Forgotten Pasts
sl-sama

Pain; it blossomed inside of him and erupted into his mind, opening gates and throwing open doors which he knew should never have been opened. He was not even trying to survive any more—he couldn't die, that was clear, but he was not living either. With the pain strumming through his body, all he could do was exist.

He could not even scream for the mental release; he had damaged his vocal chords so extensively by the second day that it was physically impossible for him to form the vibrations necessary to create sound. A part of him wondered how long ago that was; he had lost track a couple days after that.

Percy's mind latched onto that thought with the coherency of a mental gasp, and for one precioius moment it lent him clarity—he could remember. Images flashed through his mind of being captured, Seeing Tom, the Potters, Pettigrew, his message, the date.

It was October Thir—

He opened his mouth to scream, noiselessly, as a rag saturated in salt water was laid over his body. Rationality disappeared as he twisted helplessly in his bonds, the unforgiving sodium forcing his already taxed sensory nerves to continuously fire action potentials; the pathways telling his brain of the never ending, never dulling pain.

He was only vaguely aware of the door—at least he thought it was a door, and it was his mind so it would make sense—began to swing open. He was curious as to what was behind it, and he raised a hand to touch it—

"Cipetaus!" A boy was suddenly in front of it desperately holding it closed. He observed the boy's struggles with a blank curiosity, the sixteen year old's eyes were quite curious as well. Even more so than the boy's efforts that reminded him of trying to bail water out of a boat with a sieve.

"Don't you dare go under," The teen was pleading, amber flecks glowing from within his grey eyes. "You've sacrificed too much already, and if you don't tell him now, it will all come to naught."

Recognition dawned in him, and the six year old stretched a spectral hand toward his friend, a hesitance in his question. "Tom?"

"Yeah kid," The teen grinned, despite his precarious position, the door sliding another inch further. "It's me."

Then everything came rushing back, and Percy threw himself away from the door even as it threw itself open, swallowing both boy's into the Seer's innate power.

And suddenly he was everything—every one—and he was loosing his identy as he lived thousands of lives in an instant, and the possibilities of infinity.

He smiled at his new friend and introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Eriol Hiiragizawa—Christopher Evans—Heron Potter(-Snape;-Malfoy;-Evans;-Black;-Lupin;-Weasley)—Sirius Matthias Black—Orion Patriclus Black—Hermione Anne Alfey-Granger—Tendo Kasumi—Saotome Ranko—Nokoru—Tom Marvelo Riddle—Albus Dumble

And dimly he heard a high cackle as he mouthed two words that he would always regret.

"Trust Pettigrew."

These were dark times, and everyone (the paranormal and the normal alike) was aware of the fact. Exhausted, one Percival Augustus Weasley trudged into his apartment. Letting the door shut with a resounding slam behind him, he stripped off his jacket and tossed it onto the couch. His keys, watch, wallet, belt, and tie followed it in mere seconds. Loosening his collar he slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and mechanically searched his cupboards for a bottle of scotch.

Pouring himself a generous amount, he downed the contents of his glass in one gulp, sighing as the familiar taste of alcohol burned his taste buds. Pouring himself another drink, he turned away from the bar then paused. With barely a coherent thought, he tossed back the second glass and merely grabbed the bottle before stalking to his balconey.

Leaning wearily on the railing, he looked out on the view with a tired smile. The peaceful serenity of downtown Los Angeles calmed his nerves, though he knew that (like everything else) it was merely a façade: a misinterpretation of the situation. No place in the world was untouched, not even the remote West Coast of the United States.

It is 1995 and open war has spread across most of the known world.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle as light shocks ran sporadically down his spine. This was the only warning he was given before a soft "click" alerted him to an intruder's presence. Reacting instinctively, his wrist snapped back and a small, dangerously sharp knife slammed hilt-deep into his door, millimetres from his guest's cheek.

"I'm not dead." He noted matter-of-factly, a faint tinge of surprise in his tone.

Percy growled and stalked to the younger man. Flipping the hall lights on, he tilted the boy's face up to examine the pale cheek for a scratch. Finding none, Percy released the child and dislodged his knife, examining it before slipping it back into it's wrist holster

"You could have been."

Sensing the redhead's distress, the boy reached over to remove his friend's glasses. Examining the lenses, then trailing his eyes down it's legs, a look of intense concentration slipped onto the teen's face. Fascinated, Percy watched as a silver light followed behind the boy's fingers. Out of long practice, Percy was able to ignore the shadows of the threads around his companion.

He'd learned long ago that it could be dangerous and misleading to read into the threads, so he'd stopped. Unfortunately, that did not mean that the threads would stop surrounding him, hence the glasses. With a frown, the younger boy looked up.

"Valaus, the glasses won't hold for much longer. You must learn control."

The boy's silver eyes bore into his, the intense gaze softened by the gentle grip on his hand. Percy looked down at their connected hands, marvelling at the beauty of his golden threads of past, present, and future mingling with the black, unreadable threads of his friend.

"I know Chris, you've told me. Tom's told me." There was a distinctly wry tone in Percy's voice as he finished his statement. "Hell, even Heron's told me."

"Where's the unspoken 'But' in that?"

"I can't. The last time I looked," Percy's voice was tortured. "It almost broke me."

The eighteen year old looked at his friend and shook his head slightly. Silver-streaked charcoal black hair settled into its usual immaculate position. "Valaus, we've let you run for long enough. It's past time for you to face it."

Percy gasped when he was pulled into a warm embrace, his hazle eyes never leaving those of his friend's.

"Shh," Tom's voice went a long way to calming him. "Relax Cepitaus, just trust us."

"Us?"

A warm squeeze of his right hand alerted him to another's presence, even if he never broke eye contact with Chris. There was something wry and apologetic in Chris' tone as he smiled sadly at him.

"We've let you wander the paths long enough; it's time to go back."

Chris reached forward and removed his glasses. Percy fought the instinct to close his eyes as the thousands of silver pathways winked into his vision. Then something caught his attention; the threads were not all silver as he'd originally thought. The threads of what he knew instinctively to be of pure moonlight he knew belonged to Tom, the threads of shadow to Chris, the threads of gold to himself, and the threads of midnight's black—

He recoiled sharply, instinctively when he recognized the last threads. Eyes wide with panic, Percy looked to his right, seeing the Lord of Shadows and feeling his panic rising within him. It was only Chris' presence and Tom's embrace that kept him from bolting at the sight of the youngest Dark Lord.

"Oh, 'Civ." Percival was confused by the genuine emotion in Heron Potter's emerald eyes; never was the Shadow Lord so open with his feelings. "You have gotten lost, haven't you?"

"Don't worry." The boy's tenor was soft and soothing, though the slight roughness indicated that he had yet to reach the true depth of his voice box. "This is the last, 'Civ. You've seen everything that we'd want to prevent.

"I just wish you wouldn't see any more."

Heron Potter cupped Percy's cheek and smiled at him.

"It's time to wake up."

..to be concluded..

A/N So, it took me over a year to find out where the story was going. I'd give more of an excuse than that... But, haha, I can't. ;;

Any-hoo, I hope you all enjoyed All that's left is the epilogue, and then the sequel-- which will not, I'm sad to say, be centred on Percy. He will be a major character, no doubt, and it will probably bleed a little into the other fic I've been working on this year a little something called Journal-- it's hiding somewhere in the Cardcaptor Sakura section, or on my lj.. but aside from that. I like where the sequel is going.