He clearly remembers the first time it happened, naturally, it was quite an event for him. However, at first he was not aware what had just actually taken place.
There he was, wet and laying on the shore, the sun shining directly into his eyes. The air smelled of autumn – there was this slight hint of upcoming cold the boy could easily sense. It bothered him for some unnamed reason.
It took him a while, his mind was still a little bit fuzzy. He sat, looked at the birches, all in gorgeous gold and yellow. He saw them all reflecting in the surface of the like, alongside with bluish-grey clouds.
"If I blinked," he thought to himself "it must have been a very long blink." Because he was pretty sure that the last time he checked it was the beginning of the summer. How and when had he lost the whole season? Not that the summer usually lasts that long but missing these maybe two sunny days in the year was a remarkably sad occurrence.
He caught himself looking at his trousers, they became slightly greenish, smelled of fish, rotten plants and mud, there was also a hole in the material Toivo didn't remember seeing before. And he should have as it was quite hard to miss – he could put a whole hand in it. Minding, the said hand wasn't very big as he was still a child. But he did like seeing his hands, having them was still kind of a novelty to him in a way.
The last thing he remembered were the bubbles and the sun shining through the water. He mused on it for a while. His mind still seemed to function almost painfully slow. Meanwhile the birches' leaves were slowly, gracefully falling onto the ground.
And that it hit him.
"I died a human death!" he exclaimed, feeling more surprised and amused than frightened. For now, at least.
***
When he lives, he never recollects the time when he is not alive. As the experience and self-awareness are what partially builds the character: he is not entirely the same person in both of those situations.
There is always a silent river of Tuoni and a significantly grumpy woman who guides the souls to the other side. There used to be other people but it became rare as time went by.
He and the boat lady have already spoken on an almost every possible topic, sometimes it wasn't the best idea but the past cannot be changed. However, there is a question the woman asked only once and Finland is sure that she did it far too late than she had wanted it in the first place.
"Tell me," she said firmly "why do you do this? I don't think that you enjoy my company so much that you wish to come back here one time after another. Wouldn't it be better for you to be just whatever you are, than to walk all around in this breakable body of yours?"
She sounded a little bit provocative and looked him directly in the eyes. He didn't seem to be affected by this and smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"Whisper in the wind, song in the air, eyes in the darkness?"
"I would definitely not like to see your eyes in the darkness," she responded.
" I would also not!" he nodded, the smile still present on his face. "Besides, they were not exactly visible, you know…" Maybe he wanted to explain further but he didn't and the woman got a little bit impatient.
"So, what's the answer?"
Up to this point there was something openly joyful about his behavior. Now she could easily notice it fading, leaving some sort of melancholia.
''Well…" She imagined he was choosing his words unnaturally carefully at this moment. "You are the guide and the guide to the land of Tuonela, haven't you ever just thought how is to, well, die yourself?"
She gave an answer without any hesitation, straight and clear as always:
"No."
She couldn't say she didn't enjoy the glimpse of the lost and confused look she saw in his eyes. As these of the dead person are not that easy to read, she took some pride in her observations. Years of practice.
"It is hard to understand somebody without jumping into their shoes sometimes…"
"It's not my obligation to understand anybody," she cut him off immediately. She wanted to think that Finland used to be way easier to talk to when he was younger but that wasn't not true. He had already made his weird decision when she met him so there was no salvation for him.
"So, well, I felt like mine is," he just finished. "I couldn't be just an observer, I think."
"Did it work?"
"To understand the people? Yes, I think." He meant that. He honestly meant that and speaking about it with this woman made him even more sure.
As well as the lack of understanding he could observe on her face. Even, if both the question and the answer happened years ago, Finland bears them in his mind every times he speaks with the boat maid.
***
He will probably forget the latest time it has happened. It is always like this when one gets used to something. But for now he doesn't need to remember as he lives this moment and enjoys every little part of it.
To be alive again always feels like to emerge from the deep, cold water. There is a moment of genuine euphoria when he breaths once again and his heart beats like a caged bird. Although he embraces the idea of freedom, he would prefer the latter organ not to leave his chest so he is quite glad that this state doesn't last too long.
He hears the radion playing, smells the coffee and opens his eyes just to see a very calm, silent Swede sitting on a garden chair and reading a book with a quite concerned look on his face.
"Exactly as I suspected", he says enigmatically.
Finland notices that his own voice sounds almost foreign to his ears right now. It happens sometimes in moments like this.
"The butler is the killer or something?" He tries to joke.
"No." Sweden carefully puts a bookmark into a volume and closes it afterward. He adjusts the glasses on his nose to look at Finland. "That you'll be back as soon as I'll make coffee." There is a sparkle of humor in his eyes but he looks tired and Timo can hear some awfully badly hidden worry in his voice.
Finland discovers that laughing hurts for some reason. He probably makes a face because out of the sudden Bernhard looks even more concerned.
"How do you feel?" He keeps the book on his lap, his long, thin fingers roaming the edge of the volume.
"Well, not that bad for a dead man." He scratches his chest, it's sensitive and he's quite sure there is an irregularity which wasn't here before. "What happened?"
"You had a log in your chest." Sweden finally puts the book away.
"A log?"
Bernhard shrugs his shoulders a little bit.
"Maybe a big branch," he corrects himself, Finland notices that Sweden tries to sound lighthearted but as this is not a natural thing for him – he fails miserably. However, Timo will give the credit for the effort where the credit is due.
"Maybe a whole tree?" he wonders aloud.
Sweden takes the chair and the coffee and sits closer, right next to the bed where Finland is laying. He doesn't like it, it makes him feel like a sick person.
"Maybe."
"So it means that the wind was stronger than I thought."
"The tree fell down." Finland feels the other's hand closing on his own and all he wants to ask is: why did it take Berhnard so long to do this?
"Yeah, I think. Or it attacked me and I lost, one of these two."
"I was too late. I cut it off, I had to remove the rest… I suppose I've done it but if you feel any ache…"
"Yeah?"
"…it means either a splinter was left or it is your undying love for me." He says it all with such a solemn face that Finland is left speechless and delighted.
"Could it be both?"
"Hm."
"I'm kind of angry because I liked this raincoat and it probably needs to be thrown away right now…"
"Already done that."
Finland pauses for a second.
"You didn't give me any time to say goodbye…!"
Sweden just watches, his one hand still closed on Timo's, the other holding the cup. Berhnard takes a long sip from it.
"It needed to be done."
Timo snorts meaningfully and falls silent for a while. The sunlight coming through the window is yellow and paints the whole scene in warm colours.
"Thank you," he says finally. "And sorry for ruining the vacation, how many days do we have left?"
"Three. No problem, just… Try to avoid getting impaled next time, hm?"
"Well, it wasn't exactly on purpose, if we, uh, talk about that but I can do what I can, I guess." It is a very long way to say "yes". However, Finland was fully aware that there is a high possibility of him not fulfilling his promise. On the other hand, Sweden knew him well enough to have a similar expectations. After all, he remembers that the Finn sometimes does things which are at least questionable and it is not an easy-changeable custom.
"Have I told you about that time when I found my name on the marking tree and met the neighbor who attended the funeral before?" Timo asks.
"Yes."
"She thought I came to haunt her because she took my knife."
"I remember. I've taken your knife this time. It's there." Sweden nods in the direction where the has put the object of Timo's uncanny affection.
"You never forget about anything." He smiles. Bernhard seems to be content with his remembering skills, as far as Timo can read it from the curve of the other's mouth. He will not say it aloud but he is glad beyond measure that he is not alone at this moment. "But, you know, I always get this feeling that I've forgotten about something.''
Sweden peeks at him, his glasses catch some of the sunlight and there appears a brief flash. Bernhard makes some noise in the back of his throat which Timo interprets as "go on".
"After, you know, like right now. I don't know what would it be. But it is… well, maybe a little bit annoying."
"It'll go away."
"Yeah, I guess. But it's funny that it always happens…"
Sweden seems to hesitate.
"Wouldn't call it that," he decides, he drinks up the rest of the coffee and puts the cup on the bedside cabinet, right next to the lamp.
"I should get up," Timo decides out of sudden.
"Or I could lay down beside you."
"Or you could lay down beside me," he agrees.
"But water and food first." Sweden takes the cup and stands up. Timo watches him leave, feeling his hand suddenly empty and thinking once again that he's glad that it ended up like this.
The "funny feeling" eventually goes away and Finland brushes off the memory of the death. On the next day they go fishing, they drink beer sitting by the lake, they got bitten by a horde of mosquitoes and get in some petty, meaningless argument about the song on the radio. Times goes by and maybe sometimes, in the night, Timo wonders what happens with him in-between life and death, muses if the old myths are true. But he can only guess as the dead remain silent and Finland, on the other hand, tries to remain alive.
