Disclaimer:I don't own "May It Be".

A/N: Wow, I've never given anyone dreams before. Cool!

The Lost and Forgotten

"I'm sorry about this," Antares said before dropping Darry unceremoniously, but carefully nonetheless, onto her beanbag bed and rushing back to the door, barricading it with everything she had but the bed and beanbags. Darry lay on his side watching her mutely. Damn it all, he was still crying. He tried to raise his hand to wipe the tears away, but the pain was too great. When she had finished, Antares turned back to him, gazing at him sadly.

"Can you move one more time?" she asked quietly. Darry, not trusting himself to speak, nodded shakily. His whole frame was still quivering violently. Antares must have noticed, but she said nothing of it as she wrapped his arm around her shoulders again and helped him to the bed, gently laying him down on his stomach. "Oh God, Darry," she whispered. "What did he do to you." It was a rhetorical question, if it was a question at all, so Darry didn't answer. "Darry, you shouldn't've…you didn't…I mean, really…" Her voice trailed off. What could she say? "Oh Darry, I'm so sorry." Darry felt a cold wet droplet hit his shoulder; Antares was crying.

"You didn't do this to me," he said softly, reaching back for her hand and squeezing it gently. He hissed in the pain that the movement caused, but didn't pull away from Antares.

"Here, let me help you," said Antares. "I know something that'll help, make the wounds close faster, take the pain away." She squeezed his hand affectionately before rising slowly, sliding her hand out of his and going to her nightstand – which, Darry noticed for the first time, was actually a waist-high table with a cabinet underneath. He watched her, his head nestled in the crook of his arm, as she took out a wooden bowl and a bunch of jars. These she set on the bed next to him and went over to the fridge without a word. From the mini-fridge she withdrew a bottle of water and brought it back to the bed. Darry couldn't see what she was doing, but he assumed she was mixing whatever was in the jars with the water in the wooden bowl. He sniffled, trying to stem the flow of tears that threatened to smother him. He hadn't cried since he was eleven; now after eight years he was crying again.

'There's no point stopping now, I guess,' he thought. He buried his face in the crook of his arm and just cried, not trying to hold it back anymore. Antares said nothing, but she was humming a strangely familiar song.

"It's done," she said at length. "This'll help a lot, but it's really, really cold. You ready?" Darry couldn't respond, so he just nodded and braced himself. "This may sting a little," Antares warned before laying something heavy, wet, and very cold on his back over the whiplashes. He hissed and shivered, but otherwise lay still. "I'm sorry," whispered Antares. "There's just a little more and then I'll be done." Twice more she laid whatever stuff she had concocted on his back, making sure to cover all the wounds.

"What is this stuff?" asked Darry shakily, still trying to catch his breath and steady his voice.

"A sort of herbal clay," replied Antares. "I discovered it myself a while ago. It'll help the wounds close and heal faster and minimize scars. The cold numbs the pain." She sighed and set the bowl on the floor. "Darry, you shouldn't have interfered. I'm grateful, I really truly am, but I didn't want this to happen to you."

"Haven't you been through enough?" asked Darry by way of a response. "I couldn't let him do this to you. How could I just walk away? Did you really expect me to? Tell me." He turned a little and looked at her over his shoulder. "Look me right in the eyes and tell me you really expected me to just walk away." Antares looked into his eyes, but didn't say anything. Her gaze dropped pretty quickly.

"I didn't," she said quietly. "I just…oh, I don't know. I don't know! What do you want me to say? I just didn't want to hear the screaming again. Screams in the dark." Darry's eyes widened.

"What did you say?" he whispered. Antares looked at him, confused.

"What is it?" she asked. Darry looked away for a moment, then lay down again.

"My sister and I…before I came here…we met this psychic woman who said she had had a dream about one of us screaming in the dark while "Jeepers Creepers" was playing on a phonograph," he said slowly. "I thought she meant…" Silence descended.

"Did she say she saw you die?" asked Antares as delicately as possible. Darry shook his head. "Then I think her dream's been realized. Or didn't you hear that God-awful song playing before?"

"No," said Darry quietly. "I didn't."

"Well, it was," said Antares. "I heard it. It's always playing, it seems. It never stops." She paused for a moment before asking, "How do you feel?"

"Better, I think," said Darry. "It doesn't hurt as much."

"And what about on the inside?" asked Antares. Darry sighed, but didn't answer. "Crying isn't evil or childish, Darry. It's cleansing and spiritual."

"I don't give a damn about spiritual right now," said Darry bluntly. Antares shrugged.

"I'm not asking you to," she replied. "I'm just trying to let you know that if you think I'll think less of you if you cry, then you're wrong. But if you think you'll think less of you, then there's nothing I can do about that." Darry didn't answer, just bit his lip and hoped Antares didn't see. He was still shaking and now he was cold, but he didn't care. Antares's soft tone and deep words were still in his head. Trish had cried. He had seen the tears running down her face when the Creeper ate the tongue out of that cop's severed head. And she had had tears in her eyes when the Creeper grabbed him and threw her aside. But crying was for girls, wasn't it? Boys weren't supposed to cry…were they?

'Yeah, and winged monsters from Hell aren't supposed to fly around scaring the shit outta people and then eating parts of them either,' pointed out a voice in the back of his head. A tear trickled down his cheek and this time he didn't try to hide it. He heard a sniffle from behind him and realized Antares was crying silently again.

"Sing something," he whispered.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"Sing something," he repeated. "Anything, I don't care what, but just sing something. I can't get that song out of my head. Please." Antares thought for a moment. Then she began to sing:

"May it be an evening star
shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls
your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
Oh, how far you are from home

Mornie utúlie
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantie
A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadows' call
will fly away
May it be you journey on
to light the day
When the night is overcome
you may rise to find the sun

Mornie utúlie
Believe and you will find your way
Mornie alantie
A promise lives within you now

A promise lives within you now."

Her voice trailed off as she ended the song. The words echoed in Darry's mind, curiously familiar. This song was the same as she had been humming before. But where had he heard it before? Then, suddenly, it hit him.

"What'd you say your last name was, again?" he asked.

"Starr with two 'R's," replied Antares. "Why?"

"Yes…"Super Starr" they called you. You're the singer who's been missing for almost a month, the one who sang in the Easton State Theatre, aren't you?" Antares's eyes widened.

"You were there?" she asked in a whisper.

"No," said Darry. "I watched the broadcast. I knew you seemed familiar. I couldn't believe that you weren't lip-synching. You have a very mature voice."

"Thank you," said Antares softly, blushing. After a moment's pause, she said, "You should try to get some sleep. You're exhausted, I can tell."

"You're more tired than I am," protested Darry, but he could feel his eyelids growing heavy, wanting to close. Antares began massaging his bare shoulders and arms, her long slender fingers surprisingly strong for their delicate appearance. Darry sighed and closed his eyes, his body relaxing slowly. Antares began to sing again, but Darry couldn't hear the words, just the music. Beautiful, wordless music played on the instrument of her soul just for him, to help him sleep. He smiled faintly and fell asleep.