Silas materialized from the darkness that bore him, a startling shadow of black velvet in the warm summer night. The air was moist, and a choir of crickets sung a shrill, nightly ballad, but Silas was only dimly aware of it. Instead, his attention rested on an old, thin shouldered man in his eighties sitting in a wicker chair bleached white in the moonlight of the waning quarter moon. His back was turned to Silas, and if Silas's senses weren't as sharp and sensitive as they were, he might have assumed the old man was sleeping, given how peaceful and still he sat. But the beat of the old man's heart, and the draw of his breath, though much less than it had been in his youth, were telling.
It would be soon now, Silas knew. Being what he was, and walking the edges of life and death as he did, he knew such sensitive things. This was one of them. Tonight, the Lady on the Grey would be coming, and she would be coming for this beloved old mortal.
"Come out, Silas," Nobody Owens said softly in a gravelly voice filled with age and a lifetime of experience. A voice that almost seemed to split the air, despite the quiet. "I know you're there. I've been waiting for you."
Surprise slipped through Silas, though it only lasted a moment. He hadn't expected Bod to notice him, waiting at the edges of the night as he did, but then again the boy had always managed to surprise him. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised that Bod had noticed, and since that was the case, and circumstances being what they were, he found himself moving. For the first time in a long time, Silas stepped into the dim moonlight and allowed the old man Bod to see him once more, appearing from the shadows as if birthed from them.
"Hello Bod," Silas said softly as he sat in the second wicker chair across from the old man Bod, settling in as if he did this often. This close, Silas could see the passage of time warn into Bod's skin. His former ward was old now, hair white and thin, eyes milky with age, and skin as thin and soft as old paper. But it was clear enough from the light in Bod's eyes that that wonderful mind was still as sharp as ever, if a little weathered with age.
"How long have you been there watching me, Silas?" Bod asked as he twisted in his chair, as much as his old bones would allow. A blanket rested over his lap, an old quilted one that one of Bod's grandchildren had ensured their grandfather never went without. It smelled of age, and lavender detergent, and adventures, and most recently of sickness, while blanketing the space where his left leg should have been, but was not. The smell of sickness clung to Bod strongly, especially now. But Silas didn't mind. It was a natural thing, for the old.
"Not long," Silas answered in his velvet voice. "Only a night or two."
Bod nodded, then gave Silas a small smile. "You haven't aged a day. Still the same today as the day I left the Graveyard."
"Did you expect that I would, Bod?" Silas asked curiously and Bod shrugged his shoulders, a smile good naturedly pulled his old lips.
"Time's strange like that, isn't it Silas? It makes you forget things. Question things. You spend long enough out in life, and you forget for a moment that there's anything past that. You don't quite realize you've replaced one magic of the world with another."
"I'm sure I wouldn't know," Silas responded kindly.
"I suppose you wouldn't," Bod agreed with wizened old eyes. "I'm glad you're here now though, same as the day I left home. Silas, there's so much I want to tell you about! I've seen so much of life. I've been to so many places, talked to so many people."
"Did you hold life in your hands?" That had been something Silas had always wondered about, since Bod had left the Graveyard so long ago, and Bod gave the softest of smiles as he looked behind them. The darkened home stood proud, and housed the living members of the Owens family, where they slept soundly in their beds, warm and unaware of their mysterious guest.
"I did," he replied with warmth in his voice, warmth filled with love and life. "I held my son, Silas, in my hands right after he was born. And my granddaughters too." Bod looked at Silas and gave the old guardian a smile. "I named my son after you."
"That's as close to touching life as anyone of us can get," agreed Silas. "And I'm moved that you thought to name your son after me." Silas had known that Bod had named his son after him. Silas had heard his name called throughout the years as it followed a little boy with mousy brown hair much like his fathers had been when he'd been a boy in the Graveyard. It had always made Silas smile.
"I wish you'd have been there, Silas. For all of it. There were so many things I wanted to show you."
Silas smiled at the old man Bod, giving him a look that Silas had used many times before when Bod had been so much younger, and hadn't paid enough attention to his lessons when they were given.
"I was there, Bod, just like I told you I would be, only watching from the darkness. It may not have been all the time, and I might not have followed after you your entire life, but I always knew where you were, and visited when I could." Silas stopped there, unwilling to tell the old man Bod that he'd also been there when the boy had needed the touch of the Graveyard. His old guardian had always been there, even though Bod hadn't known, when the boy had been alone and in need of the darkness of home.
"Why didn't you come out and see me, then?" Bod asked curiously. There was no anger there, just the curiosity of an old question that needed answering, before the end.
"I suspect you already know the answer to that question," Silas replied smoothly. "You were no longer of the Graveyard and you had a life to live, and only the living tend to life. Not the dead, and most certainly not those that stand at the borders. Most certainly not they."
Bod didn't say anything, but it was clear enough from his eyes that he knew Silas was right, and was willing to leave it at that. The silence held for a long moment as they both looked into the night, illuminated by the light of the moon.
It was Bod who eventually broke the companionable, thoughtful silence.
"Did you ever go back home, Silas? To the Graveyard, I mean?" Bod looked down wistfully before adding, "I went back a few times, but it was never the same."
Silas looked at Bod for a moment before he replied, "Yes, I went back from time to time." Bod looked up from the ground, old eyes hopeful, and Silas continued on. "I'd promised many in the Graveyard that I'd tell them about how you were doing, and any tales and adventures I knew of. They were most impressed when I'd told them you'd become a pilot, to travel the world. Most have never even dreamed that man could fly, and you did. They are very proud."
Bod chuckled in his seat, a dry, old man chuckle that Silas found endearing. "That was a long time ago."
"For them, not as long. Time passes differently for the dead."
"I suppose I'll be finding that out soon enough," Bod said softly as he suddenly cast his milky white eyes at Silas. "Won't I? You wouldn't have shown yourself to me otherwise."
"I suspect you're right," Silas replied calmly, and smoothly. For a moment, Silas thought about telling Bod of all the times that he had shown himself to Bod, those few occasions. But Bod had always been so preoccupied with life and its many enchantments to notice. Silas had never begrudged the boy that, but he didn't want to make Bod feel guilty now about it, being so close to death.
"It was a bit of a fight," Bod started up again, leaving the weighted point of the conversation to fade and be replaced by this new topic. "But I managed to convince Old Town to bury me in the Graveyard. It took a few years, but eventually I managed, though I suspect I had some help." Bod's milky eyes looked to Silas, and Silas simply looked back.
"I might have spoken to a person or two."
Bod smiled as he let his eyes drift back to the moon, his shoulders relaxing as he absentmindedly stroked the quilt under his fingers. "I thought so. Thank you. It'll be nice to be home again."
"It's only proper that you should return home, Bod. I haven't told the Graveyard yet. I suspect they'll be very excited."
Bod's eyes were back on Silas, amused. "Mother's going to have a fit when she finds out that you knew."
"I'm sure Mistress Owens will forgive me, and understand my decision," Silas replied smooth as silk, unperturbed by the likely scolding he'd receive once the Graveyard received its most beloved member. In Bod's absence, the Graveyard had returned to a state of calm and unchanging peace, with the exception of when Silas brought news of Bod. This was going to be a homecoming that the Graveyard deserved, after so much time and effort and care spent raising the boy, and Silas couldn't help but think the ghosts of the Graveyard were due some excitement.
"I'll be happy to see her again," Bod sighed, "Her, and father, and Liza and all of the others. I've missed them. I can't wait to tell them my stories."
"And I'm sure they cannot wait to hear them, and hear them from you"
Silas wondered which story Bod was likely to tell them first. His first adventure in life? His first love? His true love? Flying? The birth of his child or grandchildren? The time he'd been apprehended by authorities in Bombay (to which Silas might have had a hand in his release)? His time in Peru, or Australia, or Mongolia, or San Francisco?
There was one story in particular that Silas wondered if Bod would tell. For all the light in Bod's life, there had been dark as well, Silas knew. There was one moment in particular which had been very bad, and had tested not only Bod's mettle for life, but also Silas's mettle to let the boy continue to live it.
It had happened several decades in the past, lost to time, but not lost to Silas, nor the newspapers which had documented it. And most certainly not lost to Bod.
Bod had been driving, and he'd been driving with his lover at the time, when they'd become victims of a collision that had left Bod badly injured. His lover had been killed, and the matter was all the more tragic once Bod found out later that she'd been recently pregnant. It had been nothing but luck that the Lady on the Grey hadn't visited him that night. Bod had survived, but his survival hadn't only deprived him of a family, but also his left leg. In order to save his life, he'd required an amputation. It had been a dark time for Bod, having lost so much so quickly, and having nothing to fall back on.
Silas had been there, only a day later, and had seen the evidence of loss for himself. He had stood over Bod's prone, and unconscious body, guardian and witness once more, as Bod lay attached to medical machinery and pulse monitors and seeped in the sharp, burning smell of antiseptic. But the smell had been nothing in comparison to the deep scent of sadness and death, nor the deep longing for death which had radiated off the beaten man. Silas had been able to smell the despair, the pain, the longing for it to end, and it had been hard. It had been hard to not give Nobody Owens exactly what he wanted.
It had been in that moment that he'd given true consideration to sharing his dark nature with Bod. It had been only a moment in the darkness of the hospital room, almost a passing thought, but Silas had given it great and real consideration, in that seemingly eternal moment. Bod would be of the night forever, in touch with the dead of his family once more. He'd be healed of his injuries fully, reborn. The pains of life would cease, and Bod would become more than human, stronger than human. He wouldn't have to face the sharp pain of life. Not again. Never again.
And, unbidden, Silas couldn't help but think that perhaps they'd be able to spend eternity together, father and son walking side-by-side in the dark, and on the border of death.
Silas wondered when he'd began to view the boy as kin, rather than ward. It hadn't been when he'd first volunteered himself to be the boy's guardian. It hadn't been when the Graveyard had realized just how much danger the boy was facing. It hadn't even been for many years after that.
No, Silas suspected that the feel of kinship with the boy that had developed had been insidious and subtle. He couldn't pinpoint where it had begun, but … the feel of it was in every small moment he'd spent with the boy, as he helped to teach Bod to talk, and walk, and run, and learn. It was in every bite of banana as a toddler, Silas had helped Bod consume, and every smile Silas had received from the boy in return. It was in every fiery show of independence and stubborn will, and every kind and compassionate action Bod showed the world.
The feeling had snuck up on Silas more smoothly than he, in all of his age and experience, could ever have, and for the first time in longer than an age, he'd felt pleasure and anger concerning the boy. He'd experienced great bouts of pride and equally great tremors of terror, though he never let any of it show, if he could help it, which he could on most occasions. But even then, Silas hadn't realized the full extent of the feeling, and only had once he'd thrown himself in front of that police car, so long ago.
Back then Bod, in his fear, and then in his intelligence, had called him 'dad'.
Silas had never been called 'dad' before. Even when he'd been living, he'd never begotten offspring, and after life he'd held no desire to create a fledgling either. But … it had occurred to him, at that moment that perhaps, in a way, he was a father of Bod's, just as Master Owens had been, and Bod's real father before him. And though he'd never admit it outside his own mind, and seldom within it, he'd known what that feeling was, then. And it had been that feeling which had driven him to ensure that Bod could have everything he wanted in life, and not simply the Freedom and safety of the Graveyard.
This desire to keep this precious boy safe in a world that already sought to claim his life was what had fueled his, Miss Lupescu's, and the rest of the Honour Guard's hunt for the Knaves. Silas had wanted Bod to have a life, a real life with all the possibilities, good and bad, that might come from it, and through the danger and the fear and the worry, their hopes had won out in the end. Bod could be alive, be human, for good or ill.
Yet, he could not deny his deep care for the boy, and the years Silas had spent protecting Bod had roiled, unbidden in the deepest of pits within himself, regardless of the reason that dictated his calm and polite demeanor. Bod had been before him suffering and in pain, that night in the hospital. And Silas could make that pain, the pain of the living … he could make it go away, because he loved Nobody Owens, and cared for him. It had been a temptation, a deep temptation, to share the night with Bod.
But if Silas were to do that, Bod would never dance the Danse Macabre again. He'd never ride with the Lady on the Grey into the bliss of death. Bod would never find peace or relief, forever walking the line between death and life, and if Bod should fall towards the side of death, that would be it. There would be no more Bod, just like Silas would cease to exist if he died, once and for all.
If Silas were to share his nature with Bod, he'd be depriving Bod of everything Silas had sought to give him in fighting the Jacks of All Trades. All of the possibility, all of the incredible potential. All of life … it would be gone, and in its place would be a solitary, shadowed existence that was nothing more than a pale echo of life. Though Silas was an agent in the world, and could effect it as such, it was not his world. There was no world for him, no home, and he'd be sentencing Bod to the same state of being for all of eternity.
If Bod were something like a son to Silas, then that was point enough to never share his nature with the boy. Silas's sins and his burdens should not be passed on. Not to Bod, and not for such selfish reasons. Besides, Bod had so much more life to live. So much unimaginable possibility. To change him would be to deny him those possibilities, and though there were fathers that would do that to their sons in the world, he would not be one of them.
Those thoughts had been enough for Silas to hold himself firmly, and instead hope that Bod would be able to endure this tragedy, and the inevitable future pains of life in the land of the living. And, much to Silas's pride, in time Bod had. It had been slow, and it had been grueling, and Silas had watched as Bod sunk to the lowest pits of life. But the boy had adapted, as he always had, and his kind and uplifting spirit returned. And Silas had known he'd made the right choice. As tempting an idea as it had been, he knew that Bod was not meant for Silas's world, though a small part of him was saddened by the realization.
It would have been nice, to share such long life with the boy who was as close to a son as Silas would ever have. But it was not to be.
Silas didn't know how long they sat together, in companionable silence. It was like old times, back in the Graveyard, the quiet thick, but comfortable, and he simply listened to the night, and listened to the last moments of life that pounded through Bod's strong and old heart. It was … relaxing. It was like peace to him, peace that had only grown with age.
And then he heard it. The distant sound of hooves striking the road nearby. Given how Bod's head slowly rose as his old ears pricked up at the sound, Silas knew he'd heard it too.
The Lady on the Grey was coming.
Silas heard the old man Bod's heart pound a bit faster for a moment, but then Bod sighed and chuckled to himself, smiling to Silas as he did.
"Nervous?" questioned Silas with a slow lift of a dark eyebrow, and Silas was pleased with Bod's easy reply.
"No. Excited."
Silas nodded in approval, savoring the final moments with the boy he'd help raise. They waited together in the silence, and soon the sound of the hooves transitioned from a sharp clop-clop, to something more muted as those steps beat into soft earth.
The sound of hooves striking the ground grew closer and closer, and Silas sighed when he heard them stop just behind him, and the air between Bod and himself seemed to take on a new quality. It wasn't tense or pressing, but it was potent. It held the quality of patience, of waiting, and Silas knew simply from the look in Bod's aged eyes that the Lady on the Grey was waiting quietly to fulfill her promise to Bod.
Bod's eyes flicked from the figure behind Silas to Silas once more, clearly torn, but Silas simply gave Bod a gentle smile.
"It looks like it's time, Nobody Owens." Silas's velvet voice eased into the warm air gently, and with pride he saw that there was no sign of fear in Bod's eyes.
"Will you stay, Silas?" Bod asked, and for a moment, Silas felt as if he were facing a much, much younger Bod, all dressed in gray with hair much too long, and graveyard dirt gently dusting his face and lingering under his nails no matter how much Silas insisted the boy keep his hands as clean as possible. But the image was gone as soon as it had come, and Silas could only patiently shake his head at the old man Bod before rising.
"Death is an experience shared only with one other, Bod, and I am not that one," Silas said softly. "This is a journey I cannot see you off for. I can only wish you well."
Once again, Bod nodded in understanding, taking a spare moment to give the house behind him one final warm look before he looked to Silas again. His eyes were tired, and a little sad, but there was warmth there still, for Silas. Then the old man Bod extended his hand one final time.
"Good-bye, Silas."
Silas looked at the hand extended to him for a long moment before he dismissed the outstretched hand, just this once, so that he could step forward and wrap his arms around Bod in a gentle embrace. This close, the smell of sickness was much stronger, but so were other scents. The smell of every one of the living Owens's lingered on Bod's skin, telling Silas just how much the family Bod had made, loved him. The smell of the beach was there, as well as the smell of the sky and the mountains and every single city and town that Bod had visited in life. Chamomile was there, and even the faint vestiges of a cigarette or two that Bod had smoked out of curiosity when he was a young man. Silas smelled old lovers, medication, alcohol, and foreign graveyards. Life was in Bod's scent, so much of it, and Silas give himself this one selfish moment to sink into the thick and decadent smell of Bod's life, and all of the many paths he'd taken as it flowed under his skin and through his veins.
Bod's breath hitched as old hands clung to Silas's tall form, and Silas gently stroked the old man Bod's thin hair as he let Bod cling as long as he needed to. It wasn't for very long, though. After a moment Bod pulled away and Silas straightened, and as he did he caught Bod's eyes one final time.
Warmth slipped around Silas's heart as he looked at the old man Bod, and once again, just this once and just for a moment, he let Bod see what Silas had hidden for so long and for so many years. Silas let Bod see the love and care he held for the boy who had been his ward, and who had been something like a son. Silas let Bod see all of his pride for the life the boy had lived, and for all of the unimaginable possibilities he'd birthed in life which had both surprised and disappointed his old guardian. Silas let Bod see everything, here in his final moments of life, all of it and in a manner so unabashed as only Silas could manage.
Bod's old, milky eyes misted as Silas looked at him, though no tears fell. Instead, Bod surprised Silas by simply giving Silas a bright, if slightly wobbly grin. One Silas had seen a million and one times in the Graveyard.
But the moment had to end, and the sound of hooves striking the ground softly was a subtle enough message that it was now. Gently, Silas touched Bod's thin, old shoulder, and gave him a final smile.
"You of all people should know better than to say good-bye, Nobody Owens."
Bod blinked for a moment in confusion at Silas's words, but Silas had faith in his former ward, and he was rewarded when Bod gave the softest of aged chuckles before nodding.
"Right. Well then. Until I see you next time, Silas."
Silas nodded in approval, his dark eyes alight. "Until then, Bod."
And with that, Silas stepped aside just as he heard the rustle of spider web silk, and the faintest of thumps as the Lady on the Grey dismounted her steed and began to walk over to Bod. He didn't look, nor was he tempted to look, even as he slipped into the shadows and stood there waiting, listening to a soft conversation that he couldn't make out or understand despite his uncanny hearing. This was something sacred, and only for the living. It was not for his kind, or those of his nature to know.
Time seemed to stop with the presence of the Lady on the Grey, but Silas knew that the moments had slipped by in spite of that, and he knew the very instant Nobody Owens's heart ceased to beat, and his final breath slipped out into the warm, summer air.
Silas let out the softest of sighs, and his heart gave the faintest of aches, but he waited still.
After a moment, he heard the sound of hoof beats start up again, pulling away until they grew fainter and fainter. Before long, they had vanished as if they'd never been there at all. Like they'd been nothing more than the remnants of a dream too ephemeral to be remembered, yet somehow managed to linger in the back of the mind like a promise. Silas knew it would never be a promise for him, but that didn't mean that he didn't savor the feeling, while it was there. Though he'd never meet the Lady on the Grey, and would never ride with her into death, it was a reminder that he had once had that promise. It was a reminder of his past, and though a small part of him ached at it, he was also thankful for it. It was … bittersweet, like most things in his long life, and he'd long since learned the subtle appreciation that arose from it.
Silas drifted back from where he'd hidden himself in the shadows, until he was standing next to the body of Bod from where it still rested in the wicker chair bathed in the light of the waning moon. Bod's aged and milky eyes were still slightly open, and a small smile remained on his lips, and once again all Silas could see was that willful and kind boy once more, unafraid of life or death.
"Well done, Nobody Owens," Silas said softly to the cooling body before him as he reached forward to close Bod's eyes. It appeared to the world as if he was only sleeping. But Silas knew better.
And so Silas turned, without looking back, and in a gentle flurry of darkness sank once more into the night, the wind fondly ruffling the old man Bod's thin hair as he went.
A/N: So there's that. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! Please let me know what you thought!