Thirty-seven
Vitus surfaced with a single shuttering gasp, visibly struggling to swim his way to the riverbank, heart pounding so fiercely that his pulse throbbed almost painfully at his temple. He clawed his way out of the river much like he had the first time, but he couldn't exactly recall the first time; he couldn't recall anything, really. His only murky thought was of pain and screaming and the scent of smoke burned into his sinuses; the water dripping into his eyes mingled with the tears leaking there as his memory sharpened.
No. It was the only coherent thing he heard, and from the way the word felt as if it'd been ripped from his throat, he guessed that he'd actually said it aloud. He closed his eyes tightly, willing the images to go away, willing his mind to forget, praying that it wasn't real. It couldn't be. It couldn't be real.
It couldn't be.
He mustered the strength to tear his gaze away from the ground, instead casting it upward at the clear night sky; stars looked down at him, truthful; a memory of smoke curling into the darkness clouded his vision and he shook his head, trembling. He smelled burning flesh. He saw a flash of red hair. He heard Tauria calling out for him. He saw his son's wide eyes.
Vitus collapsed, openly sobbing upon the muddy bank, too weak to stand and too lost to care.
...
"Fun night?" Abe teased as Henry all but sauntered into the shop, rolling his eyes immediately upon hearing his son's question.
"If you must know-yes," Henry answered with the beginnings of a sly smile creeping onto his face; he couldn't help himself.
Abe grinned and shook his head, coming around the counter from where he'd been counting up the money in his register till to pat Henry on the shoulder
"Hot shot."
Henry chuckled a bit, unable to be deterred from his good mood by any of Abe's exhaustive teasing, but Abe's smile fell for a moment as he saw that Henry was walking past him, likely wanting nothing more than to turn in for the night. Preparing himself, he took a deep breath.
"Uh, Henry?" Henry turned, that smile lingering, and Abe shifted his feet, "I hate to spoil this..mood you're in, but I may have..misplaced the list."
Henry's eyes widened and his expression transformed into a startled, worried grimace. He shook his head, beginning to gesture with his hands. Abe closed his eyes for a moment. Here we go.
"What do you mean by misplaced?" asked Henry worriedly. Abe shrugged, faking a remorseful expression as best he could.
"I had it one minute, and the next minute I didn't. I'm…not really sure where I put it. I've been looking for it all day."
Henry ran a nervous hand through his hair and nodded in acceptance; Abe recognized that look. It was the acceptance of a challenge.
"Alright, then-we'll just look again," Henry began as he started to turn over couch cushions and look through counter drawers, his mouth pursing into a thin line each time his search was fruitless, "It couldn't have just disappeared. I'm sure it's somewhere."
Abe imagined it was either being destroyed in a fire or fueling a homicidal mission somewhere in the rougher parts of New York, specifically where Nazis apparently liked to run their operations, but Abe definitely wasn't about to tell Henry that. He only nodded and helped Henry search for something they weren't going to find.
After a long hour of frustrated murmurs and deep sighs, he decided it was time to speak up.
"Listen, pops-maybe this is a good thing. Maybe you won't have to bring up the list after all, meaning you won't get Adam all in a little conniption. He won't believe you without hard evidence. Maybe..it's fate?" Abe almost stopped before the fate part, worrying it'd be too much and tip Henry off, but Henry seemed to have had enough experience with questioning fate that he accepted the suggestion within a few minutes.
He gave Abe an assessing look and finally nodded to himself, frowning.
"Perhaps. Or this will make things worse. After all, we now have a missing list that could easily get in the wrong hands. And who knows if they have one for me, like you said. I need to find it, Abe."
He was only glad that Henry wasn't too concerned with the list's absence; they both knew that if it really came down to it, Adam could handle himself-knowledge of the list notwithstanding.
Abe smiled, both relieved and immensely guilty, and continued searching for that damned list all through the night, as Henry discussed ideas with him about what he should talk to Adam about instead during their session.
No rest for the wicked, he reminded himself.
….
Thirty-seven
Aeliana was young, nearly as young as she'd been when he first met her, but her eyes were far wiser than they ever were as she looked over at him, hands folded in her lap, hair pinned up in an elegant way she wouldn't have known then. Her smile was tender-a mother's smile. He thought it looked awfully odd on an adolescent's face, but the thought fled just as she laid her palm over his cheek. This was familiar, so achingly pleasant and comforting and inviting. He wanted to stay with her for eternity; he wanted to stay in the darkness that surrounded them.
"You can't come with me," murmured Aeliana softly, blue eyes brilliantly illuminated; it took his breath away, but he shook his head in stubborn defiance.
"No, I want to stay. The sky is consoling," he pleaded, but she only cast her gaze away, down at her other hand; he did the same, confused and overwhelmed, but soon looked back at her face.
She was unrecognizable; her skin was blackened in places, and in others it was horribly bruised and bloodied. Her eyes remained untarnished, and behind her stood Tauria and Tiberius, whose skin bore similar wounds.
Vitus gasped, horrified, before Aeliana pulled her hand away from his face and shook her head sadly.
"You can't; you are not like us," she reminded him, and her voiced sounded scratched and hoarse and painful.
"You can't, Vitus."-Vitus?-Vitus!
Vitus awoke to the sound of his name being spoken right at his ear, a distant echo that slowly pulled him from whatever hell he'd witnessed, and he opened his eyes to painful brightness, blinking rapidly to let his vision adjust. When at last it did, he saw Tiberius leaning over him, his familiar, kind eyes the color of leaves and summer grass. It brought a simple, small comfort; Vitus sighed, and the ache set in.
His throat felt raw, parched-his body felt as if he'd exhausted every muscle, and his face was tender and throbbing, especially beneath his eyes. His head throbbed each second, and he moaned; the memory of smoke again invaded. The bed stung against his legs (pain? wound?), but his next thought was lost as he panted for breath, heart racing. Tauria's charred skin flashed in his mind.
Cassia was there, as well, dabbing a cold, wet cloth against his skin with a grave expression on her face; her light hair fell down close to him as she cared for him, and he smelled her familiar scent with another sense of comfort. These were his friends; he hadn't the strength for any of the confusion threatening to overtake him. These were his friends and his life was over.
This was going to be longer, but since a new day starts soon, I figured I'd split it up so that the next chapter starts the next morning.
Feedback of any kind is always appreciated.