Disclaimer: I own zilch.
Author's Note: Thanks, as always, to Mandi for beta'ing this for me. Hope everyone likes this chapter...I really liked writing at least one part of it. Heh. If anyone wants to take a guess at what be my guess, I don't think I'm the only one who's entertaining doing it before just because it's so satisfying. And just to let everyone know, when I get the time this may evolve into an original novel, but when I get the time is the important thing about that.
And just to let everyone know...It's not over yet folks, it's not over yet. *evil grin*
Atonement...
Tommy stood, waiting for the shadows to steal him away to his death or freedom. He was calm, calmer than he had expected himself to be. His mind, his heart, felt stilled, serene, as he waited to face whatever the Others had planned for him. He knew they were expecting this council to be his execution but he would not allow that. Jason needed him.
He had spent the day caring for his beloved. He should have been preparing for this moment, as the shadows began to circle him, stalk him, but Jason had been so weak, so vulnerable. Tommy had been unable to do anything but tend to him, try to strengthen him.
It had not stopped Jason from deteriorating. Tommy had left him curled on his side, sweating and shivering as fever from the overload rampaged through his weak body. Tommy feared for him.
He had been able to coax little more than water into the reluctant system. The broth he had found in the tiny kitchen, something Jason had enticed into his volatile stomach on nights he had appeared, wounded, at his door, had not been a success. Jason had spent countless painful minutes retching after the weak sustenance had touched his stomach.
Leaving him, all alone, desperately ill, and terribly vulnerable, felt to Tommy like a betrayal but remaining there would have sentenced them both to an ugly death. The Others would get their retribution and entertainment in the battle he would participate in, or from the thrill of tearing him and his beloved to shreds. With Jason laying mere centimetres from Death's kingdom Tommy had no choice. His love was too weak and he had to protect him at all costs.
So he would fight and he would not lose. Jason needed him, was too weak to care for himself, too weak to even rouse for more than a few moments before slipping back into the soothing darkness of slumber. He would survive the fight if only to return to his love.
The shadows had surrounded him now, drawing him under to the meeting place. They refused to touch him, knowing he was no longer one of them. Jason had, in redeeming him, marked Tommy as his own. None could try to claim his soul without paying with their life. He would not be turned again.
The shadows withdrew from around him, retreating into the clouds of darkness that spun in lazy, slow circles around the gathering place, hiding it from the eyes of mortals. Hooded figures, faces masked by shadow, and identities further concealed by scars, surrounded him, ready to pass judgment.
He stood in their midst, a soft, nearly hesitant light among the darkness. No shadows dared to touch him, no cloak concealed his face, no scars marred his features. Those that surrounded him showed no reaction to the change within him, the light that had banished the darkness. He did not glow as Jason had, softly against darkness or light, standing out just a little, marked as different, but the darkness did, he noticed now, become repelled by some part of him.
The air around him seemed to constrict as the shadows whispered of his redemption as if the Others could not see this change for themselves. Tommy stood tall in the centre of these demons, alone, different, unmasked, and realized suddenly how his beloved must have felt upon the manifestation of his powers.
"Thomas Oliver," a low voice boomed, coming from no particular direction but seeming to come from all around him. "You have been summoned before us to answer for your actions. You have taken from only one soul in all year time as one of us. This would be, under normal circumstances, no longer a problem. One would think that if you could not stomach this life chosen for you, you would simply expire. We all know how hungry you have been."
"But this soul you gain strength from is a soul of light." The word was spat as though it was something horrid and a low hissing filled the air as the shadows seemed to spasm violently. "And what you gained to sustain your miserable existence was given freely, a gift of love."
"For this we may have pardoned you. If you had repented, pleaded for forgiveness, we may have shown you mercy. Instead you took this violation a step further," the voice boomed with thunder. "You allowed this being of light to soil what we had made, to mark you as his own!
You are lost to us now but you will still answer for your crimes, including the last, that of the most heinous nature. What have you to say in your defence?"
"I am utterly unrepentant!" Tommy's voice was clear over the growing hisses. "I do not need your absolution. I have already been redeemed by the only being whose opinion I care for but I will honour my former bonds, if only to end this once and for all. I willingly face whatever punishment you set out for me."
"Very well," the voice snapped, angry now as Tommy's defiance. "You will face a battle to the death, here and now, against an opponent of our choosing."
One figure, cloaked as all the Others were so his identity was indiscernible, broke away from within the circle where Tommy stood, watched with hateful eyes. This newcomer moved with all the grace of a panther, stalking his would-be prey with the arrogance and conceit of a seasoned Other, one who had taken or perverted many souls. When the hood fell away and the shadows dispersed, Tommy gasped in shocked dismay.
Justin Stewart stood before him, his features marked by a single scar, a jagged line that ran from just under his eye to half way down his throat. His mouth was set in a cool smirk as he looked at his former team mate, teacher, friend, brother, with the obvious intent to kill, to erase that final scar.
Others that fought against the damning of their souls paid for it in the scars that marred their bodies. The more scarred an Other was, the more they had fought against the shadows on the Night of their taking. Scars were shameful, the more an Other had the more he was tormented by the rest of his brethren. Tommy bore more scars than most Others combined.
There were two ways to rid oneself of the cursed scars that not only signalled an Other out among kin but made it nearly impossible for them to exist in the world of daylight. With every soul taken or perverted a scar would fade, the stronger the soul the deeper the scar. Tommy bore all the scars he had gained on the Night, having never soiled another soul. What he took from Jason were gifts, they did not ease the battlefield of his skin.
Before Jason had intervened Tommy had thought there was no way to rid himself of the scars. He had thought he was destined to bearing the wicked markings for as long as he managed to survive. Now his skin was smooth, unblemished and, like Jason's, nearly glowing in the darkness.
Tommy knew if Justin killed him here tonight that final scar on the once-boy would fade regardless of what became of his now untouchable soul. He wondered, for a moment, how many souls Justin had destroyed to get him to this point, where only one final scar marred his damned self.
His distraction, his momentary mourning for the lost once-boy before him, cost him.
His concentration lapsed for that instant, allowing Justin the first strike, a thin line of blood appearing on his cheek, and barely blocked what would have been a second, fatal blow.
Justin sneered, taunting him without words. Tommy found himself distracted. How had they not noticed Justin's fall into this dark Other world? How had no one known of his descent? When had he withdrawn, gone missing as Tommy had?
He dodged as Justin lashed out, striking with the shadows. He caught Tommy's arm, tearing through fabric and skin. Tommy clutched his arm for a moment, feeling the blood oozing between his fingers.
Justin laughed cruelly, he was enjoying this. Tommy knew he was. There was a maniacal glint in his eyes and dark pleasure written on the still youthful features.
Tommy felt sick from the sight of it. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to cringe away, to huddle in some dark corner and cry for the unfairness, for the fate of the once innocent boy.
He could barely block Justin's blows. He made none of his own and knew if the shadows Justin used to strike at him with had not been so inclined to avoid touching his barely glowing skin, his redeemed body...
'Oh Jason...'
He flinched more at the thought of his love than at the shadows slicing a deep gash on his side. Jason... He knew his love was too weak to survive on his own but... one of his friends would be along to help. He knew they checked in on him as they always had. Tomorrow... Tomorrow someone would be there to help him. Jason was strong. He could make it through one day...
Tommy wished though, as the shadows struck again and he felt himself falling to his knees, that he had been able to spend more time in the arms of his beloved after his redemption. He wished that it was not going to end this way...
He heard Justin laughing again, taking time to build up the death strike, savouring it, languishing now that his victory was secured. Tommy didn't care any longer, it was too late for Justin... He could do nothing for him. Instead of dwelling on the demon boy as death crept upon him he submersed himself of memories of his love. So deeply did he sink into their love that he almost thought he could feel a warmth growing inside him, as if Jason were there with him.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. Justin remained oblivious, obviously relishing his chance to show the Others just how great he would be one day. 'No,' Tommy thought hazily, 'Not one day. Today. But only if I left it happen...'
He knew it was not simply his own will that brought him shakily to his feet. Something, someone was with him, and he would know that presence anywhere. He felt strength that was not his own flowing into his battered body, felt the soothing presence of his beloved aiding him.
Justin whirled to face him again as the shadows began hissing their displeasure. Tommy could see the surprise on his face that was quickly covered by a nasty smirk. He lashed out again but this time that strength that was not his own seemed to stop it. As the shadows scattered, Tommy realized for the first time what Jason must have felt like when his power manifested and he became little more than a vessel.
With strength and knowledge not his own Tommy fought back. Justin struck at him with the shadows, his attacks becoming frantic as Tommy let himself be moved, feeling Jason guiding him, something more guiding him, as he drove away the shadows.
Light seemed to stream from him now. Tommy could feel it originating from some point within him, guided and shaped with Jason's unseen help to create weapons against the darkness that had lashed out at him with the intent to kill.
Tommy's body was lost to the simple flow of defensive, then offensive, movements as his mind struggled to keep up with the change. He could feel pain flowing through him, coming from another source than his wounds. His head began to ache as he continued his assault against Justin, who now put up a weak defence in desperation. Whispers of thoughts and snatches of feelings from the Others that watched in increasing horror reached his mind, fading in and out as he became obscured completely by the light.
He came to a halt, still glowing with a blinding, piercing light. He stood in front of Justin's sprawled form. Blood oozed from the corner of the once-child's mouth, eerily reminiscent of what had occurred in the late hours of last night. The Other's eyes were wide with shock but past the bewilderment Tommy felt hatred, utter, utter hatred that would not be forgotten or erased. It made Tommy shiver to feel it crawling over his skin.
Tommy mourned the boy who had once looked up to him. The almost-man before him was not that boy, nor the man he should have grown to become, but his heart still protested ending what little life there was left for him.
"Do forgive us," a voice too ethereal to be Jason's whispered. "It will be painless at this final moment, we assure you, but it is necessary."
Dimly, Tommy felt Jason's protest flutter with his own, to be outbid by something stronger than both of them. Tommy moved, his body, his newfound powers, not his own and something, some part of the light seemed to reach inside the Other that had once been Justin and just… stopped him with the same ease one would use to turn off a lamp.
Then, as suddenly as the unexpected help had come it vanished. Tommy slumped to his knees, his head spinning dangerously. He just barely managed to retain consciousness because he knew it would be suicide to let himself go in such company.
A great hissing filled the room and Tommy knew that the Others wished to carry out his execution despite his victory. He wanted to retch. All that… All that pain and he was to die anyway….
"STOP." The word boomed more loudly than the hissing of the Others as Tommy realized the shadows had yet to descend on him. He wondered at that…
The shadows drew up, away from the Others. Tommy would have laughed if he could find the strength to do. The shadows seemed to be… scolding the Others? He knew that there were certain rules that one had to follow after one had fallen but he had never thought the shadows would be the enforcers of those laws. Using them as tools seemed to have consequences.
"This one, undeserving as he is, must live. We will not break our codes and any who do will be punished fully." Tommy supposed that if the shadows had expressions it would be clear just how nasty that punishment would be.
"You," they spit, beginning to swirl around him, obscuring the seething Others from his sight, "are never to have contact with us again. We will avoid you and all those marked by you and the one you are bound to. We abide by our codes, no matter how greatly we desire to inflict pain upon you and that creature."
The shadows departed, vanishing, what remained of the gathering no longer his concern. He was kneeling in the alley he had been summoned in and the first thing he did was jerk to the side and retch until his stomach screamed in protest of his dry heaves.
Tommy felt as if a horse had kicked him into a brick wall. His side throbbed with pain and his wounds still bled. He knew he would have nightmares of this for years to come.
But it was over. It was truly over.
He could go home.
Author's Note: Thanks, as always, to Mandi for beta'ing this for me. Hope everyone likes this chapter...I really liked writing at least one part of it. Heh. If anyone wants to take a guess at what be my guess, I don't think I'm the only one who's entertaining doing it before just because it's so satisfying. And just to let everyone know, when I get the time this may evolve into an original novel, but when I get the time is the important thing about that.
And just to let everyone know...It's not over yet folks, it's not over yet. *evil grin*
Atonement...
Tommy stood, waiting for the shadows to steal him away to his death or freedom. He was calm, calmer than he had expected himself to be. His mind, his heart, felt stilled, serene, as he waited to face whatever the Others had planned for him. He knew they were expecting this council to be his execution but he would not allow that. Jason needed him.
He had spent the day caring for his beloved. He should have been preparing for this moment, as the shadows began to circle him, stalk him, but Jason had been so weak, so vulnerable. Tommy had been unable to do anything but tend to him, try to strengthen him.
It had not stopped Jason from deteriorating. Tommy had left him curled on his side, sweating and shivering as fever from the overload rampaged through his weak body. Tommy feared for him.
He had been able to coax little more than water into the reluctant system. The broth he had found in the tiny kitchen, something Jason had enticed into his volatile stomach on nights he had appeared, wounded, at his door, had not been a success. Jason had spent countless painful minutes retching after the weak sustenance had touched his stomach.
Leaving him, all alone, desperately ill, and terribly vulnerable, felt to Tommy like a betrayal but remaining there would have sentenced them both to an ugly death. The Others would get their retribution and entertainment in the battle he would participate in, or from the thrill of tearing him and his beloved to shreds. With Jason laying mere centimetres from Death's kingdom Tommy had no choice. His love was too weak and he had to protect him at all costs.
So he would fight and he would not lose. Jason needed him, was too weak to care for himself, too weak to even rouse for more than a few moments before slipping back into the soothing darkness of slumber. He would survive the fight if only to return to his love.
The shadows had surrounded him now, drawing him under to the meeting place. They refused to touch him, knowing he was no longer one of them. Jason had, in redeeming him, marked Tommy as his own. None could try to claim his soul without paying with their life. He would not be turned again.
The shadows withdrew from around him, retreating into the clouds of darkness that spun in lazy, slow circles around the gathering place, hiding it from the eyes of mortals. Hooded figures, faces masked by shadow, and identities further concealed by scars, surrounded him, ready to pass judgment.
He stood in their midst, a soft, nearly hesitant light among the darkness. No shadows dared to touch him, no cloak concealed his face, no scars marred his features. Those that surrounded him showed no reaction to the change within him, the light that had banished the darkness. He did not glow as Jason had, softly against darkness or light, standing out just a little, marked as different, but the darkness did, he noticed now, become repelled by some part of him.
The air around him seemed to constrict as the shadows whispered of his redemption as if the Others could not see this change for themselves. Tommy stood tall in the centre of these demons, alone, different, unmasked, and realized suddenly how his beloved must have felt upon the manifestation of his powers.
"Thomas Oliver," a low voice boomed, coming from no particular direction but seeming to come from all around him. "You have been summoned before us to answer for your actions. You have taken from only one soul in all year time as one of us. This would be, under normal circumstances, no longer a problem. One would think that if you could not stomach this life chosen for you, you would simply expire. We all know how hungry you have been."
"But this soul you gain strength from is a soul of light." The word was spat as though it was something horrid and a low hissing filled the air as the shadows seemed to spasm violently. "And what you gained to sustain your miserable existence was given freely, a gift of love."
"For this we may have pardoned you. If you had repented, pleaded for forgiveness, we may have shown you mercy. Instead you took this violation a step further," the voice boomed with thunder. "You allowed this being of light to soil what we had made, to mark you as his own!
You are lost to us now but you will still answer for your crimes, including the last, that of the most heinous nature. What have you to say in your defence?"
"I am utterly unrepentant!" Tommy's voice was clear over the growing hisses. "I do not need your absolution. I have already been redeemed by the only being whose opinion I care for but I will honour my former bonds, if only to end this once and for all. I willingly face whatever punishment you set out for me."
"Very well," the voice snapped, angry now as Tommy's defiance. "You will face a battle to the death, here and now, against an opponent of our choosing."
One figure, cloaked as all the Others were so his identity was indiscernible, broke away from within the circle where Tommy stood, watched with hateful eyes. This newcomer moved with all the grace of a panther, stalking his would-be prey with the arrogance and conceit of a seasoned Other, one who had taken or perverted many souls. When the hood fell away and the shadows dispersed, Tommy gasped in shocked dismay.
Justin Stewart stood before him, his features marked by a single scar, a jagged line that ran from just under his eye to half way down his throat. His mouth was set in a cool smirk as he looked at his former team mate, teacher, friend, brother, with the obvious intent to kill, to erase that final scar.
Others that fought against the damning of their souls paid for it in the scars that marred their bodies. The more scarred an Other was, the more they had fought against the shadows on the Night of their taking. Scars were shameful, the more an Other had the more he was tormented by the rest of his brethren. Tommy bore more scars than most Others combined.
There were two ways to rid oneself of the cursed scars that not only signalled an Other out among kin but made it nearly impossible for them to exist in the world of daylight. With every soul taken or perverted a scar would fade, the stronger the soul the deeper the scar. Tommy bore all the scars he had gained on the Night, having never soiled another soul. What he took from Jason were gifts, they did not ease the battlefield of his skin.
Before Jason had intervened Tommy had thought there was no way to rid himself of the scars. He had thought he was destined to bearing the wicked markings for as long as he managed to survive. Now his skin was smooth, unblemished and, like Jason's, nearly glowing in the darkness.
Tommy knew if Justin killed him here tonight that final scar on the once-boy would fade regardless of what became of his now untouchable soul. He wondered, for a moment, how many souls Justin had destroyed to get him to this point, where only one final scar marred his damned self.
His distraction, his momentary mourning for the lost once-boy before him, cost him.
His concentration lapsed for that instant, allowing Justin the first strike, a thin line of blood appearing on his cheek, and barely blocked what would have been a second, fatal blow.
Justin sneered, taunting him without words. Tommy found himself distracted. How had they not noticed Justin's fall into this dark Other world? How had no one known of his descent? When had he withdrawn, gone missing as Tommy had?
He dodged as Justin lashed out, striking with the shadows. He caught Tommy's arm, tearing through fabric and skin. Tommy clutched his arm for a moment, feeling the blood oozing between his fingers.
Justin laughed cruelly, he was enjoying this. Tommy knew he was. There was a maniacal glint in his eyes and dark pleasure written on the still youthful features.
Tommy felt sick from the sight of it. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to cringe away, to huddle in some dark corner and cry for the unfairness, for the fate of the once innocent boy.
He could barely block Justin's blows. He made none of his own and knew if the shadows Justin used to strike at him with had not been so inclined to avoid touching his barely glowing skin, his redeemed body...
'Oh Jason...'
He flinched more at the thought of his love than at the shadows slicing a deep gash on his side. Jason... He knew his love was too weak to survive on his own but... one of his friends would be along to help. He knew they checked in on him as they always had. Tomorrow... Tomorrow someone would be there to help him. Jason was strong. He could make it through one day...
Tommy wished though, as the shadows struck again and he felt himself falling to his knees, that he had been able to spend more time in the arms of his beloved after his redemption. He wished that it was not going to end this way...
He heard Justin laughing again, taking time to build up the death strike, savouring it, languishing now that his victory was secured. Tommy didn't care any longer, it was too late for Justin... He could do nothing for him. Instead of dwelling on the demon boy as death crept upon him he submersed himself of memories of his love. So deeply did he sink into their love that he almost thought he could feel a warmth growing inside him, as if Jason were there with him.
He shook his head, trying to clear it. Justin remained oblivious, obviously relishing his chance to show the Others just how great he would be one day. 'No,' Tommy thought hazily, 'Not one day. Today. But only if I left it happen...'
He knew it was not simply his own will that brought him shakily to his feet. Something, someone was with him, and he would know that presence anywhere. He felt strength that was not his own flowing into his battered body, felt the soothing presence of his beloved aiding him.
Justin whirled to face him again as the shadows began hissing their displeasure. Tommy could see the surprise on his face that was quickly covered by a nasty smirk. He lashed out again but this time that strength that was not his own seemed to stop it. As the shadows scattered, Tommy realized for the first time what Jason must have felt like when his power manifested and he became little more than a vessel.
With strength and knowledge not his own Tommy fought back. Justin struck at him with the shadows, his attacks becoming frantic as Tommy let himself be moved, feeling Jason guiding him, something more guiding him, as he drove away the shadows.
Light seemed to stream from him now. Tommy could feel it originating from some point within him, guided and shaped with Jason's unseen help to create weapons against the darkness that had lashed out at him with the intent to kill.
Tommy's body was lost to the simple flow of defensive, then offensive, movements as his mind struggled to keep up with the change. He could feel pain flowing through him, coming from another source than his wounds. His head began to ache as he continued his assault against Justin, who now put up a weak defence in desperation. Whispers of thoughts and snatches of feelings from the Others that watched in increasing horror reached his mind, fading in and out as he became obscured completely by the light.
He came to a halt, still glowing with a blinding, piercing light. He stood in front of Justin's sprawled form. Blood oozed from the corner of the once-child's mouth, eerily reminiscent of what had occurred in the late hours of last night. The Other's eyes were wide with shock but past the bewilderment Tommy felt hatred, utter, utter hatred that would not be forgotten or erased. It made Tommy shiver to feel it crawling over his skin.
Tommy mourned the boy who had once looked up to him. The almost-man before him was not that boy, nor the man he should have grown to become, but his heart still protested ending what little life there was left for him.
"Do forgive us," a voice too ethereal to be Jason's whispered. "It will be painless at this final moment, we assure you, but it is necessary."
Dimly, Tommy felt Jason's protest flutter with his own, to be outbid by something stronger than both of them. Tommy moved, his body, his newfound powers, not his own and something, some part of the light seemed to reach inside the Other that had once been Justin and just… stopped him with the same ease one would use to turn off a lamp.
Then, as suddenly as the unexpected help had come it vanished. Tommy slumped to his knees, his head spinning dangerously. He just barely managed to retain consciousness because he knew it would be suicide to let himself go in such company.
A great hissing filled the room and Tommy knew that the Others wished to carry out his execution despite his victory. He wanted to retch. All that… All that pain and he was to die anyway….
"STOP." The word boomed more loudly than the hissing of the Others as Tommy realized the shadows had yet to descend on him. He wondered at that…
The shadows drew up, away from the Others. Tommy would have laughed if he could find the strength to do. The shadows seemed to be… scolding the Others? He knew that there were certain rules that one had to follow after one had fallen but he had never thought the shadows would be the enforcers of those laws. Using them as tools seemed to have consequences.
"This one, undeserving as he is, must live. We will not break our codes and any who do will be punished fully." Tommy supposed that if the shadows had expressions it would be clear just how nasty that punishment would be.
"You," they spit, beginning to swirl around him, obscuring the seething Others from his sight, "are never to have contact with us again. We will avoid you and all those marked by you and the one you are bound to. We abide by our codes, no matter how greatly we desire to inflict pain upon you and that creature."
The shadows departed, vanishing, what remained of the gathering no longer his concern. He was kneeling in the alley he had been summoned in and the first thing he did was jerk to the side and retch until his stomach screamed in protest of his dry heaves.
Tommy felt as if a horse had kicked him into a brick wall. His side throbbed with pain and his wounds still bled. He knew he would have nightmares of this for years to come.
But it was over. It was truly over.
He could go home.