The Gift

Episode 8: Crawling in the Dark

By Sulia Serafine

This is an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. This is the sequel series to It Could Be Worse, which will end with season 4. NOTE: You can read it if you have not read ICBW. It's possible. You won't get the foreshadowing and the cameos, but you will, eventually. I'd explain them. Credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.

Warning: This episode is rated PG-13, just for a few curse words. This is Vinny, guys. Come on.

~~

You would think that I'd know what I was doing by now. To tell the truth, I was still as clueless as I was years ago. So perhaps my search was useless. I was probably better off settling down in an urban environment. Maybe I ought to have lived in Carthak. It was familiar ground at least.

What could have possibly inspired such thinking? Why now—after I'd done so much?

The summer would end soon. That was why. Faleron had promised Cleon Kennan that he would return home at the end of his school vacation. Meanwhile, Yvenne had made plans to live in Port Legann. There were financial opportunities there for her to start all over. Of course, it would be based on a fake high school diploma that I helped to forge, but she was smarter than any high school graduate. At least I thought so.

She invited me to live in Port Legann. Not with her, of course. That would be too forward and we'd already had a very heated argument (okay, okay… confrontation) about that when she ran away to the beauty contest. I responded with a very non-committal answer that usually had a hopeless connotation: "I'll think about it."

Meaning? I did think of it. And I thought: "No." But I didn't tell her that. She might have thought of us as friends, but I didn't want to be in the company of friends forever. Sometimes I ached for my isolation. It would have been strange for anyone else, but I missed it. In the middle of the night, I would wish to lie under the stars in an open field, like I had when I was still a boy. Instead, I was staring up at the plaster ceiling of a cheap motel or the cracked leather roof of a convertible. The sounds of my companions, breathing deeply in slumber, offered me no comfort. It gave me only a growing dislike for sleep as the weeks passed by. And I used to like sleep.

The end of the summer haunted me. Both my companions planned to move on with their lives. They had such clear futures. There was no uncertainty for them. Not like me.

I hated the idea of Yvenne and Faleron leaving me. I wouldn't miss them terribly, but just the thought of people walking away from me… It made me think of the parents whom I'd never known—walking away. I didn't want to meet my parents to know why I was separated from them. I'd made that clear from the start. I didn't harbor a deep desire to be apart of a family. I just… I hated it. I hated the thought of people leaving me as if my birth was just a passing fancy and that I wasn't worth even a single thought.

I was worth a damn. I didn't care if anyone thought the same, but I was not about to endure the reminders of others that I wasn't. I had to be the one to leave first. It would hurt, I thought. Just at first. I wouldn't have a heart if it didn't hurt to leave. I might have admitted I was a self-centered jerk, but that didn't mean I wasn't human.

Okay. Bad word choice.

Let's try that again. Ahem. I might have admitted I was a self-centered jerk, but that didn't mean I was heartless.

Much better.

Yvenne and Faleron visited a science museum on the day I had finally decided to leave. They had been in one of their cheerier moods and had chosen to amuse themselves by walking through the popular hands-on exhibits that demonstrated various principles of nature. How amusing could it have been to touch a glass sphere and have your whole head of hair stand on end? Not much, if you ask me.

I must have sat on those museum steps for hours. I had come back from my money-hunt a little anxious. By that time, I had planned out every single step I was to take from there until Carthak. The wait in front of the museum had been just a detour.

After a few minutes of waiting, my mind had concocted a game, a rather twisted game that kept me occupied nonetheless. I began to count fifty-second intervals. If Yvenne and Faleron exited the museum while I was counting an even number, I would stay. If they exited on an odd number, I would bolt and not turn back.

As childish as it was, it did help. It took my mind off the shame. This idea of mine was beginning to hurt me, even before I had left them. To alleviate even more of my guilt, I lied to myself. If they exit on an odd number, then it's their own fault that I'm leaving.

I didn't want to face the truth that I was the cause of my own unhappiness. I was unhappy if I stayed with them. And I was unhappy if I left. A part of me wanted to be free of my search and free of my companions, as I used to be. The other part of me had begun to depend on Yvenne and Faleron like crutches. If I left them, my sadness would be equal in every way to that of my other choice. Either way, I was going to be very, very sad.

Walking in a cloud of misery, I accosted the food vendor on the sidewalk for no reason at all. I insulted his hotdogs as I ate the damned things, stomping away in a huff with my mouth full. My counting game had ended. I had imagined that my companions had exited the museum on an odd number. It was an excuse for me to go to the car, get my things, and leave.

One problem. The doors were locked.

Nice to know Yvenne trusts me, I thought sarcastically. I glanced around me. No one in sight. It would be hard to explain that I was breaking into my own car. The hunk of junk wasn't even registered. They would haul me into the jail and I'd have to page Yvenne to get me out. That would earn me a lecture. Not to mention a debt from bail money that would have to be repaid.

I may con men and women out of their money every day, but I always repaid a debt to a friend. Friends… Now there's trouble. If it weren't this loyalty for friends, I wouldn't be in this mess! If I had only walked away in Carthak! Yvenne admitted to being able to take care of herself! And she could back that claim up so easily! Why did I have to be the showoff and get involved? And why had I chosen to enter that one casino? If Faleron hadn't been there at the time, maybe—

There go the if's again. No more of that. I was clairvoyant. There were no if's for me, just visions of the future.

The convertible's declinable roof now sported a small fist-sized hole in it as I stuck my arm through and undid the lock. Once that was taken care of, I gathered my belongings into my usual knapsack. I had obtained a couple of extra garments over the weeks, as well as a few new fake IDs.

Afterwards, I sat on the cracked leather seat, wondering what else I had to do. Half an effort went into the creation of my next idea. A sloppy message scrawled onto the back of a gasoline receipt announced my departure in four simple words: "Don't look for me."

They'd get over it.

~~

The train looked like a long centipede to me. Each compartment was a segment of the insect, and its hundred busy legs were instead the great wheels that went down the steel tracks. All other details that made the train appear more like a manmade thing and not a giant bug were hidden when the sun shined upon it. All I could see was a long line of silver light, a bright uncomfortable glare characteristic of summer life. Summer would be over soon.

I sighed as I boarded, flashing my ticket and my fake ID to the conductor. This man actually took pride in his job. He wore a starched navy blue uniform with polished brash buttons. He had even styled a thick mustache like those conductors of a century before. It almost made me smile to see him wave his flat-topped conductor's cap around as a whistle emitted its shrill sound and the train began to move.

Since I hadn't many bags, I only stowed one satchel overhead while my knapsack remained between my feet. I occupied a booth in the corner of the compartment. The cushions were plushier than I expected for second class (third class was more probable for economical reasons, but I wanted edible food). I leaned back and rested my feet on the seats facing me.

My mind surprisingly chose not to linger on either Yvenne or Faleron, who at the time were probably exiting the museum and wondering why I hadn't caught up with them yet. Instead, I daydreamed about that one place, which haunted me the most… the place where little children grew up as freaks, never to be seen again at the threshold of adulthood.

I was on that threshold. At seventeen, if I were still in Styx, I would be worrying myself to death over the enigma of the eighteenth year. That was the last year a patient was seen in Styx. With the arrival of nineteen, you were simply gone. What happened to the patients when they grew up? Did they become Gray Men? Were they led away like lambs to the slaughter?

At once, a picture formed in my mind, one of ghosts. Young men in their gray hospital uniforms slowly evaporated into intangible spirits. Perhaps they simply disappeared.

But if that was the case, what was the purpose of our lives? Why educate us? Why provide us with physical exercise and social interaction? There was something I wasn't seeing here. Something I wasn't allowed to see. I had strained my mind many times as a child, trying to envision what it all meant. A snippet of this future, a tiny smidgen of that.

No. I could see many futures and prevent as many as I wanted, but I could never see what happened after that eighteenth year.

I closed my eyes and let out a deep troubled sigh. Problems such as these shouldn't have been in my head on the start of my self-imposed sabbatical. An hour had passed and I needed to relax, or else come apart at the seams.

"Whether you like it or not, things do fall apart," a familiar voice spoke from beside me. It was a nice baritone, but somehow just as soft as a tenor. Melodious.

"What?" I opened my eyes immediately and sat up straight, my feet hitting the floor of the train car with a loud thump. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a shiver racing up my spine. I fought to regulate my breathing—somehow I had started to hyperventilate.

"Hello again," the man said. His aquamarine eyes gazed at me kindly from behind his shaded spectacles.

I instinctively leaned away. "Are you stalking me or something?"

The white haired man shrugged. He brushed a piece of invisible lint off the shoulder of his suit—made from silkworms and such, I bet. "I didn't plan on it, but you've seemed to force my hand by running away from your friends."

"Force your hand? What business is it of yours?" I snapped. My hands balled into fists. I'd fight if I had to, even if I was kicked off the train for the disruptive behavior.

The man was amused. "You're very interesting."

"I'm sure by interesting, you mean 'screwed'."

He laughed. "Perhaps."

In a very nasal, mocking voice in my head, I repeated his laugh and his "perhaps". Who was this guy? And why was he following me?

"You're not meant to go to Carthak," he said to me. His face became more serious. "And so, as I think it befits your safety, I've come to offer you two choices."

Choices? He's come to give ME choices? Who does he think he is?  My feeling of resentment toward this man tripled instantaneously. I glared at him. I even pictured myself opening the window of the booth and throwing him out of the train headfirst. It might not have been a realistic scene, but it sure as hell comforted me.

"What choices?" I finally asked, my voice straining to hold back the bitterness.

"You can either return to your friends or come with me." He paused. "I know the last time we met, I had told you of my oath to not assist you or answer your questions, but things have changed. You are not safe while being alone. Unseen forces seek you out this very moment, Coram."

I reacted immediately. My body jerked at the last word, almost causing me to fall out of my seat. I turned my body toward my visitor while pressing my back defensively against the side of the train car. My hand slowly reached down toward my bag, searching for anything that I could use as a weapon.

"Who are you? First, you know about my plans. Then, you know about my friends. Now, you…" I shook my head disbelievingly. "You know my real name?"

"I know many things. I always have." He reached out a gloved hand, intending to calm me. I slapped it away and scrambled over to the other facing seats. The farther, the better.

My heart was pounding so heavily, I feared that it would burst from my chest at any moment. All the tiny hairs on my body were now standing on end. I couldn't suppress the shudder that threatened to rattle my entire frame to pieces. The man seemed disappointed with the turn of events.

"Vincent," he said gruffly, like a man to his rabid dog, "please calm down. I only have your safety in mind. There are not many people you can flee to for protection. Your friends will discourage attacks by their mere presence while I will hide you from these perils entirely."

I glanced around nervously. Sometime during my long daydream about the "eighteenth year", everyone in my train car had left for the serving car to get lunch. I scowled and ducked my head back down. "Who says that you and they are the only ones I can go to for help? Ansil Groten will help me."

I was pretty sure he would. Well, maybe… Of course he would! …Wouldn't he?

"Ansil Groten is not to be trusted," the man warned. His voice dropped an octave in a way that reminded me of natural disasters. Floods, fires, maelstroms, earthquakes. He was pure, uncontrollable terror.

"Fine. So what then? Who or what exactly am I protecting myself from?"

"Who do you think?"

The skeletal face of a familiar older man made itself present in my mind. Chiles. I cursed silently, digging my nails deep into my palms, almost drawing blood. This was the last thing I needed. I muttered another crude oath before averting my eyes to the windows. The passing countryside suddenly became so much more fascinating than the stranger that still gazed at me with growing fondness.

"You're just as stubborn as your father," he sighed.

My…

Father?

I turned my head back to my visitor, but it was too late. He was retreating down the aisle, slowly, as if in a death march. Over his shoulder, he called to me. I was paralyzed, unable to stop him from leaving.

"Get off at the next stop. Go back to your friends. You're not ready to come with me, yet."

My eyes wandered to the seat where he had been. A ticket lay on the cushion. It read that it would give passage from the next stop, all the way back to where I had started my journey. I stared at the little plastic token, instead of watching the white haired man exit the train car.

In my shock, I began realizing many things. First and foremost, I would still travel with Yvenne and Faleron. I would continue my search and I would stay by their sides for as long as I could, even it meant only until the end of the summer. I also knew now that I could not trust Ansil Groten. I had planned on contacting him again in a few days, but now I couldn't. But most of all, I discovered that I had an ally, an aquamarine-eyed wolf, not dressed in sheep's clothing, but tiger skin.

And I, the Boy who cried Wolf.

~~

"You've got some nerve, Vinny Winston! If you think I'm just going to forgive your little stunt as if nothing happened at all, you've got another thing coming! Why, of all the arrogant, I'm-a-lonely-tortured-soul excuses I've seen, yours has got to be the most pathetic thing I have ever—"

I decided to tune her out after that. Obviously, Yvenne hadn't taken to my wanderlust explanation very well. Faleron, on the other hand, was acting quite calm. He sat beside me, licking an ice cream cone. When our eyes met, he offered me an apologetic smile, and returned to his cold treat.

The two of us sat in silence while Yvenne raged on. It was best to let her get it out of her system. She was in no state to listen to reason, so I wouldn't bother. It would clearly be a wasted effort.

I had just begun to daydream about what sort of ice cream flavor I preferred when I suddenly sensed an oncoming assault and raised my hand to block Yvenne's slap. What I didn't sense was that her other hand was ready and caught me on my other cheek. My eyes widened as the sting spread across that side of my face.

Serves me right for being lazy, but damn… does she ever let up? I rubbed my smarting cheek, trying to dissolve the pain there. I winced under my seething female companion's burning gaze. She folded her arms across her chest and shot me a look that was as good as throwing me into a six-foot deep hole.

"Did I mention that I was sorry?" I mumbled uselessly.

"Hmph!" she turned on her heel and walked away. I didn't understand how mad she could get in only three hours time. For all things that had happened, they had only spent one afternoon in confusion of my disappearance—not days or weeks. I had returned to them on the same day I had left them, just in time for dinner.

A part of my punishment was to pay for that lavish dinner. This made no wonder of Faleron's choice to eat three ice cream cones in a row. I was tempted to take one of those cones and squash the treat against the side of my face. The coldness would be a brief help to what was sure to be a red handprint on my cheek for hours.

The boy and I got up from the bench and followed the silhouette of Yvenne in the setting sun. We didn't speak to each other. I was already forgiven in the younger boy's eyes. Forgiveness came easily from him, a tribute to his boarding school's instruction on manners. I looked ahead at the bristling young woman. She had yet to stop muttering obscenities under her breath.

Safety? Safety? How could returning to have myself smacked by Yvenne be considered safety? I should have gone with the stranger. Somehow, I'm sure I would have been in safer hands there than I was going to be here… with her.

"Vinny!" Yvenne's gasped, her outraged voice catching my attention from several yards ahead. She pointed to the hole in the convertible's flimsy roof. She obviously hadn't seen it before. Faleron patted me consolingly on the arm and—for his general protection—took a few steps to the right, away from me. As I helplessly watched her march up to me, brimstone blazing in her eyes, I let loose another deep sigh.

Right back where I started from. I'm about as safe as a mangy cat stuck in a pit full of wild dogs… Okay, not mangy. Perfectly groomed, sweet smelling, purebred—

Ow. I raised my hand to my other cheek, wishing that I could shrink out of sight from the woman before me. I stood silently as I endured another lecturing. It seemed that I would have to repair the hole in the roof myself, if I wanted to live with all my appendages intact. The number of tortures she began threateningly describing caused me to wince.

My hand strayed over my crotch protectively when I heard the words "meat cleaver".

~~

Author's note: Hope you enjoyed! It was a short episode for Vinny, but the halfway marker for the rest of the series. Now we're starting to get into the real scheme of things. Vinny is finally starting to close in on some answers. But will he ever find the truth?

Thanks for reading—don't forget to tell me what ya think! Reviews and emails greatly cherished!