Story of the Sangrail #3: So dark, o love, my spirit without thee (chapter 3)
Title: So dark, o love, my spirit without thee (third story of the series)
Series: The story of the Sangrail ( READ THE PREVIOUS STORIES)
Writer: lucre_noin
Beta reader: LADYKNIGHTANKA (and all the thanks must go to her, because without her help I assure you that you woudn't be able to read this story in a decent English!)
Rating: PG13
Pairings or characters: Mordred and Galahad, most and the pairing is Mordred/Galahad (but here they are Moray and Gale)
Warnings: m/m preslash and slash, illness, suicide, cancer, reincarnation
Plot: This is the third story of a longer series called The story of the Sangrail. Gale Morrison is not only an employee but also the famouse knight sir Galahad. After meeting with Moray, Gale starts discovering what happened centuries ago with the Grail and his own death.
03. Bristol
Gale had only vague memories of Bristol. In high school and elementary school, his best friend John O'Shelley used to send him a postcard from Bristol each summer.
On each card, Gale could see white buildings and expanses of the pink, gray and spectacular city. And it was always of the Briston Bridge or at least the castle next to it.
Gale, however, never had the opportunity to see Bristol in person.
It was just like in the postcards, he quickly realized. People ran back and forth, traffic was running right behind them, and the buildings were big, huge, fascinating.
Gale Harrison was not a man from the big cities. Not that Newport was small, but he had always avoided the center of town, content with the comfortable suburbs or neighboring countries. And it was the same thing for Portsmouth.
The address that Gale was following, however, was just in one of the most central areas of Bristol. A place that certainly should not be cheap, Gale mused, reaching a high red brick building. He had for ask directions from three people before he could get there.
Sighing, he pondered what to do.
The cars flew behind him and people were walking hastily on the sidewalk, but Gale felt as if all eyes were on his back at that moment, while he was standing motionlessly, and observing a closed door with a list of different bells.
What should I say? What do you ask a long dead and lost person?
When an elderly lady arrived at the building, carrying a huge shopping bag, Gale instinctively offered to help. The woman looked at him suspiciously, but necessity forced her to accept the help offered.
The woman stood for some seconds more at the door, eying her bags in the stranger's arms, before she took out a small brass key from her purse and opened the glass and iron door.
With a surprised sigh, he noticed that she was inviting him to follow her into the elevator.
"Thanks, kid," said the lady when the elevator doors closed.
He was inside.
He blushed slightly. Whoever would have thought that he had tricked the poor old woman to enter the building, even though his intentions were innocent from the beginning? Feeling the redness slowly fade from his cheeks, Gale reminded himself that no one was watching or judging. And that any means was good for this current purpose.
He climbed the stairs, feeling like an intruder. A determined intruder, in any case.
He arrived on the third floor, after a myriad of unknown names and patience, and Gale's heart skipped a beat.
Karoline Lambeert.
He had not the faintest idea who she was, but Lambeert was the surname of Moray.
Well, Gale, you came here and it's time to move on. You cannot escape from this (and you do not even want to).
When he was Galahad, he was always very good with his intent of purity and superiority, so that most people would not even get close. Only Mordred had tenaciously clung to him, out of spite more than anything else, and Galahad had fled.
He rang the bell.
The door opened almost suddenly, leaving him no time to think about what to say, and the face of Moray once again appeared again in front of him.
"No, not really," he was saying to his landlord on the phone. He stopped when he saw Gale.
"Hello, Moray." Gale saluted him for a moment, feeling terribly guilty.
"I have to leave. No, sorry, I must really leave now. I'll call you later." Moray hung up the phone. "What are you doing here, Gale? Above all, I have a phone in hand, so please tell me if you'll become a stalker, so I can save myself tears and anguish and directly call the police."
"I will not be your stalker. May I come in?"
Involuntarily, the eyes of the young Gale fixed themselves on the man in front of him, looking for any symptoms of disease that could be painted on his face.
Moray let him enter the apartment and closed the door behind them gently, without slamming. He threw the phone on a couch, which was right in the middle of the room.
The apartment was not very large. It had a living-room combined with a kitchen, with a small dining table to divide them. The windows were wide open and all the light came from there. The TV was on, talking about time and rain and snow.
Moray motioned for him to sit on the chairs next to the white kitchen counter and Gale obeyed, continuing (and he could not help it) to look at the other man.
"I know I'm probably the most handsome man who lives in this neighborhood, but you may also be less obvious."
"Sorry," Gale said, blushing and looking away. "It's a lovely place. Who is Karoline?"
"My wife."
Galahad's blue eyes widened, returning to fixate Moray's face with enviable speed.
"Really?"
"No, my mother. She bought the apartment for herself, but then I moved here myself. I always forget to change the nameplate," said Moray, with a satisfied smile.
"Oh, I understand," Gale could only say, wondering why Moray did not behave like a normal host. Anyone at that point would have already offered him a drink and would have facilitated the opening of a conversation with unnecessary comments about the weather or traffic.
"How did you find me?"
"I was at Bors'."
"And how did he find me?"
"He just said he did some research when you said your name."
Moray sat in a chair away from Gale. "And what did Bors say?"
"He told me about Camelot and told me where to find you and Percival."
"And why are you not at Percival's?"
"Because I wanted to come here first," said Gale, with petulant tone, and he did not mention that Percival could no longer receive him because he was dead.
"An embarrassing silence," whistled Moray, looking around. "It was much easier years ago. I came to you, trying to destroy your stupid, saintly, heavenly smile and you drove me away. Very funny. I'd try it again, but it is not satisfying if you're the one coming here."
"I just wanted-"
"Yes, I know, to speak again of the past. Bors is a talker; he loves to talk about the past."
Gale sighed, feeling lost once again. He felt lost because of Mordred's angry chatter, always ready to shoot and turn around any serious question, skillfully avoiding them.
"Moray, now listen. I'm here because I want to talk to you. I wrote a letter before I died. I remember little of those last days, but there's one thing I know: I found the Grail and I asked him to bring me back to you. Why? I don't know; maybe because you were the only person who did not treat me like I was made of crystal or as if I had just left a monastery."
"You had just left the monastery," said Moray, annoyed.
"That's not the point. Bors, Gareth, even Kay, everyone looked at me as if any moment I could judge their sins, and if I did I would not be stopped. And I know that was also my fault, because of the way I behaved."
"And I was the only one to really see how you were? That 's what you mean? You were a kid, one who knew nothing and who had grown up believing that some divinity infused him wisdom."
Gale bit his lip, uncomfortable. But he had expected such accusations, because he had been thinking a lot about his past life, his old childhood.
"I know. And you managed to get me to doubt every time, doubt about anything. About me, about you, the Grail. I wanted to tell you - I missed you very much, I miss your friendship, so to speak."
"I was just trying to destroy everything that you were," laughed Moray, looking upset.
Gale nodded.
"Well, you did, then. I grew up."
"You have grown up because you were born again."
"Bors also said that you went to him for answers. To ask why you were here."
Moray smiled in amusement and leaned toward him, looking somewhere down into his own clean and white kitchen. "And what did he say?"
"He said some nonsense, here's what I think. He spoke of divine punishment."
"And it is not, you think? Isn't a reward, your opportunity to grow?"
Gale then asked the question which he'd tried to avoid thinking, but was invariably bouncing in his mind, turning and twisting like a fish in a bowl. "You have cancer?"
"That was why you were staring at me like that," Moray said, without moving his eyes from the counter.
"I'm sorry, I did not have to ask you that."
"None of your business, anyway. And Bors explained. I destroyed everything, I went mad, I killed my own father, I probably killed many other people, and now I'm here."
"That's my business because it's my fault you're here."
Moray finally moved his eyes and met Gale's, so blue, so wide, as those of Galahad had been, and full of guilt.
Slowly, Gale explained everything. He spoke of the beginning of his search for the Grail, how he'd felt alone and lost. He told of Dindrane's death and his dreams about her, that every time he saw her die again. He told him about that horrible being, the Graal, that had stolen something from him and gave him a wish in exchange.
The Grail had asked him what he wanted and the only thing that Galahad was able to answer was that he wanted to be with Mordred. He wanted to see him again. He wanted to go back and tell him that he had been wrong. He wanted to remember the times when Mordred had challenged and embarrassed him. And the kisses. Because some of them he still dreamed of and even Gale dreamed them.
"It 's my fault you're here," Gale finished, his cheeks burning with shame for the confession and the effort of speaking so frankly.
Moray was still staring at him quietly. Suddenly, he got up and moved away the empty chair that divided him from Gale. He took his hands and took advantage of the fact that the other was too shocked to protest.
"Listen," he urged him, resting his hands on his hips through his shirt. Gale felt. He felt bones and ribs and protruding edges.
"Look what you did," said Moray, bringing his hands up to feel the skin on his face, too hot and with dark circles under his eyes.
"Sorry," whispered Gale, broken voiced, understanding what the other was saying. But he did not object when Moray forced him to touch his head, easily pulling a short of strand dark hair.
"Forgive me, Mordred," Gale sobbed and cursed, because he should not cry, but the tears continued to fall, and he felt so guilty for what he had done. He felt selfish for having chased Mordred away and then for forcing him to live again without even asking permission.
Moray let go of his hands and watched as he bent over himself, shaking with sobs.
"Sorry," he kept repeating to Gale, feeling tears and saliva mingle.
He was surprised when he realized that Moray was once again talking to him.
"Enough, enough, sorry, I'm just tired," Moray was repeating, kneeling in front of him to be able to see his face better. "Do not cry. It's not your fault."
Gale ran a sleeve over his eyes, pulling noisily on the nose and trying to calm the involuntary sobbing long enough to hear what Moray was saying.
Moray let him up and sat him down on the sofa. Brought him some paper towels and sat beside him, watching with apprehension.
"It 's my fault," said Gale, trying to get a clear and virile voice again. He felt like a kid. He would always feel like a kid.
"I'm here and this is your fault. But I had a pretty decent life so far." Moray tried to smile. "What is happening now is not your fault. What happened is enough."
"It's not a punishment from God, Moray," Gale asserted strongly, taking the other by the shoulders.
"Okay, okay."
Gale did not know if Moray had nodded only to keep him quiet or because he really believed it, but he did not really care.
Gale brought his free hand back up to Moray's face, feeling his temperature.
"Tired?"
"Not enough to not be able to kick you out if you start to cry again."
"Perfect."
Seeing that Gale made no sign of wanting to move, Moray moved his head back, breaking contact with his hand.
"I told you not to look for stupid dishes. I remember I said you were an imbecile, didn't I?"
"I must have removed him," muttered Gale. "What kind of cancer you have?"
"What do you know about cancer?"
"Nothing."
"So it makes no sense to tell you."
"I'll look for it on the internet."
Moray raised an eyebrow and let out a short laugh. "This is the most romantic thing I have heard in years," he said, approaching Gale.
The blond jumped, moving back slightly.
"Once, you were afraid that you could be infected with some kind of mortal sin, what was it... incest?, Now you're afraid you'll get cancer? You know it's not a-"
"I was just surprised," admitted Gale, blushing again. Without giving Moray time to respond, he leaned toward him and kissed him quickly on the lips. His first kiss with a man in this life. And the first time he kissed a man in all his life by his own choice.
"You will not die," he said, when their mouths no longer touched.
"I don't think so," replied Moray, "I hope not."
"I will put things right. I promise."
Moray did not asked how he could keep such a promise. He watched amused and exasperated when Gale said that he must go somewhere, but assured him that he would return soon.
But it took another half hour for Moray to be able to get rid of him and get back to his own apartment. It took an hour to let the stupid smile that had taken possession of his mouth disappear for good, after Gale's leaving.
The first thing Samantha McCoy did when Gale told her he was an old school friend of Percy was to hug him.
It wasn't often that Percy's friends came to visit her. And actually, Percy never had many friends. People tried to avoid him since, one afternoon on his thirteenth birthday, he started yelling that he was dead, that his sister had died (when Lucy was perfectly fine), and that all was lost.
All the guests at the party were sent home and they willingly fled from the small, shaky little boy describing a sister who was bleeding to death.
They blamed it on television, but when Percy began to have some difficulty recognizing the people around him, they had to admit that it was something serious.
"It's a pleasure to know one of Percy's friends," she whispered, pulling Gale in closely to embrace him.
"I'm sorry I did not come earlier. I heard of it only recently."
"Do not worry, everything is fine," assured Samantha. Since her Percy was dead, she was not sure how many years were passing from day to day.
Gale sighed with relief when Samantha didn't ask him how he had met Percy, but started going into a detailed description of her child.
"He has always been a shy boy, do you know?"
Gale merely nodded. Percival had always been considerably quieter than him.
A stab of pain soon became evident at the idea that Percy had been in this world and time, but he had never had the occasion to see him. He could have helped him put the right memories in the right places, to distinguish friends from this life by the names of the other older ones.
"You have done everything possible," Gale said suddenly, listening for a second time as the woman recounted the first time Percy had been brought to a neurologist.
Samantha nodded.
"Forgive me, I'm crying like a baby. Gale, would you like some coffee?"
"No, do not worry."
"I'll drink it, so I'll prepare one for you too. Would you like to see Percy's room?"
Perhaps Samantha wanted a moment alone with her grief (and Gale understood her), so Gale nodded and followed her directions till he stood in front of an open door, the room behind it neat and clean.
The light was on and the bed was made with a heavy blue blanket.
The window opposite the bed was closed, with blue curtains, and on the left there was a shelf full of books and comics.
A poster of a superhero that Gale had never seen was hanging on the wall above his desk.
He did not know what he'd expected to find in Percy's house. He was hoping for a clue or an answer to his own questions. Or just the ghost of a memory.
He looked at the titles of the books, science-fiction and fantasy. It was all so strange and surreal.
On the desk he found a little red book, and blushed when he opened it to discover that it was none other than a diary. Percy's diary.
Samantha probably read it often, Gale mused, sitting down and opening it.
"Percival, forgive me, but I need know more."
He began to read, opening it in the middle.
October 6, 1992 Today, it's raining a lot. My mother says that is normal because it always rains in England. But this morning, I was sure I saw the sun and I'm still not sure it's actually raining now. I do not want to open the window... what if it isn't raining?Will I also see the horse? Lamorak should have just returned from hunting. I wonder where Dindrane is? My mother says that my sister is in her room, but when I enter it, I only see Lucy.
October 10, 1992
I dreamed of Camelot. I know that is not true, now I know.
My mother says I'm not well, and it is probably a neurological problem, and that psychologists are charlatans.
November 4, 1992 Today, I started with my quest for Camelot. I admit that this adventure excites me a lot. Find the Grail, the sacred cup.
Gale quickly skimmed the following pages of the diary.
Descriptions of school days and new names, friends. Tales of Camelot and tournaments after sentences about Lucy or a friend named Tom. Movies watched at the cinema, songs listened on the radio and new armors and swords. All together, confused, so elegant as to seem almost natural.
July 22, 1996
Today Dindrane died. She was left to die to save a woman who was twice her age. I saw the blood leave her body, intentionally flee from her. Before dying, she smiled and I thought I saw some light, something holy around her. I thought she was being sanctified... now I am not sure. Was it the Grail? Why did she have to die?
"I do it because it is right," she whispered.
She was doing it because God had taken her there for a purpose and I too have a purpose. I must find the Grail. God put me, Galahad and Bors on this road and made us face the terror and darkness, but I have not lost hope.
July 30, 1996Lucy gave me her CD player and she is giving me hell because I lost it. But she cannot drive me crazy if I'm already crazy, can she?
My psychiatrist says it is a form of schizophrenia and that everything that I see in the other side does not exist. I do not understand anything and hope that-
September 7, 1997
For months, I could not think of anything else. I found the Grail a few days ago and yet I am still alive. Or maybe I found It the other side and now I'm here.
I know that I will also find It on this side and I do not want to meet It again.
September 20, 1997
Galahad said that the Grail will meet me on this side as well. Lucy left home. She wants to marry and have children and she wants to stay away from me.
December 14, 1997 Our house is beautiful. Mum has put up a huge Christmas tree (fake, of course, since she is very attentive about these 'save-nature' things) and the hall is full of colored lights. Today, I went to buy a present for her and Lucy, but I still have not found anything cheap enough. I thought of a book for mum and I know Lucy is kind of obsessed by jazz music, so I think I'll have to visit the CD store.
January 3, 1998 I'm not able to dream about Dindrane anymore. I dreamed about the Grail tonight. I've never seen It so clearly as now. I know I have not really seen It on this side but I remember It and a part of me is aware that It is coming back. "I always come back," It said. Or is it a 'going forward'?
"I will return, Percival, you'll find more. Give me what you have, please," It said. It was desperate. It had the form of a dark, luminescent shadow. I remember when I saw It for the first time.
A dark shadow approaching. The movements of a small rabbit who has just sniffed prey. But it is nonsense, right? Bunnies are not carnivores.
January 4, 1998
My mother says they are only dreams. Lucy hugged me today and I felt so alone. Nobody really knows me and I cannot really know anyone. A lot of people died. And It will return. It will take all of me all over again. The Grail is always with me, watching me, waiting until I have enough to give him. I feel It.
It lives on me, like a parasite. And waits and waits and waits.
I do not want It to win. I can't do this again.
January 6, 1998 Maybe if I died before It could touch me, it would be really the end. Please, God.
Series: The story of the Sangrail ( READ THE PREVIOUS STORIES)
Writer: lucre_noin
Beta reader: LADYKNIGHTANKA (and all the thanks must go to her, because without her help I assure you that you woudn't be able to read this story in a decent English!)
Rating: PG13
Pairings or characters: Mordred and Galahad, most and the pairing is Mordred/Galahad (but here they are Moray and Gale)
Warnings: m/m preslash and slash, illness, suicide, cancer, reincarnation
Plot: This is the third story of a longer series called The story of the Sangrail. Gale Morrison is not only an employee but also the famouse knight sir Galahad. After meeting with Moray, Gale starts discovering what happened centuries ago with the Grail and his own death.
03. Bristol
Gale had only vague memories of Bristol. In high school and elementary school, his best friend John O'Shelley used to send him a postcard from Bristol each summer.
On each card, Gale could see white buildings and expanses of the pink, gray and spectacular city. And it was always of the Briston Bridge or at least the castle next to it.
Gale, however, never had the opportunity to see Bristol in person.
It was just like in the postcards, he quickly realized. People ran back and forth, traffic was running right behind them, and the buildings were big, huge, fascinating.
Gale Harrison was not a man from the big cities. Not that Newport was small, but he had always avoided the center of town, content with the comfortable suburbs or neighboring countries. And it was the same thing for Portsmouth.
The address that Gale was following, however, was just in one of the most central areas of Bristol. A place that certainly should not be cheap, Gale mused, reaching a high red brick building. He had for ask directions from three people before he could get there.
Sighing, he pondered what to do.
The cars flew behind him and people were walking hastily on the sidewalk, but Gale felt as if all eyes were on his back at that moment, while he was standing motionlessly, and observing a closed door with a list of different bells.
What should I say? What do you ask a long dead and lost person?
When an elderly lady arrived at the building, carrying a huge shopping bag, Gale instinctively offered to help. The woman looked at him suspiciously, but necessity forced her to accept the help offered.
The woman stood for some seconds more at the door, eying her bags in the stranger's arms, before she took out a small brass key from her purse and opened the glass and iron door.
With a surprised sigh, he noticed that she was inviting him to follow her into the elevator.
"Thanks, kid," said the lady when the elevator doors closed.
He was inside.
He blushed slightly. Whoever would have thought that he had tricked the poor old woman to enter the building, even though his intentions were innocent from the beginning? Feeling the redness slowly fade from his cheeks, Gale reminded himself that no one was watching or judging. And that any means was good for this current purpose.
He climbed the stairs, feeling like an intruder. A determined intruder, in any case.
He arrived on the third floor, after a myriad of unknown names and patience, and Gale's heart skipped a beat.
Karoline Lambeert.
He had not the faintest idea who she was, but Lambeert was the surname of Moray.
Well, Gale, you came here and it's time to move on. You cannot escape from this (and you do not even want to).
When he was Galahad, he was always very good with his intent of purity and superiority, so that most people would not even get close. Only Mordred had tenaciously clung to him, out of spite more than anything else, and Galahad had fled.
He rang the bell.
The door opened almost suddenly, leaving him no time to think about what to say, and the face of Moray once again appeared again in front of him.
"No, not really," he was saying to his landlord on the phone. He stopped when he saw Gale.
"Hello, Moray." Gale saluted him for a moment, feeling terribly guilty.
"I have to leave. No, sorry, I must really leave now. I'll call you later." Moray hung up the phone. "What are you doing here, Gale? Above all, I have a phone in hand, so please tell me if you'll become a stalker, so I can save myself tears and anguish and directly call the police."
"I will not be your stalker. May I come in?"
Involuntarily, the eyes of the young Gale fixed themselves on the man in front of him, looking for any symptoms of disease that could be painted on his face.
Moray let him enter the apartment and closed the door behind them gently, without slamming. He threw the phone on a couch, which was right in the middle of the room.
The apartment was not very large. It had a living-room combined with a kitchen, with a small dining table to divide them. The windows were wide open and all the light came from there. The TV was on, talking about time and rain and snow.
Moray motioned for him to sit on the chairs next to the white kitchen counter and Gale obeyed, continuing (and he could not help it) to look at the other man.
"I know I'm probably the most handsome man who lives in this neighborhood, but you may also be less obvious."
"Sorry," Gale said, blushing and looking away. "It's a lovely place. Who is Karoline?"
"My wife."
Galahad's blue eyes widened, returning to fixate Moray's face with enviable speed.
"Really?"
"No, my mother. She bought the apartment for herself, but then I moved here myself. I always forget to change the nameplate," said Moray, with a satisfied smile.
"Oh, I understand," Gale could only say, wondering why Moray did not behave like a normal host. Anyone at that point would have already offered him a drink and would have facilitated the opening of a conversation with unnecessary comments about the weather or traffic.
"How did you find me?"
"I was at Bors'."
"And how did he find me?"
"He just said he did some research when you said your name."
Moray sat in a chair away from Gale. "And what did Bors say?"
"He told me about Camelot and told me where to find you and Percival."
"And why are you not at Percival's?"
"Because I wanted to come here first," said Gale, with petulant tone, and he did not mention that Percival could no longer receive him because he was dead.
"An embarrassing silence," whistled Moray, looking around. "It was much easier years ago. I came to you, trying to destroy your stupid, saintly, heavenly smile and you drove me away. Very funny. I'd try it again, but it is not satisfying if you're the one coming here."
"I just wanted-"
"Yes, I know, to speak again of the past. Bors is a talker; he loves to talk about the past."
Gale sighed, feeling lost once again. He felt lost because of Mordred's angry chatter, always ready to shoot and turn around any serious question, skillfully avoiding them.
"Moray, now listen. I'm here because I want to talk to you. I wrote a letter before I died. I remember little of those last days, but there's one thing I know: I found the Grail and I asked him to bring me back to you. Why? I don't know; maybe because you were the only person who did not treat me like I was made of crystal or as if I had just left a monastery."
"You had just left the monastery," said Moray, annoyed.
"That's not the point. Bors, Gareth, even Kay, everyone looked at me as if any moment I could judge their sins, and if I did I would not be stopped. And I know that was also my fault, because of the way I behaved."
"And I was the only one to really see how you were? That 's what you mean? You were a kid, one who knew nothing and who had grown up believing that some divinity infused him wisdom."
Gale bit his lip, uncomfortable. But he had expected such accusations, because he had been thinking a lot about his past life, his old childhood.
"I know. And you managed to get me to doubt every time, doubt about anything. About me, about you, the Grail. I wanted to tell you - I missed you very much, I miss your friendship, so to speak."
"I was just trying to destroy everything that you were," laughed Moray, looking upset.
Gale nodded.
"Well, you did, then. I grew up."
"You have grown up because you were born again."
"Bors also said that you went to him for answers. To ask why you were here."
Moray smiled in amusement and leaned toward him, looking somewhere down into his own clean and white kitchen. "And what did he say?"
"He said some nonsense, here's what I think. He spoke of divine punishment."
"And it is not, you think? Isn't a reward, your opportunity to grow?"
Gale then asked the question which he'd tried to avoid thinking, but was invariably bouncing in his mind, turning and twisting like a fish in a bowl. "You have cancer?"
"That was why you were staring at me like that," Moray said, without moving his eyes from the counter.
"I'm sorry, I did not have to ask you that."
"None of your business, anyway. And Bors explained. I destroyed everything, I went mad, I killed my own father, I probably killed many other people, and now I'm here."
"That's my business because it's my fault you're here."
Moray finally moved his eyes and met Gale's, so blue, so wide, as those of Galahad had been, and full of guilt.
Slowly, Gale explained everything. He spoke of the beginning of his search for the Grail, how he'd felt alone and lost. He told of Dindrane's death and his dreams about her, that every time he saw her die again. He told him about that horrible being, the Graal, that had stolen something from him and gave him a wish in exchange.
The Grail had asked him what he wanted and the only thing that Galahad was able to answer was that he wanted to be with Mordred. He wanted to see him again. He wanted to go back and tell him that he had been wrong. He wanted to remember the times when Mordred had challenged and embarrassed him. And the kisses. Because some of them he still dreamed of and even Gale dreamed them.
"It 's my fault you're here," Gale finished, his cheeks burning with shame for the confession and the effort of speaking so frankly.
Moray was still staring at him quietly. Suddenly, he got up and moved away the empty chair that divided him from Gale. He took his hands and took advantage of the fact that the other was too shocked to protest.
"Listen," he urged him, resting his hands on his hips through his shirt. Gale felt. He felt bones and ribs and protruding edges.
"Look what you did," said Moray, bringing his hands up to feel the skin on his face, too hot and with dark circles under his eyes.
"Sorry," whispered Gale, broken voiced, understanding what the other was saying. But he did not object when Moray forced him to touch his head, easily pulling a short of strand dark hair.
"Forgive me, Mordred," Gale sobbed and cursed, because he should not cry, but the tears continued to fall, and he felt so guilty for what he had done. He felt selfish for having chased Mordred away and then for forcing him to live again without even asking permission.
Moray let go of his hands and watched as he bent over himself, shaking with sobs.
"Sorry," he kept repeating to Gale, feeling tears and saliva mingle.
He was surprised when he realized that Moray was once again talking to him.
"Enough, enough, sorry, I'm just tired," Moray was repeating, kneeling in front of him to be able to see his face better. "Do not cry. It's not your fault."
Gale ran a sleeve over his eyes, pulling noisily on the nose and trying to calm the involuntary sobbing long enough to hear what Moray was saying.
Moray let him up and sat him down on the sofa. Brought him some paper towels and sat beside him, watching with apprehension.
"It 's my fault," said Gale, trying to get a clear and virile voice again. He felt like a kid. He would always feel like a kid.
"I'm here and this is your fault. But I had a pretty decent life so far." Moray tried to smile. "What is happening now is not your fault. What happened is enough."
"It's not a punishment from God, Moray," Gale asserted strongly, taking the other by the shoulders.
"Okay, okay."
Gale did not know if Moray had nodded only to keep him quiet or because he really believed it, but he did not really care.
Gale brought his free hand back up to Moray's face, feeling his temperature.
"Tired?"
"Not enough to not be able to kick you out if you start to cry again."
"Perfect."
Seeing that Gale made no sign of wanting to move, Moray moved his head back, breaking contact with his hand.
"I told you not to look for stupid dishes. I remember I said you were an imbecile, didn't I?"
"I must have removed him," muttered Gale. "What kind of cancer you have?"
"What do you know about cancer?"
"Nothing."
"So it makes no sense to tell you."
"I'll look for it on the internet."
Moray raised an eyebrow and let out a short laugh. "This is the most romantic thing I have heard in years," he said, approaching Gale.
The blond jumped, moving back slightly.
"Once, you were afraid that you could be infected with some kind of mortal sin, what was it... incest?, Now you're afraid you'll get cancer? You know it's not a-"
"I was just surprised," admitted Gale, blushing again. Without giving Moray time to respond, he leaned toward him and kissed him quickly on the lips. His first kiss with a man in this life. And the first time he kissed a man in all his life by his own choice.
"You will not die," he said, when their mouths no longer touched.
"I don't think so," replied Moray, "I hope not."
"I will put things right. I promise."
Moray did not asked how he could keep such a promise. He watched amused and exasperated when Gale said that he must go somewhere, but assured him that he would return soon.
But it took another half hour for Moray to be able to get rid of him and get back to his own apartment. It took an hour to let the stupid smile that had taken possession of his mouth disappear for good, after Gale's leaving.
The first thing Samantha McCoy did when Gale told her he was an old school friend of Percy was to hug him.
It wasn't often that Percy's friends came to visit her. And actually, Percy never had many friends. People tried to avoid him since, one afternoon on his thirteenth birthday, he started yelling that he was dead, that his sister had died (when Lucy was perfectly fine), and that all was lost.
All the guests at the party were sent home and they willingly fled from the small, shaky little boy describing a sister who was bleeding to death.
They blamed it on television, but when Percy began to have some difficulty recognizing the people around him, they had to admit that it was something serious.
"It's a pleasure to know one of Percy's friends," she whispered, pulling Gale in closely to embrace him.
"I'm sorry I did not come earlier. I heard of it only recently."
"Do not worry, everything is fine," assured Samantha. Since her Percy was dead, she was not sure how many years were passing from day to day.
Gale sighed with relief when Samantha didn't ask him how he had met Percy, but started going into a detailed description of her child.
"He has always been a shy boy, do you know?"
Gale merely nodded. Percival had always been considerably quieter than him.
A stab of pain soon became evident at the idea that Percy had been in this world and time, but he had never had the occasion to see him. He could have helped him put the right memories in the right places, to distinguish friends from this life by the names of the other older ones.
"You have done everything possible," Gale said suddenly, listening for a second time as the woman recounted the first time Percy had been brought to a neurologist.
Samantha nodded.
"Forgive me, I'm crying like a baby. Gale, would you like some coffee?"
"No, do not worry."
"I'll drink it, so I'll prepare one for you too. Would you like to see Percy's room?"
Perhaps Samantha wanted a moment alone with her grief (and Gale understood her), so Gale nodded and followed her directions till he stood in front of an open door, the room behind it neat and clean.
The light was on and the bed was made with a heavy blue blanket.
The window opposite the bed was closed, with blue curtains, and on the left there was a shelf full of books and comics.
A poster of a superhero that Gale had never seen was hanging on the wall above his desk.
He did not know what he'd expected to find in Percy's house. He was hoping for a clue or an answer to his own questions. Or just the ghost of a memory.
He looked at the titles of the books, science-fiction and fantasy. It was all so strange and surreal.
On the desk he found a little red book, and blushed when he opened it to discover that it was none other than a diary. Percy's diary.
Samantha probably read it often, Gale mused, sitting down and opening it.
"Percival, forgive me, but I need know more."
He began to read, opening it in the middle.
October 6, 1992 Today, it's raining a lot. My mother says that is normal because it always rains in England. But this morning, I was sure I saw the sun and I'm still not sure it's actually raining now. I do not want to open the window... what if it isn't raining?Will I also see the horse? Lamorak should have just returned from hunting. I wonder where Dindrane is? My mother says that my sister is in her room, but when I enter it, I only see Lucy.
October 10, 1992
I dreamed of Camelot. I know that is not true, now I know.
My mother says I'm not well, and it is probably a neurological problem, and that psychologists are charlatans.
November 4, 1992 Today, I started with my quest for Camelot. I admit that this adventure excites me a lot. Find the Grail, the sacred cup.
Gale quickly skimmed the following pages of the diary.
Descriptions of school days and new names, friends. Tales of Camelot and tournaments after sentences about Lucy or a friend named Tom. Movies watched at the cinema, songs listened on the radio and new armors and swords. All together, confused, so elegant as to seem almost natural.
July 22, 1996
Today Dindrane died. She was left to die to save a woman who was twice her age. I saw the blood leave her body, intentionally flee from her. Before dying, she smiled and I thought I saw some light, something holy around her. I thought she was being sanctified... now I am not sure. Was it the Grail? Why did she have to die?
"I do it because it is right," she whispered.
She was doing it because God had taken her there for a purpose and I too have a purpose. I must find the Grail. God put me, Galahad and Bors on this road and made us face the terror and darkness, but I have not lost hope.
July 30, 1996Lucy gave me her CD player and she is giving me hell because I lost it. But she cannot drive me crazy if I'm already crazy, can she?
My psychiatrist says it is a form of schizophrenia and that everything that I see in the other side does not exist. I do not understand anything and hope that-
September 7, 1997
For months, I could not think of anything else. I found the Grail a few days ago and yet I am still alive. Or maybe I found It the other side and now I'm here.
I know that I will also find It on this side and I do not want to meet It again.
September 20, 1997
Galahad said that the Grail will meet me on this side as well. Lucy left home. She wants to marry and have children and she wants to stay away from me.
December 14, 1997 Our house is beautiful. Mum has put up a huge Christmas tree (fake, of course, since she is very attentive about these 'save-nature' things) and the hall is full of colored lights. Today, I went to buy a present for her and Lucy, but I still have not found anything cheap enough. I thought of a book for mum and I know Lucy is kind of obsessed by jazz music, so I think I'll have to visit the CD store.
January 3, 1998 I'm not able to dream about Dindrane anymore. I dreamed about the Grail tonight. I've never seen It so clearly as now. I know I have not really seen It on this side but I remember It and a part of me is aware that It is coming back. "I always come back," It said. Or is it a 'going forward'?
"I will return, Percival, you'll find more. Give me what you have, please," It said. It was desperate. It had the form of a dark, luminescent shadow. I remember when I saw It for the first time.
A dark shadow approaching. The movements of a small rabbit who has just sniffed prey. But it is nonsense, right? Bunnies are not carnivores.
January 4, 1998
My mother says they are only dreams. Lucy hugged me today and I felt so alone. Nobody really knows me and I cannot really know anyone. A lot of people died. And It will return. It will take all of me all over again. The Grail is always with me, watching me, waiting until I have enough to give him. I feel It.
It lives on me, like a parasite. And waits and waits and waits.
I do not want It to win. I can't do this again.
January 6, 1998 Maybe if I died before It could touch me, it would be really the end. Please, God.