Story of the Sangrail #3: So dark, o love, my spirit without thee (chapter 4)
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.
04. Las Vegas
Moray wondered how he had ended up in this situation.
Gale, with blond hair constantly falling in his eyes, stood leaning against the kitchen counter, scribbling nonsense and searching on the internet with a small laptop (it was Moray's, anyway).
And Moray was relegated to the couch with a remote control in one hand and a blanket around him. Moray lay comfortably curled up on a side. Gale was useless to talk with now; he would not have listened to what Moray had to say, anyway.
Four days before, Gale came back to his apartment with an air of heat and agitation that could only be called 'childish'.
Gale had hugged him (and it had been embarrassing, regardless of the fact that Moray had been wearing only a bathrobe and had still been wet from showering, and then he had started talking. Rivers of words about Percival, the Grail, Camelot, and some woman called Samantha. What he understood was very little Moray: Percival had committed suicide and not just because he could no longer distinguish reality from his past life, but also because, in his confusion, he believed that death was the only way to escape the Grail (not that this made sense). According to Percy, the Grail was a kind of parasite and had always followed him like a shadow, waiting.
"If it is really like this, why do you not you feel it too?" Moray had asked when he finally realized that it was impossible to get rid of Gale.
"Maybe my dreams are just that. Maybe I've even heard it, but I have not noticed."
"And you're going to commit suicide? I need to know, because then you have to know that my grandfather collects firearms."
"No, I need to put everything right," replied Gale, ignoring his joke.
Moray had tried to reason with him, to make him understand that not everything has to be put in the right place because not everything has a right place to be in. But, of course, even when he had been Galahad, he had been a naive idiot, so it wasn’t at all shocking that Gale was actually the same. And some things were better. At least Gale didn't think he was a saint chosen by God.
The telephone Gale had abandoned on the table in front of the couch began to ring.
"Can you pick it up?" asked the blond, totally immersed in his research and speculation.
"When did we get married? Because I think I forgot to make you sign a prenuptial agreement. I will not give you even a penny when we divorce."
"Why should we get a divorce?" Gale asked innocently.
Moray could clearly see his smile reflected on the computer screen.
Four days before, Gale had returned back to Moray’s apartment. And from that moment, he seemed to always be there.
Stretching toward the table, Moray took the phone and answered.
"Hello?"
"Hi... Gale?" asked a female voice.
"Uhm, I'm not Gale. But he is here."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Moray. I'll give him the phone."
The female voice seemed to startle. "Oh, Moray, he has never spoken of you. Yes, please, give the phone to him, thanks."
Gale got up and grabbed the phone Moray gave him suddenly (actually, the launch was intent on dashing the phone against the floor, but Gale had unexpectedly good reflexes).
"Mom, hello. Yes, I'm fine. No, I'm home. Well, not my home, actually. Just a friend. Kind of. I have to go. Of course I'm fine, just busy with something. I'm on holiday, I was not fired. Okay. Give a hug to dad."
"A fascinating woman," Moray whispered, switching on the television. Gale hung up the phone.
"She was worried because I have not replied at my house."
"Oh, then you should really go home. I'm sure your cats miss you," said Moray.
"I have no cats," Gale replied, sitting on the little glass table in front of Moray.
"If you break my table, I'll break something else. And it will not be furniture, I assure you."
Gale shrugged and moved to the couch, sitting on the edge of it.
"Did you find something?" asked Moray. Part of him was curious to know if Gale would have surrendered and would stop blathering about nonsense that only he saw. And part of him, a little hopeful part, was very curious about the Grail. Gale was right, because if it meant that, life was nothing but a consequence of a mysterious being, voluntary and not a just God's punishment.
"Nothing for now. But I found some books on the Grail in the library catalog of Bristol."
"And what are you waiting for? Go and take them."
Moray finally left the television and lay back to watch Gale's eyes. His worried look made Moray uneasy.
"I'll still be here," he crooned, "I'm not dying, Gale." Not immediately, anyway.
"You're evil."
"And you’ve finally realized it," added Moray. He could not help but smile as he said it (a smile that made him lose at least half of the malignant effect of his answer).
He had lived alone for almost forever, and had never been inclined to live with other people. He had not even noticed how much he missed such a familiarity at home.
He’d lived with another man six years ago, but it had not lasted more than seven months. Staying close to a person meant having to share everything, and there were things that Moray could not share. First, it was advisable not to mention the story of his life if he did not want to end up in a hospital. And the second thing was that Moray had done things, when he was Mordred, which he was not exactly proud of.
"Call me if you need," Gale greeted him, putting on his coat.
"Of course. If Mrs. McKenzie on the second floor decides to kill me, because I she know wants to deep down, I'll call you, fear not."
Gale smiled and left him.
Gale always left him with such greetings. Call me if you need. You know where to find me. You have my number, right?
Gale the caring. Gale the kind. Yes, sooner or later, he would call him and maybe he would make him worry to death, before making endless fun of him.
Despite these similar thoughts springing on him almost spontaneously, Moray could not help but smile at the idea that someone in the world anxiously awaited his call.
"Still my lover runs for shelter to its dwelling, Hither, O heart, to thine abiding place," he sang, before falling asleep.
Moray awoke suddenly to the sound of a door closing.
Opening his eyes, he saw Gale, with three books in his arms, trying to enter as quietly as possible. He left the books on the table in the middle of the room, and then, when he realized that he had not yet awakened Moray, he reached for the television and switched it off. He turned off the light in the main room and took off his coat.
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
Gale jumped in surprise and immediately began to apologize for waking him. Ignoring him, Moray merely repeated the question.
"Yes, Chrérien de Troyes and two essays."
"Fascinating."
"I also called Bors and tried to explain everything to him, but he would not listen. He is convinced that the Grail is an instrument of God and not one of chance."
Rising from the sofa, Moray stretched his bones and heard them creaking. He was slightly nauseas. He would rather talk about the last movie he had seen, a horror worthy of the worst criticism, or what was going to roll the policy of the century but Gale just wanted to ramble on about the Grail. "Give me those books," he said, sitting beside him at the dining table.
Gale was probably wrong, completely wrong. Probably, he was a visionary and a dreamer. Was it really possible that the Grail could be what Percival also believed? Some kind of monster and not just an illusion?
The two boys spent the next two hours reading and skipping through the pages of the three books. They stopped only to eat some soup that Moray found in the fridge, and then began again until eight at night.
"The couch is yours," decided Moray, when he found himself too tired to even keep his eyes open. He left the books, useless, and went to his own room.
The only things they had discovered was that the Grail was considered a sacred thing, and it was linked to the Christian religion, though at first the name was not associated with the Grail chalice of the Last Supper, but only to a magical object to find. The Grail clearly had the shape of a cup. But nothing more.
He fell asleep moments later, without even realizing it, thinking of Arthur and Camelot. If Gale was right -- Arthur was not living there with them, in the twenty-first century. Arthur was eternally lost.
He woke up, startled, thinking he’d had a nightmare. He sighed heavily in the dark. He dreamed of something crawling toward him, slowly and cruelly. He felt it around him, between the blankets, and was surprised to hear someone in the room.
He gripped soft blond hair violently and pinched the cheek that was just below the strands.
"Mordred?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Sorry," whispered Gale, "I dreamed of -- I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Forgive me."
"What did you dream?"
Gale felt obliged to discuss it and sat up, shoulder to shoulder with Moray.
"Lucy and I, Lucy is Percy's sister, but she looked like Dindrane and she was dying. There was blood everywhere and yet she still managed to hug me. I said that I could not turn around, because if I did the Grail would just be there, watching me. I could not stand still, I felt something breathe on me and I could not help but turn around. It was there, with high human skin that slowly melted; the cup in his hands was full of Dindrane's blood. And you were there, too; you had a gun. You said that you had to use it because -- of ice cream, I can't remember. And then you fired and you were dead."
"And then what happened?"
"Nothing. I woke up and came here."
The two remained silent, and Moray was almost sure he was able to hear Gale’s heartbeat. He leaned over to turn on the small lamp at his bedside. He knew he was not a pretty sight compared to Gale.
Gale was like Galahad. Thin, tall, but with a strange form of compact strength. He lacked all the coldness that he’d had once, perhaps because of Mordred or because of the Grail and the death. He seemed warm, secure in an almost childish and hopeless way.
And Moray was tired, pale, unkempt, and he was sure that Mordred’s madness still showed behind his eyes.
"I'm leaving now, if you want," Gale said, softly.
"Want to hear my dream?" asked Moray, inventing the idea on the spot. His mother always said that he had a ferocious imagination and it was time to use it.
Gale nodded.
"I dreamed of being in Las Vegas. Great buildings, lights everywhere, but terribly dark at the same time. I walked into a room and I sat down for a drink. There was Bors and he was doing a lap dance, dressed as a cheetah."
"I'm not sure I want to hear the rest -- a cheetah?"
"And then you came in and you decided to offer me a drink. You asked me if we could go somewhere a bit 'more-private"
"You had a wet dream about me?"
"I have strange kinds of dreams about many people. Do not feel flattered."
Do anything to stop thinking about the Grail.
"Moray, I'm serious. My dreams are not just dreams."
Moray dropped into a lying position on the bed. Evidently, his imagination was not so spectacular. Not enough to distract Gale.
"Gale, you do not do anything but think of that dish. About the Grail, about Percy’s Grail or Percy. Did you come here for another chance or not?"
"I am using my chance to get everything back in the right place!"
"No," hissed Moray, pushing Gale away from his bed. "This isn’t how you’re supposed to use second chances. Bors is using this life. Percy did not succeed and you're not succeeding, either."
The blonde got out of bed. "I was succeeding," Gale tried to explain, "but then I talked to Bors and read the Percy’s diary, and now I know what is happening is not right. I feel it."
"I do not care. I want to sleep now. How can you be sure that dreams are not only created by your hyperactive brain?"
"I do not know," murmured Gale, looking defeated.
"Now back on the couch, and if you want to stay here, I no longer want to hear a word about the Grail till I’ve slept nine hours."
Gale opened his mouth to say something, but Moray merely turned around and closed his eyes. Seconds later, he heard the door of his room shutting.
The silence was so intense that Moray could easily hear Gale’s footsteps less than twenty minutes later, coming back in his direction. The door opened again, creaking quietly. Moray closed his eyes.
"Are you sleeping?"
"Yes."
Gale joined him back in the bed and lay down beside him. Nobody knew where that familiarity was born or when. Perhaps because they were only Galahad and Mordred, and had always been, or because they were alone and there was no one else that could ever possibly understand.
Moray let Gale embrace him and forced himself to turn and face him. He twitched in annoyance when Gale ran a hand through his hair, cut very short and spiky.
"You never talk about Camlann and Arthur."
"Arthur was my father and Camlann was a delightful seaplace."
"Why did you betray him?"
Moray had no intention of answering, but the words came out without his permission. Living.
"Because Arthur lived for his law, because the law had to be perfect and the same for everyone. He did everything to satisfy the people around him, but could not agree to all. I was avoided because I was born of a mistake, and he was convinced that the kingdom would not accept an heir so little supported by the Christians or by the many enemies of Lot and Morgause. I was ignored for something I have never done. Do you know what this means? That everything I did was not enough. Never. I could be the best in everything and still my father would go to Lancelot, to Guinevere and Constantine, the stupid kid who had been chosen as his heir. I've never been able to accept it, but there I was trying. And then Agravaine discovered the queen and Lancelot together and this cost him his life," continued Moray, careless and forgetful of the relationship between Galahad and his beloved father. "The two people closest to the king were betraying him and it was a pity that the law required death for them. Arthur knew this and knew that his people needed to see justice and the law of the great king of Britain. And you know what he did? "
"No, I do not know," said Gale. Moray was silent a moment, as though astonished by Gale’s very presence. "What did he do?" repeated the blonde.
"He made an exception. He planned the flight for Guinevere, helped by Lancelot and Sir Bedivere. Arthur wanted to save Guinevere and Lancelot from the law he always adored. It was all decided, all programmed. He made an exception for them and not for me. I hated him so much that sometimes I felt suffocated. And Gaheris and Gareth died trying to save that law, betrayed by their own king. I could see all of it from my room. Agravaine was killed by Lancelot the evening his adultery was discovered, and it was a loyal duel, but Gaheris could not accept it. Gaheris has always been a hothead, unsure of everything and everyone. Agravaine was his safety and had been removed. I understood his desire for revenge and I also understood Gareth's need of trying to reason with him. "
"Gareth has always been a gentle knight, always just and worthy," Gale remembered.
"And my other brothers were not?" Moray asked angrily. "Agravaine was a snake, but that title was far more worthy of Lancelot!" Suddenly the man let out a sigh, realizing that he had insulted Gale’s father.
"They were all worthy," said Gale. "I know that Lancelot killed them at Guinevere’s stake, in the heat of the moment."
"The heat of the moment," laughed Moray, bitterly, "Lancelot did not see either of them, only Guinevere. I asked my father to avenge my brothers and he said he could not, because he could not afford to leave the kingdom and follow Lancelot to France. I was not important enough, but I was not alone. His nephew Gawain was the king of Orkney and a valuable ally for the kingdom of Britannia. At least Arthur listened to him. And while preparing for a battle against the last emperor, he decided to avenge my brothers too, because Gawain asked him."
"I know what happened then, if you do not want to talk about it," said Gale. But Moray wanted to speak, again and again. The blonde put his own hands on Moray’s cheeks. They were hot again, fresh. Energy and words had been lost for so long.
"Some kings and some knights were not happy with Arthur. He had many wars and called incessantly for aid and wealth. The nobles thought it was time to take something for once and stop giving tribute. They chose me as their future king. I would have been a puppet, a puppet in their hands, because no one would have ever accepted me as a successor without their support. I was okay with it. I realize now that I was stupid, but sometimes I was so angry that I could not sleep. I had no peace. I had no peace until the end when my father came to meet me on the battlefield. He had a spear and he used it, he jumped forward and stabbed me here." Moray pointed to a spot in the middle of the sternum. "It was rather strange. I only felt that the spear was cold, nothing else. And I saw Arthur's eyes, in front of me. He was in the heat of battle and he did not know it was me; he had not done it on purpose. And I had my sword. When I hit him, I knew he was Arthur. I knew he was my father."
Moray attempted to hide his face against his pillow. He could not see him again; he did not want to see anything. He should close his eyes and sleep; he should have let Gale talk about the Grail.
But Gale did not let him stay hidden, and it was with some uncertainty that he hugged him and allowed Moray to let his tears soak his own pajamas.
"I should not have -- I knew it was him," said Moray. "What have I done? I should not have hit him..."
In Las Vegas, miles and seas away from the town of Bristol, J. Lin Monroe returned to her home after a night spent at leisure. The hotel, too comfortable and luxurious, welcomed her warmly and she lay on the soft bed without even changing her clothes.
Her sister had ensured her that Las Vegas was the perfect place to forget, but Yu did not know anything and could not even imagine all that Lin would have to forget to be happy again.
She knew too many lives and there was never enough time to sleep. She wanted to worry about bills, her upcoming marriage, and her cat, but she knew it was useless because she felt that her Sangrail was coming. It was her own personal parasite and she had known it for a long time, four lives now. And each time, it came to pick her up and she died again and again and again. Beginning to be tired of not being able to have a real life for fear that Sangrail, she decided that was enough, that she had accumulated enough experience to satisfy the thirst of that parasite.
She had a degree in biology, in this life. Lin had left the university with honors and specialized in parasites and such. Why? Because she had the deadliest of them perched on her shoulder. Speaking of an angel on someone's shoulder...
"Maybe I should kill myself. Finally die so it can no longer reach me."
Either here or in the next life (but she loved living so much) would be the end for her.
She got up from bed and headed to a small fridge. In one of the past lives, that she did not remember clearly, she had been an alcoholic.
"I could lose everything."
If she looked in an empty room, concentrating on nothing, she could almost see it out of the corner of her eye. The black shadow that was there, waiting.
"I know you're not evil," Lin said, although she was well aware of the impossibility to talk with it. "You are just hungry, I understand. Believe me, it's normal, it's simple. You have to do what you have to do to survive. But please, leave me alone. I do not want to give you anything. Find someone else, another guest. I do not have new experiences for you," whispered Lin Monroe.
Yet she was lying. In this life she had lived differently. For the first time she had a sister and a cat, for the first time she fell in love with a woman, for the first time she had seen the Grand Canyon.
"I’ve found someone else. I do not think I can live again after this. I love Linda, and I cannot leave her alone."
No one answered her and Lin uncorked a bottle of liquor. In the next life, she would write about all of this. She would write about the Sangrail and would scream about it to the world. She had hoped to find a solution by herself, but she hadn’t been successful.
She would scream to the world, the next time.
She had never been good at teamwork, Linda often repeated.
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.
04. Las Vegas
Moray wondered how he had ended up in this situation.
Gale, with blond hair constantly falling in his eyes, stood leaning against the kitchen counter, scribbling nonsense and searching on the internet with a small laptop (it was Moray's, anyway).
And Moray was relegated to the couch with a remote control in one hand and a blanket around him. Moray lay comfortably curled up on a side. Gale was useless to talk with now; he would not have listened to what Moray had to say, anyway.
Four days before, Gale came back to his apartment with an air of heat and agitation that could only be called 'childish'.
Gale had hugged him (and it had been embarrassing, regardless of the fact that Moray had been wearing only a bathrobe and had still been wet from showering, and then he had started talking. Rivers of words about Percival, the Grail, Camelot, and some woman called Samantha. What he understood was very little Moray: Percival had committed suicide and not just because he could no longer distinguish reality from his past life, but also because, in his confusion, he believed that death was the only way to escape the Grail (not that this made sense). According to Percy, the Grail was a kind of parasite and had always followed him like a shadow, waiting.
"If it is really like this, why do you not you feel it too?" Moray had asked when he finally realized that it was impossible to get rid of Gale.
"Maybe my dreams are just that. Maybe I've even heard it, but I have not noticed."
"And you're going to commit suicide? I need to know, because then you have to know that my grandfather collects firearms."
"No, I need to put everything right," replied Gale, ignoring his joke.
Moray had tried to reason with him, to make him understand that not everything has to be put in the right place because not everything has a right place to be in. But, of course, even when he had been Galahad, he had been a naive idiot, so it wasn’t at all shocking that Gale was actually the same. And some things were better. At least Gale didn't think he was a saint chosen by God.
The telephone Gale had abandoned on the table in front of the couch began to ring.
"Can you pick it up?" asked the blond, totally immersed in his research and speculation.
"When did we get married? Because I think I forgot to make you sign a prenuptial agreement. I will not give you even a penny when we divorce."
"Why should we get a divorce?" Gale asked innocently.
Moray could clearly see his smile reflected on the computer screen.
Four days before, Gale had returned back to Moray’s apartment. And from that moment, he seemed to always be there.
Stretching toward the table, Moray took the phone and answered.
"Hello?"
"Hi... Gale?" asked a female voice.
"Uhm, I'm not Gale. But he is here."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Moray. I'll give him the phone."
The female voice seemed to startle. "Oh, Moray, he has never spoken of you. Yes, please, give the phone to him, thanks."
Gale got up and grabbed the phone Moray gave him suddenly (actually, the launch was intent on dashing the phone against the floor, but Gale had unexpectedly good reflexes).
"Mom, hello. Yes, I'm fine. No, I'm home. Well, not my home, actually. Just a friend. Kind of. I have to go. Of course I'm fine, just busy with something. I'm on holiday, I was not fired. Okay. Give a hug to dad."
"A fascinating woman," Moray whispered, switching on the television. Gale hung up the phone.
"She was worried because I have not replied at my house."
"Oh, then you should really go home. I'm sure your cats miss you," said Moray.
"I have no cats," Gale replied, sitting on the little glass table in front of Moray.
"If you break my table, I'll break something else. And it will not be furniture, I assure you."
Gale shrugged and moved to the couch, sitting on the edge of it.
"Did you find something?" asked Moray. Part of him was curious to know if Gale would have surrendered and would stop blathering about nonsense that only he saw. And part of him, a little hopeful part, was very curious about the Grail. Gale was right, because if it meant that, life was nothing but a consequence of a mysterious being, voluntary and not a just God's punishment.
"Nothing for now. But I found some books on the Grail in the library catalog of Bristol."
"And what are you waiting for? Go and take them."
Moray finally left the television and lay back to watch Gale's eyes. His worried look made Moray uneasy.
"I'll still be here," he crooned, "I'm not dying, Gale." Not immediately, anyway.
"You're evil."
"And you’ve finally realized it," added Moray. He could not help but smile as he said it (a smile that made him lose at least half of the malignant effect of his answer).
He had lived alone for almost forever, and had never been inclined to live with other people. He had not even noticed how much he missed such a familiarity at home.
He’d lived with another man six years ago, but it had not lasted more than seven months. Staying close to a person meant having to share everything, and there were things that Moray could not share. First, it was advisable not to mention the story of his life if he did not want to end up in a hospital. And the second thing was that Moray had done things, when he was Mordred, which he was not exactly proud of.
"Call me if you need," Gale greeted him, putting on his coat.
"Of course. If Mrs. McKenzie on the second floor decides to kill me, because I she know wants to deep down, I'll call you, fear not."
Gale smiled and left him.
Gale always left him with such greetings. Call me if you need. You know where to find me. You have my number, right?
Gale the caring. Gale the kind. Yes, sooner or later, he would call him and maybe he would make him worry to death, before making endless fun of him.
Despite these similar thoughts springing on him almost spontaneously, Moray could not help but smile at the idea that someone in the world anxiously awaited his call.
"Still my lover runs for shelter to its dwelling, Hither, O heart, to thine abiding place," he sang, before falling asleep.
Moray awoke suddenly to the sound of a door closing.
Opening his eyes, he saw Gale, with three books in his arms, trying to enter as quietly as possible. He left the books on the table in the middle of the room, and then, when he realized that he had not yet awakened Moray, he reached for the television and switched it off. He turned off the light in the main room and took off his coat.
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
Gale jumped in surprise and immediately began to apologize for waking him. Ignoring him, Moray merely repeated the question.
"Yes, Chrérien de Troyes and two essays."
"Fascinating."
"I also called Bors and tried to explain everything to him, but he would not listen. He is convinced that the Grail is an instrument of God and not one of chance."
Rising from the sofa, Moray stretched his bones and heard them creaking. He was slightly nauseas. He would rather talk about the last movie he had seen, a horror worthy of the worst criticism, or what was going to roll the policy of the century but Gale just wanted to ramble on about the Grail. "Give me those books," he said, sitting beside him at the dining table.
Gale was probably wrong, completely wrong. Probably, he was a visionary and a dreamer. Was it really possible that the Grail could be what Percival also believed? Some kind of monster and not just an illusion?
The two boys spent the next two hours reading and skipping through the pages of the three books. They stopped only to eat some soup that Moray found in the fridge, and then began again until eight at night.
"The couch is yours," decided Moray, when he found himself too tired to even keep his eyes open. He left the books, useless, and went to his own room.
The only things they had discovered was that the Grail was considered a sacred thing, and it was linked to the Christian religion, though at first the name was not associated with the Grail chalice of the Last Supper, but only to a magical object to find. The Grail clearly had the shape of a cup. But nothing more.
He fell asleep moments later, without even realizing it, thinking of Arthur and Camelot. If Gale was right -- Arthur was not living there with them, in the twenty-first century. Arthur was eternally lost.
He woke up, startled, thinking he’d had a nightmare. He sighed heavily in the dark. He dreamed of something crawling toward him, slowly and cruelly. He felt it around him, between the blankets, and was surprised to hear someone in the room.
He gripped soft blond hair violently and pinched the cheek that was just below the strands.
"Mordred?"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Sorry," whispered Gale, "I dreamed of -- I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Forgive me."
"What did you dream?"
Gale felt obliged to discuss it and sat up, shoulder to shoulder with Moray.
"Lucy and I, Lucy is Percy's sister, but she looked like Dindrane and she was dying. There was blood everywhere and yet she still managed to hug me. I said that I could not turn around, because if I did the Grail would just be there, watching me. I could not stand still, I felt something breathe on me and I could not help but turn around. It was there, with high human skin that slowly melted; the cup in his hands was full of Dindrane's blood. And you were there, too; you had a gun. You said that you had to use it because -- of ice cream, I can't remember. And then you fired and you were dead."
"And then what happened?"
"Nothing. I woke up and came here."
The two remained silent, and Moray was almost sure he was able to hear Gale’s heartbeat. He leaned over to turn on the small lamp at his bedside. He knew he was not a pretty sight compared to Gale.
Gale was like Galahad. Thin, tall, but with a strange form of compact strength. He lacked all the coldness that he’d had once, perhaps because of Mordred or because of the Grail and the death. He seemed warm, secure in an almost childish and hopeless way.
And Moray was tired, pale, unkempt, and he was sure that Mordred’s madness still showed behind his eyes.
"I'm leaving now, if you want," Gale said, softly.
"Want to hear my dream?" asked Moray, inventing the idea on the spot. His mother always said that he had a ferocious imagination and it was time to use it.
Gale nodded.
"I dreamed of being in Las Vegas. Great buildings, lights everywhere, but terribly dark at the same time. I walked into a room and I sat down for a drink. There was Bors and he was doing a lap dance, dressed as a cheetah."
"I'm not sure I want to hear the rest -- a cheetah?"
"And then you came in and you decided to offer me a drink. You asked me if we could go somewhere a bit 'more-private"
"You had a wet dream about me?"
"I have strange kinds of dreams about many people. Do not feel flattered."
Do anything to stop thinking about the Grail.
"Moray, I'm serious. My dreams are not just dreams."
Moray dropped into a lying position on the bed. Evidently, his imagination was not so spectacular. Not enough to distract Gale.
"Gale, you do not do anything but think of that dish. About the Grail, about Percy’s Grail or Percy. Did you come here for another chance or not?"
"I am using my chance to get everything back in the right place!"
"No," hissed Moray, pushing Gale away from his bed. "This isn’t how you’re supposed to use second chances. Bors is using this life. Percy did not succeed and you're not succeeding, either."
The blonde got out of bed. "I was succeeding," Gale tried to explain, "but then I talked to Bors and read the Percy’s diary, and now I know what is happening is not right. I feel it."
"I do not care. I want to sleep now. How can you be sure that dreams are not only created by your hyperactive brain?"
"I do not know," murmured Gale, looking defeated.
"Now back on the couch, and if you want to stay here, I no longer want to hear a word about the Grail till I’ve slept nine hours."
Gale opened his mouth to say something, but Moray merely turned around and closed his eyes. Seconds later, he heard the door of his room shutting.
The silence was so intense that Moray could easily hear Gale’s footsteps less than twenty minutes later, coming back in his direction. The door opened again, creaking quietly. Moray closed his eyes.
"Are you sleeping?"
"Yes."
Gale joined him back in the bed and lay down beside him. Nobody knew where that familiarity was born or when. Perhaps because they were only Galahad and Mordred, and had always been, or because they were alone and there was no one else that could ever possibly understand.
Moray let Gale embrace him and forced himself to turn and face him. He twitched in annoyance when Gale ran a hand through his hair, cut very short and spiky.
"You never talk about Camlann and Arthur."
"Arthur was my father and Camlann was a delightful seaplace."
"Why did you betray him?"
Moray had no intention of answering, but the words came out without his permission. Living.
"Because Arthur lived for his law, because the law had to be perfect and the same for everyone. He did everything to satisfy the people around him, but could not agree to all. I was avoided because I was born of a mistake, and he was convinced that the kingdom would not accept an heir so little supported by the Christians or by the many enemies of Lot and Morgause. I was ignored for something I have never done. Do you know what this means? That everything I did was not enough. Never. I could be the best in everything and still my father would go to Lancelot, to Guinevere and Constantine, the stupid kid who had been chosen as his heir. I've never been able to accept it, but there I was trying. And then Agravaine discovered the queen and Lancelot together and this cost him his life," continued Moray, careless and forgetful of the relationship between Galahad and his beloved father. "The two people closest to the king were betraying him and it was a pity that the law required death for them. Arthur knew this and knew that his people needed to see justice and the law of the great king of Britain. And you know what he did? "
"No, I do not know," said Gale. Moray was silent a moment, as though astonished by Gale’s very presence. "What did he do?" repeated the blonde.
"He made an exception. He planned the flight for Guinevere, helped by Lancelot and Sir Bedivere. Arthur wanted to save Guinevere and Lancelot from the law he always adored. It was all decided, all programmed. He made an exception for them and not for me. I hated him so much that sometimes I felt suffocated. And Gaheris and Gareth died trying to save that law, betrayed by their own king. I could see all of it from my room. Agravaine was killed by Lancelot the evening his adultery was discovered, and it was a loyal duel, but Gaheris could not accept it. Gaheris has always been a hothead, unsure of everything and everyone. Agravaine was his safety and had been removed. I understood his desire for revenge and I also understood Gareth's need of trying to reason with him. "
"Gareth has always been a gentle knight, always just and worthy," Gale remembered.
"And my other brothers were not?" Moray asked angrily. "Agravaine was a snake, but that title was far more worthy of Lancelot!" Suddenly the man let out a sigh, realizing that he had insulted Gale’s father.
"They were all worthy," said Gale. "I know that Lancelot killed them at Guinevere’s stake, in the heat of the moment."
"The heat of the moment," laughed Moray, bitterly, "Lancelot did not see either of them, only Guinevere. I asked my father to avenge my brothers and he said he could not, because he could not afford to leave the kingdom and follow Lancelot to France. I was not important enough, but I was not alone. His nephew Gawain was the king of Orkney and a valuable ally for the kingdom of Britannia. At least Arthur listened to him. And while preparing for a battle against the last emperor, he decided to avenge my brothers too, because Gawain asked him."
"I know what happened then, if you do not want to talk about it," said Gale. But Moray wanted to speak, again and again. The blonde put his own hands on Moray’s cheeks. They were hot again, fresh. Energy and words had been lost for so long.
"Some kings and some knights were not happy with Arthur. He had many wars and called incessantly for aid and wealth. The nobles thought it was time to take something for once and stop giving tribute. They chose me as their future king. I would have been a puppet, a puppet in their hands, because no one would have ever accepted me as a successor without their support. I was okay with it. I realize now that I was stupid, but sometimes I was so angry that I could not sleep. I had no peace. I had no peace until the end when my father came to meet me on the battlefield. He had a spear and he used it, he jumped forward and stabbed me here." Moray pointed to a spot in the middle of the sternum. "It was rather strange. I only felt that the spear was cold, nothing else. And I saw Arthur's eyes, in front of me. He was in the heat of battle and he did not know it was me; he had not done it on purpose. And I had my sword. When I hit him, I knew he was Arthur. I knew he was my father."
Moray attempted to hide his face against his pillow. He could not see him again; he did not want to see anything. He should close his eyes and sleep; he should have let Gale talk about the Grail.
But Gale did not let him stay hidden, and it was with some uncertainty that he hugged him and allowed Moray to let his tears soak his own pajamas.
"I should not have -- I knew it was him," said Moray. "What have I done? I should not have hit him..."
In Las Vegas, miles and seas away from the town of Bristol, J. Lin Monroe returned to her home after a night spent at leisure. The hotel, too comfortable and luxurious, welcomed her warmly and she lay on the soft bed without even changing her clothes.
Her sister had ensured her that Las Vegas was the perfect place to forget, but Yu did not know anything and could not even imagine all that Lin would have to forget to be happy again.
She knew too many lives and there was never enough time to sleep. She wanted to worry about bills, her upcoming marriage, and her cat, but she knew it was useless because she felt that her Sangrail was coming. It was her own personal parasite and she had known it for a long time, four lives now. And each time, it came to pick her up and she died again and again and again. Beginning to be tired of not being able to have a real life for fear that Sangrail, she decided that was enough, that she had accumulated enough experience to satisfy the thirst of that parasite.
She had a degree in biology, in this life. Lin had left the university with honors and specialized in parasites and such. Why? Because she had the deadliest of them perched on her shoulder. Speaking of an angel on someone's shoulder...
"Maybe I should kill myself. Finally die so it can no longer reach me."
Either here or in the next life (but she loved living so much) would be the end for her.
She got up from bed and headed to a small fridge. In one of the past lives, that she did not remember clearly, she had been an alcoholic.
"I could lose everything."
If she looked in an empty room, concentrating on nothing, she could almost see it out of the corner of her eye. The black shadow that was there, waiting.
"I know you're not evil," Lin said, although she was well aware of the impossibility to talk with it. "You are just hungry, I understand. Believe me, it's normal, it's simple. You have to do what you have to do to survive. But please, leave me alone. I do not want to give you anything. Find someone else, another guest. I do not have new experiences for you," whispered Lin Monroe.
Yet she was lying. In this life she had lived differently. For the first time she had a sister and a cat, for the first time she fell in love with a woman, for the first time she had seen the Grand Canyon.
"I’ve found someone else. I do not think I can live again after this. I love Linda, and I cannot leave her alone."
No one answered her and Lin uncorked a bottle of liquor. In the next life, she would write about all of this. She would write about the Sangrail and would scream about it to the world. She had hoped to find a solution by herself, but she hadn’t been successful.
She would scream to the world, the next time.
She had never been good at teamwork, Linda often repeated.