Here we are folks. The end of an era. It's been a wild ride, but we've finally reached the end.
I have some words I want to share, but I'll save them for the end. I'm sure you want to read this epilogue first.
Enjoy.
The door creaked open, old hinges squeaking loudly in the quiet room. Courtney peeked her head in, squinting in the bright light, and stepped inside.
"Why is it so bright in here?" she asked. "You trying to grow geraniums or something?"
Bobby laughed. "Turn the lights off if it bothers you so much."
Courtney flipped the switch and the room plunged into darkness, the only light left coming from a small table lamp. She closed the door behind her, the soft click the only sound permeating the silence. She sat down in a chair next to Bobby.
"So, what brings you here at this hour?" Bobby asked, setting the book he was reading down next to the lamp and folding his hands in his lap.
"I don't know," Courtney answered after a moment. "I just... felt like I needed to be here tonight. That's all."
"I'm not complaining," Bobby joked, reaching out to clumsily pat her hand where it rested on the edge of his bed. "I'd never pass up a chance to chat with my best friend."
Courtney laughed, shaking her head. "Don't you lie to me, Bobby Pendragon. That title was always reserved for Mark and you know it."
The corner of Bobby's lip quirked up sadly. "Yeah, it was."
He looked down at his hands, pooled on the covers in his lap. The sight would never be a familiar one. It was always a shock to see how much they'd changed, how much he'd changed. He would never get used to it.
Once upon a time, Bobby could palm a basketball in one hand. Now any pictures he took were blurry beyond recognition, food always spilling off his spoon or his fork. That is, when he was allowed to feed himself. Wrinkles and protruding veins now criss-crossed his hands, wine-colored spots a stark contrast to the greying tone of his skin. His knuckles were swollen with arthritis. The only reason he wasn't in constant pain was the medicines the doctors had him hooked up to 24/7. It had gotten to the point where he told them to take the heart monitor away. He didn't care for its constant beeping, telling him something he already knew intimately.
Fact of the matter was, Bobby was dying.
He didn't mind, not really. He'd lived a rather full life, if he did say so himself. Gone to college, made some great friends, got a job he loved and enjoyed doing. More than most people had a chance to ever get. He was forever grateful for whatever force helped make his life a good one.
Surprisingly, the job he'd gotten wasn't in basketball. That had been fun while it lasted, but after he got out of high school his love of the sport faded. He turned instead to creative writing, making up stories that ranged from whimsical and strange to realistic and eye opening. He made a career of it, selling them to newspapers and magazines, and soon had a comfy cushion of money to live off of. He was pretty content with how things turned out.
Well, mostly.
The one thing he'd wanted all his life but never managed to snag, was a family.
All throughout high school, he had honestly thought Courtney was the one for him. The beautiful Courtney Chetwynde with her long brown hair and stunning grey eyes, who could win anyone over with a single look. She sure had won Bobby over, first time she'd kicked his ass. Then and there, he thought she was the one.
But something happened in high school. He had finally gotten the courage to ask her out (or rather, get asked out. She was always the braver of the two), and they were happy.
Until they weren't. Over time, they realized they weren't quite meant to be. They fit together damn near perfectly, all her rough and jagged edges slotting together with his, but it never felt right. They decided to put their relationship on hold to figure out what was wrong, and just never started again. Things finally felt right between them; not as partners, but as friends. They stayed that way, happy all throughout college and into their adult lives.
Besides, Courtney was much happier with Mark. And honestly? Bobby didn't mind. He never thought they would work together so beautifully, but they did. They had their fights, their inconsistencies, but they worked through them and came out on the side all the better for it.
The only thing Bobby was jealous of was that they'd managed to find that perfect equilibrium together so easily. He'd spent years after his peaceful breakup with Courtney looking for someone to fill that part of him. To make him feel the way they felt about each other. He'd dated several people over the years, but no one ever really... fit. Once he hit thirty, Bobby gave up. He decided that if love was going to find him, it had to come looking for him itself. He was tired.
Now, at age eighty-six, with his two best friends in the world having lived full lives with each other, Bobby wondered if fate truly meant for him to be alone.
"Oh," Courtney said suddenly, breaking his train of thought. "Allie, Claire, and Teddie send their regards."
"Couldn't make it back from Massachusetts?" Bobby asked.
"Nah, the little ones are starting school soon, remember?" Courtney shrugged. "They needed to stay close to home."
"Oh." Bobby looked down, studying the lines on his hands. "Well, when you get back, tell 'em Uncle Robert wished he could'a saw them."
"Guilt trip them into coming next time, huh?" Courtney joked.
"Always."
They lapsed into silence, unspoken thoughts tangible between them. They both know there wouldn't be a next time. Bobby was running out of time, fast. He was fine with it, though. They all had lives, lives that moved on regardless of births and deaths and whatnot. At least he got to see Courtney.
"I wish Mark was here," Courtney whispered, her throat tight.
"Yeah, me too." Bobby squeezed her hand comfortingly, lacing their fingers together. She looked up at him and smiled through shimmering eyes. She wiped away the unshed tears and took a deep breath.
Before she could speak, a voice from the doorway cut in.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
Their heads whipped around to the open door. Neither of them had heard it open, nor had they heard someone enter.
A man, mid forties, with brown hair and a long brown coat over worn work clothes, stepped into the room and shut the door quietly behind him. He carried a box under his arm that he set on the end of the bed. "Hello Bobby, Courtney."
"Who are you?" Courtney asked, sitting up in her chair. "How do you know our names?"
"Don't worry, I'm not here to rob you or anything," the man joked. "I'm just here on delivery duty."
"You do know it's way past visiting hours," Bobby said, though with no real malice in his voice. The man looked familiar, but he couldn't place his face.
"Oh, I know," the man replied. "That's why I came when I did."
Bobby stared hard at the man, searching through his memories for him. His name was just on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite grasp it. He seemed so familiar...
"What's in the box?" Courtney asked, interrupting his thoughts. Bobby wanted to shout as the name slipped away from him.
The man lifted the lid of the box and pulled out a tightly rolled bundle of papers. They looked ancient, tied with leather twine.
"I brought a story."
Courtney looked irate. "Look here, young man," she began. "Mr. Pendragon isn't well. He doesn't need to be bothered by-"
"I didn't mean to bother you, the man smoothly interrupted again. "I am truly sorry. I'll leave, but there's one thing I want you to do for me."
He handed Bobby the roll of parchment. "I want you to read."
Bobby took the papers. His fingers tingled as they came in contact with the rough fibers. He examined them closely. They felt familiar too, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. It was just a bunch of old paper.
"Why?" he asked as the man closed the lid and pushed the box farther up the bed, where he and Courtney could easily reach it.
"Just trust me," the man said, dark eyes twinkling. He stepped towards the door.
"Wait, where are you going?" Courtney asked.
"Gotta run," the man said. "I've got nine more of these to deliver. I'll be back, though, when you're done. Promise."
"Gee, could you be any more mysterious?" Courtney said sarcastically.
"Oh, he most definitely could," came a new voice from the doorway.
A tall, slender man stepped through, just behind the first one. He nudged him aside, smirking in fond exasperation. "You haven't seen him at his worst. Even puts my theatrics to shame."
"You're one to talk, Saint," the first man joked, pushing him playfully.
Bobby's breath hitched. If the first man felt familiar, this newcomer practically punched him in the gut with the force of the feeling. Long black hair cascaded down his back, framing a sharp face with even sharper eyes. Those eyes turned on him, and Bobby's heart stopped. Ice-white eyes, so familiar it physically hurt, but his name was just out of reach. Bobby cursed his deteriorating mind.
The second man smiled warmly at Bobby. "Trust me," he said, his deep voice low and melodic and so achingly familiar, filled with such a strong sense of fondness that Bobby trusted him immediately. "You're going to want to read those journals."
"They're journals?" Courtney asked, reminding Bobby that she was there and he wasn't alone in the room with this mysterious man. She took the bundle from him and examined it as well. "Whose are they?"
"You'll find out," the first man said, crossing his arms. "Just read."
He stepped through the doorway, disappearing into the dark hallway. The second man watched him go, then turned back to Bobby. There was this look in his eyes, an undecipherable emotion that was painful to look at. His bright blue eyes met Bobby's, and he made a decision.
He came to the edge of the bed, away from the door, and stood opposite of Courtney.
"I know you may not remember me," the man said, "but I just want you to know that... that I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to wait so long."
He gently slipped his hand into Bobby's, brushing his thumb across his knuckles briefly before letting go and backing away. He ran his hand along the box that the other man left as he went to the doorway and stood in it.
"You might want to read that soon," he said, inclining his head towards the journal in Courtney's hand. Bobby got the implication and nodded, which seemed to satisfy the other man.
He turned to leave, shutting the door behind him, but stopped. "I look forward to seeing you again, Bobby," he added quietly. The door shut with a gentle click.
Bobby's head was buzzing. His hand still tingled where the other man had held it. He slowly curled his fingers, and if he concentrated, he could still feel the man's long, slender fingers intertwined with his own. That touch, that simple action felt so damn familiar, and it hurt Bobby so much that he couldn't remember this man that obviously meant so much to him.
"Bobby?" Courtney's voice cut through his thoughts as it always did, the voice of reason in his muddled and chaotic world. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah." His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah, I'm fine. Lemme see that journal."
She handed it to him and he carefully untied the twine, unrolling the ancient parchment. It crackled in his hands, but held firm.
Courtney was digging around in the box, pulling out random things and setting them on the bed. "This is quite the arrangement," she commented, showing off some of her finds. There were more rolls of papers, some of them like the first, and some rubbery and strangely green. She pulled out a stack of bound books and set them aside, along with a couple of silver devices with a series of color-coded buttons. None of the items were all too similar, yet all of them felt familiar to Bobby.
"Courtney...?" he said after a moment. "I think we should start reading."
She looked at him and nodded, understanding. "Sure."
"I need your help though, my eyes aren't what they used to be."
She laughed, but agreed. "Alright then. Scoot on over, I'll sit next to you."
She climbed up onto the hospital bed and settled in against her oldest friend's side. He helped her unroll the brown parchment fully, feeling the rough paper against his finger. They flattened it out in their laps. Courtney pushed her reading glasses down onto her nose and cleared her throat.
"I don't know why," Bobby added before she began, "but I'm pretty excited to hear this story."
Courtney smiled and clasped his hand with hers. "Me too."
She smoothed her hand across the scroll and in a clear, confident voice, began to read.
"Journal number one. Denduron. I hope you're reading this, Mark..."
So, first thing's first. I would love to thank my dear beta and close friend, alphaonefourzero, for being there through thick and thin and editing this story into a half-conceivable mess. She wasn't here for the last few chapters, for which I'm eternally apologetic, but as soon as she's back on her feet again we'll go through and fix some things. Nothing major, though. Hope you feel better soon Kelly!
Thank you to JMProfio, for whom without, this story wouldn't even exist. To believe it all started as a parting gift, right? But hey, without this story, our friendship wouldn't even exist either. You have become one of my closest friends through this and other things, and I'm so glad for that. Now go finish that crossover story, slacker.
Can't forget all my fans! YokaiAngel, Jay Foren, and Lynnxrider: thank you so much for your words of encouragement and praise! Without you guys, I probably would have forgotten about this story several times. I've been rather busy, haha.
Last words, okay. Man, I can't believe it's finally over. It's been what, almost a year since I started this? It's been such a journey, my biggest one yet, and I wouldn't trade any second of the frustration and writer's block and heartbreak for anything.
It feels like watching a child grow up and move out, finishing a story. Posting this feels like watching them go to the door, turn around, and give one last little wave before heading out into the big world. I'm actually tearing up, thinking about it. This is the end, folks. This is it.
We made it.
We won.
Hobey-ho, fellow Travelers. I'll see you on the other side.
- pitchpearlgirl, signing off