Tutankhamunfreak: I'm back and it's the summer holidays!
Arthur: You left me here alone in the dark for three months.
Tutakhamunfreak: Actually I think it was a bit longer than that-
Arthur: What! Camelot could have been attacked by now and Morgana could have taken over or-
Tutankhamunfreak: Oh, keep your hair on. morgana's not going to attack until season five starts and even then you won't notice Merlin's not-so-subtle magical saves of your life.
Arthur: Magic is evil. Merlin does not have magic.
Tutankhamunfreak: Yes he does and this is not the point of this fanfic. honestly without Merlin you'd be dead by now. (To audience) Sorry it took so long to update but I was going to wait until I had finished 'The War of the Wizards' but I'm kind of having writer's block on that so i write this instead. i had another version of this written down during Maths (my maths teacher doesn't care what I do since I finish all the work early) but I lost it. Well, I lost half of it and so had to re-write the part I lost.
Arthur: So Merlin is evil?
Tutankhamunfreak: WE JUS HAD THIS DISCUSSION! I don't own Darren Shan sadly but I do own the neighbours. Now, to deal with the idiot...
Steve stared at the post-it note for a long time. The notes in the hospital could have appeared at any time before he had seen them but there had been no time for anyone to have placed it there. And Steve was sure that the post-it note had not been there when he had walked into the room. Not while he had been attacked. Suddenly the apartment didn't feel safe anymore. It felt ominous and foreboding. He didn't belong here anymore than the attacker did. He didn't live here…
No. that was silly. Of course he lived here. The man next door had known him. How would he know him if they hadn't been next-door neighbours for any length of time? Nothing made sense anymore. But there was one thing that did. It would not be safe for him to leave the flat tonight.
It took less than an hour for Steve to have called Annie to inform her that he wasn't feeling up to coming over that night. She hadn't sounded surprised and Steve wasn't sure why. Had she known he was going to be attacked? Could she tell what had happened from his voice? Could she tell he was lying? No… that was impossible. Annie would never plan to have him attacked let alone interrogated.
Where is Darren? Who was Darren? The only Darren that Steve knew was dead. It still hurt to think about his name, especially when he thought about the stupid, childish suspicions he had about Darren when he had died. Especially when he had wasted half the life he remembered on trying to find Darren. Darren was dead, never-coming-back dead. There was nothing to dispute that fact. So why did these people, whoever they were, think he knew this other Darren?
Perhaps he had met him on his travels? Doctor Charles had said that he had spent most of his life travelling, doing work abroad. Perhaps he couldn't stand being in a town where a close friend had died? Or perhaps he was following that stupid childhood dream? Steve growled in frustration. Suddenly the blank memory wasn't a good thing, wasn't something he didn't want to know. He desperately wanted answers. No, he needed answers.
Steve glanced around the flat again and grimaced. He couldn't stay here. At least not for the moment. He had to get the feeling of hostility out of his head before he would even feel safe here let alone comfortable. He thought about where he could go but there were few places to go that weren't outside the building. An empty flat? No, that would be illegal. The reception area? No, that was too public. And then it came to him. The friendly next-door neighbour. Perhaps he could fill in some gaps.
Shadows flickered in the dark room. A figure of a young boy sat cross-legged in the centre of the room, staring down at the bowl of water in front of him. A woman sat opposite him, staring just as intently into the water. It showed the image of a man, asking another something in a hallway of some fancy flats. The house the pair inhabited was a far cry from the brightness of that hallway. It was dirty, dark and gloomy. A fitting place to not be disturbed.
The man in the bowl looked awkward, uncomfortable. The man on the other side of the door however was smiling and receptive. He invited the first man into the house. The image shifted with the man but faded. The pair caught a glimpse of a smiling, friendly woman with blonde hair and green eyes before the picture faded completely.
"As I said," the woman began, "He is doing fine." The boy shifted a little in his spot on the floor avoiding the gaze of the woman across from him. Unlike the pretty woman in the bowl, this woman was completely different. Her hands were more like claws, the nails short except on the little fingers where the nails were long, like talons. She had a beard, thick and black and wild like her hair. She wore nothing but ropes but her stomach was swollen as if she were pregnant, which was quite possible.
The boy was different. He could only be about seventeen and yet he was covered in scars. He was fairly muscled and lean, probably skinny as a child. He could have been handsome, with dark brown hair reaching the nape of his neck and dark green eyes, but for the scars. He seemed agitated though and the shadows of the room seemed to react to this, jumping and coiling on the walls and in the air. Only the light of a few candles, revealing the room to look more like a cave than a room, held them back.
"He was attacked. Are you sure that the amnesia and eye colouring will hold them back? I don't think that will stop them for long," he said in reply. The woman sighed and shook her head.
"It won't for long. That's why we intervene at strategic moments to stop them from finding out and therefore not changing the course of fate. The way the universe has willed it." The boy scowled at this answer and crossed his arms.
"I feel useless, sitting here. I should be out there, doing something not sitting here staring into magic water!" he snapped. The woman gave him a long, calculating look.
"You never used to feel that way," she murmured.
"I never used to be chained to the laws of the universe in changing things even if I don't have the gift of seeing the future," the boy snapped back, clearly impatient. The woman raised an eyebrow.
"You sound like a child."
"I don't know if you've noticed, but I am a child in all but mind," the boy said sourly, "and I'm stuck this way forever." He frowned even deeper, eyes fixed to the floor. The woman sighed.
"The time will come when you will be free again," she said tiredly, "but you must be patient. Rushing into things hasn't solved any of your problems in the past and they won't solve them now."
"Cryptic as always," the boy muttered but said nothing else. They both just sat there staring at the water bowl for what seemed like forever.
Steve smiled at John and Clara as they cleared away the dishes. He had offered to help but they had insisted that he sat there.
"After all," Clara had said, "you have just got back from the hospital." They had both been very inviting and had taken it in their stride that Steve had no memory of them. After the introductions had been dealt with, they had accepted him as a guest for the evening, not seeming to mind that he had rudely turned up on their doorstep asking to join them for dinner. They had been brilliant hosts and he couldn't believe that he had the luck to be next to a pair like them.
"So how do you feel now your home?" John asked, as he re-joined Steve on the sofa, handing him a beer as he did so. Clara came and sat on the armchair next to the sofa on John's side.
Steve shrugged, popping the beer open. "I'm not sure. It's better than the hospital room I was in and I'm glad to have such knowing and kind neighbours," he said, saluting them. Clara laughed.
"Well, we could hardly turn a friend down could we? Especially a friend who had no idea of where he was any more. I'm sorry to hear that," she said sincerely. Steve smiled gratefully at her.
"Must be lonely though," John said, looking up, "living in that house alone with nothing but the curtains for company. I don't get why you don't move in with Annie although I should say that that's an invalid question now."
"Mmmm," Steve said. "Honestly, I don't know why. I can't remember much and I don't really remember what our relationship was like as to why I wouldn't have done so." Clara was looking at him sympathetically. She was great that way, always trying to make you feel better but not being too sympathetic to make you feel pathetic.
"As far as we could work out you and Annie got along fine. You didn't see each other as often as you'd have liked but you never quarrelled as far as we knew," Clara said.
"Yeah and you and Darius got along fine. I think he enjoys having you visit him," John added. Steve looked glumly into the beer can, tracing the rim of the can.
"I don't remember that though… and that's the hardest thing. Knowing that you have members of family that you don't remember and knowing that you could have had any kind of relationship with them and yet, even though you try your hardest, you just can't remember." Clara placed a consoling hand on Steve's arm.
"It'll be all right," she said softly. "I'm sure once you've met up again you'll be fine." Steve gave her a smile and took a swig of beer. It didn't really affect him as much as he thought it would have, having gotten himself drunk a couple of times in the past. Well, of what he could remember. Maybe he had become an alcoholic?
"I do have one question…" Steve started. He didn't really know these people that well but maybe they would know who this Darren was. He had almost forgotten about it but know would be as good a time as any to bring up this mystery Darren figure. If they didn't know and asked him why he was asking he could just say it was a name he couldn't put a face to. "Do any of you know a man named Darren?" John frowned and thought about it for a moment before looking at Clara, who shrugged.
"There's a lot of Darren's around here… but I don't think you would know any of them," he said slowly, thinking it through. "Most of them live out of town and just come in to work here."
"Why do you want to know?" Clara asked her eyes alight with curiosity. Steve paused before thinking up a suitable lie.
"It's a name that keeps coming back to me but the only Darren I knew was when I was a kid and it was Annie's brother," he said. John blinked and Clara's eyes widened.
"I didn't know Annie Shan had a brother! What happened to him?" Clara gasped.
"He died when we were kids. He was my best friend but one day he leaned out of a window too far and fell. Broke his neck." Clara had her hands over her mouth and John looked shocked.
"I never knew that… Sorry," John said quietly. Clara just nodded, tears filling her eyes.
They passed the next few hours discussing small things like changes in the town over the years and where John and Clara had lived in the past. Steve learnt that the old theatre had been renovated and was now running regular shows which were where Clara worked as an actress. They had both come from a small town by the sea but they hadn't had enough money to stay there and this place had seemed as good a place as any. Steve also learnt that they hoped to be able to move back to the sea again when they had the money but it wasn't going that well for now considering they only had just about enough money to afford this place.
It was nearing eleven when Steve finally left their apartment for his own but the moment he walked through the door the hostile feeling returned. He couldn't shake the feeling that he shouldn't be here. That people now new where he lived and so they would hunt him down until they got what they wanted. It was irrational and stupid but it was how he felt.
Steve turned to get the light and as he did so he caught a glimpse of two dark green eyes in the gloom. He froze and turned back towards where they were. Or had been. The eyes were gone. Steve flicked on the light. No one was there. Somehow he still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched though.
Arthur: I don't get this anymore. You said in here that Darren was dead but what's with the boy in the smoke?
Tutankhamunfreak: Er, one, spoiler alert. Two, you would know the answer to that if you had read the books as to why Darren is 'dead'.
Arthur: What's with the speech marks?
Tutankhamunfreak: It means that he's not really. In fact it's called SARCASM. How does Merlin put up with you? You're driving me insane! the next thing I know Harry Potter will be in here asking why merlin isn't an old man!
Harry Potter: He isn't?
Tutankhamunfreak: That's it! I'm out of here!
(Door slams loudly in the background)
Arthur: She's coming back right?... Hey, wait, I'm locked in. HELP!