(no subject)
Okay, so it's like, almost a month since Christmas. Here's some overdue Christmas FIC, lolz.
This one was requested byyyy...
~*naemi!*~
Au: post apocalyptic (your choice) world. Casey was raised to be an assassin. Zeke was raised to be a cleric. Both their educations have imprinted them deeply. Whatever happens when their paths cross (for the first time?) is fine by me :o)
Does she come up with some doozies, or wut? Lol, well, I can do 'doozies'. At least I HOPE I can. Hope you LIKE, baby. ;)
Title: Everdusk
Pairing: Casey, Zeke (no pairing)
Rating: R
Genre: Fantasy, total AU
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Casey meets his match, and his memories.
He'd treated it like any job he'd performed over the years, even if it'd felt like a joke. There'd been extra precautions he'd been told to take, but he'd been too cocky-he was too good. His bravado was something Casey regretted now.
Though the initial crippling pain had subsided, every joint and muscle seemed to tremble with aftershocks, every heartbeat sending a zing. He dared to crack his eyes open and try to see where he was. Though his senses were dulled, he could feel rough fabric under his cheek-an elaborate pattern of red, blue and black making up the Oriental rug he was laying on. The start of hardwood flooring was mere inches from his face. To get a sense of his surroundings, Casey slid his hand to the rug's edge and traced it. He swallowed and focused his eyes on the opposite wall, where he saw a clock. After a few blinks, he managed to catch the position of the hands and gasped.
He'd gotten here at ten o'clock at night... was it really two in the morning? Panic churned in his gut, making him jerk to a sit. His head pounded, but he didn't care. He needed to get out of here, now. The first few legs would be taken in a crawl, his body still too weak to stand. But the moment he put a hand on the wood floor, he yelped and jumped back. It'd been as if he'd stuck his hand in a fire; he swore he'd start smelling burnt flesh, but when he held his hand up to look at it, there were no injuries. “The... t-the fuck...” he murmured shakily. His whole body quaked as he tried settling back down-tried remembering what had happened, HOW it happened. Everything stopped, however, when he heard the creak of a door being opened, followed by the sound of footsteps coming from behind. Casey whipped his head around and his eyes went wide at who he saw walking in.
'I'd fucking shot the bastard!'
“You're awake. Finally.” The man, the one Casey knew only as 'Ty' shut the door behind him and went over to the other side of the room, where a table full of books stood. For the moment, all Casey could do was stare; for who was supposed to be a cleric, he didn't dress the part. The tall, lean young man, no older than twenty-five, wore an Asian-style black velvet jacket, with a low collar and decorative fabric buttons clasping it shut over his chest... black cargo-pants as slacks, tucked into tightly-tied boots. Outfits like this were common in Everdusk, but not for someone in this guy's field of study. This place-his shop, study and residence-fit the bill, just not the one who lived in it. Ty cleared his throat and continued as he took a volume, opened it then said in a distracted voice, “That charm is usually only good for an hour, maybe a little more, but... I suppose you're not as strong-willed as you think.”
The small, teasing grin on the man's face made Casey snarl. “I... shot you. Between the f-fucking eyes.”
“I know. You can try again, if you want to.” Ty flicked his eyes to a spot on the floor behind Casey. Looking there, Casey found that his gun was a mere two feet away from him on the rug. “Just know that you'll get knocked-the-fuck-out again, probably a lot longer than the FIRST time.”
It took every bit of brain power Casey had to recall events. 'You were let in... he asked... 'what do you need?'... raised the gun, shot... saw his head fly backwards, then...' Anything past that was a mystery. Though he wanted to take Ty's threat seriously, the urge to grab his gun and start shooting was overwhelming. At the very least, he put his hand over it, still staring at his target. Ty saw this and made a slow smile.
“I wouldn't.”
“Try and try again, right?” Casey dared to retort.
“I thought your 'club' doesn't try anything. They just get the job done,” Ty said.
Casey clenched his jaw and snarled. “What the fuck kind of 'holy man' are you?”
“They told you about me, didn't they?”
“They said you're the one who's been messing with us. Throwing us off,” Casey replied. “You're not very popular with us.”
“So they sent their best assassin. Or... that's what they call you. But Christ...” Ty now left the desk and wandered over. He got to the edge of the rug in front of Casey and crouched down. It made Casey flinch away, but his eyes stayed on Ty's as he went on. “...You're just a baby.”
“You think that's a disadvantage, huh? I can sneak into any room and be fucking invisible, do anything without any issues. The other guys, big muscles, as tall as you?” Casey chuckled derisively, but the small shake in his chest made his sore body tighten. He winced and went silent; his eyes dropped back to the gun. As he curled a finger over the trigger, Ty stood and clucked his tongue.
“Don't.”
“What the fuck kinda cleric are you?” Casey spat the question. “Aren't you supposed to be praying and reading fucking Bibles or some shit?”
Ty raised his eyebrows. “They didn't give you anything useful. Never mind.”
Defiance filled Casey at a rapid pace. He finally decided to ignore his aching body's protests in picking up the gun and forcing himself to a stand. “I've never... left a job unfinished. Ain't starting now,” he said before raising and aiming the gun quickly and firing off three successive shots. For a moment, all Casey could see was the smoke and gunpowder he'd shot off; when it cleared, he froze in shock. The bullets hung in the air, small circles of violet light pulsing out in waves. Their edges turned into sparks of gold, flickering as if they were sparklers. Past them, Ty's hand was raised with its fingers together tight, a calm expression on his face.
“If I spread my fingers, your bullets will turn around and pummel your brain. I could've done this the FIRST time, but I didn't. I'm not a killer.”
His voice was soft and almost melodious, but all Casey felt was debilitating awe and fear. He was stuck in one of the 'Old Times' tales his mother had told him as a child, where magic was real. In getting this assignment, he'd almost laughed; magic men, aiding their targets to safety? Not here in Everdusk, a cruel city with cruel men who couldn't be stopped. Casey was proof of that, no matter his innocent schoolboy looks. That had been an asset... until now.
“Get on your knees and put the gun down,” Ty commanded, his tone still calm. For the first time in his life, Casey felt he had no choice but to back down. Swallowing hard, he did as he was told. The bullets slid down with him as if floating on water. They stayed aimed on his face; he stared at them, tears of panic welling in his eyes. Once he dropped the weapon, Ty walked over slowly. “Your co-workers will be here soon to see if you did the job. I know enough that my answering the door will put a hit on you; failure ain't an option, where you come from.”
It didn't matter if Casey was 'like a son' to those he worked for. He'd pay for this fuck-up with his life. I'm only nineteen was usually said with pride; how many had he killed in his short life? Just as many as the rest of his cohorts, if not more. But I'm only nineteen ran through his mind in a different way now. He wasn't an assassin, now-he was a stupid little boy who wanted his mother. As if sensing Casey's inner turmoil, Ty set his lips in a tight, thin line and lowered his hand slowly. The bullets followed the action until they met the wood and rolled to the edge of the rug. Staring at them, Casey swallowed again and muttered, “What's happening?”
“You tell me. What turned a momma's-boy into a murderer?” Ty asked.
The words 'momma's-boy' made Casey snarl. He could tell this asshole about his hard life, the hard times, whatever else that had turned him into a jaded, cold person. But what did he owe him? Nothing. “Fuck you...” he said. When Ty raised his hand quick, Casey thought the bullets would follow. He cringed then gasped at the blinding white light exploding in his eyes, seemingly from nowhere. Naturally, Casey feared he'd put knocked-out once again, but...
“Mama, over here!”
There was sunshine, giggles and blurry images infiltrating Casey's brain-things he hadn't dwelt on in years. The picnic outside of their little house, far away from the heart of the cruel city where fields of wildflowers and the duck pond were mere steps from the front door; Casey's first bike; a snippet of his hand touching the pond's sandy bottom, where he found a snail-shell; the words, I love you, sweet boy, being spoken from his mother's lips; her funeral, his eleven-year old self crying piteously in the front pew.
This world made of memories suddenly snapped away, Casey's sight going tunnel-vision until the last speck of light dimmed, leaving him in blackness yet again.
~*~
The name Everdusk was a romantic way to say 'The smoke and pollution is so bad, the sun rarely cuts through it.' Sunlight was rare; it hurt everyone's eyes when it'd come, making them curse and go inside. So when Casey opened his eyes a crack, he was surprised to see a shimmering, golden haze coming through the bottom of the door. He cast another look around without moving his body.
'I'm still here,' he thought of the surroundings-the cleric's abode, only he was in the front part where Ty's little shop sat this time. He was facing the way he'd come in. The dark alleyway was just outside the door... the light didn't belong there.
The wooden floor underneath him crackled-footsteps. Casey went shock-still, fear coursing through him. There was no way to escape this man, this magical force. He saw the boots first, then the man's knees going to the floor in front of him.
“I need you to sit up... c'mon,” Ty said. Casey shuddered, not wanting to move. Sighing, Ty put a hand on his shoulder and massaged it. “C'mon. You gotta drink this.”
Casey looked up to the hand holding a glass vial. “No,” he muttered in a raspy voice.
“I promise, it's okay. Okay?”
There was no real use in resisting. Casey moved up onto one elbow, head aching and spinning then took the vial. A honey-colored liquid rested inside; he sniffed at the rim. A sweet scent found his nostrils... before he could feel assured, he thought, 'Anti-freeze smells and tastes sweet, too.' Still, what choice did he have? Figuring that it didn't matter whether he lived or died at this point-perhaps this was a kind offering of a peaceful death, instead of being tortured and killed for his failure-Casey brought the glass to his lips and tipped it.
The light under the door flared wider and pulsed in small waves as the taste... what was this? It seemed like everything at once, flowers, candy, chocolate, laughter, childhood?
“You have a choice,” Ty spoke. He moved his hand from Casey's shoulder to his neck, then his cheek. “You can either stay here with me and be at risk, or you can go out that door.”
“What...” Casey went to reply, but needed to swallow and fight past the overwhelming feeling of peace taking him over. He focused his eyes on the dark-haired prince-like man next to him and asked, “What's out there?”
“Take a look.”
Casey sniffed and went to move up, Ty helping him with a gentle hand. Every muscle strained and pulled but he managed to get on his feet, walk to the door and grab the knob. He cast one look back to Ty before opening it. Brilliant gold and white filled the room, making Casey snap his eyes shut a moment. When he felt ready, he reopened them, blinked furiously then parted his lips as he took in the sights. Wildflowers. Glistening water. The small home built by his long-dead father. None of this should've been in existence. Casey turned back to Ty, gaping. “What... the hell is this?”
“Everything you want-as far as I could tell,” Ty said. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag and nodded to the outdoor view. “Go on.”
“I... it's not real,” Casey muttered while shaking his head slowly.
“It's as real as you want it to be.”
However skeptical and wary Casey was, he stepped to the threshold and stared out over the sloping grasses and flowers. He caught sight of crickets hopping, the sound of cicadas screaming their summer-songs. He finally dared to hold his hand out under the light and gasped when beautiful warmth washed over his cold, city-worn skin. It made his pale skin shimmer and perk up instantly. He turned his palm up then down again, as if trying to manipulate the light like clay. This was real... real as he wanted it to be. Looking to his childhood home, he swallowed and asked, “Is... my mother, my father... are they in there?”
Ty sighed and moved to the doorway. He leaned upon the wood and took another drag; it was let out into the gorgeous world, but instead of billowing smoke, the threads turned into a wave of dandelion seeds. Casey watched the bright-white puffs dance in the air and swoop this way and that. “I couldn't go that far. Sorry,” Ty finally replied. He then turned to Casey with a muted smile. “I don't do this for everyone, y'know.”
“Why me?” Casey asked.
“Why not you?”
“Cos' I tried shooting you in the fucking face, maybe?”
The musical laugh Ty made wasn't expected. “Yea, 'tried'. If you want, we can shut this door, pretend it never happened and you can 'try' again. Only THIS time...” Ty reached into his pocket and drew out Casey's gun. The boy stared at it as Ty went on, “...I'll let you kill me. Or, you can walk through the door and live the rest of your life in peace.”
What kind of choice was this? 'An easy one,' he thought. Nothing could compare to his turning back to the opened door and putting a foot out onto the soft grass. The other foot joined it and there he stood, back in a world that caused tears to prick in his eyes-happy ones. “Wow,” he couldn't help from murmuring.
“Do you like it?” Ty asked.
“Yea. Still don't... know why you did it,” Casey said. His throat went tight again when he saw the little boat swaying by the small dock-both built by his father for Casey's sixth birthday, mere months before he died. “I don't deserve it.”
“You deserve it because you chose it.” Ty lifted the gun again, let it dangle a moment then tossed it through the door. The moment it was under the sun and blue sky of this dream-world, it exploded into a flurry of butterflies. They scattered all around, finding flowers to sit upon and suckle. Casey blinked wildly again.
“Jesus...”
“I'm gonna shut the door now. I'll come back to check on you in a week's time,” Ty said, taking the doorknob and standing straight. “If you wanna come back, you can. But I get the feeling you won't.”
Casey nodded slowly and looked back at the young man. “Th-Thanks,” he said.
“'Welcome.”
With that, Ty winked, stepped back and shut the door. Casey turned away to look out over the fields, the little house... he still had so many damned questions, but when he looked back to where he'd come out, he found that Ty's doorway was gone, replaced with his father's old woodshed.
This one was requested byyyy...
~*naemi!*~
Au: post apocalyptic (your choice) world. Casey was raised to be an assassin. Zeke was raised to be a cleric. Both their educations have imprinted them deeply. Whatever happens when their paths cross (for the first time?) is fine by me :o)
Does she come up with some doozies, or wut? Lol, well, I can do 'doozies'. At least I HOPE I can. Hope you LIKE, baby. ;)
Title: Everdusk
Pairing: Casey, Zeke (no pairing)
Rating: R
Genre: Fantasy, total AU
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Casey meets his match, and his memories.
He'd treated it like any job he'd performed over the years, even if it'd felt like a joke. There'd been extra precautions he'd been told to take, but he'd been too cocky-he was too good. His bravado was something Casey regretted now.
Though the initial crippling pain had subsided, every joint and muscle seemed to tremble with aftershocks, every heartbeat sending a zing. He dared to crack his eyes open and try to see where he was. Though his senses were dulled, he could feel rough fabric under his cheek-an elaborate pattern of red, blue and black making up the Oriental rug he was laying on. The start of hardwood flooring was mere inches from his face. To get a sense of his surroundings, Casey slid his hand to the rug's edge and traced it. He swallowed and focused his eyes on the opposite wall, where he saw a clock. After a few blinks, he managed to catch the position of the hands and gasped.
He'd gotten here at ten o'clock at night... was it really two in the morning? Panic churned in his gut, making him jerk to a sit. His head pounded, but he didn't care. He needed to get out of here, now. The first few legs would be taken in a crawl, his body still too weak to stand. But the moment he put a hand on the wood floor, he yelped and jumped back. It'd been as if he'd stuck his hand in a fire; he swore he'd start smelling burnt flesh, but when he held his hand up to look at it, there were no injuries. “The... t-the fuck...” he murmured shakily. His whole body quaked as he tried settling back down-tried remembering what had happened, HOW it happened. Everything stopped, however, when he heard the creak of a door being opened, followed by the sound of footsteps coming from behind. Casey whipped his head around and his eyes went wide at who he saw walking in.
'I'd fucking shot the bastard!'
“You're awake. Finally.” The man, the one Casey knew only as 'Ty' shut the door behind him and went over to the other side of the room, where a table full of books stood. For the moment, all Casey could do was stare; for who was supposed to be a cleric, he didn't dress the part. The tall, lean young man, no older than twenty-five, wore an Asian-style black velvet jacket, with a low collar and decorative fabric buttons clasping it shut over his chest... black cargo-pants as slacks, tucked into tightly-tied boots. Outfits like this were common in Everdusk, but not for someone in this guy's field of study. This place-his shop, study and residence-fit the bill, just not the one who lived in it. Ty cleared his throat and continued as he took a volume, opened it then said in a distracted voice, “That charm is usually only good for an hour, maybe a little more, but... I suppose you're not as strong-willed as you think.”
The small, teasing grin on the man's face made Casey snarl. “I... shot you. Between the f-fucking eyes.”
“I know. You can try again, if you want to.” Ty flicked his eyes to a spot on the floor behind Casey. Looking there, Casey found that his gun was a mere two feet away from him on the rug. “Just know that you'll get knocked-the-fuck-out again, probably a lot longer than the FIRST time.”
It took every bit of brain power Casey had to recall events. 'You were let in... he asked... 'what do you need?'... raised the gun, shot... saw his head fly backwards, then...' Anything past that was a mystery. Though he wanted to take Ty's threat seriously, the urge to grab his gun and start shooting was overwhelming. At the very least, he put his hand over it, still staring at his target. Ty saw this and made a slow smile.
“I wouldn't.”
“Try and try again, right?” Casey dared to retort.
“I thought your 'club' doesn't try anything. They just get the job done,” Ty said.
Casey clenched his jaw and snarled. “What the fuck kind of 'holy man' are you?”
“They told you about me, didn't they?”
“They said you're the one who's been messing with us. Throwing us off,” Casey replied. “You're not very popular with us.”
“So they sent their best assassin. Or... that's what they call you. But Christ...” Ty now left the desk and wandered over. He got to the edge of the rug in front of Casey and crouched down. It made Casey flinch away, but his eyes stayed on Ty's as he went on. “...You're just a baby.”
“You think that's a disadvantage, huh? I can sneak into any room and be fucking invisible, do anything without any issues. The other guys, big muscles, as tall as you?” Casey chuckled derisively, but the small shake in his chest made his sore body tighten. He winced and went silent; his eyes dropped back to the gun. As he curled a finger over the trigger, Ty stood and clucked his tongue.
“Don't.”
“What the fuck kinda cleric are you?” Casey spat the question. “Aren't you supposed to be praying and reading fucking Bibles or some shit?”
Ty raised his eyebrows. “They didn't give you anything useful. Never mind.”
Defiance filled Casey at a rapid pace. He finally decided to ignore his aching body's protests in picking up the gun and forcing himself to a stand. “I've never... left a job unfinished. Ain't starting now,” he said before raising and aiming the gun quickly and firing off three successive shots. For a moment, all Casey could see was the smoke and gunpowder he'd shot off; when it cleared, he froze in shock. The bullets hung in the air, small circles of violet light pulsing out in waves. Their edges turned into sparks of gold, flickering as if they were sparklers. Past them, Ty's hand was raised with its fingers together tight, a calm expression on his face.
“If I spread my fingers, your bullets will turn around and pummel your brain. I could've done this the FIRST time, but I didn't. I'm not a killer.”
His voice was soft and almost melodious, but all Casey felt was debilitating awe and fear. He was stuck in one of the 'Old Times' tales his mother had told him as a child, where magic was real. In getting this assignment, he'd almost laughed; magic men, aiding their targets to safety? Not here in Everdusk, a cruel city with cruel men who couldn't be stopped. Casey was proof of that, no matter his innocent schoolboy looks. That had been an asset... until now.
“Get on your knees and put the gun down,” Ty commanded, his tone still calm. For the first time in his life, Casey felt he had no choice but to back down. Swallowing hard, he did as he was told. The bullets slid down with him as if floating on water. They stayed aimed on his face; he stared at them, tears of panic welling in his eyes. Once he dropped the weapon, Ty walked over slowly. “Your co-workers will be here soon to see if you did the job. I know enough that my answering the door will put a hit on you; failure ain't an option, where you come from.”
It didn't matter if Casey was 'like a son' to those he worked for. He'd pay for this fuck-up with his life. I'm only nineteen was usually said with pride; how many had he killed in his short life? Just as many as the rest of his cohorts, if not more. But I'm only nineteen ran through his mind in a different way now. He wasn't an assassin, now-he was a stupid little boy who wanted his mother. As if sensing Casey's inner turmoil, Ty set his lips in a tight, thin line and lowered his hand slowly. The bullets followed the action until they met the wood and rolled to the edge of the rug. Staring at them, Casey swallowed again and muttered, “What's happening?”
“You tell me. What turned a momma's-boy into a murderer?” Ty asked.
The words 'momma's-boy' made Casey snarl. He could tell this asshole about his hard life, the hard times, whatever else that had turned him into a jaded, cold person. But what did he owe him? Nothing. “Fuck you...” he said. When Ty raised his hand quick, Casey thought the bullets would follow. He cringed then gasped at the blinding white light exploding in his eyes, seemingly from nowhere. Naturally, Casey feared he'd put knocked-out once again, but...
“Mama, over here!”
There was sunshine, giggles and blurry images infiltrating Casey's brain-things he hadn't dwelt on in years. The picnic outside of their little house, far away from the heart of the cruel city where fields of wildflowers and the duck pond were mere steps from the front door; Casey's first bike; a snippet of his hand touching the pond's sandy bottom, where he found a snail-shell; the words, I love you, sweet boy, being spoken from his mother's lips; her funeral, his eleven-year old self crying piteously in the front pew.
This world made of memories suddenly snapped away, Casey's sight going tunnel-vision until the last speck of light dimmed, leaving him in blackness yet again.
~*~
The name Everdusk was a romantic way to say 'The smoke and pollution is so bad, the sun rarely cuts through it.' Sunlight was rare; it hurt everyone's eyes when it'd come, making them curse and go inside. So when Casey opened his eyes a crack, he was surprised to see a shimmering, golden haze coming through the bottom of the door. He cast another look around without moving his body.
'I'm still here,' he thought of the surroundings-the cleric's abode, only he was in the front part where Ty's little shop sat this time. He was facing the way he'd come in. The dark alleyway was just outside the door... the light didn't belong there.
The wooden floor underneath him crackled-footsteps. Casey went shock-still, fear coursing through him. There was no way to escape this man, this magical force. He saw the boots first, then the man's knees going to the floor in front of him.
“I need you to sit up... c'mon,” Ty said. Casey shuddered, not wanting to move. Sighing, Ty put a hand on his shoulder and massaged it. “C'mon. You gotta drink this.”
Casey looked up to the hand holding a glass vial. “No,” he muttered in a raspy voice.
“I promise, it's okay. Okay?”
There was no real use in resisting. Casey moved up onto one elbow, head aching and spinning then took the vial. A honey-colored liquid rested inside; he sniffed at the rim. A sweet scent found his nostrils... before he could feel assured, he thought, 'Anti-freeze smells and tastes sweet, too.' Still, what choice did he have? Figuring that it didn't matter whether he lived or died at this point-perhaps this was a kind offering of a peaceful death, instead of being tortured and killed for his failure-Casey brought the glass to his lips and tipped it.
The light under the door flared wider and pulsed in small waves as the taste... what was this? It seemed like everything at once, flowers, candy, chocolate, laughter, childhood?
“You have a choice,” Ty spoke. He moved his hand from Casey's shoulder to his neck, then his cheek. “You can either stay here with me and be at risk, or you can go out that door.”
“What...” Casey went to reply, but needed to swallow and fight past the overwhelming feeling of peace taking him over. He focused his eyes on the dark-haired prince-like man next to him and asked, “What's out there?”
“Take a look.”
Casey sniffed and went to move up, Ty helping him with a gentle hand. Every muscle strained and pulled but he managed to get on his feet, walk to the door and grab the knob. He cast one look back to Ty before opening it. Brilliant gold and white filled the room, making Casey snap his eyes shut a moment. When he felt ready, he reopened them, blinked furiously then parted his lips as he took in the sights. Wildflowers. Glistening water. The small home built by his long-dead father. None of this should've been in existence. Casey turned back to Ty, gaping. “What... the hell is this?”
“Everything you want-as far as I could tell,” Ty said. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag and nodded to the outdoor view. “Go on.”
“I... it's not real,” Casey muttered while shaking his head slowly.
“It's as real as you want it to be.”
However skeptical and wary Casey was, he stepped to the threshold and stared out over the sloping grasses and flowers. He caught sight of crickets hopping, the sound of cicadas screaming their summer-songs. He finally dared to hold his hand out under the light and gasped when beautiful warmth washed over his cold, city-worn skin. It made his pale skin shimmer and perk up instantly. He turned his palm up then down again, as if trying to manipulate the light like clay. This was real... real as he wanted it to be. Looking to his childhood home, he swallowed and asked, “Is... my mother, my father... are they in there?”
Ty sighed and moved to the doorway. He leaned upon the wood and took another drag; it was let out into the gorgeous world, but instead of billowing smoke, the threads turned into a wave of dandelion seeds. Casey watched the bright-white puffs dance in the air and swoop this way and that. “I couldn't go that far. Sorry,” Ty finally replied. He then turned to Casey with a muted smile. “I don't do this for everyone, y'know.”
“Why me?” Casey asked.
“Why not you?”
“Cos' I tried shooting you in the fucking face, maybe?”
The musical laugh Ty made wasn't expected. “Yea, 'tried'. If you want, we can shut this door, pretend it never happened and you can 'try' again. Only THIS time...” Ty reached into his pocket and drew out Casey's gun. The boy stared at it as Ty went on, “...I'll let you kill me. Or, you can walk through the door and live the rest of your life in peace.”
What kind of choice was this? 'An easy one,' he thought. Nothing could compare to his turning back to the opened door and putting a foot out onto the soft grass. The other foot joined it and there he stood, back in a world that caused tears to prick in his eyes-happy ones. “Wow,” he couldn't help from murmuring.
“Do you like it?” Ty asked.
“Yea. Still don't... know why you did it,” Casey said. His throat went tight again when he saw the little boat swaying by the small dock-both built by his father for Casey's sixth birthday, mere months before he died. “I don't deserve it.”
“You deserve it because you chose it.” Ty lifted the gun again, let it dangle a moment then tossed it through the door. The moment it was under the sun and blue sky of this dream-world, it exploded into a flurry of butterflies. They scattered all around, finding flowers to sit upon and suckle. Casey blinked wildly again.
“Jesus...”
“I'm gonna shut the door now. I'll come back to check on you in a week's time,” Ty said, taking the doorknob and standing straight. “If you wanna come back, you can. But I get the feeling you won't.”
Casey nodded slowly and looked back at the young man. “Th-Thanks,” he said.
“'Welcome.”
With that, Ty winked, stepped back and shut the door. Casey turned away to look out over the fields, the little house... he still had so many damned questions, but when he looked back to where he'd come out, he found that Ty's doorway was gone, replaced with his father's old woodshed.