"Come on, Uncle Abe. You said you'd teach us how to swim!" Splash.
"It's better than charcoal, I suppose." An echo of laughter.
"I don't ever want it to end, Blue." The rush of wind underneath his jacket.
"You're so lucky. You don't have to worry, Abe. When you can live forever, what does death matter?"
The steadily dropping beeps of the monitor pull Abe from the memories he's quickly drowning in and he blinks, tears swimming in his vision as a hand tightens around his, arm lying limp against the thin sheets of the hospital bed. Red's breaths are shallow, more rasp than pure exhale, and Abe swallows past a fresh wave of grief. He squeezes his friend's hand in return, the calls of nurses echoing down the hall as he tunes it all out, putting every ounce of attention on Red, gray haired and dim eyed, wrinkles etched onto his face, laugh lines near his eyes.
"Tell me a story, Blue. I don't really want everything so quiet like this, when I die, you know." Abe isn't good with words, has never been one to voice more than a single opinion, and so he tells Red a story in the only way he can.
The twins pull him along, eagerly running toward the pool as they laugh, their small eyes twinkling.
Red's lips turn up in a weak smile as the monitor slows.
Liz dumps the pan onto the table, her obsidian cross glowing red at her throat as she lets out an angered breath, stabbing at the hardened cake with her fork. Abe makes a comment and Red laughs, chuckling so much that he has to cough to catch his breath, and by that time Liz is laughing along with him.
"It was the best cake I've ever had," Red murmurs lowly, grinding his teeth together to keep the tears from his eyes.
The windows open and close of their own accord, victims to the midnight wind, and Abe sees Red shiver beside him. The solace of a friend is perhaps the most odd, and the thought makes Abe squeeze Red's shoulder with sympathy.
Red closes his eyes, lids weighted with the temptation of sleep.
Liz blows a strand of black hair out of her face, sighing. Her eyes are burdened, the loss and grief written so deeply there, and Abe wants to correct her, wants to reach out and wrap his arms around her, hugging his sister with all that he has because that's all he can give her. You're the lucky one, he thinks.
Abe swallows and shakes his head sadly, watching as Red's throat bobs with the effort of speaking.
"I'll be there, you know." And then his voice gives out, so he talks with his mind to the only person to ever understand the power of thought.
When you and Nuala finally have those kids you've been talking about, we'll all be there, eating at your table and sleeping in our old rooms, walking beside you when you go to the park. We'll throw snowballs at you in the winter, but you won't feel it, and we'll laugh at how awkward the two of you are, but you won't hear.
Abe lets the tears fall and brings his forehead down to rest against Red's knuckles, nearly sobbing into the sheets. He can feel Nuala's presence in the doorway and she gives Red a tearful goodbye, wishing him a long farewell as she muffles her own sobs.
And we'll always, always, be in your hearts, Abe, because family-
Red tenses with pain before relaxing a moment later, a faint smile across his aged face
-never dies.
Abe lets the image pass to his friend's mind, the memory of one of their happiest days, and glances up from his crying to say goodbye.
They're all digging around in the snow, diving to avoid getting hit and twisting to throw the snowballs. Trevor and Sierra are almost grown, beaming from ear to ear at their first white Christmas, and Liz is laughing like Red always knew she could, completely unburdened by the troubles of her past, and Red himself is chasing Nuala with a giant pile of snow nestled within his burly arms, laughing as he catches up to her and dumps it over her head, falling over onto the ground when Abe pelts him with a few snowballs of his own, wishing he could laugh like the rest of them. The look in Red's eyes, when he glances up at Abe's outstretched hand, tells him that he doesn't have to laugh, that he doesn't have to say even a word, for Red to understand him.
And then Red is gone, faded into some place that Abe will never be, just like the memories long gone to somewhere in the world, and Abe lets himself sob into the lifeless form of someone who always meant so very much.
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