Fic: 'Oh Evangeline'
Title: Oh Evangeline
Author: cosmonautsister
Rating: PG, probably.
Warnings: Themes and sad.
Characters/Pairings: Minutemen; mainly implied.
A/N: This sprung mainly from the idea that at the end of the graphic novel, the only surviving Minutemen were Byron and Sally. Also, I own nothing, because despite the weird title there are no original characters in this fic.
In 1986 recent medical research into the causes and prevention of mental illness began to achieve results. In an asylum - a mental hospital, formally - in Maine, several patients started on new medication as a test run. Some of them benefited from it.
Byron Lewis was one of them. Within a few months of starting on the drug, he showed remarkable progress. He began to remember the real names of the staff at the hospital - previously, he had inexplicably called every man Frank and every woman Frieda - and to keep track of the time. He asked, one day, what year it was, and he stuck to the answer, 1985, and he believed it. One day, he admitted that he had been "thinking strangely" before, but he had stopped now; he was no longer seeing things that weren't there and waiting for his friends, his real friends, to visit. Eventually, his psychiatrist said it might be time for him to go home.
Byron doesn’t have a home. His parents are dead. His godparents are dead. Ursula is dead, and he knows already, and he's come to accept that Bill is too. When he asks, he hears about Eddie and Hollis. Hollis had
been one of his best friends. Even Nelson is gone, and not gone in the way that HJ was. Nelson is dead, although maybe by now, so is HJ.
Sally Jupiter is not dead, so after a long phone call and a letter, Byron packs a suitcase and boards a plane to California.
When he arrives at her house, with its quaint curtains and little garden, he knocks on the door, and hardly has time to feel out of place.
Sally opens the door, takes one look at him with his suitcase and his worried, tired eyes, and hugs him. After that, she ushers him inside and shows him to Laurie's old bedroom.
"Sorry about the wallpaper," Sally tells him apologetically, waving a hand at the pink flowery walls, "this was my daughter's bedroom. Although, I don't think she really liked the walls either." She offers him a smile, and it's as bright and as welcoming as ever. Byron smiles back, and for the first time in a very long while, he means it. He leaves his suitcase beside the single bed in the room with the frilly curtains, and thanks Sally for being so kind to him.
That night, they sit together in front of the television, watching a generic, dramatic soap opera which Sally embarrassedly admits she watches religiously. They sit close together, and it isn't uncomfortable, or particularly meaningful. They are only two old friends who haven't seen each other for a long time, and two old souls sharing memories and warmth and unspoken feelings.
"Oh Evangeline, I was going to tell you - truly I was..."
"And when were you going to tell me that, huh, Wolfgang? You've been missing for eleven years! We thought you were dead! The body washed up on the shore of the river, it was identified... And now you're back?"
"Yes, Evangeline, I am."
"Oh, Wolfgang..."
"That woman," Byron says suddenly, breaking the silence, "looks decidedly more like Nelly than is considered normal."
Sally giggles, because of both what Byron says, and how he says it. He always used to speak like that, all intelligent and classy. "Evangeline? She looks more like Nelly than Nelly did."
Byron chuckles, and it feels good to laugh, after so long without.
"Should we really be talking like that, though? I mean, after all this... This stuff..." Sally says, but she's still smiling.
"Yeah." Byron nods. "I mean, they're gone, Sal. Who else is going to remember them?" And it's clear he isn't talking about Wolfgang and Evangeline, now.
"I guess they'd appreciate it, then." Sally muses. "Or at least they wouldn't mind."
"... Nelly would." Byron says, smirking. "I don't think he'd appreciate us saying he looked like a woman."
"It's the woman who looks like him," Sally amends, "and it's a compliment to her. He was gorgeous, back in the day."
Byron mumbles his agreement, and Sally smirks, but not mockingly.
"I mean, I can see what HJ saw in him," she continues, "same as we could see how they were, you know, with each other. It was really..."
"Obvious," Byron finishes.
"Yeah," Sally says, "Everybody knew."
"Bill didn't." Byron says, quite tonelessly.
Sally cringed. She'd known it would come to this, somehow the topic of Bill would arise and everything would become sad and real again. But Byron was smiling, and he continued.
"I didn't have the heart to tell him, either." Byron recalls, amused. "He was always so sure he had everybody figured out, and he really didn't, but what he thought was always so much nicer than what was really going on. Like -" he laughed, having come across a particularly amusing memory, "- like the time we all went out for drinks, and I remember that because it only happened once, ha - and Nelson obviously must have said something to Eddie, because Eddie made some derogatory joke about HJ leaving his mark on Nelly, you know, like, sexually... And for the rest of the night, Bill was sort of discreetly looking at Nelly's back, looking for an actual mark..." He trails off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mention..."
"Eddie?" Sally asks. "No problem, hon. I may hold a grudge, but I'm certainly not going to keep hiding from what happened."
Byron nods, not sure what to say.
Suddenly, Sally smiles. "You know Laurie? My girl Laurel Jane?"
Byron nods again. "Sure. I met her once; I don't remember much from around then, but I do remember her. She's real pretty, Sal, just like you."
Sally grins. "Thanks, hon. And not like Larry, right?"
"No, not like Larry. I sure remember him, too. Him and that skinny little mustache of his."
"She's Eddie's kid."
"Huh?"
"My Laurie." Sally says. "Eddie... Eddie was her father."
Byron's silent for a little while. When he speaks, it's only to say, "I suppose there is a resemblance, you know," and then, "Does she know?"
"Yeah," Sally says. "She knows," and it's good to tell someone, finally, and good to have somebody to tell.
"Hey, Sal?" Byron says, stifling a yawn.
"Yeah?"
This time, Byron can't stop himself from yawning. "When's bedtime?"
Sally giggles. "'Round about now, hon, for old guys and gals like us. You look exhausted, and god knows I do need my beauty sleep these days."
They stand, and Sally walks Byron to his room and kisses him goodnight, and they both sleep the best they have in years.
The days following that are quiet. They talk a lot, though, and remember things, and on the weekend Byron is introduced to Sam and Sandra Hollis, and smiles along with Sally when Sandra tells them she’s expecting a baby.
They’re friendly people, if not a little sad, but Byron doesn’t wonder why. Everybody’s sad, these days; he and Sally simply know how to be happy at the same time. They feel older, and wiser, and everything that’s happened to them, everything they’ve lived through, is brought back into the light in startling clarity. They help each other remember and forget, and for both of them, that’s enough.
Author: cosmonautsister
Rating: PG, probably.
Warnings: Themes and sad.
Characters/Pairings: Minutemen; mainly implied.
A/N: This sprung mainly from the idea that at the end of the graphic novel, the only surviving Minutemen were Byron and Sally. Also, I own nothing, because despite the weird title there are no original characters in this fic.
In 1986 recent medical research into the causes and prevention of mental illness began to achieve results. In an asylum - a mental hospital, formally - in Maine, several patients started on new medication as a test run. Some of them benefited from it.
Byron Lewis was one of them. Within a few months of starting on the drug, he showed remarkable progress. He began to remember the real names of the staff at the hospital - previously, he had inexplicably called every man Frank and every woman Frieda - and to keep track of the time. He asked, one day, what year it was, and he stuck to the answer, 1985, and he believed it. One day, he admitted that he had been "thinking strangely" before, but he had stopped now; he was no longer seeing things that weren't there and waiting for his friends, his real friends, to visit. Eventually, his psychiatrist said it might be time for him to go home.
Byron doesn’t have a home. His parents are dead. His godparents are dead. Ursula is dead, and he knows already, and he's come to accept that Bill is too. When he asks, he hears about Eddie and Hollis. Hollis had
been one of his best friends. Even Nelson is gone, and not gone in the way that HJ was. Nelson is dead, although maybe by now, so is HJ.
Sally Jupiter is not dead, so after a long phone call and a letter, Byron packs a suitcase and boards a plane to California.
When he arrives at her house, with its quaint curtains and little garden, he knocks on the door, and hardly has time to feel out of place.
Sally opens the door, takes one look at him with his suitcase and his worried, tired eyes, and hugs him. After that, she ushers him inside and shows him to Laurie's old bedroom.
"Sorry about the wallpaper," Sally tells him apologetically, waving a hand at the pink flowery walls, "this was my daughter's bedroom. Although, I don't think she really liked the walls either." She offers him a smile, and it's as bright and as welcoming as ever. Byron smiles back, and for the first time in a very long while, he means it. He leaves his suitcase beside the single bed in the room with the frilly curtains, and thanks Sally for being so kind to him.
That night, they sit together in front of the television, watching a generic, dramatic soap opera which Sally embarrassedly admits she watches religiously. They sit close together, and it isn't uncomfortable, or particularly meaningful. They are only two old friends who haven't seen each other for a long time, and two old souls sharing memories and warmth and unspoken feelings.
"Oh Evangeline, I was going to tell you - truly I was..."
"And when were you going to tell me that, huh, Wolfgang? You've been missing for eleven years! We thought you were dead! The body washed up on the shore of the river, it was identified... And now you're back?"
"Yes, Evangeline, I am."
"Oh, Wolfgang..."
"That woman," Byron says suddenly, breaking the silence, "looks decidedly more like Nelly than is considered normal."
Sally giggles, because of both what Byron says, and how he says it. He always used to speak like that, all intelligent and classy. "Evangeline? She looks more like Nelly than Nelly did."
Byron chuckles, and it feels good to laugh, after so long without.
"Should we really be talking like that, though? I mean, after all this... This stuff..." Sally says, but she's still smiling.
"Yeah." Byron nods. "I mean, they're gone, Sal. Who else is going to remember them?" And it's clear he isn't talking about Wolfgang and Evangeline, now.
"I guess they'd appreciate it, then." Sally muses. "Or at least they wouldn't mind."
"... Nelly would." Byron says, smirking. "I don't think he'd appreciate us saying he looked like a woman."
"It's the woman who looks like him," Sally amends, "and it's a compliment to her. He was gorgeous, back in the day."
Byron mumbles his agreement, and Sally smirks, but not mockingly.
"I mean, I can see what HJ saw in him," she continues, "same as we could see how they were, you know, with each other. It was really..."
"Obvious," Byron finishes.
"Yeah," Sally says, "Everybody knew."
"Bill didn't." Byron says, quite tonelessly.
Sally cringed. She'd known it would come to this, somehow the topic of Bill would arise and everything would become sad and real again. But Byron was smiling, and he continued.
"I didn't have the heart to tell him, either." Byron recalls, amused. "He was always so sure he had everybody figured out, and he really didn't, but what he thought was always so much nicer than what was really going on. Like -" he laughed, having come across a particularly amusing memory, "- like the time we all went out for drinks, and I remember that because it only happened once, ha - and Nelson obviously must have said something to Eddie, because Eddie made some derogatory joke about HJ leaving his mark on Nelly, you know, like, sexually... And for the rest of the night, Bill was sort of discreetly looking at Nelly's back, looking for an actual mark..." He trails off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mention..."
"Eddie?" Sally asks. "No problem, hon. I may hold a grudge, but I'm certainly not going to keep hiding from what happened."
Byron nods, not sure what to say.
Suddenly, Sally smiles. "You know Laurie? My girl Laurel Jane?"
Byron nods again. "Sure. I met her once; I don't remember much from around then, but I do remember her. She's real pretty, Sal, just like you."
Sally grins. "Thanks, hon. And not like Larry, right?"
"No, not like Larry. I sure remember him, too. Him and that skinny little mustache of his."
"She's Eddie's kid."
"Huh?"
"My Laurie." Sally says. "Eddie... Eddie was her father."
Byron's silent for a little while. When he speaks, it's only to say, "I suppose there is a resemblance, you know," and then, "Does she know?"
"Yeah," Sally says. "She knows," and it's good to tell someone, finally, and good to have somebody to tell.
"Hey, Sal?" Byron says, stifling a yawn.
"Yeah?"
This time, Byron can't stop himself from yawning. "When's bedtime?"
Sally giggles. "'Round about now, hon, for old guys and gals like us. You look exhausted, and god knows I do need my beauty sleep these days."
They stand, and Sally walks Byron to his room and kisses him goodnight, and they both sleep the best they have in years.
The days following that are quiet. They talk a lot, though, and remember things, and on the weekend Byron is introduced to Sam and Sandra Hollis, and smiles along with Sally when Sandra tells them she’s expecting a baby.
They’re friendly people, if not a little sad, but Byron doesn’t wonder why. Everybody’s sad, these days; he and Sally simply know how to be happy at the same time. They feel older, and wiser, and everything that’s happened to them, everything they’ve lived through, is brought back into the light in startling clarity. They help each other remember and forget, and for both of them, that’s enough.