Chasing A Memory

Seasonal Dreamer

Rating: T, just to keep it constant :)

Author's Note: Hi! :D Okay, so this is the last chapter :P Yes, yes I know, it's not a lot, but I did say it would be a shortie :) And I would love to thank ellielovesdtng for always reviewing on my stories, kdoc27 for the favourite, and anyone else who reads my stories :) I love you guys! I hope you like this last chapter! :)

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Marco opened his eyes, his head ringing from all the memories that were just played before him...

To see a large pair of green eyes less than a milimetre away staring back at him.

"Gah!" he cried, launching up and away, his heart pounding. Clutching his chest, Marco gasped angrily, "Haven't you ever heard of personal space? You damn near gave me a heart attack!"

Seeming amused by this statement, the older man simply sat back on his heels and observed him. "Do you remember everything now?" he asked quietly.

How could I not? It's not every day I get to witness my own murder, the Italian noted dryly. But still, the calmness of this older man irritated him for some reason. He glowered at him and stood up. "Who are you?"

The white haired man stood up as well, replying cheerfully, "Well, I don't have a specific name exactly. I'm happy with whatever you decide to call me."

Marco eyed him weirdly. How can he not have a name? "I get to name you?"

"Mhmm," the man nodded enthusiastically.

"Um. Okay then. Uh...you can be...um...oh I don't know, Bill. Your name is Bill." He didn't think he could have possibly come up with a more average name than that.

'Bill' beamed. "Wonderful! Now, tell me what you saw."

"Myself dying," he said bluntly. "Is that really how I got here? I got shot right in front of-" he blushed an astonishing shade of red.

But Bill simply smiled. "You can say it, I won't kill you," he laughed strangely. "You got, er, shot in front of your boyfriend. Dylan." However, Bill's simper fell almost instantaneously after that. "It's horrible, really. Dylan really loved you. And to have witnessed that..." he shuddered. "He's feeling so guilty. He thinks he could've done more to save you. He's spent the past couple of days crying his eyes out, the poor thing."

"Days?" Marco gaped. How could it have been days since that happened?

Bill nodded, saying gently, "Life support doesn't always work one hundred percent of the time."

Marco felt ashamed. He knew he shouldn't be, it wasn't his fault that those people killed him, but still. He felt like he should've- "Wait," Marco blurted out. "I can go back right? I don't have to be dead right now!" He grinned.

But Bill hesitated. "Well, no-"

"Then what's the problem? I'll just go back and be with Dylan again."

Bill sighed sadly, shaking his head. This bugged the Italian. "It's...not that simple Marco. Yes, you can go back, but I'm afraid that if you do, Dylan and your friends will be the only reason for you to return." He motioned for Marco to follow him as he started walking, and he followed, confused. "Your parents, depite the circumstances, won't ever treat you like they used to. I think you saw how they reacted." He gave Marco a knowing look. "It won't be like the perfect family life you had when you were ten years old."

Marco shrugged, though this bothered him slightly. "So what? I have my friends don't I?"

"Yes, but they've already given up on you ever returning. The only reason you can return, is because Dylan won't let you go." Bill replied gently. "That's why this place was created. For people who still have someone back on Earth holding on to them, but frankly, your time is running out."

"Then what am I-?" Marco stated furiously, panicking that he was wasting his time.

Bill held up his hand. "This is important. There's also the fact that your body won't ever be the same again. You'll be in a wheelchair unless they can invent some miracle drug that can repair spine damage. You'll be on medication that you'll have to take every day for the rest of your life, including pain killers for the first few months...In short, life will be so much harder for you."

Marco bit his lip. Crap. A wheelchair? "Oh," he said, suddenly unsure now. "Well, what happens to me if I don't go back?"

The older man remarked dreamily, "You'll be in the most beautiful place you could ever imagine. You'll be without Dylan, but he should join you someday, along with your friends. However, on Earth, Dylan will be miserable for the rest of his life. He won't ever love anyone again, and he'll quit hockey because going back would remind him of what happened to you."

Marco groaned. This kind of complicated things. Basically, he needed to decide between Dylan's happiness, or his own. Not that he thought he wouldn't be happy on Earth, but being in the 'most beautiful place he could ever imagine' seemed just a tad better then being a cripple the rest of his life. Plus, Dylan would meet him eventually. Oh...but his memory... Wouldn't he lose that again? "Um..." he stammered.

Bill smiled slightly again. "Here's what I'm going to do. I'll send you back to Earth for an hour. Just to take a look at what you'll be giving up if you do go on. It's kind of hard to make a decision if you can't really remember it," he winked.

The brown haired boy nodded appreciatively. "Thanks."

"Remember," the man warned. "One hour. Make the most of it."

Marco landed on his back with a sickening thud. He moaned, rolling over on to his side. Damn it Bill, he gritted his teeth. Couldn't he have found a more comfortable way for me to land? The brown haired boy slowly picked himself up, wincing slightly, but the pain was quickly evaporating. How could a dead person feel pain anyway? Wasn't there like a law against that?

Scratching his head, Marco looked around. It looked like he was standing in an empty hallway, only these white walls paled drastically in comparence to the white he had just a few seconds ago been surrounded by.

But he was confused. Where am I now? Wasn't he supposed to be somewhere he recognized? Somewhere that held some special memory or something? Why was he here? Wherever...'here' was.

However, even as he thought this, there was a sudden bustling of people around him, appearing somehow out of thin air. To say they scared the bejeezus out of him would be an understatement. Ladies in scrubs carrying blood samples were walking around...and through...him. That, or talking either reassuringly to patients or chatting adamantly to each other. Doctors carried clip boards and prepared for surgeries or meetings with their patients, secretaries answered phones behind their desks...All in all, this seemed like an ordinary hospital day.

But Marco knew different. Somewhere in this building...his body was lying lifeless. He was now sure of this. For some reason, there was something here that Bill wanted him to see before he made his decision. Though he wasn't too sure what seeing his own dead body would make him realise. They hadn't covered him up or buried him yet because, if they had, he wouldn't have been here, so he must've died only a little while ago in this, erm, 'time period.'

The brown haired boy simply shook his head. Nothing surprised him anymore.

He wandered any which way down any which hallway, carefully observant of the time and feeling person after person glide through him. It sent a shiver up his spine everytime that happened, like he had just hit his funny bone or something. He didn't like it. It had to be the most uncomfortable feeling he could ever remember having. Though, he supposed that wasn't really saying much since he barely remembered that his name was Marco, but still. And anyways, with a busy place like this, having someone walk through him was inevitable. So he just had to suck it up.

The clock chimed as fifteen minutes went by, and Marco bit his lip worriedly. Where was he supposed to be?

But Marco came to a forceful halt in front of a patient's doorway as if someone had just tugged on his collar. He stared at it curiously before slowly walking through...

And he got the shock of his life.

Marco stared at his own body lying on the hospital bed, looking broken. Even though he had accepted what Bill had told him, he found it never really sunk in that he was dead. At least, not until now. There was just something extremely off-putting about seeing your own deceased body, and it sent shivers up his spine. Marco's mouth gaped open and he rubbed his eyes before looking at himself again. This was just so weird.

Slowly, Marco tip-toed towards himself, almost as if afraid he'd wake himself up. He stared down at his emotionless face before cautiously reaching over and touching his cheek. Marco gasped as his fingers went right through the Marco lying on the bed's skin. Eyes wide, he backed away from his body, creeped out.

But something else caught his attention.

A pair of silent, sad feet entered the room. His mere presence radiated sorrow as the Marco standing upright whipped his head to the side to see a curly-haired blonde standing at the doorway. His crystal blue eyes were red around the brim and he simply gazed at the Marco lying unconscious in the bed. A bouquet of flowers were held in his hand and he looked like he could stare at his boyfriend for the rest of his life.

"D...Dylan?" Marco stammered. He figured he really shouldn't be surprised to see him here, but he never expected to see him so soon. "What're you-"

But he instantly shut his mouth as Dylan started speaking himself. "Good morning, my love," he whispered softly, and it pained Marco to see tears streaming freely down his face. The blonde walked quietly over to Marco's body, laying the bouquet on his side table and gently brushing a lock of hair that had fallen over Marco's face away. "I know you're...you're gone," he choked, slowly kneeling down so he was eye level with the boy. "But I can't help but hope that maybe...you can still hear me."

"Dylan-"

"I love you," his voice quivered into Marco's ear. "I...I can't..." he pressed his fingers to his trembling lips. "I don't know h-how I'll live w-without you, b-but I guess I b-better learn to try." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the bed, tears falling freely from his eyes like he didn't care who saw. "I w-won't ever forget you," he sobbed. "I'll always l-love you. You...you w-were my better half. You b-brought out the best in me. You w-were...you are m-my entire world." He leaned up and kissed his hair lovingly, and the Marco watching this felt his heart break. Dylan had never said anything so beautiful to him before. He knew Dylan had loved him...he just never knew how much.

Marco slowly walked over to Dylan, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. The Italian felt his eyes water as he pressed his ghost-like lips to Dylan's neck and breathed, "I'm so sorry."

He hadn't thought that the blonde could feel him, but the blue eyed boy shivered and closed his eyes. "I miss you," Dylan said quietly. "Every m-minute I keep replaying that night. What I could've done...how much I wish it was me that d-died instead of you. How much I want you to come back. I...I just miss you so m-much." Marco just wanted to take all of his pain away, and he knew there was only one way he could do that.

But.

Marco stared over Dylan's shoulder at his own body, distorted and looking like he obviously went through a lot of pain. Did he really want to go back to that? He loved Dylan...but that would be his only reason for returning.

If Marco could simply have his memory taken away and go to a happier place...completely forget the fact that Dylan was down here suffering...

Would he do it?

Because in the end, this wasn't about Dylan or his friends or anyone. This was about him. About what he wanted.

And honestly...

Did he really want to come back?

Marco looked at Bill, wiping his eyes as he nodded. "I'm sure."

Bill smiled sadly, placing his hand on Marco's shoulder. "As long as this is what you want...then I'm happy for you."

The Italian took a deep breath. "How do I-?"

"Oh!" The older man took a few steps to the left and turned the handle of a white door that Marco had never realised was there. "This is the door you want. I hope you're making the right decision."

Marco gave him a small, appreciative smile. For some reason, he was almost sad to go. "I know you don't think it is, but for me...I've always settled for damn near everything my entire life. Dylan was that only exception, but...I don't want to settle anymore. I really think this is what's best for me." He held out his hand and Bill took it. "Maybe you'll come see me sometime?"

Bill laughed. "Much appreciated, but I don't think I'd be allowed up there. I was put here for a reason."

The brown haired boy walked over to the door and gazed into the light that was coming out of it. It was hypnotizing.

"Wait! I forgot!" Bill cried, grabbing Marco's shoulder before he could walk through the door. He held a glass of purple liquid. Marco didn't even bother to wonder where that came from. "This'll re-erase your memory." He grinned at Marco's raised eyebrows. "Less confusing that way."

Marco shrugged numbly. He took the cup hesitantly, eyeing it with suspicion incase Bill was trying to poison him or something, before sipping it. It was tasteless, but he drank it anyway. Instantly the Italian felt woosy and he dropped the cup, staggering the only way he could distinguish - forward.

He fell through the light, and it blinded him almost beyond coherency. Except for one, blissful moment where the boy flashed back to the fading memory of Dylan, smiling at him the only way he could, before the light consumed him altogether.

The End!

Was it sad? How'd I do? :) Review please!