AN: Full title: Dreaming Dreams no Mortal Ever Dared to Dream Before.
Jonathan's initial visit to Arlen's 'crybaby bridge' is detailed in Don't Turn on the Light, under 'Things That Scare Me'. This, however, takes place during All Those Things You Fear, though it is not a deleted scene. Title, in case you live under a rock, from Poe's The Raven.
When I was writing this, I managed to associate 'I Won't Say (I'm in Love)' from Disney's Hercules with his dorky teenage self. Oops. Needless to say, he's madder than Batman at a Joker crime scene. But Scarecrow thinks it's fitting. That's fine!
Miss Belle Sutcliff-Thaankss, sweeetiiee. Don't. Talk. You will make it worse! Taaaaalk. Stop it! Ow. I told you so.
Forbidden Moons-Now, if only she'd stop talking for five minutes... Heeeyy! You sound like nails on a chalkboard. Baaatmaan miiight freeaak out. Leave the Bat alone.
Guest-I make no promises, though if this happens, you, and you alone, are responsible for any injuries the Innocent Civilians and the Murder Dorks may sustain at the hands of fear toxin/Batman. Is that clear?
Kitty, Jonathan has discovered, is something of a conundrum in that she loves ghost stories and is, at the same time, scared to death of actually seeing one. That doesn't stop her from pestering him to tell her all the ones he knows, though. So it's inevitable that she finally gets around to coaxing the story of old Babbit Bridge of out of him, and it's his own fault that he mentions having gone down there as a kid and maybe hearing something.
He shouldn't be surprised, therefore, when she throws the oh-please-pretty-please-Jonathan eyes at him and begs him to take her. And he isn't. Not much.
"C'mon, Jonathan, you can't just tell me things and expect me to be happy with that." she says, winding her arms around one of his. He thinks absently that he's getting used to her touchy-feely ways-he doesn't want to pull his arm back. "That's not fair at all."
"It's falling apart. It's a health menace."
"But what if there's something there?"
"There's nothing there. I imagined it. I had a vivid imagination as a child." More vivid than you'll ever know. "Besides, you're scared of ghosts."
"That's why you'd go with me!" she says, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know where it is, anyway. You'd have to come."
"It's a small town, you'd find it." He is not going back there. Nah-uh. There's nothing there and Granny will be cross if she catches him sneaking out. "But there's nothing there anyway, so…"
"You're scared of it!" What. "That's what this is, you think you heard something and you're scared of it!"
He most certainly is not. That's silly. There's no such things as ghosts, and as such he is not scared of them.
"I'm not scared of it."
She grins up at him and whirls away, her fingers catching his and pulling him along after her.
"You are so. And that's why you won't go back."
"It really is falling apart. Besides, my grandmother will kill me if I'm out late."
"She will not." Oh, Kitty, you don't know the half of it. "Besides, what if there is something there? We could lay it to rest. It'd be like The Changeling, but with a better ending."
"What's that?"
She stops and comes back to his side.
"Scary movie. Ending was lousy. But nevermind that." He shrugs. She moves ahead again, still attached to his hand. "So come on. Please?"
"No."
"Jonathan…" She stops and takes his other hand, swings their arms back and forth. "Please? She'd never know, I promise."
"No."
"I'll go on my own then. Where is it?"
Dammit.
"And break your neck, likely as not." he grumbles. "Fine. But if she kills me, I'm haunting you."
Granny's in bed at her usual nine PM, but he gives her two hours before risking going downstairs and outside. It's cold outside, cold and windy, and every so often he can catch the scent of the oncoming storm. He wishes he'd put on another shirt, but it's too late now-no way in Hell is he going back upstairs.
If he's being honest with himself-of course he is, he has no reason not to be-he has no idea why he's doing this. It's very stupid. It could get him in trouble, and there's nothing there. Nothing! It's not that dangerous, anyway, she'd be fine. Besides, this could be a set-up. The last time he did something for a girl, he regretted it.
But she asked him, and the word 'no' likes to skip off into the cornfields when she asks him to do something for her. Because she's nice, is all. Nothing will come of this, it'll be fine. Because she's nice.
Kitty meets him in the No-Man's Land between their houses. She looks warmer than he does, and she doesn't look too happy with his lack of weather forsight.
"It's cold!"
"It's not that cold." He has goosebumps on his arms, but at least they're hidden by his sleeves. "Come on. It's this way."
"But-"
"It's not that bad."
She rolls her eyes but follows him anyway.
Babbit Bridge has become badly decayed since he's been here-the top's been torn off and several chunks of railing are missing. The recent rains have turned the creek into something approaching a river and, really, it looks like it would be right at home on the cover of a horror novel.
"This is it?"
"This is it."
"It looks haunted."
"Preconcieved ideas-" he starts, but he lets it go. She's right. It does. It isn't, obviously, because that's impossible, but it does.
"Is it sturdy?"
"Part of it is. Why."
"Come on, then."
"Kitty-!"
But she's already heading through the field of weeds.
Damn!
He follows her, wishing the bridge had burned down at some point in the last nine years.
Should've kept my mouth shut…
The bridge creaks under their weight, but it doesn't threaten to crumble or anything. Not that it's that far of a drop-it would hurt, probably, maybe a sprained ankle, but nothing awful.
"Now what? I told you there's nothing here."
"Now we wait." She scuffs at a patch of wood with her shoe, nods, and sits down. "Don't loom."
"I'm not!"
"You are. Sit."
She grabs his shirt and tugs. He sighs and sits down across from her.
"Better?"
"Yes."
A chilly breeze whips through the trees and he tries to hide a shiver. He fails.
"Here."
"Huh?"
She takes off her scarf and winds it around his neck.
"I'm fine-"
"I dressed for the weather. You did not. No one yet died from purple stripes." He sighs and fiddles with the fraying end. It's soft against his fingers. "Besides, you can just owe me one sweater loan if I'm cold at school."*
He smiles a bit at that.
"Fine."
She tugs the scarf a bit tighter.
"You should smile more." she says softly. "You're too serious. And a few wrinkles won't kill you." All right, just for that he's tempted to frown. Forever. He tries it and she snorts. "I can see you trying not to laugh, it's not working."
Yeah, well…
She sighs and draws a smiley face in the dust. He wraps his arms around his knees and closes his eyes.
There's no light out here, and it's a new moon tonight-there's nothing to be had.
"Does it start at midnight or somethin'?"
"I don't know."
"Mm." She moves and he feels her lean against his back. She's warm and he's happy to sit still and soak it up. "How long did you wait last time?"
"I don't remember."
She tilts her head so it's pressed between his shoulders and he sees the beam of the flashlight moving back and forth on the remains of the roof. At least the frogs should be-
"Ich-a-bod!"
The frogs can go to hell and roast on a barbeque.
He shoots a dirty look towards the direction the noise came from and wonders when she'll get bored and they can go home.
Hopefully not for a while. It's nice. Because he's not at home. That's all he meant. Being away from Granny is nice.
"D'you think you'll stay here? After graduation?"
"No." Not by choice, though he's not sure how he's going to get out. Granny won't let him if she can help it. "Do you?"
"No."
He wonders if they'll keep in touch. They may, at first-he can see that. Promises, phone calls…or maybe not.
Probably not.
The flashlight clicks off and the darkness looms in close, swallowing them up like a grave. The silence is loud, so loud, and he's tempted to make some kind of sound to let himself know that he's not deaf or dead.
Kitty yawns and he hears her set the flashlight down.
"You're warm."
"Mm."
"The ghosts are lazy."
"There's no such thing."
"What'd you hear, then?"
"I was eight, it was probably a dog or something."
"Skeptic."
"It's only common sense-"
Rumble.
Great. Rain is coming. Lightning will proably strike the bridge and set it on fire, because of course nature would wait for there to be people on it…this is just fun…
Kitty picks up the flashlight again but doesn't turn it on. There's another rumble of thunder in the distance and he presses his forehead to his knees. He doesn't like storms. They never bode well.
"Maybe we should go…"
"S'just a little rain." She moves-no, why's she moving? Because it's cold, is the only reason he's asking. "You're the Witch of the West, are you?"
"I'm mellltiiing!"
She laughs and leans against him. Okay, she's just moved to get a better-warmer, he means warmer-position. That's fine.
Rumble.
Closer. He thinks he saw lightning that time.
"D'you think it drowned?" she asks softly. "Or hit its head? Or just laid there?"
"I don't know."
"Morbid, I know." She clicks the light on for half a second. "But I have to wonder…s'like seeing an accident. Awful, but you want to see a head rolling by."
"Mm."
"I'm probably going to Hell."
If there's a Hell, it's not for you.
"You and me both, then. If there turns out to be such a thing."
Rumble.
Hopefully it passes over. He doesn't really want to walk home in the rain.
They sit in silence. The wind's picked up now and if he squints he can see a tree whipping back and forth. Kitty's still scrunched up against him and he's starting to wonder if she fell asleep.
Creak-creak-creak!
Huh?
He reaches for the flashlight, but Kitty's already clicking it on and shining it in the direction of the
Footsteps
creaking.
There's nothing there. There can't be-that side of the bridge is badly damaged from a tree that fell here a few years ago. Most of the planks are broken or missing. The roof's completely gone there, save for a few splintered bits of wood.
Creak-creak-creak!
What is that?
Kitty's practically hanging over his shoulder now, her breath light against his ear.
"Tree?"
Yes. Of course that's all it is.
The creaking stops abruptly and Kitty uncoils a little bit. He is not disappointed. That's silly. She's warm is all.
Lightning splits the sky and for a second he'd swear to there being a man on the bridge, but the flashlight shows nothing. Shadows. Just a shadow from a…bush. Or something.
Whatever it was, Kitty saw it, too-she squeaks and flings her arms around his neck, and it's an effort not to pull away. The urge to do so dies down soon enough, though, and he's glad he toughed it out. Better to know where she is, is all. In case that was an escaped murderer or something. Which it was not.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"How do you know?"
"Because it's not there now-"
He's cut off by a hideous shrieking, the same shrieking he heard all those years ago. Kitty lets go of him, but he's too busy covering his ears to care.
The flashlight turns up nothing and he tries-god, he tries, he does!-to come up with something, anything that would explain the crying, but his head is throbbing and he can't think-
Silence descends upon the bridge. He uncovers his ears in time to hear a fading creak-creak-creak! and then nothing at all.
"What was that?"
He has nothing. Logically, he knows, there has to be something-a bird, the wind blowing through just the right hole in the wood-but he can't come up with anything.
"I-"
CRACK!
A flash of lightning splits the sky and for a second, he sees what looks like a baby lying spattered on the bank below. Before he can register anything, the sky opens up and water falls down.
This old bridge is not meant to take this sort of abuse, and it shudders and groans in protest.
"Get off the bridge, get off the bridge!"
The rain is freezing and sharp and they sprint home. Jonathan half-wishes he'd brought an umbrella, but this rain might just tear right through it.
They end up on Kitty's porch, only a little protected from the torrent outside. His can't feel hardly anything and he is not looking forward to sneaking back inside.
"Well?" Her teeth are chattering. "What's your logic-c-cal explanation for that?"
"W-wind." And that's final. "H-here's yourrr scarf."
"Keep it." She rubs her arms. "You c-could stay the night. Mum and Ada aren't home."
It's tempting. God, is it tempting-a whole night without having to listen for Granny. But she'd know.
"C-can't." He starts to unwind the scarf from around his neck. "G-Granny…she wouldn't like it."
She reaches up and puts her hand on his.
"Keep it. You can give it to me Monday."
Arguing will end poorly, he thinks. He'll just have to make sure Granny doesn't notice it, that's all.
"F-f-fine."
"You're sure you d-don't want to ssstay here?"
He does want to, very much so, but he doesn't want to spend the night out in this-and he will, if Granny catches him.
"I can't." He rubs his arms. "I shhhould go…see you Monday."
"Sssee you."
He gets lucky tonight-Granny's still asleep and he makes it upstairs without being caught. Once the door is shut behind him, he begins the arduous process of getting out of his wet clothes.
Tonight was worth the risk, he decides. There's worse ways to spend an evening.
He digs out the old clothes horse and flicks his shirt a few times before draping it over it. Granny made him take this thing because of the sudden storms, and for a long time he was convinced she'd enchanted it to spy on him or something. Childish fancies.
Brr. His shirt was miserable, but now he's freezing. He can't feel anything but cold from the waist up.
Pajamas, pajamas…there! He pulls the shirt on and does up the buttons. There's the easy part, now comes the joy of getting out of wet jeans. Wet denim is more effective than a bear trap, he thinks.
It takes him about five minutes to squirm out of those, and they are a terror-filled five minutes. Considering she's practically deaf, Granny has a habit of hearing everything he wishes she wouldn't.
In the end, though, he frees himself from his denim prison, drops them over the clothes horse, and pulls on scratchy-but dry, at least-pajama pants.
It's still freezing and he can't feel his toes. He'll never be warm again, he just knows it…
Kitty's scarf. He can't hang it over, because if Granny sees it she might literally kill him. Or worse. Um…
He opens the closet, shoves a few empty hangers aside and hopes that screech didn't wake her, and hangs it over the rod. There. He'll give that back on Monday.
He crawls under the covers, shivering badly, and tries not to think about those earsplitting screams. A bird. Or the wind. That's all, that's all.
And if Kitty wants to argue that, he's more than willing to take her back. If only to prove that he's right.
THE END
*This loan was cashed in later, and thus began a long tradition of 'I'm just borrowing it!' and the item in question never returning under its own power.