Through the Gates, Beyond the Walls
Summary: For Crutchie, Santa Fe becomes a reality in the most unlikely place.
A/N: Just a friendly reminder that in the Something Worth Winning universe (of which this story is a part), the strike follows a historically-accurate two week timeline rather than the musical's more condensed narrative, which affects the way that things play out for Crutchie during his stay at The Refuge. I doubt that this would mess with anyone's reading enjoyment, but I just wanted to make a note of it in case anyone is puzzled by the slower pacing of this narration. This is also a stylized bit of prose, so there's a lot of figurative language and metaphor in here that should not be read literally (or it may come off rather confusing :P). Not my usual style, but it was a fun experiment.
This story was written for VeronicaWeasley, who good-naturedly puts up with the lack of Crutchie content in some of my other fics. Veronica, I hope this little one shot at least partially makes up for it. ;)
Let's get to it!
It's clearer in The Refuge - Santa Fe, that is.
He's never given in to it before, never ventured much more than a wary dip into this crazy dream, because that's all it's been: a dream that dissipates with waking and is gone before the morning bell's last chime. Who needs palominos when his one good leg can hoof the course, or clay-walled cities when the mirth of friends is welcome home enough?
But here his injured leg can't carry him, and here there are no friends, and suddenly Santa Fe's thrown into sharp relief, sights and sounds and smells transforming from impressionistic dabs of imagination to forms so real that he can almost feel them with his hands.
He doesn't hesitate this time, but takes the plunge.
And as he does, the light snuffed out melts into brilliant sunshine, spilling over rolling, grassy plains.
The clank of handcuffs is just the jangle of reins and the stamp of horses impatient to break free.
The stench of unwashed bodies gives way to honeysuckle-scented air, soft and soothing.
And the scanty, tasteless mash becomes a bowl of the richest, heartiest stew you could ever hope for, thick with potatoes and onions and large chunks of fork-tender meat.
He wraps Santa Fe around him like a patchwork quilt, a composite of meaning and memory stitched strong by skillful hands, and as he does, he feels a little warmer, as though the looming chill can only touch his cheeks and brow, but not the life-force flickering within…
The darkness of The Refuge, though, is not put off so easily, and as the days wear on, his patchwork quilt begins to feel a little thin.
He can foretell the weather, but he can't predict the seasons' change, and autumn's mild chill turns suddenly to winter's bitter cold, bringing with it violent storms.
The clouds roll in, blot out the sun, and turn the grasses dull and gray.
The wind whips up, driving the horses back to shelter where the door is shut behind them, keys jangling as the lock clicks shut.
The honeysuckle withers on the vine, its sweet smell all decayed.
And the filling stew turns to watery sludge, the bleak ration of scarcity and not supply.
There is no Santa Fe in times like these when dreams are driven underground and daylight only ventures out but briefly until night comes 'round again.
And though he pulls his threadbare quilt quite close, he feels himself begin to freeze in increments: just a tiny tingling at first, and then a spreading numbness that doesn't stop at cheeks and brow but inches ever closer to his heart, unstoppable as a Nor'eastern storm.
(The storms, he thinks, must be spectacular in Santa Fe; how else could it stay so green out there? But of course, they're not the same storms…it's warmer there. It has to be.)
Time passes. His hands grow stuporous, then still, the quilt falling away…
In desperation, he presses pen to paper, scribbles stroke after stroke of defiance, defeat, determination, despair, for if he doesn't move, he knows he'll freeze -
And miraculously, from those shaky lines, Santa Fe appears again, blue and green and bright, unfurling like a flower to the sun…
The vision ends abruptly, but he's glimpsed it, now, the life that lies just through the gates, beyond the walls. And his hands, now warm and limber, pull the patchwork blanket from his shoulders, eager fingers fashioning something new:
A banner.
No longer wrapped around him as a shield, but lifted high against the shadows pressing in, a signal and a sign, and what's more, a promise for the days ahead:
You see this, Mr. Snyder? I may be down, but I ain't licked, 'cause I got somethin' waitin' for me outside those walls that you can't touch or take away.
And with this earnest declaration, Santa Fe feels more warmly vibrant than it ever has before.
A/N: So, in case it wasn't clear, this little one shot is a metaphor-heavy exploration of the emotional ups and downs that Crutchie weathers during his time in The Refuge. In this interpretation, Santa Fe goes from being Jack's dream and something that Crutchie only half believes in (as we see in "Santa Fe (Prologue)") to a vision of hope that Crutchie clings to during his darkest moments (as we see in "Letter From the Refuge") and eventually embraces as a way of fighting back against the despair brought on by his awful circumstances. This vision is initially significant to him because it represents Jack, but it also comes to be important because it represents a life beyond the walls of The Refuge, something that transcends his current reality.
This, of course, is not to imply that a little bit of hopeful thinking can negate the very real effects of a traumatic experience - far from it. Healing is multi-faceted, and it takes time. But sometimes when we are in the midst of a very deep darkness, a little bit of light can make a big difference, and I imagine that Crutchie must have had to do some kind of deep digging while he was in The Refuge in order to help himself endure.
Anyway, thanks for giving this a read and for persevering through all of that figurative language! If you have any feedback for me, I'd love to hear it!
Finally, an illustration accompanying this one shot may be found on my fanfiction Instagram account (at pjean19), so please check it out if you're interested. :)