[Fidelio, you went numb. Nothing mattered after losing Bax.
But you remember now. Your brother is dead. Your brother is alive. You are alive and you are dead. All of it is true, all at once. These truths lock together and push. Fight in your head to stake a claim in reality, until a cold splash of static pushes them out of the forefront. The paradox can persist, and you will carry on.
You’re sitting down in the hallway of a hospital, some uncomfortable chair with metal piping for arms. In your lap is a stack of papers in a round binder clip. Handwritten, page after page of intensive notes. It takes a moment, but you do recognize it. You only found one page back then, but this must be two or three hundred pages altogether. There’s no time to read it all, but you get the sense you don’t need to.
(The Fire at the Black Spot, a bar burning under the hands of hateful white men.
The Revenge of Claude Heroux, a lumberjack turning his axe on the union busters who slew his friends.
The Execution of the Bradley Gang, where the citizens of Derry banded together and tore five bank-robbers on the run into bloody, bullet-addled pieces.)
These stories join the war at the back of your mind. Not yet. It’s not important yet.
None of the passing staff or patients seem all that bothered by your ears. One flicks, catching a sound to the left. You see someone walking into the room just down the hall. She turns to look at you before she enters.]
[ everything feels a little fuzzy and distant, disconnected; he's been paying little attention to anything that's been going on in this hospital as he's been idly flipping through the stack of pages in his lap.
but junah... she always gets his attention. and she's always had him wrapped around her finger, so as soon as she gives him an instruction, he nods, picks up his papers and follows. ]
When Fidelio enters, she's stood with her hands behind her back on the opposite end of the room, behind the stiff, sterile bed.
In the bed is an unconscious man. Hooked to an IV drip with an elevated leg in bandages. Heavy bandages, the kind that suffocate you with their insistence you live. He's battered and cut elsewhere too. Deathly pale, even in spite of his dark skin.]
Agh...It doesn't look good, does it? [Junah casts a worrisome look down at the prone figure.] It was the femoral artery, I think. They're only buying him time...
[ help i was about to dm you like was that the word you meant to use...
it's rough scene to be sure, and he frowns at the figure in front of them. is his face visible? ]
Shite.
[ he exhales, tucking the pages under his arm and running his hand through his hair. he understands what that means; he may not be a healer like junah's sister, but he had some medical training, once. enough to recognise a probable lost cause when he sees one. ]
What... what was it that happened, exactly?
[ he must have heard something about it, and he's not sure why he can't put his finger on it now. ]
[his federal artery....bleeding out, just like america...
His face is visible. Truth be told he looks older than he is. There's grey in the sides of his close-cropped afro and more lines around his mouth and eyes than should be there in the slack expression of sleep. He's familiar, but only just so.]
Oh — you can let me hold those for you, I don't mind.
[Junah holds her hand out as she explains.]
He was attacked. They picked him up from the Library earlier this evening, and it's been a struggle to keep him alive since. He's lost too much blood.
[ he just waves his hand and shakes his head; it's fine. he's supposed to be the one holding her things for her anyway.
and... he doesn't really feel like he ought to be handing these off to anyone, especially not in front of mike. (that's his name, he's pretty sure, but not completely. how did he even end up holding these? is this going to end up another story in these pages?) ]
[Junah tucks her hand away, though she does frown at the brush off. Her eyes flick over the man's body, then she shakes her head and gives a sigh.]
No idea about the motive, but they think the culprit is staying at the Derry Town House. They've narrowed it down to just a few rooms...But, this doesn't feel right, does it?
[She looks into his eyes, and his head begins to hurt a little.
(promisetotry)
A man in a tub. The sewers. Bax falling. No one came.
(this world never wanted them, but he doesn't want this world either.)]
[ it feels a little like he's looking into a light that's too bright. the town house... he was supposed to find someone there, he thinks. get them out, but...
he blinks. ]
Sorry, what?
[ the request gives him a strange, uneasy feeling. he plays dumb, and doesn't move from where he's standing. ]
Reckon we ought to leave the repositionin' and everything to the professionals.
[Her snap is sudden and vicious. Her fingers arch up, trembling. Her brilliant eyes are hard and her gums look strangely yellowed in her snarl. The veins on the left side of her cheek are dark and spidery, pumping purple. Her complexion pales and water lines the bottoms of her scowling eyes.]
Do it, you pint-sized piece of shit! Do it, you fucking failure! It's no wonder Bax died with a brainless waste like you for a brother!
[ fucking hell, he could tell something was seriously off, but this still catches him way off guard. he has enough clarity, though, to notice that she seems to be depending on him doing it. like she can't just do it herself, for some reason.
...so he's taking his papers and bolting. does he know the direction to that building? the derry town house? he's still not sure why he even gives a fuck about any of this, aside from a vague memory of a promise to try his best, but he's going to make his way there if he can. ]
[Oh, the lungs on that girl. She screams, and no one in the hospital hears it but Fidelio, whose fleet feet carry him out the back entrances and into the street in no time.
Somewhere on the way, the papers simply melt into nothing. He doesn't feel dizzy anymore. He doesn't feel light-headed, or confused. He's himself, and he remembers it all, and there's a pulse of calm through the livid panic propelling him into the night.
(Elsewhere, the papers reassemble under the inert arm of the man in the hospital. Colour returns to his cheeks, and he takes a deeper breath than the fading pace he's been labouring through since admittance. Mike Hanlon makes a much-needed rebound, and something goes right for a change.)
Fidelio does remember the way, because Del remembered the way. He's running behind, but it's not long before he belts into the parking lot and sees a small figure waiting for him, hand outstretched.
Stanley Uris, as he was back in '58, holds a torn piece of a memo for him. He nods.]
[ HE'S KIND OF CONCERNED ABOUT THE PAPERS MELTING SINCE HE DID NOT PERSONALLY SEE WHERE THEY ENDED UP but apparently stan approves so he guesses it's okay... hey there lad :c can he pat his ghost head before he vanishes
anyway all right. god. i guess he'll start with 110 so he can start clearing out the floors that are more vulnerable to attack first?? ]
[ HE THOUGHT EVIL JUNAH COULD STILL TOUCH THE PAPERS JUST NOT MIKE!!!
anyway, that is absolutely not who he thought was going to open that door, hello. ]
Shite, Eupha, what're you—
[ no he probably doesn't have time for this. ]
...Never mind. Look, someone's comin' after people in this building. Run and grab a knife or somethin' quick and come with me while I get the rest of 'em out.
[YOU KNOW WHAT FAIR i didn't thanos snap junah or tell you to slap the papers on him while making full eye contact with her that's on me]
What? [She looks taken aback. Firstly that he knows her name. Secondly, by all that comes afterwards.] What do you mean? Like a robbery? I don't have a knife, I'm so sorry, um...
[It's emphatic, but said in a pitchy whisper. Her hand goes to her mouth and she starts to tremble. But she reaches back around, into the closet, fetching her coat and purse and slipping into her shoes with a trembling urgency.]
All right, I'll come.
[Girl how do you know he's not in it...anyway basic safety aside you have secured Eupha. Where next?]
Then the door unlocks, swinging inwards, and a tall, handsome man with a bald head and a mouth parting in shock looks down at Fidelio.]
D-Del?
[There's movement in the back.]
What did you say, Bill? [A beautiful woman with long red curls comes around the corner, clutching a robe tight around herself. She gasps on sight of him, speechless at once.
Eupha looks nervously to her saviour, and waits in the wings.]
[ do they wonder why their old friend is now a british cat man
on his end, at least, this makes a lot more sense than eupha did — it was stan's friends he was supposed to be here for, after all — but he's still taken aback suddenly seeing the two of them grown up like this.
(he also feels a pang of guilt knowing that georgie will still be gone from bill's life even once he's back with basilio, but he doesn't have time for that.) ]
Yeah. Know this sounds crazy, and there's no time to explain, but— Stan trusted me with gettin' you lot out of here safe, and I don't wanna break that promise. So, this is your evacuation order.
[ a glance toward bev, not sure if she's even going to remember this stupid reference from almost 30 years ago (from a book he's never even heard of), but ]
[Strangely enough, they don't. Much like Anders and Shadowheart and their mundane reflections, they see a mirage of what Del would have grown up to be. Except their eyes are a little sharper, and their minds honed by powers a bit extraodinary — there's a sense of something different about him, but not something to be suspicious of. Rather the opposite.
Take how they heed his warning at once. Bill's head bobs back in shock.]
St-St-Stan sent you?
[Beverly in particular looks taken aback. It's been a long day of stirring up old memories, but she still has room in her yet for more surprises.]
—Oh my god. It really is you. Oh, Jesus...
C-call the others. Eddie's in 609, R-Richie's in 217 and Ben's in 404. If they d-don't answer, we g-go s-s-straight up and f-fetch them.
[Beverly nods. Not a word more, rushing to the phone as Bill steps out and looks down the hall. Then back down at Del, face taut with a strange mix of emotion. There's a hundred questions and no time to ask them (Stanley, for god's sake), but there is one thing. A thing that's haunted him for years, alongside so many other regrets.]
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holyspirits) wrote2025-03-09 04:46 pm
FIDELIO
But you remember now. Your brother is dead. Your brother is alive. You are alive and you are dead. All of it is true, all at once. These truths lock together and push. Fight in your head to stake a claim in reality, until a cold splash of static pushes them out of the forefront. The paradox can persist, and you will carry on.
You’re sitting down in the hallway of a hospital, some uncomfortable chair with metal piping for arms. In your lap is a stack of papers in a round binder clip. Handwritten, page after page of intensive notes. It takes a moment, but you do recognize it. You only found one page back then, but this must be two or three hundred pages altogether. There’s no time to read it all, but you get the sense you don’t need to.
(The Fire at the Black Spot, a bar burning under the hands of hateful white men.
The Revenge of Claude Heroux, a lumberjack turning his axe on the union busters who slew his friends.
The Execution of the Bradley Gang, where the citizens of Derry banded together and tore five bank-robbers on the run into bloody, bullet-addled pieces.)
These stories join the war at the back of your mind. Not yet. It’s not important yet.
None of the passing staff or patients seem all that bothered by your ears. One flicks, catching a sound to the left. You see someone walking into the room just down the hall. She turns to look at you before she enters.]
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but junah... she always gets his attention. and she's always had him wrapped around her finger, so as soon as she gives him an instruction, he nods, picks up his papers and follows. ]
Right. Comin'.
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When Fidelio enters, she's stood with her hands behind her back on the opposite end of the room, behind the stiff, sterile bed.
In the bed is an unconscious man. Hooked to an IV drip with an elevated leg in bandages. Heavy bandages, the kind that suffocate you with their insistence you live. He's battered and cut elsewhere too. Deathly pale, even in spite of his dark skin.]
Agh...It doesn't look good, does it? [Junah casts a worrisome look down at the prone figure.] It was the femoral artery, I think. They're only buying him time...
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it's rough scene to be sure, and he frowns at the figure in front of them. is his face visible? ]
Shite.
[ he exhales, tucking the pages under his arm and running his hand through his hair. he understands what that means; he may not be a healer like junah's sister, but he had some medical training, once. enough to recognise a probable lost cause when he sees one. ]
What... what was it that happened, exactly?
[ he must have heard something about it, and he's not sure why he can't put his finger on it now. ]
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His face is visible. Truth be told he looks older than he is. There's grey in the sides of his close-cropped afro and more lines around his mouth and eyes than should be there in the slack expression of sleep. He's familiar, but only just so.]
Oh — you can let me hold those for you, I don't mind.
[Junah holds her hand out as she explains.]
He was attacked. They picked him up from the Library earlier this evening, and it's been a struggle to keep him alive since. He's lost too much blood.
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and... he doesn't really feel like he ought to be handing these off to anyone, especially not in front of mike. (that's his name, he's pretty sure, but not completely. how did he even end up holding these? is this going to end up another story in these pages?) ]
They got any idea who did it? A motive, or...
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No idea about the motive, but they think the culprit is staying at the Derry Town House. They've narrowed it down to just a few rooms...But, this doesn't feel right, does it?
[She looks into his eyes, and his head begins to hurt a little.
(promisetotry)
A man in a tub. The sewers. Bax falling. No one came.
(this world never wanted them, but he doesn't want this world either.)]
We should help him first.
Del, can you grab the pillow?
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he blinks. ]
Sorry, what?
[ the request gives him a strange, uneasy feeling. he plays dumb, and doesn't move from where he's standing. ]
Reckon we ought to leave the repositionin' and everything to the professionals.
no subject
Take the pillow, Del.
[That pain intensifies. Right at the front of his skull, where it collided with the ceramic so many years ago. A dizzying effect.]
Take the pillow and hold it down on his face.
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What's the point of that? He's dyin' anyway, isn't he? No sense givin' yourself a criminal record to hurry it up.
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[Her snap is sudden and vicious. Her fingers arch up, trembling. Her brilliant eyes are hard and her gums look strangely yellowed in her snarl. The veins on the left side of her cheek are dark and spidery, pumping purple. Her complexion pales and water lines the bottoms of her scowling eyes.]
Do it, you pint-sized piece of shit! Do it, you fucking failure! It's no wonder Bax died with a brainless waste like you for a brother!
no subject
...so he's taking his papers and bolting. does he know the direction to that building? the derry town house? he's still not sure why he even gives a fuck about any of this, aside from a vague memory of a promise to try his best, but he's going to make his way there if he can. ]
no subject
Somewhere on the way, the papers simply melt into nothing. He doesn't feel dizzy anymore. He doesn't feel light-headed, or confused. He's himself, and he remembers it all, and there's a pulse of calm through the livid panic propelling him into the night.
(Elsewhere, the papers reassemble under the inert arm of the man in the hospital. Colour returns to his cheeks, and he takes a deeper breath than the fading pace he's been labouring through since admittance. Mike Hanlon makes a much-needed rebound, and something goes right for a change.)
Fidelio does remember the way, because Del remembered the way. He's running behind, but it's not long before he belts into the parking lot and sees a small figure waiting for him, hand outstretched.
Stanley Uris, as he was back in '58, holds a torn piece of a memo for him. He nods.]
Thank you, Fidelio.
[And he'll vanish thereafter.
Room 620
Room 110
Where would he like to start?]
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anyway all right. god. i guess he'll start with 110 so he can start clearing out the floors that are more vulnerable to attack first?? ]
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110 it is.
There's a bit of a delay after knocking, and a soft sound. Blankets rustling. Then the door opens.]
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anyway, that is absolutely not who he thought was going to open that door, hello. ]
Shite, Eupha, what're you—
[ no he probably doesn't have time for this. ]
...Never mind. Look, someone's comin' after people in this building. Run and grab a knife or somethin' quick and come with me while I get the rest of 'em out.
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What? [She looks taken aback. Firstly that he knows her name. Secondly, by all that comes afterwards.] What do you mean? Like a robbery? I don't have a knife, I'm so sorry, um...
[She looks around, clearly rattled.]
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[It's emphatic, but said in a pitchy whisper. Her hand goes to her mouth and she starts to tremble. But she reaches back around, into the closet, fetching her coat and purse and slipping into her shoes with a trembling urgency.]
All right, I'll come.
[Girl how do you know he's not in it...anyway basic safety aside you have secured Eupha. Where next?]
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up to 311 i guess!!!! ]
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Anyway, 311 is next. He knocks and there's a suspicious silence. Then a hushed whisper.
Someone comes up to the peephole, you can hear the strong footsteps. Someone tall with a sure gait.]
Hello?
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Hey. Got orders to evacuate this building, recommend you get out fast as you can.
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Then the door unlocks, swinging inwards, and a tall, handsome man with a bald head and a mouth parting in shock looks down at Fidelio.]
D-Del?
[There's movement in the back.]
What did you say, Bill? [A beautiful woman with long red curls comes around the corner, clutching a robe tight around herself. She gasps on sight of him, speechless at once.
Eupha looks nervously to her saviour, and waits in the wings.]
no subject
on his end, at least, this makes a lot more sense than eupha did — it was stan's friends he was supposed to be here for, after all — but he's still taken aback suddenly seeing the two of them grown up like this.
(he also feels a pang of guilt knowing that georgie will still be gone from bill's life even once he's back with basilio, but he doesn't have time for that.) ]
Yeah. Know this sounds crazy, and there's no time to explain, but— Stan trusted me with gettin' you lot out of here safe, and I don't wanna break that promise. So, this is your evacuation order.
[ a glance toward bev, not sure if she's even going to remember this stupid reference from almost 30 years ago (from a book he's never even heard of), but ]
Consider the Horn of Gondor blown.
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Take how they heed his warning at once. Bill's head bobs back in shock.]
St-St-Stan sent you?
[Beverly in particular looks taken aback. It's been a long day of stirring up old memories, but she still has room in her yet for more surprises.]
—Oh my god. It really is you. Oh, Jesus...
C-call the others. Eddie's in 609, R-Richie's in 217 and Ben's in 404. If they d-don't answer, we g-go s-s-straight up and f-fetch them.
[Beverly nods. Not a word more, rushing to the phone as Bill steps out and looks down the hall. Then back down at Del, face taut with a strange mix of emotion. There's a hundred questions and no time to ask them (Stanley, for god's sake), but there is one thing. A thing that's haunted him for years, alongside so many other regrets.]
D-del...I'm sorry. Th-that day...w-we should've g-gone with you. W-we shouldn't h-have split up.
[He stops short. Throat thick. Wetting his lips with a deep breath.]
W-we have cars out b-b-back. We'll m-make a g-getaway, I promise you.
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