A/N: Roy has some dark moments in his distance past. This is response to Ginger's Easter challenge, which was based on the following quote: "The darkest night is often the bridge to the brightest tomorrow." ~ Jonathan Lockwood Huie.
Dark.
Night.
At least, he thought it was night. The dark, he was sure of.
At one time, Roy had never really minded a dark night. The night brought the dark; the dark was host for the stars; and the stars were hosts for dreams. He needed those dreams then – they protected him from the realities of a normal life, from things like school and parents and unrequited love and curfews. Dark starry nights had been a comforting companion, quiet with possibilities
Right now it was just dark. No stars. No dreams. Nothing to protect him from this life, which for some reason didn't feel terribly normal or safe at the moment.
Was this still life? Life usually had something along with it; something like light, or sound, or….something.
As he pondered this, he was becoming very sure that he was, for some reason, very confused.
Regardless of the fact that it was dark, and maybe or maybe-not night; and too quiet but not good-quiet; and that he didn't know if he minded this dark or not; and that it might be life or maybe not-life… Knowing that he was confused and thinking was somehow comforting.
Even if he didn't know why.
Other images intruded.
A man….in rags…..other men…badness. A voice from the rags, "I think I've said all I'm going to say to you." Sounds…..beating…silence...rags dragged off, man-shape inside, never to be seen again….
A skeleton warning a scarecrow….. "Corporal, if you don't get that anger under control, you will never get out of here alive – and they won't kill you, you'll do it yourself…."
Red hands, wet hands, his hands, trying to…..do what?... His words to hush the fading voice that whispered, "Don't worry, mate. I play 18 holes in this hell hole every day in my head….this is my ticket home, and then, I'll play them for real…" but the man had no legs….then he had no blood…..
Then, through the darkness and the images, he heard a sound; important, regal, commanding. Tap. Tap, Tap ,Tap.
He focused. Capital "C" – Church
It pulled him from the darkness. He knew again.
It was Sunday; he was in a war; he had been locked into a small damp dark place, alone. It still was dark, but he knew it was day – an hour after daybreak, in fact. It was silent, but there were people nearby. The images were memories, haunting, but real.
He responded then, almost automatically, using all his will to tap the same pattern back. He silently hummed "God Bless America", since his voice didn't seem to work. Then he mouthed the words to the Lord's Prayer. Just like all of the others in the camp were doing: unseen, silent, unlikely partners sharing this moment of solidarity.
He wasn't religious, but he sort of prayed then anyway. Let us get out, please. Let others live too. Give my family hope, and strength. Help me get through this dark night. Let me help others, save others. Let this dark night be a bridge to a brighter tomorrow….. Please don't let this darkness continue, oh god, please let tomorrow be brighter…
Roy awoke with a start, chest heaving, emotions unsettled. It had been a long time since he had dreamed about those few very bad weeks. He lay there listening to the quiet snoring in the dorm and actually wished for a run. That upset him even more: a run would mean someone, some fellow human being, would be hurting and in trouble, and that was something he would never wish on anyone.
Surrendering, he quietly got up and made his way to the kitchen, grabbed a cold cup of Marco's leftover coffee, and went outside to watch the sun rise.
Some time later, Johnny quietly stepped up beside him. "Roy?" he gently asked, "you OK?"
Roy slowly sipped his coffee, framing an answer; there just were some things that a man was entitled to keep to himself. "Yeah," he finally said, simply, "yeah. Just…..just a restless night, that's all."
"Hmph", Johnny replied. But he said no more, and the partners just stood in companionable silence until the morning tones sounded.
Another day, after another night, had begun.