So... It's been two months. Sorry, friends.
I won't bore you with all my totally legit excuses as to why this chapter took so long. Still not sure I'm super happy with it, but the show must go on. Gotta get this story done so I can move on to the next! The good news is, the rest of it is like 75% finished, so we should be seeing the end soon (about 3 or 4 more chapters to go).
"Are they dead?"
Scott glances over at Stiles. He was waiting for this question, knew it would come eventually, but his heart still skips a beat when Stiles asks.
"Nicholas is still alive," he says carefully, "but he's in a coma. Kinda like you."
They're still lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling while they try to come up with a plan. So far, neither of them have had any groundbreaking ideas. Well, Stiles hasn't had any groundbreaking ideas. Now that he's here, Scott's pretty much counting on him figuring this out.
Stiles chews on his lip, eyes still lost in his thoughts as he takes in the news. Scott wants to say more, to tell him it's not his fault, but he knows it wouldn't matter. They've all been saying it for weeks, and it hasn't mattered. It won't matter what he says until Stiles decides to believe it.
"He wanted to die," Stiles finally says. "They both did. That's why they went out to the woods. That's why she took them."
Turning his head, Scott studies his friend, trying to read his expression. It's not an admission, not quite, but it's close enough that it ties his stomach in knots. "Stiles," he starts slowly, even though he's afraid he already knows the answer to his question. "Why didn't you tell anyone what you were doing? If you thought something was going on… We would've helped."
Stiles lets out a huff of air, blinks a few times. "I dunno. I guess… I just didn't want anyone else to get hurt. I can't…" He shakes his head, and his eyes are sorrowful when he finally meets Scott's gaze. "I didn't want anyone else to die, Scott."
Scott bites his tongue before he blurts out that that's exactly why he should've told him what he was doing—because Scott can't lose him, not after all they went through to save him. But the devastation in his friend's face stops him. Stiles doesn't need a reminder of how much they sacrificed to save him. What he needs is to understand he was worthy of saving.
Maybe, if he could undo some of the hurt and destruction the nogitsune caused using his hands, he would get it. Maybe, if he could just save one life, he could believe he's not a lost cause.
Scott reaches over, brushes his fingers over Stiles' arm. "Then let's figure out how to get you out of here so you can save Nicholas, yeah?"
Stiles swallows, nods. "Yeah," he says, eyes going back to the ceiling. And then again, with more conviction, "Yeah."
Suddenly popping up off the bed, he grabs a flannel off his desk chair, and then looks back at Scott, who's pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Well?" Stiles says impatiently. "Come on, let's go."
"Wait, where are we going?" Scott asks, confused by the unexpected shift.
Stiles shrugs, plays with the collar of his shirt. "Every time I got close to waking up before, I was looking for a way out, so I figure what better place to do that than where it all started? Unless you've got any better ideas."
"Nope," Scott says, scrambling to his feet, ready to go along with whatever Stiles wants to do. This is his mind, so if he thinks this will work, Scott's confident it will.
Stiles walks over to the window, craning to look out at the driveway beneath. "Now tell me you brought a real car and not that deathtrap on two wheels you love so much."
Joining him by the window, Scott winces. "If you mean that deathtrap on two wheels," he says, pointing to the bike he dropped on the sidewalk.
Stiles' shoulders slump. "You're killing me, Scotty," he sighs.
"Why can't we take the Jeep?"
Grimacing, Stiles slides open the window and throws a leg through. "Uh, might be a little bit grounded. Dad's holding my keys hostage."
Of course he is. "So, what then?" Scott calls after him as Stiles drops onto the garage roof below his window. "We're both gonna ride my bike?"
"We used to do it all the time," Stiles says with a shrug.
Scott climbs out behind him. "Yeah, when we were, like, twelve."
"So it'll be easy," Stiles reasons with a smirk. "Especially if you peddle."
Rolling his eyes, Scott can't help but return the smile. "Only in your magic dream would we have to ride a bike like we're kids again because you're grounded."
"Oh, God, Scott," Stiles moans, making a face. "This is already weird enough. Please don't start calling it a magic dream."
Laughing, Scott drops down from the garage and goes to fetch his bike. "What would you prefer? Fairy world?"
He glances back when he doesn't get a response. "Stiles?"
Stiles is standing in the middle of the yard, looking back at the house. Following his gaze, Scott sees his parents through the kitchen window, talking and laughing with each other. It's weird seeing his mom—Scott had almost forgotten what she looked like.
"Stiles?"
Stiles turns toward him, lips pursed with uncertainty.
"It isn't real, remember?" Scott tells him gently.
For a second, Scott thinks he's not going to come, but then he forces a smile and crosses the yard, hopping up onto the handlebars and nearly toppling them both to the ground before Scott manages to right the bike.
"Now remember," Stiles says as Scott starts peddling, like nothing is wrong. Like this is a totally normal afternoon. Like he's not intentionally keeping his eyes forward so he won't look back at the house again. "We're not trying to do a repeat of that time you decided to take us down that big hill on the golf course. I would like to stay in one piece this time, thank you very much."
"Uh, pretty sure I was the one who broke my arm," Scott snorts. "And it was definitely your idea."
"Yeah, but I was the one who got grounded for a month," Stiles points out. "You got sympathy from like every girl in sixth grade. So, really, who came out with the better end of the deal there?"
Smiling ruefully, Scott shakes his head, but he isn't feeling much like joking around right now. He knows his friend too well, can tell when he's trying a little too hard to deflect from what's really going on. And Scott worries that unless he deals with what's really going on soon, he isn't going to wake up.
Stiles has no idea how to get out of here.
He thinks that maybe he kind of convinced Scott that he does, that coming out to the Preserve would lead them to a magic portal or something, but he'd really just suggested it because Scott needed him to come up with something and it seemed like a logical place to go. Now that they're here, there is absolutely nothing magical happening.
Unless he counts remembering what happened to get him into dreamland magical, but Stiles doesn't really think the term applies. Because he does remember now, in excruciating detail. It had been sort of vague before, but as soon as they pull up to the Preserve, it all comes back. All the articles he'd been reading about the attacks (the Beacon Hills Massacre, they'd called it), hearing his dad talking on the phone about Tim's disappearance, Nicholas' friend showing him the journal after he didn't show up for school, making the connection to Bluffton Creek… He remembers making excuses not to study with Kira, sneaking out after his dad left for work. Turning off his phone so no one could track him.
He's kind of afraid Scott's figured out quite a bit of it, too.
Despite his best efforts to hide behind his usual sarcasm, despite pressing forward with a plan his heart isn't in at all, Scott has been side-eyeing him ever since they left the house. Hell, even before that. Like he's just waiting for Stiles to break. And the truth is, he isn't sure how much longer he can hold it together. It had been one thing when he didn't remember how he got here, didn't know what was going on and had a problem to distract him, but now that he does…
It doesn't help that he's feeling crappier by the minute, or that he realized that probably has less to do with his dream concussion and more to do with the fact that in the real world he's dying right now. Which is disturbing, but also, it's not like there's a whole lot he can do to stop it. Not unless he figures out how to get out of here.
Which goes back to the original problem that he has no idea how to get out of here.
All of this made for an awkward bike ride (also, riding tandem on a single bike is a lot harder than he remembers and thank God for Scott's werewolf strength or they likely never would have made it), and it makes for an awkward hike now. Scott keeps looking at him with that face that means he's trying to figure out what to say, and Stiles just keeps praying he doesn't come up with anything. It won't matter. They've already said it all—Scott, his dad, Lydia… Everyone's been telling him for weeks that what happened isn't his fault, that he's just as much a victim as the rest of them.
Stiles isn't stupid. He knows he wasn't in control when the nogitsune did those things. Logically, he knows he isn't a murderer. But when it comes down to it, there's a stack of dead bodies, and whether or not it's "his fault," he's still accountable for them. He's still responsible.
He made the choice to sacrifice himself to the Nemeton.
He let the nogitsune free.
He wasn't strong enough to fight it.
Nothing they say will change that.
And now there's another dead body to add to the list. Two, if he can't figure this out. Not to mention the potential danger he's put Scott in to come rescue him again. It's a lot harder to put that blame on anyone but him.
If only Scott hadn't come. Stiles could have lived out whatever time he has left in blissful ignorance. The Darkest Timeline might have its issues, but they're a blip compared to the mountain of crap waiting for him in the real world.
Except now, he has to get out, because if he doesn't, he'll be the reason his best friend dies.
"Is there something you're looking for?" Scott asks, finally breaking the silence. "Something you did the last time? Something I can help with?"
Stiles shrugs, pushing a branch out of his way and letting it snap back at Scott. "Thanks, but pretty sure it's all on me to get us out of here. Probably should've kept your claws to yourself if you didn't want to be trapped in my sad little mind palace." It comes out harsher than he intended, but he can't help it. He's teetering on the edge again, trying desperately to keep himself from falling into that black chasm that's trying to swallow him.
"Stiles, wait." Scott grabs his arm, spinning him around.
Panic flushes over him, and Stiles snatches his arm away, stumbling back and choking as his throat goes tight. Scott pulls away, palms out, surprise written across his face. "Sorry," he says quickly. "I didn't… What's going on? You haven't said a word since we got here, and now you're acting like you're mad at me."
Shaking his head, Stiles makes himself breathe. Why is he freaking out? Just keep it together. "I'm not mad, I'm just… I'm fine."
"No, dude, you're not fine." Scott drops his hands to his sides, frustration edging his voice. "Stop saying that. I'm not fine, none of us are fine."
"Scott—"
"Do you really think I'm upset about being here? I don't care that I'm stuck here," Scott continues. "I knew that could happen, and I came anyway, to help figure this out. Because if this is where you are, it's where I want to be. Where I need to be."
Stiles huffs, tries again to speak, but Scott talks over him.
"I need you, Stiles. And I'm scared—" His voice breaks and he swallows. "I'm really scared that even though we beat the nogitsune, I'm still losing you to it."
There it is. The thing Scott's been holding back since he got here.
His mouth opens and closes a couple times, but Stiles can't find any words to respond with. Can't bring himself to tell any more lies. Scott is in his mind—there's no place else to hide. And Stiles is tired. Physically, mentally. He's too tired to keep pretending.
Dropping to a fallen log, he runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long breath, closing his eyes. His head is throbbing worse than before, and he wants nothing more than to curl up on the forest floor and go to sleep. But if he does that, Scott dies.
Not that he can stop that from happening anyway.
"I didn't know what it was." Stiles pries at the loose bark on the log, not daring to look up at his friend. At this point, he might as well lay it all out in the open. Scott deserves the truth, and it doesn't matter anymore anyway. "When I came out here, I knew there was something, but I didn't… But then she told me she could fix it. Make it all go away." He bites his lip. "She gave me a choice."
Scott sits down beside him slowly, wordlessly.
"I don't know how to get us out of here, Scott," Stiles admits shamefully. "I don't think I can. I… I wanted to be here."
It's quiet for a long moment, long enough that Stiles begins to squirm anxiously, afraid of what Scott is probably thinking of him.
"I saw Allison."
Stiles blinks in surprise, finally risking a glance up at Scott. That's not what he was expecting.
"When we found you, the fairy turned into Allison," Scott explains. "She said… She told me no one had to die anymore. She was reaching out for me… If Derek didn't kill her…" He shakes himself, turning to Stiles. "I don't… Stiles, her magic was really powerful. If she'd asked me… Maybe she gave you a choice, but I don't think it was a fair one."
Stiles averts his eyes again, picking apart the piece of bark in his hand.
"And even if it was," Scott says, scooting a little closer, "that doesn't mean you have to stay here. You already fought against her magic when you didn't even know what it was. You can do it again. I've seen you fight off worse monsters than this, dude. You can beat this."
Shaking his head, Stiles swipes at his cheek with his shoulder. "I don't know how," he says quietly.
"It's about wishing you were home, right?" Scott says. "So let's do it together. Let's think of all the things worth going back to, okay?"
"Scott…" Stiles moans.
"Obviously, your dad," Scott starts, ignoring his protests. "Who, by the way, is probably going to flip when he realizes I tricked him into leaving your side so I could come in here. So, you know, another reason to wake up, so he doesn't, like, murder me or something."
Stiles snorts and rolls his eyes, just as he's sure Scott intended.
Scott keeps going as if he doesn't notice. "My mom, too. She likes to pretend you annoy her, but I swear sometimes she likes you more than me."
"Scott…"
"And, of course, Lydia. I mean, I used to think you were a crazy person for crushing so hard on her all those years, but I kinda think you were onto something." He leans over to bump Stiles' shoulder.
"Oh yeah, and Malia." Scott doesn't wait for a response, just presses on. "She's actually the reason we found you—"
"Okay, I get it!" Stiles barks before Scott can list off every person he's ever spoken to. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he tries to keep the growing irritation at bay. "I get what you're trying to do, Scott, but… This isn't a Hallmark movie, okay? You can't just magically fix everything by thinking happy thoughts and ignoring all the bad stuff that happened. That isn't how it works. People are still dead, and they're not coming back."
Scott goes quiet again, shuffles his feet in the dead leaves on the forest floor. "I know," he finally says. "But, you know, Stiles… You weren't the only one who sacrificed yourself that night. It was my decision, too. Me and you and Allison. We all set it free. Hell, if you really want to blame someone, blame me. If it hadn't been for me, Deucalion never would have come, which means Jennifer never would have made those sacrifices—"
"Scott, stop." Anger flares under Stiles' skin. This is not Scott's fault.
"My point," Scott says loudly, "is that all of us had a part in it. None of us are entirely innocent here. Still, I don't think that means we deserve to die. I don't think Allison…"
Stiles doesn't have an answer to that. Even if he did, his throat is too tight to speak.
"I know it's not going to magically get better all of a sudden," Scott adds softly. "But I don't think it can stay terrible forever, either. I think…" He shifts again, until he's pressed right up against Stiles' side. "I think maybe it's like when my dad left, or when your mom died. It was hard, and it hurt, and it still hurts, and it never really went away, but… I dunno. Life kept going. And, eventually, it did get better, you know?"
It's not the same, but Stiles understands where Scott is coming from, what he's trying to say. And maybe he's right, maybe things eventually will get better. But that sure is hard to believe right now.
"Even if…" Stiles starts. He shakes his head. "It doesn't matter, Scott. I couldn't do it before, and now… Now I'm tired. I just don't think I'm strong enough to get us out of here."
Scott slides his arm over Stiles' shoulder. "Yes, you are, Stiles. You're the strongest person I know. But you don't have to do this all by yourself, okay? That's why I'm here. Let me help you."
As loudly as the voice in his head is trying to tell him he's alone, that Scott's lying, Stiles knows it isn't true. Scott's right. He might not be perfect, but he's always been there when it's really mattered. He didn't give up on Stiles before, and now here he is again, risking everything to save him.
Even though the nogitsune is gone, Stiles knows he can't trust himself. Not by a longshot.
But he can trust Scott.
He takes a shaky breath and nods.
"Okay," Scott says, pulling him in tighter for a side-hug. "Let's do this, then. Close your eyes and listen to me. Don't think about anything except what I tell you, okay?"
The little huff of air and slumped shoulders are the only complaints he allows himself before complying.
"All right," Scott continues. "So, um, I'm thinking this is maybe kind of like making mountain ash work, right? Like, Deaton said it needs a spark, needs you to believe it'll work or it's useless. So… You gotta believe this will work, yeah?"
Stiles slits open his eyes to throw Scott a glare. Because it's not like that's what he's been trying to do here.
"Okay, yeah," Scott says quickly. "I know. But… Okay, before when you almost woke up, what was it that made you want to go home?"
Shaking his head, Stiles sighs. "I don't know. I mean, I told you, everything's weird here. Everyone's different."
"Hey, eyes closed, remember?" Scott teases with a jostle. Rolling his eyes, Stiles obeys.
"Good. So here's what I want you to do. I want you to think about all the people you care about the most, and I want you to think about one thing you would miss about them if you never saw them again. Just the first thing that pops into your head. You don't have to say it out loud, just think about it." Scott pauses and then adds, "Start with your dad."
Okay, sure, he can do this. What would he miss most about his dad? Where to start? His dad is amazing, there's a million…
His hugs.
That's got to be it. His dad's hugs are like magic. Can fix anything. Like, he's honestly not sure he could survive without them.
There was a time, when he was around eight or nine, that it became "uncool" to hug one's parents, and he, trying to fit in with his peers, began shying away from his dad's hugs. But after his mom died, when the panic attacks had started, his dad's strong arms around him were literally the only thing that could calm him down.
He would give just about anything for a dad hug right now.
"Okay, now think about Lydia," Scott guides. "You mentioned her before. What do you miss about the real Lydia?"
What does he miss about his Lydia?
God. Everything. But the first thing that pops into his head. The first thing…
The kiss, in the locker room. And now he can't think about anything else. But it's not even… Yeah, Lydia Martin kissed him, which he's been dreaming about for a long time, but it wasn't, like, romantic or anything. Hell, if he wants that, he should stay here.
But it's because it wasn't that that he can't stop thinking about it. Because it was more than a kiss. It was… Lydia was there, when his world was falling apart. When he thought his dad was dead, that he was all alone… She was there.
And not just then. Because she was there with Scott, too, when he'd come for Stiles. When he'd been shoved into a dark corner in his own mind while the nogitsune terrorized them all. She'd come for him.
They'd all been there. They hadn't left. Scott, his dad, Lydia, Melissa, Derek… Even Kira, and apparently Malia. The realization makes his chest ache, because he doesn't deserve it. He so doesn't deserve them, but…
He doesn't want to leave them either.
Tears slide down his cheeks. He wishes…
"Stiles." Scott's voice is breathy, almost like he's in awe, and his arm once again tightens around Stiles' shoulder.
Opening his eyes, Stiles can see why. There in front of them is a door, standing in the middle of the woods.
"You did it!" Scott whoops, hopping off the log and yanking Stiles to his feet. "Stiles, you did it!"
Stiles stares at the simple, wooden door slack-jawed. "I—I…" he stutters, amazed himself. This isn't like what happened before. This is new.
Scott gives him a little push forward, and Stiles reaches out tentatively for the doorknob, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Did he really make a way out of here?
Slowly opening the door, he's greeted by darkness. But… He can hear something beyond the threshold. Whispers. Voices.
"Stiles."
Turning back around, he sees Scott nod encouragingly for him to go through. He bites his lip, eyes darting back to trace the outline of the doorframe.
"You should go first," he decides, taking a step back. "I don't know what will happen if I wake up while you're still in here."
He can feel Scott's gaze burning into his back, like he can see the indecision. "Okay," Scott says, sidling up next to him. "But you better be right behind me."
Glancing at him, Stiles nods.
"Promise?" Scott says.
Stiles twitches his lips into a half smile. "Yeah, Scott, I promise. Now go!" With that, he shoves Scott through the doorway, ducking away from the bright flash of light as his friend disappears.
"Shit," Stiles mutters, studying the blackness in front of him and wondering what it'll feel like to walk through the doorway. Will it be just like waking up, or maybe like one of those dreams where he's falling? Will it hurt? Whatever the case, he has to do it. Taking a deep breath, he braces himself. He has to…
A soft voice behind him stops him just as he's about to step through. "Mischief? Where are you going?"
It's not so much the landing that gets Scott—it's how suddenly everything gets too bright and loud, just before he hits the cold ground.
The next thing he knows, there are warm hands on his face, and a voice he knows, speaking frantically. "Scott? Baby, can you hear me?"
Cracking open his eyes, he's greeted with his mom's face hovering over him.
She grins, her eyes twinkling. "Hey, sweetie."
"I see you decided not to take my advice." Deaton appears over his mom's shoulder, his dark eyes chagrined. "You're lucky, Scott. If you had been in Stiles' mind much longer, I'm not sure you would've made it back."
Stiles! Scott tries to push himself up off the floor, and is surprised when his arms are like jelly.
"Hold on, sweetheart," his mom says, catching his elbow. "Let me help you."
Between her and Deaton each taking an arm to lift him, Scott manages to get into a chair where he can see his friend, still unconscious on the bed. The Sheriff is sitting by his side, opposite Scott, and spares him a glance amid his fretting over his son.
"What happened?" Scott asks. The words come out breathy and weak, and it takes him a lot more effort than it should to speak at all.
A blanket appears around his shoulders, which is nice because he suddenly realizes he's freezing. He looks up to see his mom still studying him with worry.
"We were hoping you could tell us," Deaton says, drawing his attention. "You've been connected to Stiles for almost three hours. Both of your vitals were getting concerningly low. Nothing we tried would wake either of you."
"He—he didn't know it was a dream," Scott explains, enduring his mom's fingers poking into his neck to take his pulse. "He didn't remember anything at first, but—but then he figured out how to get out. There was a door…" Leaning forward, Scott tries to get to his friend, but Deaton reaches out to stop him before he tumbles out of the chair. "Why isn't he waking up? He was right behind me."
"We still have no idea how the magic works," Deaton says. "It seems the fairy is dead, but the spell is holding strong. It's possible since you went into his mind after she died that you can escape but he—"
"No," he interrupts, shaking his head vehemently. He doesn't want to hear it. He believes in Stiles, in his ability to beat this thing. "He figured it out. He made a way out. He should have woken up."
"Okay, okay," his mom says, stooping so she can look him in the eye. "Take it easy. He's been out for a while, it might take him a little longer to come out of it. Let's just give him a minute."
But despite the optimism in her voice, Scott can feel that something's wrong.
He knows he shouldn't turn around, should just follow Scott right through the door, but he can't help himself. He has to see her one more time.
She's wearing a purple dress, her favorite color. There's a white lily tucked behind her ear. She looks radiant, beautiful, just like he remembers.
"Where are you going, sweetheart?" she asks.
He swallows, trying to muster up enough moisture in his mouth to speak. "I have to go now, Mom."
She tilts her head, furrowing her brow in confusion. "Why?"
"I can't stay here."
She smiles, as if he's teasing her. "Of course you can stay. You can stay here forever, just like you wanted."
His chest aches. "No, Mom. I don't belong here. I have to go back."
Taking a step forward, she reaches for him, lightly caresses his cheek. "Stiles, I would never have brought you here if you didn't want to come. This was your choice, remember? Don't you want to be with me?"
He does. More than anything he's ever wanted before, he wants to be with her. Wants to forget everything that happened, just like she'd promised. He wants her to hold him and read him stories and take care of him like she used to when he was little.
"This isn't real," he whispers, tears blurring his vision as he puts his hand over hers, pressing into her touch.
"But it could be," she says. "If you stay here, this will become as real as your life ever was."
He shakes his head, stepping backwards toward the door, away from her. "If I stay here, I'll die."
"What does it matter? You'll be with me."
He can hardly get the words out. "I don't want to die."
She steps forward again, not in a menacing way, but with hazel eyes full of compassion. "But do you really want to live? With all that pain?"
She holds her hand out towards him in invitation. To erase everything the nogitsune did, all the terrible memories that will never leave him, to start fresh. "Stay with me," she says, "and you can finally, finally rest."
He hesitates, wanting so badly to take her hand. He's never wanted anything so badly in his whole life. Because she's right—he's tired. Beyond tired.
But Scott's words whisper at the back of his mind, the same words he'd used himself not so long ago, in the orange glow of a flare's light. I need you. He thinks about the desperation he felt when his dad disappeared, and again when the nogitsune kidnapped Lydia. He thinks about how terrified he'd been to never see them again.
Could he really leave them forever?
Selfishly, he thinks about how it wouldn't matter much to him. Yeah, he'd miss them, but for how long? He can already feel himself fading, growing more and more weary. He can't have all that much longer here, and now that Scott's presumably safe, he could just ride this out. Pretend these versions of his family and friends are real.
He wouldn't ever have to lose anyone else.
But they would lose someone. They would lose him. And maybe that wouldn't be so bad—they'd survive, eventually move on like he had with his mom, like they're all doing now with Allison. But maybe… Maybe it would be too much this time. For Scott. For his dad.
No, Scott's right. He didn't survive the nogitsune to give up now. They deserve more than that from him.
Things can't stay terrible forever.
He has to go through that door, but the part of him that wants to stay lunges forward to embrace his mom one last time. It's not real, he knows it's not real, but it feels like it is, and maybe that will be enough. Enough to get him through until he sees her again.
"Happy birthday, Mom," he whispers, holding her tight as the tears skip down his face.
She traces her fingertips over his back in that way only she ever knew how to do. "I love you, Mischief. I'll always be here, waiting for you."
Letting her go might be the hardest thing he's ever done, but he makes himself do it. Makes himself turn away, face the darkness beyond the threshold. He can hear their voices, his dad's and Scott's and others, can feel his life on the other side pulling at him, making the hairs on his arms stick up like static electricity. All of the pain and heartache, waiting for him on the other side. Everything inside him screams at him not to go, but he takes a breath and steps forward anyway, face first into the unknown.
He falls into nothing.
Thanks to all those who have reviewed. Drop a comment if you're still with me!
