Disclaimer: Fox logos, the LXG trademarks and characters do not belong to me. I make no profit from this venture, the folklore/ghosts stem from Black Hart Storytellers and Meercat Tours. The rather wonderful idea about mirrors comes from Helene's Harry Potter story "Beyond the Veil" an extremely good piece of work- steal only from the best...
WARNING: The rating in England for this chapter would be 15. There is graphic description of injuries in this chapter. There is no equivalent rating in America (An R rating is too high). If you feel uncomfortable reading this at any point it is your responsibility to stop. I am giving you due warning. Thanks for listening.
Author's Notes: At the end of chapter.
Shards
Chapter Three: Of absence, darkness, death
He is not alone.
Two feet in front of him is Allan Quatermain, and Sawyer's heart expands, contracts and aches acutely all in the space of a beat.
He's standing, looking at him with the same wise, tired smile, holding the Winchester loosely in his right hand.
"How are you, Tom?" He asks and his voice has a strange doubled quality in the blackness.
"I'm-" he begins, but his voice breaks, halts. He is crying silently, tears of happiness and sadness mixed in together.
Quatermain smiles slowly, evenly. He waits, the silence an almost physical presence until Sawyer can speak again.
"I'm good, good, are you- ?"
"Oh yes, fine, still dead," Allan's mouth twists into a sardonic little smile, "It would seem the legend of Allan bloody Quatermain has some weight over this side however..."
He looks at Sawyer with dead eyes.
"...I am paying for my sins."
Sawyer's face breaks into an exclamation of distress. Quatermain sighs.
"Oh there's no need to react like that- it breaks the monotony. It can become very tedious here I can assure you."
"I don't understand," exclaims Sawyer, "Sins? There shouldn't-"
"Oh but there should." States Quatermain, looking away from Tom into the distance, "Pride, deceit... It's a long list I didn't have time to atone for." He smiles and shoots a sidelong glance at Sawyer, "Didn't expect to go that way: saving your life."
Sawyer frowns as the guilt in him expands, pressing on his heart. I let you die, and now I'm falling apart...
"And look what you've done, Sawyer; turned away from the team, hidden from the world," Allan fixes him with that same dead gaze, the eyes almost black. "You run away. I don't call that honouring my memory..."
Sawyer looks at him, pleading silently, this is not what he needs, and this is not what he wants...
"Tom," Quatermain begins, "The guilt is perfectly understandable, it was after all your weakness that led to my death-"
Sawyer recoils as if physically hit.
"-but this selfishness..." Quatermain begins moving towards him slowly, and Tom feels the air growing colder. The smile is still bitter, the eyes are dead and it doesn't look like Allan anymore. He feels an inescapable fear, and a growing conviction that this is all wrong.
"You're not Quatermain." He states, voice a whisper in the icy air.
Allan's face suddenly breaks out into a wide smile, the teeth too white and too sharp. The skin suddenly ripples as if made of water- something beneath it disturbing the calm surface.
"No," The voice says, and the strange doubled quality is now more emphasised that ever. "No, Sawyer, I'm not," It leans close to Tom, eyes black as pitch, "but you're just too delicious to resist."
Sawyer backs away fast, straight into an invisible wall.
"Time to wake up, Tom" the thing states.
The screaming is unbelievably loud, a piercing wail. He thinks for a moment he's back there in the dark amongst the others, all slowly charring to death. But the lights are burning brightly in his cabin and his flesh, although not visible, is still intact.
He scrabbles for some clothes- trousers, coat, and shirt; anything to cover up the vulnerable skin. He runs out the door, slamming it behind him, the screaming breaking down ahead of him in low moans which he runs towards.
Ahead of him Sawyer rounds a corner at a speed which is frightening and the two almost collide.
"Skinner!" He exclaims, and Rodney can see in his eyes the same mixture of fear and relief; at least it isn't you that's screaming...
They begin to run together, stretching their legs; the corridor seemingly expanding in front of them with a misty echo, the screaming ahead getting louder. The whole thing has a horrible dream-like quality- the ones where you run and run but cannot get away from the awful thing that's coming from behind you.
Or in this case the awful thing ahead of you.
A left, then a right and then Sawyer skids in a pool of blood, grabbing the wall with a frantic cry.
Anything to avoid falling into the thing on the floor that once was a human being.
It's charred beyond recognition, bones seemingly melting and reshaping themselves into a warped shape that screams of pain.
Sawyer's turned white and his eyes have grown dark and dull as he takes in what's before them.
Skinner knows he's not fairing much better. But it's not the sight that gets him, it's the smell of burnt flesh; warm and sweet, that makes him turn and retch- dry heaves followed by gulps of air that makes it worse, so much worse.
There's at least three that are burnt beyond recognition. The screaming comes from a Wiccan; flesh black with a dark crust of burns. Others simply groan or whisper- parts of their faces melted away or arms and legs lying at twisted, unnatural angles.
Nemo, Jekyll and Mina round the corner from the other side of the carnage: Jekyll taking in the bleeding without a word, immediately crouching to the wounded, pressing his jacket to the injuries; Mina stopping dead, a hand to her mouth, her face white, bending down to dip her hands in the blood of a corpse; Nemo turning calling to the crew that have come running to fetch bandages, morphine...
The soldered walls are leaking again- all repairs seemingly ripped open. Water mixes with the blood on the floor.
Once again they are avoiding eye contact with each other, though Jekyll knows that this time it's more to do with not breaking; not having to see your pain in someone else and have to acknowledge it, than with mistrust.
Skinner and Sawyer have the unhappy duty of clearing away the dead. Their hands are so gentle on the fragile, charred skin and bones, but Tom's face is beyond despair and Skinner's coat speaks of his revulsion in every jerking movement he makes.
The injured are on stretchers, morphine dulling their screams into groans. Mina, face as expressionless as ever is moving from one to another, applying fresh bandages as old ones are soaked through quickly with arterial red. Other crew members quickly wheel away the stretchers to the waiting doctors in the medical bay.
And he and Nemo slowly, cautiously, quietly enter the room from which this all started. Activity pauses in the corridor, Skinner and Sawyer holding their breath, Mina watching with intense eyes.
It is filled with mirrors. Nothing but mirrors. Many lean against the walls, reflecting each other. In the centre of the room the two mirrors that remained intact last time are still standing.
But the glass is black.
Nemo pauses, startled and Jekyll lets an exclamation slip from between his lips.
"What is it?" Calls Sawyer from outside.
The glass has not been painted; it is simply a black well. There is no fire or brimstone, nothing to suggest what could have caused the butchery in the hallway.
"It's...unexpected..." Jekyll calls back, shooting a quick look at Nemo that is met with a similar look of disbelief. Nemo moves towards the doorway and in urgent tones describes the glass. Jekyll moves closer towards it.
There is a shadowed reflection of him, Henry Jekyll; Edward is invisible and silent.
Behind him, Nemo approaches and there is a dark reflection of him in the mirror.
"What is this Nemo?" Jekyll asks making eye contact with him in the glass.
"It is—" Nemo begins, and frowns, seemingly recalling an unpleasant memory. "It is reminiscent of old stories, ancient superstitions about mirrors."
"Where from?" Asks Jekyll.
"Book study, doctor." Replies Nemo.
Nemo's face is troubled, his eyes flicker over every mirror in the room. "What do you see doctor when you look in a mirror?"
Jekyll raises his eyebrows, "Edward- he's..."
"No. Beyond Mr Hyde, the room is reflected?" Nemo asks, keeping his eyes fixed on the mirrors.
"Well yes, but obviously in reverse-"
"Exactly." Replies Nemo quickly, "What is seen in a mirror is not the same as what exists here in this world. It is changed. And with an infinity curve of mirrors such as the one that was here-"
"-There are many such worlds..." replies Jekyll, catching on swiftly.
"And what there is in this world is nothing compared to what there is in others. And when they used the door, they released these others..."
There is a horrible silence as Jekyll takes on the full weight of what Nemo has said.
Behind him there is movement and he looks around to see Skinner, Mina and Sawyer standing, visible eyes seemingly captivated by the sight of all the mirrors.
"How much have you heard?" Jekyll asks them, eyes dark and full of trepidation.
"Enough to understand what you're saying." Replies Skinner, his posture incredibly nervous, his voice almost swallowed up in the quiet of the room.
"What sort of things are in these other worlds?" Asks Mina, eyes flickering between the black glass and Nemo.
"Our reflections." Replies Nemo, eyes watching the mirror intensely.
"Well yes," replies Tom worriedly, "But what else?"
"You misunderstand;" states Nemo very evenly, very controlled, "Reflections are without purpose or will- some would say without soul,"
Jekyll hears Skinner draw in a quick, frightened breath.
"There are too many reflections and not enough soul to go around." Nemo, it seems, is only just accepting the import of these words himself. "The space between is full of... things that hunger for a soul."
Jekyll feels all his hair begin to stand on end. His eyes widen.
"Then... we are not alone?" He asks, quietly, almost a whisper.
And as if in response to the question the glass comes to life with a scream; the blackness boiling and writhing, claws exploding from the molten surface, reaching, grasping for them...
"God almighty!— "
Nemo and Jekyll lunge backwards; behind them Mina, Sawyer and Skinner run to grab them, help them, move them away from the malevolent intelligence that seems intent on consuming them.
It is with shock that Jekyll realises he needs help; the thing has a hold on him that it will not release and he feels it burning into his skin- his wrist smoking as Mina grasps him around the waist and pulls.
But it won't let go.
"HelpmeHelpme—" She's crying, and he can feel them both being pulled towards that terrible living blackness. Through the pain he can feel more hands pulling him away, arms wrestling for a firmer grip on him...
And then abrupt release. A sound of breaking glass as Nemo swings a chair repeatedly into every mirror in the room—including the two in the centre. The screaming shifts into a high-pitched wail which dies off quickly. He feels Sawyer's sigh of relief, hears Skinner cursing repeatedly and is pulled to his feet by Mina, all of them standing and running to the door although the room is now quiet and calm.
It is in the corridor that they pause for breath; each retreating into their own shells of disbelief, disconnecting from the group, even as they work together.
But their distance has become very, very dangerous, and Mina knows this.
She reaches for Jekyll's wrist and takes in the noticeable wince when she gently touches the weal of burnt flesh.
"Jesus—" begins Skinner.
"Well, I guess we know what happened here." States Sawyer, eyes wide.
"Do we?" Asks Jekyll. And Mina knows what he means.
"At the moment all we have it ghost stories and folklore," she explains and Nemo nods in agreement, "We do not know what we are truly dealing with."
"And there are only a few people on board who do..." Skinner continues.
"Water and bandages first." She states, and Jekyll sighs in relief. Skinner dives into the next room to get the water and Nemo takes bandages from an abandoned pile in the debris scattered through the corridor.
There is an exclamation of shock which makes them all turn sharply, as Skinner exits the room quickly carrying a basin.
"The pipes aren't providing us with water anymore..." he explains, voice trembling.
The basin is full of soil and fragments of bone.
TBC...
Well, this thing just grows! Before I get down to thanking my reviewers individually I'd like to make a plea for just a few more reviews. I've now set my options to accept anonymous ones...
Funyun: Why thank you! Yes, stranger things to come indeed, much stranger... I totally agree with you about Jekyll! However, the soft spot in my heart is for Skinner and Skinner alone (yes, call me weird if you like!) But how do you know he actually transformed? There's a hint in the story I'm giving you about what's to come, but nothing definite just yet... BTW, I love "Return", really liking the dynamics between Quatermain and Sawyer. There's amazing promise in that there story ... Nope, have not read "The Cure" Am I heading in the same direction? Ooh, spooky...
Keyanna: Thank you! It's set to get darker I hope...You should read the trailer to find out exactly how dark. Your hair still purple? ;-)
By the by, I hereby issue you with a challenge, find the poem from which the chapter titles are taken...
WARNING: The rating in England for this chapter would be 15. There is graphic description of injuries in this chapter. There is no equivalent rating in America (An R rating is too high). If you feel uncomfortable reading this at any point it is your responsibility to stop. I am giving you due warning. Thanks for listening.
Author's Notes: At the end of chapter.
Shards
Chapter Three: Of absence, darkness, death
He is not alone.
Two feet in front of him is Allan Quatermain, and Sawyer's heart expands, contracts and aches acutely all in the space of a beat.
He's standing, looking at him with the same wise, tired smile, holding the Winchester loosely in his right hand.
"How are you, Tom?" He asks and his voice has a strange doubled quality in the blackness.
"I'm-" he begins, but his voice breaks, halts. He is crying silently, tears of happiness and sadness mixed in together.
Quatermain smiles slowly, evenly. He waits, the silence an almost physical presence until Sawyer can speak again.
"I'm good, good, are you- ?"
"Oh yes, fine, still dead," Allan's mouth twists into a sardonic little smile, "It would seem the legend of Allan bloody Quatermain has some weight over this side however..."
He looks at Sawyer with dead eyes.
"...I am paying for my sins."
Sawyer's face breaks into an exclamation of distress. Quatermain sighs.
"Oh there's no need to react like that- it breaks the monotony. It can become very tedious here I can assure you."
"I don't understand," exclaims Sawyer, "Sins? There shouldn't-"
"Oh but there should." States Quatermain, looking away from Tom into the distance, "Pride, deceit... It's a long list I didn't have time to atone for." He smiles and shoots a sidelong glance at Sawyer, "Didn't expect to go that way: saving your life."
Sawyer frowns as the guilt in him expands, pressing on his heart. I let you die, and now I'm falling apart...
"And look what you've done, Sawyer; turned away from the team, hidden from the world," Allan fixes him with that same dead gaze, the eyes almost black. "You run away. I don't call that honouring my memory..."
Sawyer looks at him, pleading silently, this is not what he needs, and this is not what he wants...
"Tom," Quatermain begins, "The guilt is perfectly understandable, it was after all your weakness that led to my death-"
Sawyer recoils as if physically hit.
"-but this selfishness..." Quatermain begins moving towards him slowly, and Tom feels the air growing colder. The smile is still bitter, the eyes are dead and it doesn't look like Allan anymore. He feels an inescapable fear, and a growing conviction that this is all wrong.
"You're not Quatermain." He states, voice a whisper in the icy air.
Allan's face suddenly breaks out into a wide smile, the teeth too white and too sharp. The skin suddenly ripples as if made of water- something beneath it disturbing the calm surface.
"No," The voice says, and the strange doubled quality is now more emphasised that ever. "No, Sawyer, I'm not," It leans close to Tom, eyes black as pitch, "but you're just too delicious to resist."
Sawyer backs away fast, straight into an invisible wall.
"Time to wake up, Tom" the thing states.
The screaming is unbelievably loud, a piercing wail. He thinks for a moment he's back there in the dark amongst the others, all slowly charring to death. But the lights are burning brightly in his cabin and his flesh, although not visible, is still intact.
He scrabbles for some clothes- trousers, coat, and shirt; anything to cover up the vulnerable skin. He runs out the door, slamming it behind him, the screaming breaking down ahead of him in low moans which he runs towards.
Ahead of him Sawyer rounds a corner at a speed which is frightening and the two almost collide.
"Skinner!" He exclaims, and Rodney can see in his eyes the same mixture of fear and relief; at least it isn't you that's screaming...
They begin to run together, stretching their legs; the corridor seemingly expanding in front of them with a misty echo, the screaming ahead getting louder. The whole thing has a horrible dream-like quality- the ones where you run and run but cannot get away from the awful thing that's coming from behind you.
Or in this case the awful thing ahead of you.
A left, then a right and then Sawyer skids in a pool of blood, grabbing the wall with a frantic cry.
Anything to avoid falling into the thing on the floor that once was a human being.
It's charred beyond recognition, bones seemingly melting and reshaping themselves into a warped shape that screams of pain.
Sawyer's turned white and his eyes have grown dark and dull as he takes in what's before them.
Skinner knows he's not fairing much better. But it's not the sight that gets him, it's the smell of burnt flesh; warm and sweet, that makes him turn and retch- dry heaves followed by gulps of air that makes it worse, so much worse.
There's at least three that are burnt beyond recognition. The screaming comes from a Wiccan; flesh black with a dark crust of burns. Others simply groan or whisper- parts of their faces melted away or arms and legs lying at twisted, unnatural angles.
Nemo, Jekyll and Mina round the corner from the other side of the carnage: Jekyll taking in the bleeding without a word, immediately crouching to the wounded, pressing his jacket to the injuries; Mina stopping dead, a hand to her mouth, her face white, bending down to dip her hands in the blood of a corpse; Nemo turning calling to the crew that have come running to fetch bandages, morphine...
The soldered walls are leaking again- all repairs seemingly ripped open. Water mixes with the blood on the floor.
Once again they are avoiding eye contact with each other, though Jekyll knows that this time it's more to do with not breaking; not having to see your pain in someone else and have to acknowledge it, than with mistrust.
Skinner and Sawyer have the unhappy duty of clearing away the dead. Their hands are so gentle on the fragile, charred skin and bones, but Tom's face is beyond despair and Skinner's coat speaks of his revulsion in every jerking movement he makes.
The injured are on stretchers, morphine dulling their screams into groans. Mina, face as expressionless as ever is moving from one to another, applying fresh bandages as old ones are soaked through quickly with arterial red. Other crew members quickly wheel away the stretchers to the waiting doctors in the medical bay.
And he and Nemo slowly, cautiously, quietly enter the room from which this all started. Activity pauses in the corridor, Skinner and Sawyer holding their breath, Mina watching with intense eyes.
It is filled with mirrors. Nothing but mirrors. Many lean against the walls, reflecting each other. In the centre of the room the two mirrors that remained intact last time are still standing.
But the glass is black.
Nemo pauses, startled and Jekyll lets an exclamation slip from between his lips.
"What is it?" Calls Sawyer from outside.
The glass has not been painted; it is simply a black well. There is no fire or brimstone, nothing to suggest what could have caused the butchery in the hallway.
"It's...unexpected..." Jekyll calls back, shooting a quick look at Nemo that is met with a similar look of disbelief. Nemo moves towards the doorway and in urgent tones describes the glass. Jekyll moves closer towards it.
There is a shadowed reflection of him, Henry Jekyll; Edward is invisible and silent.
Behind him, Nemo approaches and there is a dark reflection of him in the mirror.
"What is this Nemo?" Jekyll asks making eye contact with him in the glass.
"It is—" Nemo begins, and frowns, seemingly recalling an unpleasant memory. "It is reminiscent of old stories, ancient superstitions about mirrors."
"Where from?" Asks Jekyll.
"Book study, doctor." Replies Nemo.
Nemo's face is troubled, his eyes flicker over every mirror in the room. "What do you see doctor when you look in a mirror?"
Jekyll raises his eyebrows, "Edward- he's..."
"No. Beyond Mr Hyde, the room is reflected?" Nemo asks, keeping his eyes fixed on the mirrors.
"Well yes, but obviously in reverse-"
"Exactly." Replies Nemo quickly, "What is seen in a mirror is not the same as what exists here in this world. It is changed. And with an infinity curve of mirrors such as the one that was here-"
"-There are many such worlds..." replies Jekyll, catching on swiftly.
"And what there is in this world is nothing compared to what there is in others. And when they used the door, they released these others..."
There is a horrible silence as Jekyll takes on the full weight of what Nemo has said.
Behind him there is movement and he looks around to see Skinner, Mina and Sawyer standing, visible eyes seemingly captivated by the sight of all the mirrors.
"How much have you heard?" Jekyll asks them, eyes dark and full of trepidation.
"Enough to understand what you're saying." Replies Skinner, his posture incredibly nervous, his voice almost swallowed up in the quiet of the room.
"What sort of things are in these other worlds?" Asks Mina, eyes flickering between the black glass and Nemo.
"Our reflections." Replies Nemo, eyes watching the mirror intensely.
"Well yes," replies Tom worriedly, "But what else?"
"You misunderstand;" states Nemo very evenly, very controlled, "Reflections are without purpose or will- some would say without soul,"
Jekyll hears Skinner draw in a quick, frightened breath.
"There are too many reflections and not enough soul to go around." Nemo, it seems, is only just accepting the import of these words himself. "The space between is full of... things that hunger for a soul."
Jekyll feels all his hair begin to stand on end. His eyes widen.
"Then... we are not alone?" He asks, quietly, almost a whisper.
And as if in response to the question the glass comes to life with a scream; the blackness boiling and writhing, claws exploding from the molten surface, reaching, grasping for them...
"God almighty!— "
Nemo and Jekyll lunge backwards; behind them Mina, Sawyer and Skinner run to grab them, help them, move them away from the malevolent intelligence that seems intent on consuming them.
It is with shock that Jekyll realises he needs help; the thing has a hold on him that it will not release and he feels it burning into his skin- his wrist smoking as Mina grasps him around the waist and pulls.
But it won't let go.
"HelpmeHelpme—" She's crying, and he can feel them both being pulled towards that terrible living blackness. Through the pain he can feel more hands pulling him away, arms wrestling for a firmer grip on him...
And then abrupt release. A sound of breaking glass as Nemo swings a chair repeatedly into every mirror in the room—including the two in the centre. The screaming shifts into a high-pitched wail which dies off quickly. He feels Sawyer's sigh of relief, hears Skinner cursing repeatedly and is pulled to his feet by Mina, all of them standing and running to the door although the room is now quiet and calm.
It is in the corridor that they pause for breath; each retreating into their own shells of disbelief, disconnecting from the group, even as they work together.
But their distance has become very, very dangerous, and Mina knows this.
She reaches for Jekyll's wrist and takes in the noticeable wince when she gently touches the weal of burnt flesh.
"Jesus—" begins Skinner.
"Well, I guess we know what happened here." States Sawyer, eyes wide.
"Do we?" Asks Jekyll. And Mina knows what he means.
"At the moment all we have it ghost stories and folklore," she explains and Nemo nods in agreement, "We do not know what we are truly dealing with."
"And there are only a few people on board who do..." Skinner continues.
"Water and bandages first." She states, and Jekyll sighs in relief. Skinner dives into the next room to get the water and Nemo takes bandages from an abandoned pile in the debris scattered through the corridor.
There is an exclamation of shock which makes them all turn sharply, as Skinner exits the room quickly carrying a basin.
"The pipes aren't providing us with water anymore..." he explains, voice trembling.
The basin is full of soil and fragments of bone.
TBC...
Well, this thing just grows! Before I get down to thanking my reviewers individually I'd like to make a plea for just a few more reviews. I've now set my options to accept anonymous ones...
Funyun: Why thank you! Yes, stranger things to come indeed, much stranger... I totally agree with you about Jekyll! However, the soft spot in my heart is for Skinner and Skinner alone (yes, call me weird if you like!) But how do you know he actually transformed? There's a hint in the story I'm giving you about what's to come, but nothing definite just yet... BTW, I love "Return", really liking the dynamics between Quatermain and Sawyer. There's amazing promise in that there story ... Nope, have not read "The Cure" Am I heading in the same direction? Ooh, spooky...
Keyanna: Thank you! It's set to get darker I hope...You should read the trailer to find out exactly how dark. Your hair still purple? ;-)
By the by, I hereby issue you with a challenge, find the poem from which the chapter titles are taken...