. David hesitated and shook his head.
"Not really. You're just... human." He sighed, an although it was melancholy, it was the most peaceful sound Christopher had heard from the general's lips. "Everyone wants something that will mean a lot to them. Something they feel they can sacrifice for. It doesn't have to be something big, Christopher... you don't have to stake your existence on true love or human rights or any of that bullshit. Just as long as it's enough for you-- that's all that matters."
"It's not that easy."
"The hell it isn't!" David snorted ridiculingly. "You'll eventually find something worth looking after. Until then, it's just moving along with the way the river flows, got it? I don't know a lot of things about life, and if something doesn't come up for you soon, consider me proven wrong... but..."
"But... what?"
He uncovered his eyes and sent a blinding grin at Christopher. "But... I do know that when you care about something, Christopher, you don't like to stop. If you find your reason, it's going to stay with you. Like how badly you want to see your brother play baseball, enough that you go to all the trouble to recreate the game here. Like how you still look out for Etain, even though she's not yours. And giving back honor for Ganymede. You don't give up on things. You can't. And that..." he sighed softly, "... will bring you a reason for winning this war. Someday."
It was, Christopher reflected in absent-minded surprise, the most he'd heard David speak in one go. And all about him. Good things, even. He looked over at the other boy and caught the considerations in those dark, infinite eyes.
It scared him that someone could read him so easily. That it was this person, of all the people in the world, that could say those words and not understand how important they were.
'How did you come to know me so well? Was it on our journey?' He blinked steadily against the rising sun, trying to focus on his companion. 'Didn't I even notice when we started to grow together...? All of us?'
Finally, sighing a little, Christopher rubbed his eyes. "Man. What a night."
"Yeah." David's small speech seemed to have exhausted him; his eyelids were fluttering shut, his breathing evening out.
"Hey, don't fall asleep! I'll leave your sorry ass out here, General, I mean it." The blonde frowned and leaned forward to prod his friend's shoulder. "C'mon, don't do this to me..."
"'m not sleeping," muttered David, batting away his hands. "Christ."
"Close, but it's Christopher." He studied the young general. Then, in an impulsive flash of spontaneous correctness, he jerked himself up off the ground. David was still laying on his back, eyes drifting shut where he lay next to him. Eyeing the body, the blonde carefully propped himself over it, holding his hands on either side of the brunette's head and staring directly down at his face. He could almost feel David's chest rising to meet his as he breathed.
Christopher looked down at at the exhausted boy in wonderment.
"Hey..." And when the voice was so close to his face, David opened his eyes-- only to stare upwards into two, twin blue oceans.
