Disclaimer: Don�t own, never happened.
The Story:
He stepped forward. His mind screamed and something in his chest clenched tightly with every movement.
Don�t go! He cried inwardly, Don�t look! That�s not for you! That�s not what you should be seeing! Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. . .
Nonetheless, his feet moved and his eyes saw. Oh, how they saw.
Davey gasped silently, softly. He saw the name on the plate, he knew who he would see through the window. But it was still a shock.
The man paced back and forth, slowly at first, then rapidly. Pain and frustration arched across his face, twisted those wonderful, beautiful features into some horrible, unknown person. Some angry, unknown person. His skin turned from its usual paleness to an angry red. Sweat ran in trails from both temples, matting his dark, curled hair to his head.
Davey watched this man make another circuit around the room, oblivious to the watcher at the window, then give an angry cry before hurling himself at one padded wall. The straight jacket held his arms securely wrapped around his body so there was no bracing himself for impact. He hit the wall with a sick thud, then collapsed into a heap on the floor.
Davey cried out involuntarily. At the sound, Adam Carson shifted his head and peered up from on his back with red, fevered eyes. He blinked, once, twice. A wide, lunatic grin spread across his face.
�Don�t move,� his voice came out hoarse and dry, �don�t you fucking move.�
Davey watched in horror as Adam rolled onto his stomach, then struggled to his feet, never once taking his eyes off of the small window. When he found his feet, he moved quickly, slamming himself against the door. Davey flinched back, suddenly face to face with the one man he�d been wanting to see for the last two weeks. Now, he suddenly wasn�t so sure he wanted to see this.
Adam peered at him critically, desperately. His eyes were worse up close. Dark rings and bags under the eyes, as well as the beginnings of a beard revealed Adam wasn�t sleeping too well. He breathed heavily as if trying for fresh air.
�Adam?� Davey found his voice at last. �Adam? Are you. . . all right?�
Adam paused, then gave a dry chuckle. �Davey, Davey, Davey. Always the same questions. You asked me that yesterday. And the day before. When will you ask a new one?�
Davey swallowed. �Adam, Addie, I was asleep yesterday. I�ve been asleep for two weeks. I woke up last night, this morning. Oh, God, Adam, what�s happened to you?�
Adam shook his head and didn�t meet Davey�s eyes. It was a moment before Davey realized he was muttering. He leaned forward and listened.
�Too much,� Adam spoke softly, �too much, Davey, my heart, too much. It was too much, all at once, it came. Me. Just me. Both of us, we�re one. Too much, too. . . overwhelming. Mixed up sometimes. Can�t sleep. Hear thoughts. Hear their thoughts. ALL their thoughts. Fucked up.�
Davey put both hands to either side of the small window. �Who�s thoughts, Addie? Whose thoughts are you hearing?�
Adam looked up then, and something behind those fevered eyes seemed to spark with a different light. �Everyone. All thoughts. Can�t sleep because they come harder at night. Hard to fight them off.� His eyes watered and he grit his teeth. �Oh, God damn, Davey, is that really you? Are you really awake this time?�
Davey split into a wide, beautiful smile that caused his eyes to crinkle and Adam to make a sigh of relief. �Yeah, Addie, I�m awake. Stefan helped me, just like you wanted. I�m up now. But. . .� his expression was worried again, �why are you in here? Why�d they put you here?�
Adam�s eyes shifted back and forth as he chuckled. �Those fuckers. Those God damned fuckers. Wouldn�t stop. Wouldn�t stop. Too many people around us. Never gave me room to collect myself. I broke the wall in my mind. It was too much, too much too soon. I started hearing things, voices. I HEARD everyone�s thoughts. Too many thoughts. They think I�m fucked up in the head, Davey. Think I�m a danger to society. Heh, heh.�
Davey blinked. �You�re. . . you�re not crazy, then? You�re. . . just too telepathic.� he shook his head in disbelief. If that wasn�t crazy. . .
Adam shook his head, also. �Not crazy, Davey.� He grinned. �Read that easy. Just like if you�d said that out loud.� He paused, then searched Davey�s eyes and made a small whimper. �God! Even knowing I�m fucked up right now, you still love me. Dammit, Davey!�
Davey smiled. �Can�t help it. I�m yours. But you knew that for years, Addie. So when can you come out? When will you stop hearing voices?�
Adam shook his head. �Feeling better now. Just seeing you. Helps stop me from worrying so much. Maybe a few more weeks. Need to get everything sorted out again. Need to build another wall until I can get a better grip on it.� He grinned widely. �This place isn�t helping, either. The voices I hear now. . . they�re all insane, these fuckers here. ALL insane. No Davey and Crazy Voices in me head make Addie go crazy.� He let out a dark chuckle that cut off as soon as he saw Davey�s worried expression.
�See?� Adam said somberly, �this place is getting to me. Help me, Davey. Petition for a new evaluation hearing. They won�t give me one for another six months, but if you ask for it, being my soul mate that you are, they�ll grant it. I�ll pass whatever tests they want. I would have done it before, but I was. . . distracted.� He peered to the side.
Davey pulled back and realized Carl was still standing there, watching with muted shock. �Carl!� Adam grinned widely, �Didn�t see you there, man! How�ya been? How�s the wife? Still making those awful meatloaf-things?�
Carl�s jaw hung open. �What? How�d you know. . .?� He shook his head and glared. �All right, I believe it now. You�re not as crazy as they think. But you quit reading my mind, arsehole.� He turned to Davey now. �So, Brian was right. Seeing you seems to have brought this lunatic back from the otherside. Maybe he�ll keep his arse out of here now.�
Davey smiled back at Adam through the window. �Well, it�s only fair. He, after all, has saved me more than once from my own mind.�
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He made his way past rows and rows of head stones. He clutched a small vase in his right hand. The left was free and swung at his side as he made his way to a familiar spot.
There it was. The small. Black marble angel statue fixed on top of the head stone. He�d come here often while waiting for Adam to get his shit together. Really, he had nothing better to do.
Davey sighed as he came to a stop directly in front of the headstone, leaving enough space so he didn�t feel like he was stepping on the body beneath the ground. �Well,� he said without preamble, �I�m back again.�
Silence filled the air. He was utterly alone. The wind came through and ran through the hanging branches of a nearby willow. It passed through his loose hair, lifting slightly and tossing it briefly before letting it fall to his shoulders again. Davey grunted and smiled.
�Yeah, thanks.� He walked forward and picked up the vase he set down last week. Already the rose was wilted and dying. The fresh one standing in the vase in his hand bobbed slightly as he bent to set it down on the small marble ledge of the head stone. �There. A fresh one, just like I said I�d bring.� He stepped backward until he was at the place he�d been. He sighed.
�Look, things are getting a bit better, you know.� His voice is a bit soft, as if he were simply thinking out loud. �Adam�s just got out yesterday. Took a month longer than he expected, but he�s done it. Passed every test with nearly flying colors. Said he shouldn�t make it look too easy, y�know, in case the government gets wise and tries to recruit him.� Davey paused, then smiled, envisioning a sharply dressed Adam Carson wearing an earpiece and toting a gleaming Ruger while dodging a hail of bullets. Perhaps when he got home, they could play cops and robbers. . .
Suddenly remembering where he stood, Davey straightened and dropped the grin. He gripped the vase with the dead flower between both hands and cleared his throat. �Eh, hem. So, as I was saying, things are going good. We�ve moved into a big house. Really huge. Got it real cheap, too. Jade and his brother found it. Used to be a frat house, or something. Anyway, I have my own room.� He grinned and shifted his feet. �Well, technically, I do. And guess what? There�s a door that leads right into Addie�s! How awesome is that? When the other guys come over, they won�t suspect a thing!�
He smiled widely and toed the freshly trimmed green grass of the cemetery. �Nooo,� he says after a pause, as if in reply to an unspoken question, �no one else knows. I mean. . . they guess. Adam says they�re thinking it in their minds sometimes. But he says that most of our friends don�t care. He says they like us too much to hate us, which is just fine with me.�
Davey reached a hand into his pocket and drew out a piece of paper. �Oh, and, you know Brian? The one you stabbed? Well he told me the next time I came out here, I was supposed to piss on your grave for him.� Davey�s lips twisted wryly. �Don�t worry, mom, I�m not here to take a leak on you. But he did tell me to say this, and I think he has a right to say this: �You fucking bitch. You fucking stabbed me. Rot in Hell.� He�s quite the poet, isn�t he?� Davey grinned and shoved the paper back into his pocket. He shifted and brought out another paper, this time unfolding a colorful drawing.
�Addie�s been working a lot with Steve. He thinks he can get him right again soon. In the meantime, he, Steve that is, sends along this.� Davey holds it up to the marble angel briefly before stepping over and placing it so the vase held it up against the stone. It was a crude but still accurate drawing of a woman with silver hair surrounded by a flames. Over her left shoulder is a menacing yet cute demon getting ready to give her one hell of a jab with his poker.
Davey grins. �I like it. It has some artistic value to it, so keep it as long as you can, okay?� He shifted his feet again, then sighed. �Well, that�s about it. I don�t think I�ll be coming back, mom. Maybe not ever, but not for a long while. You�ll just have to have your neighbors here for company. Addie doesn�t think I should be coming here anymore. He says I dwell too much on what happened. I do, honestly. So. . . I think. . . I�ll go now.�
He takes out the dark glasses from inside his jacket pocket and slips them on. His head hangs briefly for a moment, pondering countless voiceless things. He�s said he�ll go, right? Shouldn�t he be leaving now?
Yes, he should. And he will. But he doesn�t think he�ll ever come back, despite what he�s told his dear mother-once-aunt. This will be his last time coming here. . . ever. He gathers one last deep breath and turns to go.
�Wait!� a voice calls. For a split second, Davey flinches, thinking the hideous statue has finally decided to speak up. But there is the sound of footsteps off to the left of the statue and he turns to see who it is.
A tall and deathly handsome man with silver-streaked hair. He wears what looks like a designer suit, probably Armani, if Davey knew what an Armani looked like, and dark designer shades obscuring his face. In one hand is a bouquet of odd wild flowers. The other hand is up and signaling for Davey to wait. He�s a good distance away, several rows down, but Davey can already tell he does not know him.
Davey turns fully around to face the man while he waits. He�s suddenly aware of how he looks: torn black jeans, one leg held up by safety pins, and a faded band shirt. He has to peer down to see that it�s Bowie. Lord, what he must look like to that business man now stepping over. But then, Davey shrugs inwardly and simply smiles. He doesn�t care. Let that man have his suits. Davey�s armor isn�t so flashy, but it does the same.
�Wait,� the man says breathlessly, now just on the other side of Celeste Grey�s grave. He didn�t run but walked very quickly. His face isn�t flushed but a healthy pink of excitement. He grins and suddenly, Davey thinks he knows this man. He stops smiling.
�Sorry,� the man said, seeing Davey�s lost smile and becomes somber as well, �sorry, I know, it�s a graveyard. Not really supposed to be grinning like an idiot here.� He paused. Despite his rush and embarrassment, Davey is surprised to see the man moves gracefully and with elegance. He wonders if he is gay, then throws away the suggestion of the question. He doesn�t want to know. He already suspects who this man is.
�Didn�t mean to interrupt your visit.� The man said, with a slight question to his voice. Davey realizes he�s said nothing at all to the man.
He clears his throat and gives the man a small faint smile. �Not at all.� he says quietly. �I was just about to leave.� He made a point to glance visibly at the flowers in the man�s hands. �Visiting someone? May I ask who?�
Without looking, the man smiled and gestured at the marble angel. �Celeste, of course. My old friend. So were you, I see.� He pointed to the vase in Davey�s hand. �Been coming here every Sunday, seeing a fresh flower by her grave. I wondered who on earth still cared about the witch to do that. I wondered if it had been a lover.� He spoke this last quietly while removing his glasses. He carefully peered Davey up and down, judging and inspecting.
But Davey smiled, relieved he still had on his own shades. �Lover? Me? Don�t get me wrong, mister, but Celeste tried to kill me. I spent two weeks in a coma because of her.� He dropped the smile and made his own obvious look up and down. �But. . . you sound like you are. Her husband?�
The man grunted, then smiled. He chuckled, then laughed loudly. �Husband! Hah! That�s a good one! More like arch rivals!� He turned and looked at the grave, humor ebbing away. �Ah, but. . . if the witch ever had one, it would have been me. Should have been, really. There was a time I would have asked her. Perhaps, at that same time, she would have said yes.�
Davey frowned. �What happened?�
The man shook his head slowly, sadly at his own memories. �We were both too much for each other. Too much alike. Always fighting, always competing. You know, I�ve known her since we were fresh out of diapers! Even then she always had to have to upper hand!�
�No shit?� Davey chuckled with the man. But inwardly, Celeste�s words floated back up to mind. �I remember, the two of you share the eyes, the continual habit of getting your way all the time, and your love of music. . . And a fondness for your childhood best friend. . .�
Did that mean this was. . .?
The man grew calm but a sad smile on moved with his lips. His eyes remained glued to the stone. �Yeah. We had some good times, but mostly rough ones. It was losing our kid that, I think, took Celeste over the edge.�
Davey stiffened. �I�m so sorry.� The words and sympathetic tone were automatic.
The man waved it off. �Don�t be. Was over twenty years ago.� But his face remained pained. �Didn�t even know the little bugger even tried to exist until I tracked her down. Found the hospital records. The kid was a stillborn. Thought that�s maybe what caused her to dive deeper into her work.� The man paused and looked at Davey. �But, you�d know all about that, wouldn�t you?�
�I would?� a slight raise of the eye brows was the only indication Davey�s heart was racing. Outwardly, he was still playing the cool cat.
�You said she tried to kill you.� the man went on, peering at Davey closely again, �you must know all about her business, right? Must have some clue as to why she was here in the States when it was still too dangerous for her. Tell me, friend, what was it that brought Celeste Grey across the ocean once again?� His voice ended soft and light, yet weighing heavily with danger.
Davey gave a one shouldered shrug. �She was never too open with her affairs, if you remember. Always doing one thing in order to hide two others. No wonder her own people stopped trusting her. She wasn�t even truthful to THEM why she was here in the states.�
The man rubbed his chin. �I�ve interviewed a few people since I�ve heard of her death. They say she was here for her nephew. I never knew she had one. Ever hear about him?�
Davey shrugged. �Not that I could honestly say. He got a name?�
The man seemed to struggle with an answer. Davey could almost read his mind. He was so much like Celeste, it was frightening. On one hand, he could tell Davey the name, and possibly see if Davey knew the guy, but on the other hand, what if Davey lied and said he didn�t? What then? Waste the perfectly good knowledge of the name.
The man�s business instincts took the back seat. He sighed and shook his head. �No. Actually, I don�t. The person I met with was. . . well, gone. In the head, I mean. A lone survivor. In a mental institution. There had been another, and one in a hospital I think, but their records went missing. I think they were still in whatever project she was in and high-tailed it as soon as they got wind that she was dead.� his tone was plain and seemed honest, but Davey remained on guard.
Now it was the man�s turn to ask the questions. �And you? Why do you come here? She tried to kill you.�
Davey looked at the angel and sighed. �Yes, she did. Would have succeeded, too. In the end, everyone�s expendable to Celeste, aren�t they? But not any longer. This is my last time out here. I�m leaving town. I have a career in music to think about.�
The man pointed at Davey�s shirt and smiled. �I see you�ve already got great taste.�
Davey smiled. �Thanks. Seems like you do, too.� Silence crept in around them. Davey decided if he didn�t leave now, more would be revealed, perhaps too much to live peacefully. It was the thought of Adam sitting at their new home, waiting worriedly for hours, wishing Davey were home with him, that got Davey�s feet moving.
He turned and began walking away. �Wait!� the man called out. When Davey turned and faced him again, the man said, �I didn�t get your name.�
A cool smile graced Davey�s lips. �Nathaniel. What�s yours?�
The man sighed, almost sadly. �David Black. To my friends, Davey.�
Hoping he was too far away for Black to see his lips were trembling, Davey smiled. �It was nice meeting you, Davey. Hope you have a nice day.� With that, he turned and walked away from his father, hoping he�d never see him again as well.
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The man watched him walk away. When he was gone, he stepped forward and placed the flowers on top of the grave, below the vase and rose. His jaw was set at a hard grimace as he glared at the grotesque marble angel. After a moment, tears slipped down his cheeks.
�Damn you, woman,� David Black whispered hoarsely, �damn you. All this time. . . And you thought I wouldn�t know him? You thought I wouldn�t recognize my own son if he passed me on the street?� His words were bitter and full of hate.
But a slight breeze passed through the cemetery once more and a moment later his anger was gone. And so was his glare. In its place was a sly grin, glinting with mischief. �You know, he has your smile.� He grinned widely, then turned and began dialing on his cell phone as he left the cemetery, also never to come back again.
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