And suddenly it was over. The last thing Tom remembered was his confrontation with Alex, and the searing pain of a bullet ripping through his neck. He remembered falling to the ground, thrashing, and then nothing.
He awoke in a dingy motel room with no recollection of how he had gotten there, but found his belongings (Harry's rotten mining suit and a red emergency response suit) hanging in the back of the closet, and a black duffel bag with the contents of his bank account. A quick check with the motel staff put him there for three nights, with a request for privacy, and no one had seen or heard anything strange from his room the entire time. It was like he had been dropped back where he had started, just after Harmony, with no explanation for the year and a half he had spent in World's End. And he remembered every moment of that.
The three day stay turned into four, then a week, before he had any idea what to do. It wasn't much of an idea, but he had to get away - and having nowhere else to go, decided to see if he could look up anyone he knew. Maybe other people had been brought back, and maybe one of them was living in the same world he did.
It was worth a shot and as the topic of conversation often came up in World's End, he had a fair idea of where most of his friends lived.
Tom began to construct a list, pinpointing where he thought they would be, and listing them in order of priority. Given what had just occurred, he was skiddish in approaching either Alex or Claire, and was pretty sure his list of friends was significantly smaller when narrowed down to people most likely to be from his particular universe. He didn't want to see anyone who had known him as a monster. He didn't want to aggravate those wounds when they were still so fresh. He would have to leave them, probably for as long as possible, and find someone else.
He thought back to those who had shown him kindness, and every time he did, he always circled back to the same person. Eileen. She had stood by him through trial after trial, and his only regret was never being able to tell her how he really felt. With that in mind, he checked out, tossed the jumpsuits, and bought a one way bus ticket to Ashfield Heights.
The town was small, just like Eileen had described, and each second he stood at the bus station was a second closer to maybe, possibly, finding her. Hey, the town was real, there was a good chance she was too, right?
So he found a place to stay, picked up a decent change of clothes, showered, and set out to find the apartment building she had spoken about with such disdain.
To his surprise, it, too, existed, and he stood outside in quiet awe. Gathering his courage, he entered the complex and sought out Frank, or anyone who might know Eileen. Tom had meant to catch someone in the hallway by the mail boxes, but after lingering around for a few minutes, and meeting no one, he turned to the mail boxes themselves. There she was, plain as day.
108 - Galvin, E
His heart skipped a beat and Tom nearly fell over. She was real. She was here. Against all odds.
Barely able to contain his excitement, he committed the number to memory and raced in the direction of her door. It was there just like all the other doors, but somehow it just didn't seem real.
He contemplated doubling back, and nearly did a few times, but he had come all this way on a hunch, and now his desperate wish turned out the be real, there way no way. No, he couldn't let himself run away from this too. Not after everything he- They'd been though.
Willing himself to act, Tom took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and knocked.
Eileen snapped out of her self-imposed trance, where she had been staring blankly out into the street, and rose from the couch. Doubtless it was Frank trying to goad her into having dinner with him. He was such a dear, sweet man - a father figure to her, really, after her own had passed away while she was in college.
He made no secret of the fact that he was worried about her. Immediately after Walter’s attack she was coping well, but became a veritable recluse when she returned from World’s End. Eileen couldn’t tell him the real reason why she rarely emerged from her apartment these days. He’d just purse his lips and sadly shake his head. It made her feel crazy.
As she pulled the door to, she addressed the man she thought was waiting on the other side. “Frank, I already told you I’m thawing out-“ The words died on her lips when it was Tom Hanniger staring her in the face instead. Eileen couldn’t move or speak, but her heart beat so hard within her chest that she was sure he could hear it. “Tom…?”
Tom let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, looking just as shocked as she. He couldn't move at first, opening his mouth to say something, but what? He hadn't actually...planned this far ahead, and scrambled for words.
"Eileen." He finally managed, it coming out almost as a whisper before he cleared his throat and tried again - his expression mixing as he tried to play it cool when it so obviously wasn't.
"Hey." Delivered with a light, albeit awkward, shrug and a small smile.
Encouraged and emboldened by the notion that he tracked her all the way to South Ashfield Heights, Eileen threw her arms around him and buried her face into his shoulder. Breathing him in - the scent of pine and fresh earth from his house’s close proximity to the forest - she was assured that this wasn’t a dream. World’s End had cut him loose and they were together again.
“Hey back,” she replied tearfully. Normally, she hated crying in front of others, but it was like a padlock had been broken and freed her pent-up emotions. Her fingers curled into the cottony fabric of Tom's hoodie and she drew him closer. She just couldn’t hang on tight enough. “I never thought-- how?”
"I don't know." He answered, holding her just as tight - fingers instinctively running over the back of her hair. She was just as pretty as he remembered. Gentle face framed so well under lark lashes and a spray of freckles.
"I didn't think you'd be here.." Tom into the top of her head, still trying to keep it together. On top of everything else, this was proof what he remembered had actually happened, and not been a long and extremely exhausting hallucination.
Eileen pulled away then, smiling and wiping the hot tears from her face. She probably looked like hell. Lack of sunshine and a good night’s sleep left her paler than usual, but she felt wide awake for the first time in weeks the moment she laid eyes on Tom, like he shook her out of a dream state into the real world.
“Plans changed. The super was nice enough to let me stay here, though. Uh,” she looked up at him through her hair, gesturing inside with a thumb, “d’you wanna come in? I can get you a drink or something.”
"Yeah, okay." With a small nod he followed her in.
It wasn't exactly what he had meant by her being there, but it didn't really matter. Tom closed the door behind him, standing awkwardly in the hall. He could barely believe this was really happening. Of course he wanted it to be, but something the back of his head had been nagging the whole here. This is a dream. You'll see. You'll get there and she won't exist. But that voice was wrong, and he couldn't be happier.
"Have you heard from anyone else? Alex or Claire?" It hurt to say their names, but he had to know.
Eileen offered him a seat on the couch before stepping into the kitchen. She retrieved two glasses from the cupboard and filled them a little more than halfway with water for him and diet soda for her. Then she sank into a cushion beside Tom and presented him with his drink.
She shook her head no, sadly, in response to his question. “Claire and I promised to track each other down if we ever came back from World’s End. I took a flight to Colorado Springs, but her apartment was empty. I haven’t heard anything from Alex.” Eileen watched him sympathetically. She knew he and Alex had a close, intense friendship. “I’m sorry it’s not good news.”
He took the glass with a nod of thanks, then frowned lightly when he heard the news. "If her apartment was there, then at least we know she could come back. I know you two were close."
As for Alex, well, it was probably for the best. They'd had a massive falling out, to put it lightly.
"I haven't heard anything either. From anyone." He added, taking a sip from his glass.
It was hard not getting her hopes up. Eileen prayed, however futilely, that World’s End would have its fill of everyone and set them all free, even though showing up in the city was a blessing to some people. It was sobering to think that their homes were far worse than monster-laden streets and vivid, monthly nightmares.
For all the grief it caused her, Eileen would choose South Ashfield Heights over the alternative any day, as long as her friends could be with her; and Tom was a very good start, she thought, smiling at him over the rim of her glass. He looked more drawn since the last time she saw him, but he was still the gentle soul she’d always known.
“Maybe it takes a while,” she said, more for her sake than his. “Anyway, how’ve you been getting along?”
"Fine." Tom answered, shrugging a little bit. This still felt like a dream. In truth, though, he wasn't fine at all. It probably showed, too, try as he might to shrug it off. His dreams were still plagued with the last month of his life, and that single searing pain of a bullet in his throat.
He wasn't sure if he'd lost a memory, either. Everything seemed to be in place, but he wouldn't know the difference, right? Then again, people didn't usually go home when they...
When they died.
The healing wasn't the same, either. A raw scar against his trachea was proof of that. Tom had spent a long time inspecting it, fingers tracing over the fading lines of sickness. A physical testimony to Harry Warden. He was marked now, for the world to see. His own scarlet letter.
She set her glass aside and twisted in her seat to face him better, one leg tucked under the other.
“It… hasn’t been as simple as it looks,” Eileen explained, her eyes straying to an empty corner of the room. First, she had to endure the living nightmare of deciding what to throw away after the attack. Blood soiled most of her furniture and it sickened her to think of all the nights she’d spent curled up, watching her favorite comedy shows, never imagining in a million years she’d be thrown about the living room like a rag doll.
Suffice it to say, she could carry all of her possessions in two slightly large suitcases. She had yet to go shopping to replace the clothes that were completely shredded or submitted as evidence to the police. In a way, she was consciously putting it off until her mind didn’t feel so jumbled, and living in a sparsely decorated apartment helped her think clearly.
“I’m glad you’re here, Tom.” The words came out in an exhale; quiet, reverent. “I can’t tell you how worried I was that I’d never see you again.”
He could understand how weird it was to be back. In a way, it almost wasn't fair to be plopped right back in the place they were with only a few days missing. Truth be told, he was still a little shell shocked. Going with so little for so long made you resourceful, and little things like the ability to just get up and take a shower or pop across the street to get a bite to eat felt almost...wrong.
Not that he was going to complain, it was definitely easier than going out and killing something, but he couldn't look at food the same way anymore. Processed food was hard to digest without feeling sick, and the sensation of being in a moving vehicle was foreign. He felt a little bit freakish buying new clothes, and grocery stores were almost overwhelming. Like a caveman in the future.
There had also been the immediate urge to check himself back into the hospital, but he was a dead man, now. Turning up to a state regulated looney bin would put him right back on the grid, and that was the last thing he wanted. Besides, he had to know what happened to his friends.
"Me too." He answered, never the best at vocalizing his feelings.
The corner of Eileen’s lips turned up into a pained smile. Sometimes being around Tom made her want to weep. He was endlessly sweet and she always felt an overwhelming urge to comfort him in some way, with a hand on his shoulder or folded over his own. This time, she tucked it into the crook of his arm, scooting closer to him. Maybe she needed reassurance that he was real, too.
“What I mean to say,” Eileen began, licking her lips as they had suddenly gone dry, “is that I’d never get a chance to tell you how I felt-- feel about you.” Her bright green eyes engaged his then, searching for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. By some miracle, Tom was sitting on her couch in Ashfield, and she didn’t want to ruin this moment by scaring him off with a loaded confession. “Know what I mean?”
It wasn't hesitation she found in return, but surprise. Taken aback, he stayed still for the briefest of moments before nodding.
"Yeah."
He understood perfectly well what she meant because he felt the same way, too. Towards the end, Tom had been more and more able to approach women. Maybe it was his loss of Eileen, or those small ellipses of normality, but he'd become intimate with a few women. But rebound or courage, he felt more secure. And that was what made this so much harder to do. She wasn't safe with him and he knew it. He had never thought it would be a problem with girls he liked, but Elle was proof that wasn't the case. Somewhere deep inside, his love still belonged to Sarah, and her betrayal had left just as many scars as Harry. It didn't matter that Eileen wasn't like that. Elle hadn't been either, but they fulfilled the role of the woman he cared about, and his illness didn't seem to discriminate.
Tom clenched his jaw, a pained expression crossing his face as he laid his hand on her's.
He wanted her, he always had. He wanted normalcy. He wanted to be happy, but he knew she would only get hurt. Some part of him said fuck it. Do it anyway. Take a chance, maybe it will be different! But he couldn't knowing what might happen. To be bluntly honest, he hadn't thought she would be here much less thought this far ahead.
"Eileen, I..." Tom began quietly, searching her face for an easy explanation. There wasn't one. "I'm sick."
Concern welled up inside her and she bent her head to keep their eyes locked.
“Sick?” Eileen squeezed his arm sympathetically. He looked thin, sallow. Then again, so did she. Traveling to meet her from wherever he initially woke up probably took a lot out of him. Hell, retrieving her mail sometimes felt like an Olympian feat, and she didn’t have to climb the stairs anymore. “Have you seen a doctor?”
He awoke in a dingy motel room with no recollection of how he had gotten there, but found his belongings (Harry's rotten mining suit and a red emergency response suit) hanging in the back of the closet, and a black duffel bag with the contents of his bank account. A quick check with the motel staff put him there for three nights, with a request for privacy, and no one had seen or heard anything strange from his room the entire time. It was like he had been dropped back where he had started, just after Harmony, with no explanation for the year and a half he had spent in World's End. And he remembered every moment of that.
The three day stay turned into four, then a week, before he had any idea what to do. It wasn't much of an idea, but he had to get away - and having nowhere else to go, decided to see if he could look up anyone he knew. Maybe other people had been brought back, and maybe one of them was living in the same world he did.
It was worth a shot and as the topic of conversation often came up in World's End, he had a fair idea of where most of his friends lived.
Tom began to construct a list, pinpointing where he thought they would be, and listing them in order of priority. Given what had just occurred, he was skiddish in approaching either Alex or Claire, and was pretty sure his list of friends was significantly smaller when narrowed down to people most likely to be from his particular universe. He didn't want to see anyone who had known him as a monster. He didn't want to aggravate those wounds when they were still so fresh. He would have to leave them, probably for as long as possible, and find someone else.
He thought back to those who had shown him kindness, and every time he did, he always circled back to the same person. Eileen. She had stood by him through trial after trial, and his only regret was never being able to tell her how he really felt. With that in mind, he checked out, tossed the jumpsuits, and bought a one way bus ticket to Ashfield Heights.
The town was small, just like Eileen had described, and each second he stood at the bus station was a second closer to maybe, possibly, finding her. Hey, the town was real, there was a good chance she was too, right?
So he found a place to stay, picked up a decent change of clothes, showered, and set out to find the apartment building she had spoken about with such disdain.
To his surprise, it, too, existed, and he stood outside in quiet awe. Gathering his courage, he entered the complex and sought out Frank, or anyone who might know Eileen. Tom had meant to catch someone in the hallway by the mail boxes, but after lingering around for a few minutes, and meeting no one, he turned to the mail boxes themselves. There she was, plain as day.
108 - Galvin, E
His heart skipped a beat and Tom nearly fell over. She was real. She was here. Against all odds.
Barely able to contain his excitement, he committed the number to memory and raced in the direction of her door. It was there just like all the other doors, but somehow it just didn't seem real.
He contemplated doubling back, and nearly did a few times, but he had come all this way on a hunch, and now his desperate wish turned out the be real, there way no way. No, he couldn't let himself run away from this too. Not after everything he- They'd been though.
Willing himself to act, Tom took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and knocked.
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He made no secret of the fact that he was worried about her. Immediately after Walter’s attack she was coping well, but became a veritable recluse when she returned from World’s End. Eileen couldn’t tell him the real reason why she rarely emerged from her apartment these days. He’d just purse his lips and sadly shake his head. It made her feel crazy.
As she pulled the door to, she addressed the man she thought was waiting on the other side. “Frank, I already told you I’m thawing out-“ The words died on her lips when it was Tom Hanniger staring her in the face instead. Eileen couldn’t move or speak, but her heart beat so hard within her chest that she was sure he could hear it. “Tom…?”
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"Eileen." He finally managed, it coming out almost as a whisper before he cleared his throat and tried again - his expression mixing as he tried to play it cool when it so obviously wasn't.
"Hey." Delivered with a light, albeit awkward, shrug and a small smile.
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“Hey back,” she replied tearfully. Normally, she hated crying in front of others, but it was like a padlock had been broken and freed her pent-up emotions. Her fingers curled into the cottony fabric of Tom's hoodie and she drew him closer. She just couldn’t hang on tight enough. “I never thought-- how?”
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"I didn't think you'd be here.." Tom into the top of her head, still trying to keep it together. On top of everything else, this was proof what he remembered had actually happened, and not been a long and extremely exhausting hallucination.
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“Plans changed. The super was nice enough to let me stay here, though. Uh,” she looked up at him through her hair, gesturing inside with a thumb, “d’you wanna come in? I can get you a drink or something.”
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It wasn't exactly what he had meant by her being there, but it didn't really matter. Tom closed the door behind him, standing awkwardly in the hall. He could barely believe this was really happening. Of course he wanted it to be, but something the back of his head had been nagging the whole here. This is a dream. You'll see. You'll get there and she won't exist. But that voice was wrong, and he couldn't be happier.
"Have you heard from anyone else? Alex or Claire?" It hurt to say their names, but he had to know.
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She shook her head no, sadly, in response to his question. “Claire and I promised to track each other down if we ever came back from World’s End. I took a flight to Colorado Springs, but her apartment was empty. I haven’t heard anything from Alex.” Eileen watched him sympathetically. She knew he and Alex had a close, intense friendship. “I’m sorry it’s not good news.”
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As for Alex, well, it was probably for the best. They'd had a massive falling out, to put it lightly.
"I haven't heard anything either. From anyone." He added, taking a sip from his glass.
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For all the grief it caused her, Eileen would choose South Ashfield Heights over the alternative any day, as long as her friends could be with her; and Tom was a very good start, she thought, smiling at him over the rim of her glass. He looked more drawn since the last time she saw him, but he was still the gentle soul she’d always known.
“Maybe it takes a while,” she said, more for her sake than his. “Anyway, how’ve you been getting along?”
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He wasn't sure if he'd lost a memory, either. Everything seemed to be in place, but he wouldn't know the difference, right? Then again, people didn't usually go home when they...
When they died.
The healing wasn't the same, either. A raw scar against his trachea was proof of that. Tom had spent a long time inspecting it, fingers tracing over the fading lines of sickness. A physical testimony to Harry Warden. He was marked now, for the world to see. His own scarlet letter.
"You're settling in back here?"
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“It… hasn’t been as simple as it looks,” Eileen explained, her eyes straying to an empty corner of the room. First, she had to endure the living nightmare of deciding what to throw away after the attack. Blood soiled most of her furniture and it sickened her to think of all the nights she’d spent curled up, watching her favorite comedy shows, never imagining in a million years she’d be thrown about the living room like a rag doll.
Suffice it to say, she could carry all of her possessions in two slightly large suitcases. She had yet to go shopping to replace the clothes that were completely shredded or submitted as evidence to the police. In a way, she was consciously putting it off until her mind didn’t feel so jumbled, and living in a sparsely decorated apartment helped her think clearly.
“I’m glad you’re here, Tom.” The words came out in an exhale; quiet, reverent. “I can’t tell you how worried I was that I’d never see you again.”
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Not that he was going to complain, it was definitely easier than going out and killing something, but he couldn't look at food the same way anymore. Processed food was hard to digest without feeling sick, and the sensation of being in a moving vehicle was foreign. He felt a little bit freakish buying new clothes, and grocery stores were almost overwhelming. Like a caveman in the future.
There had also been the immediate urge to check himself back into the hospital, but he was a dead man, now. Turning up to a state regulated looney bin would put him right back on the grid, and that was the last thing he wanted. Besides, he had to know what happened to his friends.
"Me too." He answered, never the best at vocalizing his feelings.
"I thought I'd get here and you wouldn't exist."
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“What I mean to say,” Eileen began, licking her lips as they had suddenly gone dry, “is that I’d never get a chance to tell you how I felt-- feel about you.” Her bright green eyes engaged his then, searching for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. By some miracle, Tom was sitting on her couch in Ashfield, and she didn’t want to ruin this moment by scaring him off with a loaded confession. “Know what I mean?”
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"Yeah."
He understood perfectly well what she meant because he felt the same way, too. Towards the end, Tom had been more and more able to approach women. Maybe it was his loss of Eileen, or those small ellipses of normality, but he'd become intimate with a few women. But rebound or courage, he felt more secure. And that was what made this so much harder to do. She wasn't safe with him and he knew it. He had never thought it would be a problem with girls he liked, but Elle was proof that wasn't the case. Somewhere deep inside, his love still belonged to Sarah, and her betrayal had left just as many scars as Harry. It didn't matter that Eileen wasn't like that. Elle hadn't been either, but they fulfilled the role of the woman he cared about, and his illness didn't seem to discriminate.
Tom clenched his jaw, a pained expression crossing his face as he laid his hand on her's.
He wanted her, he always had. He wanted normalcy. He wanted to be happy, but he knew she would only get hurt. Some part of him said fuck it. Do it anyway. Take a chance, maybe it will be different! But he couldn't knowing what might happen. To be bluntly honest, he hadn't thought she would be here much less thought this far ahead.
"Eileen, I..." Tom began quietly, searching her face for an easy explanation. There wasn't one. "I'm sick."
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“Sick?” Eileen squeezed his arm sympathetically. He looked thin, sallow. Then again, so did she. Traveling to meet her from wherever he initially woke up probably took a lot out of him. Hell, retrieving her mail sometimes felt like an Olympian feat, and she didn’t have to climb the stairs anymore. “Have you seen a doctor?”
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