Finishing this story was one of the hardest things I've ever attempted to write. With a years worth of time to think it over and then rethink, reinvent, recalculate... I almost threw it all away. There was so much pressure to not disappoint all you readers that I almost ran away.
Of course, I didn't let myself.
So here it is. It's imperfect, but it's here. I feel like I've grown so much in the year that I couldn't bring myself to finish this. I started this in high schoo, now I end it as a college student. It's strange...
I just want to thank anyone and everyone who's still reading this. You're kind reviews are what drove me to the finish. I hope you were able to see past the imperfections and plot holes and into the good I tried to write into this story.
Without further adieu,
Chapter 20 - Usher
Brian sat outside of the ER, his hands cradled in his hands. He couldn't tell how much time had passed, but it was dark out. There was a lump in his throat that refused to go away. He had broken into a cold sweat on the ride to the hospital. He refused to let go of Stewie's hand, and finally the paramedics had to push him into a corner in the ambulance. Seeing the young, powerful, successful man so weak tore Brian apart from the inside. Stewie was so many things to him. He felt so selfish and juvenile. Of course he needed some sort of dramatic event to make him fully understand the impact Stewie had had on him; the impact that he had always had on him.
Someone called his name from the door, causing him to look up. Lois and Peter rushed towards him. He stood, opening his arms as Lois embraced him.
"Brian, what happened? What did they do to my baby?" Lois all but sobbed, Peter's hand coming down onto her shoulders.
"There was a terrorist attack. Stewie… God, he handled it like nothing I've ever seen. He was amazing." Brian trailed off, looking over his shoulder. "They have him in IC at the moment. I think the stress was just too much…"
Lois clung to Peter's arm, shaking.
"When can we see him?" She asked desperately, breaking Brian's heart.
"Th-they didn't tell me. I'm sorry Lois. I didn't think to ask." He choked out, beginning to break down. "I barely know his condition." He fell back down into the chair, fighting back tears of frustration. Peter had a blank look on his face somewhere between disbelief and denial. He remained silent. He and Lois moved to sit down, prepared to wait it out.
Brian felt physically exhausted. With Lois and Peter huddled quietly in the sterile, plastic-covered chairs across from him, he resigned to close his eyes for a moment. He let his mind slowly ease into a restful state.
"Are you Mr. Griffin's family?" came a voice, sounding as if it was speaking through a barrel. Brian opened his eyes to see a young, female doctor approaching them.
"Yes." Lois answered hoarsely. The doctor sighed, lifting up the clipboard to thumb through the pages.
"I want you to know that Stuart is stable, but he is very weak. He gave us quite a scare, but overall I think he'll be able to go home in a couple of days." The doctor began to explain. Lois broke down sobbing onto Peter's shoulder as Brian grabbed the arms of the chair to push himself up. He extremities felt like lead.
"Thank you very much, Doctor. Uh… if it's not too much to explain, can you let us know what happened?" Brian asked shakily, his own voice like a distant echo in his head.
"Well, all the stress really took a toll on him. In his condition, his body… well, as autoimmune diseases go, it began attacking itself with a vengeance. We have him stabilized. That's all you need to know." The doctor concluded, glancing subtly at her pager.
"I understand. Thank you." Brian replied flatly. "When can we see him?"
"I'll have a nurse take you to his room now. I believe he's awake." The doctor waved down a nurse as she spoke and soon they were being led down a brightly lit, sterile hallway.
"Mr. Griffin is in here. Please try to keep your voices low." The nurse reminded as she opened the door and motioned for them to enter.
The room's lights had been dimmed. Brian had the distinct feeling of moving through something thick, like jelly, as he entered the room. The air smelled of disinfectant and sickness. Stewie lay on the bed, various IVs trailing along his arm. He looked small and frail, but his eyes were bright and healthy. He smiled at Brian, opening his mouth to speak.
"Are you Mr. Griffin's family?" Stewie asked in a voice that wasn't his own.
"What?" Brian questioned, his face contorting in confusion as be began moving slowly towards the bed.
"Yes, we are." Came Lois's reply from across the room. How did she get over there?
Brian's eyes snapped open. He had dosed off. He felt his heart shatter, as shook himself awake. He straightened up too quickly causing a sharp pain in his neck. An old, weathered man stood before them in a white doctor's coat holding a clipboard. Brian exhaled shakily.
"I'm afraid Mr. Griffin is in critical condition. He's asleep right now and needs to stay that way. I'm sorry, but we can't allow you to see him until morning." The doctor spoke only to Lois and Peter.
"Can you at least tell us what's going on?" Brian asked, rising from the chair. The doctor eyed him, before turning back to Lois and Peter.
"I'm sorry, but we don't have any further information to give you. At the moment, we're just trying to make sure he's stable. Any visitations will have to wait until morning."
"But what happened?" Brian half shouted. "What caused him to…"
"I'm sorry, but it will have to wait until morning." The doctor repeated, before turning and walking briskly back down the hall. Brian felt rage boiling just below his skin. He knew that there was nothing he could do. That was the worst part. After he'd taken a few calming breaths, he turned to a teary Lois and eerily silent Peter.
"Come on, you guys can stay at Stewie's place for the night."
The three rose and exited the hospital in silence.
Brian was jolted awake. He scrambled for the bedside alarm clock. It read 3:30 AM. He sighed, running a hand over his face before flopping back down onto the bed. He had decided to sleep in Stewie's room, giving Lois and Peter the guest room. Brian rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow. It smelled like Stewie. He ran his hands over the soft sheets beneath the comforter. They were cold to the touch. He almost felt like sobbing at the extreme feeling of loneliness and helplessness that washed over him. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding himself together with deep, labored breaths. The house was almost completely silent. He couldn't hear any signs of there being a world outside their walls.
Suddenly, the sound of a lighter being clicked made him jerk around, sitting up in bed. A dark figure stood at the end of his bed, faceless, wearing a dark gray suit with a dull red tie. It blew smoke out of its lipless mouth.
"Hello Brian." It spoke without really speaking.
Brian was frozen with terror, his elbows locking him in an upright position.
"I would say I'm sorry to spring this upon you, but that would be a lie. I'm simply doing my job." It continued, its lips moving out of sync with its words.
"Wh-who are you?" Brian managed to whisper, still unable to move.
"Who I am doesn't really matter. What I am, is more important. I am an Usher. Just as you are an Usher, of sorts."
"A what?"
"An Usher." It repeated patiently, its voice calm. "You never really gave it much thought did you? Why you were suddenly alive once more? Suddenly human? Why you just happened to find him?" It spoke to Brian as if it were speaking to a child.
"Unlike your life as a dog, in this one you will actually serve a purpose." It continued, voice free of any emotion. Brian felt a dull sting at the comment, but had no response.
"You're not real." He finally croaked, his elbows giving out as he fell back against the headboard.
"I am very real." It replied calmly. "I know of your beliefs, and I'm here to inform you, no, remind you that there is something after death." It finished its cigarette by extinguishing it into the palm of its hand and popping the butt into its mouth. "What is after death is entirely up to you." Brian shivered unconsciously.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"No."
"What?"
"You should be asking "Why am I here?" It corrected. Brian remained silent, so it went on.
"You are an Usher." It repeated.
"You already said that." Brain snapped, no longer threatened. It continued to speak as if it had not heard him.
"You were recreated with the purpose of assisting in the ushering of his life from this world to the next." It explained, moving its hands long, bony in slow, precise movements to illustrate the point. Brian felt his feet go cold, blood pumping in his ears. The Usher didn't have to say a name; Brian knew he meant Stewie.
"Why?" he whispered.
"Why? Why do you have to usher him or why did we choose you?" It asked, almost toying with him.
"Both!" Brian barked. He felt himself becoming frustrated with the creature while simultaneously trying to convince himself that none of this was real. He was simply tired and stressed from the events of the day. This was another dream. The Usher shifted, seeming to draw in a breath.
"Something lay unfinished between he and yourself. You were taken from each other too soon. In the flow of life, you both needed fulfillment or else there would be a small 'wrinkle,' so to speak, in the circle of existence. The order of things is always right, yet sometimes things need to be corrected." It concluded vaguely, folding its long hands together.
"You and he are kindred." It continued in the wake of Brian's silence. "Two souls that cannot be separated must not be separated."
A long silence filled the room. Brian felt his head come alive with a strange understanding. None of it made sense, and yet something told him it was okay.
"I don't understand." He finally confessed.
"All you must understand," the Usher began, extending his hand towards Brian in a dramatic arc. "is that you never will."
It was against everything Brian had ever believed. In retrospect, he felt horribly embarrassed about how much of his life he spent blindly ignoring anything spiritual. However, the time for speculations was past. With only a moment's hesitation, Brian reached out to take the Usher's extended hand. In an instant they were back at the hospital, standing in the room that housed Stewie. The hospital was quiet and dark as if no one was there. Brian stepped forward, moving to stand beside Stewie's bed. He gazed down at the prone figure, reduced to a tangle of tubes and wires, his breath shallow. He was a man who had grown up too fast, his face still retaining hints of being a boy. Too fast. Too soon.
"Does it have to be now?" Brian asked, thinking of Lois and Peter asleep back in Stewie's massive apartment. How would they cope? The Usher nodded solemnly.
"If not now, then he will have to suffer through the slow destruction of his human body. Right now, in this state, his mind is open to the possibility of separation." It explained patiently, fingering another cigarette that seemed to appear out of thin air.
"How do I…?" Brian began, gulping. His throat was dry and rough.
"Reach for him." The Usher said simply.
Brian swallowed once more. Leaning forward, he placed both hands on Stewie's shoulders, attempting to pull him into a sitting position. He couldn't help but gasp as his fingers moved through Stewie, seeming to pull a second body out of him. This body was free of tubes and needles, his face fuller.
"Stewie." Brian whispered, one hand moving to support the back of the young man's neck. Slowly, breathlessly, he watched Stewie's eyes open. They were bright, youthful, like in Brian's dream.
"Brian." Stewie said, his face cracking into a huge grin. He watched in astonishment as this Stewie swung his legs around off the hospital bed and lept up to wrap his arms around Brian's neck.
"I knew you'd wait until I woke! I knew you'd stay by my side." He practically sang, his body radiating warmth that Brian didn't quite understand.
"Stewie…" he began, his voice shaky, unwrapping the man's arms from around his neck. Stewie looked at him, smile faltering when Brian's gaze refused to meet his. Finally, he turned around to look back at the bed, his own body lying there without him.
"I'm dead." He said, completely monotone.
"Not quite yet. Simply separated." The Usher piped up from the corner. Stewie whirled around to gape at the creature, mouth moving wordlessly.
"Brian?" he all but whimpered, turning back to look at the man beside him with pleading eyes. Brian took a deep breath.
"We never gave much thought to why I had returned huh?" he asked, ashamed that he was laughing, but not knowing what else to do. Stewie looked shocked, stricken.
"I don't want to die." He pleaded, and Brian saw the child he used to be standing before him. "I don't want to die." He repeated, swaying on his feet.
"Stewie." Brian reached out with one hand to steady him, the other taking hold of Stewie's chin. They looked into each others eyes. "I left you those many years ago. I left you alone in a world that could never handle you. Your genius. And it still can't." He assured, moving to cup Stewie's face with his hand. "If I had been given a choice, I would have stayed with you through it all... You were my only and best friend." He gulped, not sure where he was going with this. "Now… now it's apparent." He said with a laugh of disbelief. "There's just no separating us." Brian let out a real laugh. "We're quite a pair of partners, just like Velma and Louise…" He sang lightly, pressing their foreheads together. Stewie let out a small chuckle, despite himself, bringing his hands up to rest over Brian's. The stood in silence for a moment, the weight of everything slowly settling on their shoulders.
"What about Lois… Mom?" Stewie finally asked. "What about… Dad?" He continued, awkwardly. "Chris? Meg?" his voice cracked with emotion. "I can't… I can't even say goodbye?"
"I'm afraid not." The Usher spoke once more. "You must both agree to move on together. That's the only way." It stated, emotionless. Stewie swallowed dryly, eyes looking anywhere but his own body that still lay on the hospital bed.
"I want to see them first."
The hospital room was soon empty save for Stewie's broken body, the sound of a steady beep filling the air.
Stewie stood beside Brian, the two of them looking down on Lois and Peter, both fast asleep in the guest bedroom of Stewie's apartment. The couple breathed silently, unaware of the two fleeting ghosts of men that hovered near by. The Usher was gone. They were on their own time now.
"I spent half my life hating that woman." Stewie said, his tone cold. "And now…" he rubbed his eyes angrily. "Now I can't imagine leaving her here." He finished quickly, his voice cracking. Brian simply stood beside him, unmoving. Stewie slowly walked over to where his parents lay. He stood for a moment before he slowly bent down to place a small kiss on Lois's forehead. She stirred slightly before exhaling loudly and curling closer to Peter. Stewie stepped soundlessly back next to Brian's side.
"What's going to happen?" he asked, unable to keep the fear from his voice. Brian smiled weakly.
"I don't know." He admitted. "But, for once, I'm not worried." He confessed, looking to Stewie and smiling. His smiled was returned with one of hope and trust. They took each others hands, feeling fulfilled at last, and all at once, the room was empty.
Somewhere off in the night, a baby cried, a dog howled, lovers slept in each others arms, and the order of the world was right.
Fin.
Life was not a valuable gift, but death was. Life was a fever-dream made up of joys embittered by sorrows, pleasure poisoned by pain; a dream that was a nightmare-confusion of spasmodic and fleeting delights, ecstasies, exultations, happinesses, interspersed with long-drawn miseries, griefs, perils, horrors, disappointments, defeats,humiliations, and despairs-the heaviest curse devisable by divine ingenuity; but death was sweet, death was gentle, death was kind; death healed the bruised spirit and the broken heart, and gave them rest and forgetfulness; death was man's best friend; when man could endure life no longer, death came and set him free.
- Mark Twain, Letters from the Earth