Disclaimer: I do not own Petshop of Horrors.

The One Left Behind

I've been trying to make my fish talk.

I know exactly what she'd look like, if only she'd speak to me. Long red hair shifting into gold; large, dark eyes and lips like cherries; pale arms and long, slim fingers; and a dress like petals of a sea anemone. I wish I could see her. I wish she'd let me.

I talk to her every night, telling her how my day has been, where we went for Christmas and what I have to do for homework. She never replies, although I know she could if she wanted.

Sam smiles when she sees me sitting next to the goldfish bowl, chatting away to a fish. She smiles, but she doesn't laugh like she might have done once. Because she's been in the shop and met the count, and seen animals that are human – with feelings and voices and dreams and hopes. She doesn't quite believe it's real, but she doesn't quite believe it isn't, either.

Yesterday was my twelfth birthday. Josie gave me a mobile phone. I hugged her tight, tight and whispered thank you in her ear, even though it's really embarrassing to hug your sisters like that and I wouldn't ever do it in front of my friends. Dad laughed, but Josie just hugged me back and told me to use it well. She knows how much I like talking on the phone, and why. It's because to talk on the phone, you can only use your voice. I love using my voice, now that I have it.

Josie has always understood me well. She's moved far away from us now, but I still speak with her a lot. Talking to her is always great, and she doesn't laugh when I tell her about things like the count and the shop and Philippe who was a boy and a dolphin, at the same time (it made sense then...). She takes me seriously, and we talk about that time and try to understand. I feel good every time we've talked. And now, with my mobile, I can call her whenever I want – even when Sam is hogging the phone.

I used to love talking to my brother on the phone, too. I thought it was wonderful to be able to speak with him even when he wasn't close. He had understood me when I spoke without words, but after my voice came back we could spend hours on the phone as well, talking out loud. We could never talk on the phone before I learned how to speak again. I still think it's amazing sometimes, to talk with a real voice.

I missed him so much, though. He was so far away. I asked him once if he couldn't marry Josie and move in with us and never go away, but he just laughed. He laughed a lot when I talked to him. (I loved his laughter, so full of mirth.) He always sounded cheerful, but sometimes I thought he wasn't as happy as he seemed. It's hard, when you can't be close to a person, look at their face and try to understand what they're thinking. It's hard, because no matter how much you love someone, you can't know what's really in their heart if you can't see them.

Leon's been missing for almost five years now. He became quieter after the count went away, and that scared me. Leon had always been anything but quiet. He became distracted, thoughtful and when I met him he could at times seem like he forgot I was even there as he stared silently into the distance. Of course, he'd laugh again as I asked him what was wrong, and he'd never reply seriously.

And one day, I called him and he didn't answer. At first I didn't worry – I thought maybe he'd gone out, or maybe he'd gone to visit his old friends at the police force. But he didn't answer the next day or the day after that either, and two days still later Jill called us. She was trying to sound calm, but I talked to her before mum and dad took the phone and I could tell she'd been crying. They said no, she'd been running. They were lying.

Mum and dad spoke to Jill for a long time. They said that Leon wasn't with us, that they hadn't spoken with him for almost a week and that they didn't know anything about him making a journey anywhere, was she certain that he wasn't at home? Mum said that surely it was too early to go to the police and then dad came and took my hand and said let's go buy ice-cream and I didn't hear the rest but I heard Jill's voice sounding shrilly through the phone and I knew that Leon was gone, would probably always be gone, and that he hadn't even said goodbye.

I hated him for a while after that, but that was only because I missed him so bad.

Mum and dad still talk about him, sometimes, when they think I'm not listening. I think they blame themselves a lot. They talk about how well he and I got along and that maybe it was wrong to bring me back home. They talk about how his leg never healed enough for him to go back to his job at the police force and about how much he loved that job. They say that the only times they saw him act really alive was when I visited him. And they say, maybe if we hadn't been so selfish and taken Chris away from him, maybe he wouldn't have...

I never knew, when I was younger, what they meant. I'm older now, and I think I'm starting to understand what the end of that sentence is. But they're wrong. Leon would never kill himself. Not while I was still here, and not while Jill bought him Chinese tea and took him for walks, and not while Nash gave him tickets to boxing matches and gave him free beer at the bar. And even if all of us were to disappear or die or forget him he still wouldn't go – not while there was even one single thing about the world he could love. He liked life too much to give it up lightly.

But I think I know where he is. He is in a place where animals talk and where you don't need to speak out loud to make your voice heard, and he's laughing with Tetsu and Pon-chan – either or both of them may be pulling his hair, but I'm sure he doesn't mind. And I think he's happy, because he is with the count. (Or if he isn't there yet... well, he is at least on his way.) I'm a little bit jealous. I would like to see the count again, too.

And maybe I will, one day. He can't be hard to find. I just have to look for a place where people tell tales of wonder and horror, of happiness and fear. Where dreams and nightmares go hand in hand.

Yesterday was my twelfth birthday, and in school I had a parent-teacher conference. They asked me what I wanted to be when I grow up. I said a policeman. Like his brother, said mum, and they all smiled. They don't take me seriously yet, but one day they will. And although they are right, they're right only in part. Like my brother... but mostly for my brother. Because a policeman can look for things and can learn what might otherwise not come to light. A policeman can be sent to investigate a strange little shop in Chinatown, starting-point for many rumours. A policeman may find a young count, quiet and mysterious. And if I find him, can I find my brother?

I hope so.

……………………………

Hello! I hope Chris finds his bro. I think he does, too. What do you think:)

If you want to find out what I think happened to Leon, Heaven to Earth is the story of what he did after Count D disappeared.

Chris wasn't in that story, so I thought it was time he made his voice heard. ;)

Goodbye!