fic; like sifting through sand
Title Life Sifting Through Sand
Author brightedelweiss
Words 4088
Rating PG-13
Summary This is the life of Leland Ambrose and Jack Phillips, who've known been best friends since the age of five and just happen to have dreams of two people named Merlin and Arthur.
Notes I just need to thank burningqueen and latenightcuppa for beta-ing this and giving me encouragements and telling me what was silly and what wasn't. And lastly, this was written because I could simply not get the image of a reincarnated Merlin and Arthur growing up playing pond hockey.
Like Sifting Through Sand
Four moments in the lives of Leland Ambrose and Jack Phillips
Life isn’t simple when you’re little. Whoever decided that it was clearly didn’t have the proper childhood. It isn’t complicated in the same way that adulthood is, but it isn’t simple. You just worry about different things. You worry about what will happen when your mom finds out you’ve been feeding your veggies to the dog and only pretending to eat it. Or what will happen if you go beyond the old maple late at night - dad says something bad will happen, and that you shouldn’t - but it’s naturally tempting. Instead of worrying about bills, when to fill up the oil tank and what will happen - God forbid - if Craig Benson gets elected for another term as Governor - you muddle over the best way to make a proper fort.
Dreams of dragons and castles, swords and arrows, and adventuring with best friends are natural for little boys. You try telling Leland Ambrose and Jack Phillips otherwise.
They meet in kindergarten, and for the rest of their lives will say that they’ve known one another “Forever” because really, what are the first four years of your life worth when you’ve known your best friend since the age of five? They don’t quite remember how they met, though their parents seem to have a version that the both of them are happy to go along with. No matter how the story gets added to (and sometimes subtracted from) it happens like this:
one.
“Mom mom mom mom mom mom!” A five year old Jack Phillips says, running around the kitchen island. His mother stands at the island, neatly filling in forms, her eyes routinely flicking up to see the bundle of energy that is her son.
“Mmmm?” Anna Phillips says and when she looks up, Jack wasn’t where he was a second ago. A tug on her skirt reveals his location.
“We’re gonna be wicked late.” He says smartly, as if it’s a fact.
“No we’re -” She starts and taps her watch, shaking her head and laughing. That is, until she looks at the clock. “Shi - shoot. Shoot! Oh Jack, we are going to be late!” In an instant papers are being shoved into folders and then into purses. Jack stays, for once, still as his mother bustles around him. “Papers check, wallet check, something…something - oh! Jack do you have your backpack?” She asks, moving around the kitchen knowing that no matter what checklist she goes through mentally something is surely going to go wrong. It already has, after all.
Jack darts away, out of the kitchen and then comes back in an instant. “Got it!” He says grinning, the gap of a missing front tooth clearly showing. Anna sighs but smiles and quickly fixes his hair with her hand. His hair, a blond bop, is windswept from his dashing and he squirms when she starts to go for the smudges on his cheeks.
“Moooom.” He says and makes a face and moves to get away but not with any real intent.
“Hold still.” She says and Jack is dutiful for a second before he squirms again, moving away from her freshly licked thumb. “I’m gonna miss the bus.” He says, just as smartly as before, but this time doesn’t have the opportunity to stare up at her, as Anna’s pushing him out the door. “We’re going to have to run, sweetheart!” She says as Jack haphazardly puts his backpack on his shoulders.
They do.
Jack very nearly misses the bus. The driveway is dreadfully long, and only at the curve of it does he see the flash of yellow. “WAIT!” He and his mother yell at the bus which seems distant and looks like it might pull out of their driveway any second now. It doesn’t, thankfully, and instead as they get closer to it Jack sees the door swing open. The steps look big and foreboding and he stops a few yards before it just to stare. His mother comes up behind him, her blue blouse and black skirt dusty from the dirt driveway. She looks as if she’s going to start crying and Jack pulls a puzzled face at that. Has he done something?
His mother waves at the bus driver and then bends down so that they’re face to face. “You have fun, Jack, promise me?” She says seriously before smiling. Jack can tell that she still looks as if she’s about to cry so he nods furiously.
“Promise.” He says and doesn’t make a face when she kisses him on the forehead.
“I love you.” She says and then shoos him towards the bus.
~ * ~
Leland Ambrose is not ready for kindergarten. He thought he was. All summer, he was so sure that he was ready.
“I’m four and three quarters!” He’s been telling people all summer long. “Rose says I’m too little for kindergarten but Mom and Dad say I’m super clever.” He said to his grandmother who laughed (and that’s just silly because he is clever, even if he isn’t five like all the other kids).
Except...except he’s not so sure now, not when Rose moves towards the back of the bus, laughing and calling out to a friend and he’s left there at the front. Abandoned by his own sister of all people.
Lee sits down in an empty seat after the bus driver asks him to sit down and clutches his backpack. His eyes are wide and he suddenly feels very scared and blows dejectedly at the bit of hair that everyone tried to put in place this morning (along with the rest of the black mop) out of his eyes. Kindergarten, he’s decided, is going to be awful.
The bus stops for what seems like ages after a few minutes of unsuccessful hair blowing and Lee presses his face against the window to see what’s wrong. Outside are a woman and a boy. The boy looks to be about his height but is blonde like his oldest cousin. The woman kisses the boy on the top of the head and then pushes him towards the bus. He disappears for a moment in the great big glass doors that also swung open for him and Rose (and everyone else) and then appears a second later. Lee leans toward the aisle to get a better look at the boy.
Lee’s just shuffled his way across the seat to look down the aisle when he sees that the boy isn’t right next to the bus driver. He’s standing right next to Lee whose eyes grow wider when he realizes so.
“Can I sit with you?” The boy asks and Lee nods before scooting back to towards the window. The boy sits down quickly and the bus jerks into motion. They sit still, eyes towards the seat in front of them for a few moments. Lee has the urge to turn his head several times but resists it (it’s rude to stare, his parents tell him) for a little while, but eventually can’t contain himself.
“I’m Leland!” He says excitedly and turns his whole body around to look at the boy. “Everyone calls me Lee, though.” He amends and grins. The boy has turned to look at him and doesn’t say anything and for a frightful moment Lee thinks that kindergarten is going to be horrible, but then the boy breaks into a grin - he’s missing a tooth and Lee runs his tongue over his by reflex - and his eyes go as wide as Lee’s own.
“I’m Jack!” He says and then they’re off.
Forever starts here.
two.
There is an easy way to verify whether or not someone is a close friend or family member of Jack Phillips and Leland Ambrose. Friends and family know them, strangers know of them. Friends can distinguish between the two boys and strangers can't.
They're not difficult people to grasp, but some distinctions get lost. There is a difference, after all, between "Jack and Lee" and "'Jack' and 'Lee'". They are indisputably best friends, and are more often than not inseparable, but that does not mean that it is impossible (or even hard) to tell where one boy ends and the other begins. They're individuals who have measurable differences but absolute similarities.
They both adore books, for example, but for slightly different reasons. Jack loves words, you see. He loves the meaning behind them, loves why they're used in certain ways, and the way that one by one they can create a world. But Leland, Lee loves the stories. He loves the way in which a book takes a turn (or doesn't), loves how characters morph (or don't), and how these people in grander environments have plights not unlike his own.
They both therefore gain an exemplary vocabulary, but Jack's has more purpose behind it, and Lee gains his almost accidentally. Jack interrupts conversations his parents have on long car rides to the White Mountains. "What does hedonism mean?" he asks, looking up from his book, and doesn't understand why his parents stammer around a response. Lee stays up far too late with a flashlight under his sheets reading. If a sliver of light comes into the room by the door, Lee mimes sleeping, the flashlight shoved against his abdomen, his eyes closed lightly.
They are both innately curious boys. This is the similarity that matters most.
~ * ~
There is one thing about Jack and Leland that is identical. The dreams.
They dream of a great stone castle surrounded by fields of wheat and barley that extend to the edge of woods and the banks of rivers. They dream of a tall young man with hair much like Lee's who appears much too cheerful for someone who carries such a burden. They dream of a fine young prince, with Jack's determination, who can fight any enemies of the kingdom but who shirks from battles far closer. They dream of two men who have climbed cliffs for one another, that will fight battles for one another, but who have trouble acknowledging that they are more than just almost friends.
They dream of two legends and think nothing of it. After all, the dreams often seem like extensions of their waking lives.
They already run through the woods behind Jack's house, wielding sticks, yelling their own battle cries at enemy squirrels and deer. They already pretend that the abandoned tree-fort next to the river by Lee's is a castle. They finish off one another's sentences. They break off into fits of laughter at the slightest nods to a joke that is years old. They skip stones in silence - but not aggression - when something is wrong or should be dealt with seriously. They are not freakishly in tune with one another. They're just best friends.
It's natural. They think nothing of it.
One day they stand in a hay field up to their chins in the tall grass. Jack turns to Lee and whispers "We're not alone, Merlin." He makes hand signals seriously and points vaguely towards what sounds like rustling. Lee nods and presses a finger to his lips before moving forwards after Jack. They creep through the grass so that only the tops of their heads show. When they spy a neighbor's dopey dog standing in the grass, looking straight at them, Jack cries out and runs toward it, waving his fist like there's a sword in it. Lee comes up behind his friend and yells strange words, throwing his hand forward and freezing for effect.
The dopey dog, an old golden retriever, looks at them for a moment and then turns its head before walking away into the grass. They both let out deep sighs of relief and then collapse into the grass, clearly battle weary.
"That was close, sire." Lee says after a moment of moving around for a comfortable spot in the field. He turns to Jack, who was looking skyward, but now turns to him.
"We'll always keep each other safe." Jack says and then breaks out into a grin before snatching a broken blade of grass and tossing it at Lee. Lee laughs, his whole body shaking, grabs a handful of grass which he throws it into Jack's face, and then tackles him. They roll around in the wide field for what seems like mere moments before laughter renders them useless.
"Mercy, Jack, mercy!" Lee says in between breaths.
They are nine. It's natural.
Really.
three.
Leland Ambrose is fifteen and for the first time, is simmering with rage.
It is early January and winter has truly descended on New England. Lee's spent the better half of the morning shoveling because the erratic and ever indecisive New Hampshire weather graced the seacoast with a foot and a half of heavy, wet snow. Despite all of the huffing and getting sidetracked by throwing snowballs at Rose, the driveway is now clear, the cars have been uncovered, and Lee finally has the chance to go to Gilman's Pond. His skates are sharpened, his stick is wrapped and the world is covered in a great white blanket, and yet…all Lee can see is red.
He has been checked by Jack not once, not twice, but three times and enough is enough. Jack has chuckled each time saying, "Whoops, sorry Lee," but the comment has never felt more insincere. It's pond hockey, no one checks in pond hockey. It is both completely unnecessary and an absolute waste of energy. There's no rink, for one thing, and so there's also no glass to push someone into on the side, and that's good because he'd be horrendous at checking people, but also because pond hockey has never been about checking someone else. It's always been about puck-handling and skill, never brute strength.
But it isn't being checked in a game that's less about competition and more about having fun. No. It's about the fact that Lee has never seen Jack check anyone in his life, and he certainly hasn't ever been on the receiving end. The checking reeks of anyone but Jack and Lee knows that it's familiar but can't seem to figure out why. The first and the second time Lee was confused, but when he feels a third violent push and falls to the ice, the familiarity snaps into place.
He knows exactly what the checking reminds him of.
"Fuck off, Phillips." Lee says from where he lays on the ice and angrily picks himself up, not bothering to dust the light film of snow off. Jack laughs, but not quite like Jack.
"Wait a second," He says, amused. "Did you just - did Leland Ambrose just swear?"
Lee glares at Jack, he doesn't remember ever having glared at Jack before, has never really glared this fiercely at anyone before, but somehow knows how to do it without any difficulty, almost as if he's done it before.
Jack pushes Lee's shoulder, and it should be a shared joke between the two of them.
It isn't.
"Mark it in the books, yeah? Lee swears on January 5th -"
"I said fuck off, Jack." Lee cuts him off and bends down, grabbing his hockey stick irritably.
Jack starts to laugh again, shaking his head but then pauses, stopping to look carefully at Lee. "Wait are you…are you being serious?" He says after a second and furrows his eyebrows. "What the -"
"Oh, I don't know." Lee says sarcastically, doesn't even bother rolling his eyes as he turns away for a second before turning his head back. "Are you legitimately being a jackass?" He clenches his fist.
Jack looks around then, as if asking if anyone can hear the conversation, but no one's looking. The game is going on down on the eastern side of the pond and they're completely unnoticed. That, or no one feels like getting involved, not when it's between the two of them.
"Lee, what the hell?" Jack says and Lee can tell he's at a loss for words - a first. Good.
"You can't be serious." He says dryly instead. "You've checked me three times today."
Jack throws his head back then, this time in annoyance and something similar to disbelief. "I can't believe we're…it's hockey, Leland. Don't be such a wuss, have you never gone to a - "
And that's when Lee's gloved fist comes messily into contact with Jack's jaw. They both go down hard and fast, gliding back for half a second before making contact with the ice. They become a mass of limbs, silver blades and instinct. Lee hears clothing rip and doesn't know if it's his or Jack's but doesn't really care, because he's never felt more incensed at someone in his life before. They struggle with one another and Lee can't quite tell which way is up and which way is down but only really knows that Jack is in front of him and he needs to go back to being Jack.
"Fuck you, Merl -" Jack begins to snarl and then stops suddenly, his breath catching. Lee halts too and the both of them lock eyes. They are a tangled mess. Lee's leg is in what feels like an inhuman position and he can feel one - or maybe both - of Jack's skates jutting into his right thigh. His gloves are gone and so is his hat.
There is silence for an immeasurable period of time.
"Lee, I -" Jack starts eventually. They are nose to nose, flush against one another. Lee has a deafening sense of déjà vu, of having been this close to Jack before, of having felt his breath this close to his neck before, and he feels utterly out of control.
"You're not him." Lee says finally after another long silence. Their joint look has not broken and Lee pushes Jack before pulling him closer.
"No." Jack answers hoarsely.
"You're not him." Lee says again, just to cement the fact. "Remember that, OK?"
"Last night I…" Jack starts then and Lee knows.
He knows as if it's happening right now. He can smell the grass and the barley growing in the fields. He can hear the laughs. "Watch this." Someone says and Lee can hear the thump of two objects coming into contact with one another. Most of all, most of all he can hear something that sounds like his own indignation mixed with something similar to Jack's amusement.
"I had this knife, yeah?" Jack continues and even though he can feel the cold of the ice beginning to seep into his clothes, Lee can see the knife Jack means. "And I threw it and then you - no. No. No." Jack pauses and looks down, looks away from Lee. He takes a deep breath and then lets it out. "He had a knife, and he threw it, and the other…the one with that stupid scarf, he said -" Jack laughs softly and Lee catches a grin crossing over his own features. "He said 'that's enough'." Jack sobers then and Lee quickly follows. "And I, me, Jack Phillips, well I thought…I thought he was me."
four.
"LEE!" Jack calls out through the fog. It is just typical, that they spend weeks planning a range hike in the Whites and end up with absolute shit weather. Not that it's to be unexpected, this summer has been the wettest in years, so wet it seems much more like a late spring than mid-summer. But really, the level of ridiculousness astounds him. Two weeks before college and adulthood commence and the last moments of in-between are slipping away in a soggy atmosphere.
Yet despite the steady stream of moist weather, they certainly had not anticipated that the hike would be this wet, or even this hard to navigate. They were in the White Mountains, not the Misty Mountains. "AMBROSE!" Jack calls out again and hopes Lee hasn't fallen off the side of the mountain. He fidgets with his pack and attempts to peer through the fog, but there's just no luck. Lee could be six yards away and Jack still wouldn't be able to see him.
There's a bit of noise and then Jack hears a familiar voice. "POLO!" It yells. Soft footsteps follow the voice and then out of the grey mist, Lee emerges. His hair is slick against his forehead and he shakes it agitatedly to no real effect. "We're idiots, did you know that?"
"You're soaked." Jack responds and laughs at the site of Lee, who fits the description of a wet cat almost too easily. "And it's not...that bad. It's supposed to clear up."
Lee looks towards the sky in disbelief and then back at Jack. "Yeah, in a week."
"Could be worse, this stuff could be sleet." Jack answers and grins. They break, almost simultaneously, out in laughter. "We're absolute idiots." He says and wipes the mixture of sweat and condensation out of his eyes.
Lee shakes out his hair again, the droplets hitting Jack, and then sits down on a dew-covered rock. Jack joins him on one on the opposite side of the narrow trail. "So are we turning back or…ending up on the eleven o'clock news for stupidity?" Lee asks. Jack gives him a look, accompanied by raised eyebrows, and that's all the answer Lee will need to know his thoughts. As much as Jack enjoys watching TV, he'd rather not make the nightly news for refusing to recognize piss poor weather conditions. "We're not…giving up a quest or something?" Lee asks and grabs a small rock before chucking it off the mountain.
Jack doesn't hear a drop, but he does notice that Lee is carefully avoiding his eyes. "This isn't a quest, Lee." He says and waits for Lee to turn towards him, taking the cap off of his Nalgene bottle as he does so, taking a drink of electrolyte enhanced water.
"No. No, it isn't. But…but why did…why us?" Lee says quietly and turns.
Jack sucks in a breath and looks down, scuffing his boot against the rocks. "Someone had to get them, didn't they?" He says and then rubs his forehead. He's thought about it - the dreams, the memories, whatever they are - lately and there doesn't seem to be a reasonable explanation. Still, there's no denying that the people he and Lee have grown into bare a striking resemblance to two legends they've been dreaming of since the age of five.
"It's just," Lee says, slowly and carefully. "that they always talked of destiny and -"
"Where does that leave us..." Jack finishes.
"Yeah, that's it exactly." Lee nods and Jack can't help but think of how they've never had dreams of conversations like this. Sword fights and magical creatures, yes, or what is and what is not right, but not this, never this.
"I mean, do we have a destiny?" Lee asks, breaking the silence of thought for a moment before it descends again. Jack knows they're both thinking the same thing. Lee closes his eyes tightly and cracks an eye in Jack's direction. He huffs out a laugh. "That's like asking if there's such a thing as free will, isn't it?" He asks.
Jack nods. "Mmmhmm, or, you know one of the big ones like 'Is this real?'"
"What is truth?" Lee shoots back.
"What is the meaning of life?" Jack says and lifts an eyebrow. They laugh, mostly at the absolute absurdity of it all.
"Is there life after death?" Lee says quietly after a moment. They know that one, Jack thinks to himself. They know that one very well. A light wind blows then and for a moment the fog breaks. They both look up and through the break they can see the rock cairns that make their way up the mountain peak. The trail, for the first time on the hike, is quite clear.
"Do we have to have a destiny?" Jack asks suddenly, standing up. "Are there rules about this stuff? Can't we just be Jack and Lee?"
Lee stays still for a moment and then stands up, looking up towards the break in the fog that is beginning to close again. "Memories and all?" He asks shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.
"Wouldn't be the same without them, would we?" Jack says.
Lee smiles and nods affirmatively. "No. No, I guess we wouldn't."
Author brightedelweiss
Words 4088
Rating PG-13
Summary This is the life of Leland Ambrose and Jack Phillips, who've known been best friends since the age of five and just happen to have dreams of two people named Merlin and Arthur.
Notes I just need to thank burningqueen and latenightcuppa for beta-ing this and giving me encouragements and telling me what was silly and what wasn't. And lastly, this was written because I could simply not get the image of a reincarnated Merlin and Arthur growing up playing pond hockey.
Like Sifting Through Sand
Four moments in the lives of Leland Ambrose and Jack Phillips
Life isn’t simple when you’re little. Whoever decided that it was clearly didn’t have the proper childhood. It isn’t complicated in the same way that adulthood is, but it isn’t simple. You just worry about different things. You worry about what will happen when your mom finds out you’ve been feeding your veggies to the dog and only pretending to eat it. Or what will happen if you go beyond the old maple late at night - dad says something bad will happen, and that you shouldn’t - but it’s naturally tempting. Instead of worrying about bills, when to fill up the oil tank and what will happen - God forbid - if Craig Benson gets elected for another term as Governor - you muddle over the best way to make a proper fort.
Dreams of dragons and castles, swords and arrows, and adventuring with best friends are natural for little boys. You try telling Leland Ambrose and Jack Phillips otherwise.
They meet in kindergarten, and for the rest of their lives will say that they’ve known one another “Forever” because really, what are the first four years of your life worth when you’ve known your best friend since the age of five? They don’t quite remember how they met, though their parents seem to have a version that the both of them are happy to go along with. No matter how the story gets added to (and sometimes subtracted from) it happens like this:
one.
“Mom mom mom mom mom mom!” A five year old Jack Phillips says, running around the kitchen island. His mother stands at the island, neatly filling in forms, her eyes routinely flicking up to see the bundle of energy that is her son.
“Mmmm?” Anna Phillips says and when she looks up, Jack wasn’t where he was a second ago. A tug on her skirt reveals his location.
“We’re gonna be wicked late.” He says smartly, as if it’s a fact.
“No we’re -” She starts and taps her watch, shaking her head and laughing. That is, until she looks at the clock. “Shi - shoot. Shoot! Oh Jack, we are going to be late!” In an instant papers are being shoved into folders and then into purses. Jack stays, for once, still as his mother bustles around him. “Papers check, wallet check, something…something - oh! Jack do you have your backpack?” She asks, moving around the kitchen knowing that no matter what checklist she goes through mentally something is surely going to go wrong. It already has, after all.
Jack darts away, out of the kitchen and then comes back in an instant. “Got it!” He says grinning, the gap of a missing front tooth clearly showing. Anna sighs but smiles and quickly fixes his hair with her hand. His hair, a blond bop, is windswept from his dashing and he squirms when she starts to go for the smudges on his cheeks.
“Moooom.” He says and makes a face and moves to get away but not with any real intent.
“Hold still.” She says and Jack is dutiful for a second before he squirms again, moving away from her freshly licked thumb. “I’m gonna miss the bus.” He says, just as smartly as before, but this time doesn’t have the opportunity to stare up at her, as Anna’s pushing him out the door. “We’re going to have to run, sweetheart!” She says as Jack haphazardly puts his backpack on his shoulders.
They do.
Jack very nearly misses the bus. The driveway is dreadfully long, and only at the curve of it does he see the flash of yellow. “WAIT!” He and his mother yell at the bus which seems distant and looks like it might pull out of their driveway any second now. It doesn’t, thankfully, and instead as they get closer to it Jack sees the door swing open. The steps look big and foreboding and he stops a few yards before it just to stare. His mother comes up behind him, her blue blouse and black skirt dusty from the dirt driveway. She looks as if she’s going to start crying and Jack pulls a puzzled face at that. Has he done something?
His mother waves at the bus driver and then bends down so that they’re face to face. “You have fun, Jack, promise me?” She says seriously before smiling. Jack can tell that she still looks as if she’s about to cry so he nods furiously.
“Promise.” He says and doesn’t make a face when she kisses him on the forehead.
“I love you.” She says and then shoos him towards the bus.
~ * ~
Leland Ambrose is not ready for kindergarten. He thought he was. All summer, he was so sure that he was ready.
“I’m four and three quarters!” He’s been telling people all summer long. “Rose says I’m too little for kindergarten but Mom and Dad say I’m super clever.” He said to his grandmother who laughed (and that’s just silly because he is clever, even if he isn’t five like all the other kids).
Except...except he’s not so sure now, not when Rose moves towards the back of the bus, laughing and calling out to a friend and he’s left there at the front. Abandoned by his own sister of all people.
Lee sits down in an empty seat after the bus driver asks him to sit down and clutches his backpack. His eyes are wide and he suddenly feels very scared and blows dejectedly at the bit of hair that everyone tried to put in place this morning (along with the rest of the black mop) out of his eyes. Kindergarten, he’s decided, is going to be awful.
The bus stops for what seems like ages after a few minutes of unsuccessful hair blowing and Lee presses his face against the window to see what’s wrong. Outside are a woman and a boy. The boy looks to be about his height but is blonde like his oldest cousin. The woman kisses the boy on the top of the head and then pushes him towards the bus. He disappears for a moment in the great big glass doors that also swung open for him and Rose (and everyone else) and then appears a second later. Lee leans toward the aisle to get a better look at the boy.
Lee’s just shuffled his way across the seat to look down the aisle when he sees that the boy isn’t right next to the bus driver. He’s standing right next to Lee whose eyes grow wider when he realizes so.
“Can I sit with you?” The boy asks and Lee nods before scooting back to towards the window. The boy sits down quickly and the bus jerks into motion. They sit still, eyes towards the seat in front of them for a few moments. Lee has the urge to turn his head several times but resists it (it’s rude to stare, his parents tell him) for a little while, but eventually can’t contain himself.
“I’m Leland!” He says excitedly and turns his whole body around to look at the boy. “Everyone calls me Lee, though.” He amends and grins. The boy has turned to look at him and doesn’t say anything and for a frightful moment Lee thinks that kindergarten is going to be horrible, but then the boy breaks into a grin - he’s missing a tooth and Lee runs his tongue over his by reflex - and his eyes go as wide as Lee’s own.
“I’m Jack!” He says and then they’re off.
Forever starts here.
two.
There is an easy way to verify whether or not someone is a close friend or family member of Jack Phillips and Leland Ambrose. Friends and family know them, strangers know of them. Friends can distinguish between the two boys and strangers can't.
They're not difficult people to grasp, but some distinctions get lost. There is a difference, after all, between "Jack and Lee" and "'Jack' and 'Lee'". They are indisputably best friends, and are more often than not inseparable, but that does not mean that it is impossible (or even hard) to tell where one boy ends and the other begins. They're individuals who have measurable differences but absolute similarities.
They both adore books, for example, but for slightly different reasons. Jack loves words, you see. He loves the meaning behind them, loves why they're used in certain ways, and the way that one by one they can create a world. But Leland, Lee loves the stories. He loves the way in which a book takes a turn (or doesn't), loves how characters morph (or don't), and how these people in grander environments have plights not unlike his own.
They both therefore gain an exemplary vocabulary, but Jack's has more purpose behind it, and Lee gains his almost accidentally. Jack interrupts conversations his parents have on long car rides to the White Mountains. "What does hedonism mean?" he asks, looking up from his book, and doesn't understand why his parents stammer around a response. Lee stays up far too late with a flashlight under his sheets reading. If a sliver of light comes into the room by the door, Lee mimes sleeping, the flashlight shoved against his abdomen, his eyes closed lightly.
They are both innately curious boys. This is the similarity that matters most.
~ * ~
There is one thing about Jack and Leland that is identical. The dreams.
They dream of a great stone castle surrounded by fields of wheat and barley that extend to the edge of woods and the banks of rivers. They dream of a tall young man with hair much like Lee's who appears much too cheerful for someone who carries such a burden. They dream of a fine young prince, with Jack's determination, who can fight any enemies of the kingdom but who shirks from battles far closer. They dream of two men who have climbed cliffs for one another, that will fight battles for one another, but who have trouble acknowledging that they are more than just almost friends.
They dream of two legends and think nothing of it. After all, the dreams often seem like extensions of their waking lives.
They already run through the woods behind Jack's house, wielding sticks, yelling their own battle cries at enemy squirrels and deer. They already pretend that the abandoned tree-fort next to the river by Lee's is a castle. They finish off one another's sentences. They break off into fits of laughter at the slightest nods to a joke that is years old. They skip stones in silence - but not aggression - when something is wrong or should be dealt with seriously. They are not freakishly in tune with one another. They're just best friends.
It's natural. They think nothing of it.
One day they stand in a hay field up to their chins in the tall grass. Jack turns to Lee and whispers "We're not alone, Merlin." He makes hand signals seriously and points vaguely towards what sounds like rustling. Lee nods and presses a finger to his lips before moving forwards after Jack. They creep through the grass so that only the tops of their heads show. When they spy a neighbor's dopey dog standing in the grass, looking straight at them, Jack cries out and runs toward it, waving his fist like there's a sword in it. Lee comes up behind his friend and yells strange words, throwing his hand forward and freezing for effect.
The dopey dog, an old golden retriever, looks at them for a moment and then turns its head before walking away into the grass. They both let out deep sighs of relief and then collapse into the grass, clearly battle weary.
"That was close, sire." Lee says after a moment of moving around for a comfortable spot in the field. He turns to Jack, who was looking skyward, but now turns to him.
"We'll always keep each other safe." Jack says and then breaks out into a grin before snatching a broken blade of grass and tossing it at Lee. Lee laughs, his whole body shaking, grabs a handful of grass which he throws it into Jack's face, and then tackles him. They roll around in the wide field for what seems like mere moments before laughter renders them useless.
"Mercy, Jack, mercy!" Lee says in between breaths.
They are nine. It's natural.
Really.
three.
Leland Ambrose is fifteen and for the first time, is simmering with rage.
It is early January and winter has truly descended on New England. Lee's spent the better half of the morning shoveling because the erratic and ever indecisive New Hampshire weather graced the seacoast with a foot and a half of heavy, wet snow. Despite all of the huffing and getting sidetracked by throwing snowballs at Rose, the driveway is now clear, the cars have been uncovered, and Lee finally has the chance to go to Gilman's Pond. His skates are sharpened, his stick is wrapped and the world is covered in a great white blanket, and yet…all Lee can see is red.
He has been checked by Jack not once, not twice, but three times and enough is enough. Jack has chuckled each time saying, "Whoops, sorry Lee," but the comment has never felt more insincere. It's pond hockey, no one checks in pond hockey. It is both completely unnecessary and an absolute waste of energy. There's no rink, for one thing, and so there's also no glass to push someone into on the side, and that's good because he'd be horrendous at checking people, but also because pond hockey has never been about checking someone else. It's always been about puck-handling and skill, never brute strength.
But it isn't being checked in a game that's less about competition and more about having fun. No. It's about the fact that Lee has never seen Jack check anyone in his life, and he certainly hasn't ever been on the receiving end. The checking reeks of anyone but Jack and Lee knows that it's familiar but can't seem to figure out why. The first and the second time Lee was confused, but when he feels a third violent push and falls to the ice, the familiarity snaps into place.
He knows exactly what the checking reminds him of.
"Fuck off, Phillips." Lee says from where he lays on the ice and angrily picks himself up, not bothering to dust the light film of snow off. Jack laughs, but not quite like Jack.
"Wait a second," He says, amused. "Did you just - did Leland Ambrose just swear?"
Lee glares at Jack, he doesn't remember ever having glared at Jack before, has never really glared this fiercely at anyone before, but somehow knows how to do it without any difficulty, almost as if he's done it before.
Jack pushes Lee's shoulder, and it should be a shared joke between the two of them.
It isn't.
"Mark it in the books, yeah? Lee swears on January 5th -"
"I said fuck off, Jack." Lee cuts him off and bends down, grabbing his hockey stick irritably.
Jack starts to laugh again, shaking his head but then pauses, stopping to look carefully at Lee. "Wait are you…are you being serious?" He says after a second and furrows his eyebrows. "What the -"
"Oh, I don't know." Lee says sarcastically, doesn't even bother rolling his eyes as he turns away for a second before turning his head back. "Are you legitimately being a jackass?" He clenches his fist.
Jack looks around then, as if asking if anyone can hear the conversation, but no one's looking. The game is going on down on the eastern side of the pond and they're completely unnoticed. That, or no one feels like getting involved, not when it's between the two of them.
"Lee, what the hell?" Jack says and Lee can tell he's at a loss for words - a first. Good.
"You can't be serious." He says dryly instead. "You've checked me three times today."
Jack throws his head back then, this time in annoyance and something similar to disbelief. "I can't believe we're…it's hockey, Leland. Don't be such a wuss, have you never gone to a - "
And that's when Lee's gloved fist comes messily into contact with Jack's jaw. They both go down hard and fast, gliding back for half a second before making contact with the ice. They become a mass of limbs, silver blades and instinct. Lee hears clothing rip and doesn't know if it's his or Jack's but doesn't really care, because he's never felt more incensed at someone in his life before. They struggle with one another and Lee can't quite tell which way is up and which way is down but only really knows that Jack is in front of him and he needs to go back to being Jack.
"Fuck you, Merl -" Jack begins to snarl and then stops suddenly, his breath catching. Lee halts too and the both of them lock eyes. They are a tangled mess. Lee's leg is in what feels like an inhuman position and he can feel one - or maybe both - of Jack's skates jutting into his right thigh. His gloves are gone and so is his hat.
There is silence for an immeasurable period of time.
"Lee, I -" Jack starts eventually. They are nose to nose, flush against one another. Lee has a deafening sense of déjà vu, of having been this close to Jack before, of having felt his breath this close to his neck before, and he feels utterly out of control.
"You're not him." Lee says finally after another long silence. Their joint look has not broken and Lee pushes Jack before pulling him closer.
"No." Jack answers hoarsely.
"You're not him." Lee says again, just to cement the fact. "Remember that, OK?"
"Last night I…" Jack starts then and Lee knows.
He knows as if it's happening right now. He can smell the grass and the barley growing in the fields. He can hear the laughs. "Watch this." Someone says and Lee can hear the thump of two objects coming into contact with one another. Most of all, most of all he can hear something that sounds like his own indignation mixed with something similar to Jack's amusement.
"I had this knife, yeah?" Jack continues and even though he can feel the cold of the ice beginning to seep into his clothes, Lee can see the knife Jack means. "And I threw it and then you - no. No. No." Jack pauses and looks down, looks away from Lee. He takes a deep breath and then lets it out. "He had a knife, and he threw it, and the other…the one with that stupid scarf, he said -" Jack laughs softly and Lee catches a grin crossing over his own features. "He said 'that's enough'." Jack sobers then and Lee quickly follows. "And I, me, Jack Phillips, well I thought…I thought he was me."
four.
"LEE!" Jack calls out through the fog. It is just typical, that they spend weeks planning a range hike in the Whites and end up with absolute shit weather. Not that it's to be unexpected, this summer has been the wettest in years, so wet it seems much more like a late spring than mid-summer. But really, the level of ridiculousness astounds him. Two weeks before college and adulthood commence and the last moments of in-between are slipping away in a soggy atmosphere.
Yet despite the steady stream of moist weather, they certainly had not anticipated that the hike would be this wet, or even this hard to navigate. They were in the White Mountains, not the Misty Mountains. "AMBROSE!" Jack calls out again and hopes Lee hasn't fallen off the side of the mountain. He fidgets with his pack and attempts to peer through the fog, but there's just no luck. Lee could be six yards away and Jack still wouldn't be able to see him.
There's a bit of noise and then Jack hears a familiar voice. "POLO!" It yells. Soft footsteps follow the voice and then out of the grey mist, Lee emerges. His hair is slick against his forehead and he shakes it agitatedly to no real effect. "We're idiots, did you know that?"
"You're soaked." Jack responds and laughs at the site of Lee, who fits the description of a wet cat almost too easily. "And it's not...that bad. It's supposed to clear up."
Lee looks towards the sky in disbelief and then back at Jack. "Yeah, in a week."
"Could be worse, this stuff could be sleet." Jack answers and grins. They break, almost simultaneously, out in laughter. "We're absolute idiots." He says and wipes the mixture of sweat and condensation out of his eyes.
Lee shakes out his hair again, the droplets hitting Jack, and then sits down on a dew-covered rock. Jack joins him on one on the opposite side of the narrow trail. "So are we turning back or…ending up on the eleven o'clock news for stupidity?" Lee asks. Jack gives him a look, accompanied by raised eyebrows, and that's all the answer Lee will need to know his thoughts. As much as Jack enjoys watching TV, he'd rather not make the nightly news for refusing to recognize piss poor weather conditions. "We're not…giving up a quest or something?" Lee asks and grabs a small rock before chucking it off the mountain.
Jack doesn't hear a drop, but he does notice that Lee is carefully avoiding his eyes. "This isn't a quest, Lee." He says and waits for Lee to turn towards him, taking the cap off of his Nalgene bottle as he does so, taking a drink of electrolyte enhanced water.
"No. No, it isn't. But…but why did…why us?" Lee says quietly and turns.
Jack sucks in a breath and looks down, scuffing his boot against the rocks. "Someone had to get them, didn't they?" He says and then rubs his forehead. He's thought about it - the dreams, the memories, whatever they are - lately and there doesn't seem to be a reasonable explanation. Still, there's no denying that the people he and Lee have grown into bare a striking resemblance to two legends they've been dreaming of since the age of five.
"It's just," Lee says, slowly and carefully. "that they always talked of destiny and -"
"Where does that leave us..." Jack finishes.
"Yeah, that's it exactly." Lee nods and Jack can't help but think of how they've never had dreams of conversations like this. Sword fights and magical creatures, yes, or what is and what is not right, but not this, never this.
"I mean, do we have a destiny?" Lee asks, breaking the silence of thought for a moment before it descends again. Jack knows they're both thinking the same thing. Lee closes his eyes tightly and cracks an eye in Jack's direction. He huffs out a laugh. "That's like asking if there's such a thing as free will, isn't it?" He asks.
Jack nods. "Mmmhmm, or, you know one of the big ones like 'Is this real?'"
"What is truth?" Lee shoots back.
"What is the meaning of life?" Jack says and lifts an eyebrow. They laugh, mostly at the absolute absurdity of it all.
"Is there life after death?" Lee says quietly after a moment. They know that one, Jack thinks to himself. They know that one very well. A light wind blows then and for a moment the fog breaks. They both look up and through the break they can see the rock cairns that make their way up the mountain peak. The trail, for the first time on the hike, is quite clear.
"Do we have to have a destiny?" Jack asks suddenly, standing up. "Are there rules about this stuff? Can't we just be Jack and Lee?"
Lee stays still for a moment and then stands up, looking up towards the break in the fog that is beginning to close again. "Memories and all?" He asks shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.
"Wouldn't be the same without them, would we?" Jack says.
Lee smiles and nods affirmatively. "No. No, I guess we wouldn't."