Disclaimer: Dark Tower paraphernalia belongs to Stephen King. Lotje, Cittá Delle Luci and stuff belong to me. The title of the story belongs to U2.

Notes: Interestingly enough, I came up with this idea before I read about the lights in The Dark Tower. Very Dark Tower-ish, eh?

oOo

This city is beautiful, Roland thought, and that makes it very dangerous.

The gunslinger stood on a gentle hill looking at the city beneath him. He knew it was from a time long in the future, further even than the cars and the fast food places. The buildings were made of a smooth, white metal that glowed very softly.

Roland knew of this city well. It was called Cittá Delle Luci, which meant City of Lights in a language long forgotten. It was built in the year 3000 in the celebration of the new millennium. But by 3010, the machines were in control. There had been a revolt, and it had ended with the computers sending the entire city and everyone in it being sent back through worlds and space to Midworld. No one knew what it was like; nobody dared venture inside. The city had a reputation for suddenly going backwards or forward in time and taking its hostage to a place of war, famine, drought or any catastrophe. To enter meant certain death.

Eddie and Susannah and Jake had protested when Roland told them to stay with Merusa. But she had told them that they had ho stay or Roland couldn't complete his task. Typical of Merusa, she wouldn't tell him what the task was, only that he would find something of great importance in Cittá Delle Luci. Then she had winked and laughed.

Even now the memory made Roland angry. He hated seers; they always made fun of him because he, the great Roland of Gilead, needed their help. But he had known that he had to see her. The increasingly strong feeling that he was missing something. And then the white hawk had come, and he had known for sure.

So here he was, alone again, and standing at what could very well be his death. Better before dark, he thought, and descended the hill.

The streets were paved with the same metal as the buildings, and seemed to get brighter as he walked. His footsteps echoed in the quiet streets and his ears strained to hear more.

oOo

It was almost dark now, and the city had been slowly dulling in time with Roland's strength. He had long ago figured out that the lights feds of human emotion. Ergo there must be someone else here because the city was glowing before he had arrived. Someone powerful enough to light the whole city, however weakly. Even Roland could only light a small radius around himself.

But now was not the time to worry about that. Now was the time to find shelter for the night. He was in a residential section, but the thought of staying in an abandoned house where somebody used to live seeded too wrong. He started to turn around, remembering having seen what looked like a hotel a few blocks back, when the city exploded with light. Roland grunted and threw a hand over his eyes. This light . . . he had never seen anything this bright before. He fell to the ground, needles digging into his head and a ringing in his ears. He might have heard someone screaming; he couldn't distinguish anything though the pain.

And then it was gone.

Roland collapsed, holding his head, vaguely away that he was whimpering softly. Slowly he came back to himself, wiping the tears from his cheeks and carefully standing up. Cittá Delle Luci was completely black except for his own glow . . . and a tiny pinprick of light shining through a basement window in the house next to him.

He walked over to the house slowly, testing his strength. He never would have believed that mere light could be so debilitating. But the effects were fleeting, and he pushed the front door open feeling like himself again.

The gunslinger was in a dark hallway. There was a set of stairs in front of him, rooms to his right and left. The toys tacked in a corner made Roland sad. He walked down the hallway and faced the door under the stains. Light was coming from the crack, but it wasn't the white light he had seen earlier. It was weak and yellowish, the color of a dying person's skin.

Roland opened the door and walked down the stairs, keeping one hand on the railing. The basement was extremely cold, much colder than it should have been. The dirt walls were covered with condensation and the floor was slippery.

The light came from the corner. Roland walked over and gasped. There was a girl lying on the floor in a crumpled heap. Her breath was coming in quick, shallow gasps. Her eyes were closed and the lips a light purple. The rest of her skin was light blue and her lips dark purple. Roland walked over to her and touched her cheek. He jerked his hand away; her skin was cold as ice.

"What happened to you?" he whispered.

Roland stood up and looked around. The room was devoid of anything, let alone blankets. There were bedrooms upstairs and probably extra blankets in a closet somewhere, but he didn't want to leave the girl. She looked young, not even old enough to live by herself yet, and this bothered him. There was something wrong with a child being hurt and he was intrigued by the power she had on the light.

Roland gritted his teeth and picked her up. It was like being doused with ice water. By the time he had brought her up two flights of stairs, into a bedroom and under some covers, his chest, arms and hands were numb. The girl seemed to be warming up; at least her skin was slowly returning to a normal color and her light was growing stronger and whiter. There was a fireplace in one wall and Roland quickly lit it, warming himself before the blaze.

oOo

It was very late, and Roland was tired. The girl still hadn't woken up, but he had checked on her, and her body heat was slowly climbing. She looked healthy, and the light was proving it. The city was lit again, and it still amazed Roland.

He sat down on the foot of the bed she was in, deciding where to sleep. He didn't want to leave her, but the prospect of a real, warm bed was extremely tempting. Eventually bed won out over protection and he went into the room next door, climbed into bed and fell asleep immediately.

oOo

Roland awoke to yelling. He sat up straight in bed and tried to stand up, but the girl pushed him down again.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she shouted. "What did you do to me last night?"

"I carried you upstairs," Roland answered slowly. He didn't understand how she could be this active after last night. "You were passed out."

"Passed out, huh?" she yelled, but seemed less sure of herself.

"Yes. You were down it he basement, freezing. You seem to be feeling better now."

"Shit," she mumbled, looking down at the floor. Then she looked back up at Roland, and her eyes locked with his. He had never seen eyes like hers; they were very wide, violet and seemed to go on forever. "So you didn't molest me?"

"No."

"I'm sorry," she said, sitting down on the bed. "I thought I was the only one in the city."

"Until last night you were," Roland replied. "Are you feeling ok? You looked very sick last night."

The girl actually laughed. "My body is fucked up. I'm fine for now."

He waited to see if she was going to offer up more information, and when it didn't seem like she would, he said, "My name is Roland, and I hail from Gilead."

"Lotje."

"Pleased to meet you," Roland said, and held out a hand. She didn't take it, and eventually retracted it. "I don't mean to be rude, but-"

"Then don't be," Lotje said and left, slamming the door behind her.

Roland sat in bed, stunned. Of all the things he had expected upon awakening, this was not one of them. Lotje . . . she was amazing. There was something about her that seemed so powerful and so weak at the same time. She seemed very vulnerable, and Roland wanted to know why. Someone of her strength shouldn't have to feel like that.

"Lotje?" he called, going out of the room and into the rest of the house. There was no answer. "Lotje!"

The front door slammed.

Roland suddenly felt very alone. He had never felt like this before; it was as if something had been ripped from him. Not going after her was on an option.

He left the house and saw her turn a corner. "Lotje!" he called, running after her. When he rounded the corner, she wasn't there anymore. "Stop running!" She didn't appear, but he didn't hear any footsteps. "I need to talk to you!" Silence. "Please!"

"What do you want?" Her voice came from all directions, and Roland wondered again how powerful she was, or even who she was.

"Why were you in the basement?"

"I was looking for something."

"What?"

There was a pause, and Roland thought that she had disappeared. He was about to call her name when she said, "I don't know. Someone told me to go there."

Roland started to laugh and the city brightened. "Dark blue hair? Brown skin?"

"How did you know that?" Lotje's response was sharp.

Roland laughed harder. "Merusa . . . she's a seer. She told me I'd find something here." Now the city was almost painfully bright and he stopped. The lights dimmed. He reasoned that when the city was thriving they weren't quite so sensitive.

"Then we were obviously supposed to meet." Lotje appeared in front of him, seeming to materialize. "I don't necessarily believe in fate, but if a seer wanted us together, then we probably should stick-" She broke off and shook her head. "Should stay . . ." She put a hand against her forehead, and Roland was at her side, supporting her.

"What is it?"

"My eyes . . . Goddammit, I'm fine." She pulled away and stumbled. Roland caught her before she fell over.

"Here, sit down." He led her to the front steps of a house and sat her down. "Can you see?"

"Yeah, sort of. Everything is black and white." She shook her head again. "It'll go away in a second."

"Do you know why?"

Lotje shrugged. "My body doesn't work sometimes. It just malfunctions. Give me a second and I'll be ok."

Suddenly it made sense. "Kashe."

"What?"

"I've never actually met someone with Kashe before. It's when your mind and spirit are too powerful. Your body doesn't have enough energy because it's too focused on your mind." Roland looked into her eyes and tried not to lose himself. "Do you have any idea how rare that is? One in a million, quite literally. I know not how big your world is, but in mine, a million people have never been alive at the same time. A person is born with it every century or so."

Lotje closed her eyes and rested her head in her hands. "My eyes are hurting," she said. But she was shaking, and Roland knew she was crying.­ He rested a hand on her back.

"It's ok. You'll be fine."

She looked up at him, tears leaking out of her eyes. "Who are you, Roland of Gilead? Why are we supposed to be together?"

"I am looking for the Dark Tower with Eddie, Susannah and Jake of New York and the billybumbler Oy," he said, and explained his quest.

"And I'm supposed to help you?" Lotje asked when he finished.

"I know not, but I think so," Roland replied. There was something nagging in the back of his brain that he had unearthed while telling his story, but he couldn't figure it out.

Lotje sighed. "I don't want to. I want to go home." She looked away and bit her cheeks, trying not to cry again. "I want my family."

"As do I."

"At least this is your world." She glanced at Roland. "I come from Boston in 2005. I don't know how I got here, or how long I've been here for, but at least a month. My parents must me really worried. Especially Annie." Then she did start to cry, unable to hold them back any longer. "She was my little sister. She's only five."

"I'm sorry."

"Can I go back? When we find your tower and fix the world, can I go home again?"

Roland had never seen such sadness, and it broke his heart. "If it is at all in my power, I will return you."

"Thank you."

oOo

The door creaked open, and the sound woke Roland up. He and Lotje were staying one last night in Cittá Delle Luci before heading back to Merusa's, and they were in separate rooms.

"Roland?" Her voice was soft and very scared. "Are you awake?"

"I'm here," he said.

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

"Are you ok?"

"Can I stay with you tonight?" Her reply was stronger and very stubborn. He knew he couldn't find out why, or even tell her no.

"Yes," Roland said, lifting up the covers.

She climbed in, curling herself up on one side of the bed. She looked at him, stealing his breath. "I had a dream you were gone," she said, "and I couldn't breathe anymore."

"I'm here," he repeated, only somewhat shocked. He had the same dream before she had woken him up. But then again, it wasn't that strange. Even if Merusa couldn't implant dreams, she certainly knew people who could.

"You too?" It wasn't a question.

"Yes." He wasn't very surprised she knew.

"Good night, Roland," she said and rolled over.

"Good night."

oOo

Roland woke up feeling refreshed, a rare feeling. Even rarer, he was very comfortable and felt strangely content. It was only until he realized that Lotje was lying in his arms he knew why. He hadn't been in a bed with anyone since . . . since Susan had died eons ago. The warm body lying in his arms was oddly comforting.

"Roland," Lotje said sleepily, rolling over. "Why am I in your arms?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly.

"Can I stay?"

"Yes."

oOo

They left later that day.

The End

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