Challenge response
Title: Independence at a Price
Author: willowmae
Rating: PG
Challenge: #8 and #10 (The 4th and Period Piece)
Notes: this is rough, and I'd like to have it polished. Anyone who has criticisms or comments, please tell me. I'm really, really bad with Ami/Zoi anyway...
The day seemed unusually hot, and the flies were thicker than usual. On the crowded steets of Philidelphia, Adam’s voice could (as always) be heard roaring from the windows of the Congress house. Most people, used to the racket, continued on their way ignoring the shouts. But one man, hearing what was said and understanding what it meant, pushed his way through the streets.
They were free.
Free.
Well, on paper anyway. But it was the first step, the step that they had been waiting for. And James had someone he needed to tell, someone who’s life it just might save. So he ran, pushing people out of his way and ignoring their indignant cries. He ran all the way home, bursting through the doorway into the house and thundering up the stairs to the room.
There he stopped, out of breath and terrified that he was too late. The room was damp with humidity and sickly sweat, and in the dark corner the bandaged figure on the bed barely moved.
“Zach?” he stepped in further. “Zachary?” James could barely contain his sigh of relief when the figure on the bed stirred.
“James...” Too weak to sit up and greet his brother, Zachary coughed quietly and turned his smiling face towards the door. It was as though his entire face had sunk, cheekbones and eyes hollowed out, skin a sickly mix of white and yellow that made him blend into the aged pillows and sheets. James knelt by the bed and brushed the sweaty strands of long blonde hair from his brother’s face. Yes, this news would be good for him.
Both brothers knew there was little they could do besides wait. Zachary had been injured in one of the many battles with the redcoats, recieving a bullet in his leg and a bayonette in his gut, along with a head wound when he fell on the battlefield. James had taken him home soon after, but the doctors had little hope that the young man who had fought so bravely on the field could manage to fight as well in his bed. The wound infection and consequent sweating sickness it brought were assuredly young Zach’s final battle in this lifetime.
“They did it, Zach.” James clutched his dying brother’s hand tightly, willing the news to bring more life back into Zach’s glazed green eyes.
”The cha-cha?” he joked weakly.
James laughed. “No, stupid. They signed it. The declaration! Can’t you hear Adams shouting?”
Zachary cocked his head to the side, lips parted in a breathy smile. “Yes...I can hear him.” A laugh turned to a cough. “Freedom never sounded so loudly.”
“They finally pulled together and did what we’ve been fighting for all this time.” His brother’s frail hand was being crushed in his ernest enthusiasm. “You’ve got to pull yourself together now, you can’t leave things the way they are! Just when they’re getting better.”
“You’re right...” Zach’s sigh was like wind rustling through dry paper, and he closed his eyes. “But I don’t think I have a choice, Jamie.”
“But...” James clenched the bedsheets and lay his head down next to his brother’s shoulder. “This isn’t right! This news is too wonderful for things to go the way they have! It should give you the strength to pull through. Zach....please.”
“Jamie...” and even in the uttering of the name, James could tell just how much weaker Zach had gotten. “I’m sorry. America is free. And that news brings me more joy than I thought I could be capable of. It gives me the will to get better...but I’m afraid not the strength.”
And as sudden as that, he was dead.
James stared, the buzz of flies and the clatter of carts outside both deafening and silent in his ears. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Zach was supposed to get better. Not like this.
Don’t despair. He didn’t hear the voice so much as conceive it in his mind. The words were there, but the sound was not. He turned from his brother’s dead body and looked to the doorway, where his brother stood. Only, it wasn’t his brother. It looked like his brother, with the same blonde curls tumbling over his shoulders, same cheerful green eyes and winning smile...but there was something different, something ancient about this man. His clothes were all wrong; it looked as though he wore something straight from the medieval period with a flowing brown cape and a white soldier uniform embroidered with gold. A handsomely engraved sword hung at his side. The form shimmered closer and James fell back away from the strange ghost.
Don’t despair! The ghost whispered in his head again. I haven’t left you.
“Zachary?”
Not quite, but yes. James took in the similarities again, and something he didn’t understand clicked in his head.
I’ll never be far away from you. In this life, you honored me by being my brother. Who knows if, in our next life, we will even meet. But remember. James, Jadeite, brother, friend, we are always together. All of us, always.
And somehow, James knew what his brother Zachary (this ghost Zoisite) was saying. He didn’t understand, the words meant nothing to him. But he knew what was meant, and it comforted him.
I only wish...please. If you see her, tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her, and pray that she’s forgiven me...
And in those moments, the ghost too was gone, and James was alone with the shell of his brother.
In the way that humans have, it only took a few hours for the encounter with the ghost to fade completely from James’s mind. It was written off as a trick of the heat; his distressed mind making shadows out of shadows. By the time of the funeral, he didn’t even remember it happening. The burial was brief, and few attended. After all, the war was still on, despite the signing only days before, and many were called away to duty. James intended to join them himself in a few days time. To honor his brother, who was laid to rest beneath the soil of a maple tree. Beneath the maple tree...
A girl stood, watching the burial with tears in her eyes. James did not recognize her. Her blue petticoats blended into the shadows of the tree, and her black hair was pulled up and curled shortly around her heart-shaped face. The tears in her crystal eyes wrenched his heart, and James went to her on impulse.
“Hi.”
She sniffled, bringing a hankerchief to her reddening eyes. “Hello.”
James motioned to the grave. “Did you...I don’t know you. Were you a friend of Zach’s?”
“Oh!” she looked at him for the first time, grief mixed with embarassment and confusion on her face. “No, I...I saw the ceremony while I was walking to the store. I just...I needed to come. I needed to see him. I don’t know why...”
“He was my brother.”
“I’m sorry.” she took a step back. “It’s so terribly rude of me to intrude...I’m sorry for your loss.”
Before he could understand the words coming from his own mouth, he had blurted, “I’m sorry for yours.” She looked at him, eyes wide.
“Beg pardon?”
And it was like James was someone else, for her wrapped his arms around the girl and pulled her into his chest in an overwhelming hug. “He said he was sorry.” he murmured into her curls. “He said to tell you he loves you. He said...he hoped you would forgive him....”
And it was like she was someone else, for she burried her face in his shoulder and wept and wept. “Always!” she cried, shaking. They stood like that, beneath the shadows of the maple tree, crying on one another. At length they broke, familiar strangers.
“Let me walk you home.”
They didn’t understand, but they knew. There would be other chances, and maybe, someday, they would get it right again.
Author: willowmae
Rating: PG
Challenge: #8 and #10 (The 4th and Period Piece)
Notes: this is rough, and I'd like to have it polished. Anyone who has criticisms or comments, please tell me. I'm really, really bad with Ami/Zoi anyway...
The day seemed unusually hot, and the flies were thicker than usual. On the crowded steets of Philidelphia, Adam’s voice could (as always) be heard roaring from the windows of the Congress house. Most people, used to the racket, continued on their way ignoring the shouts. But one man, hearing what was said and understanding what it meant, pushed his way through the streets.
They were free.
Free.
Well, on paper anyway. But it was the first step, the step that they had been waiting for. And James had someone he needed to tell, someone who’s life it just might save. So he ran, pushing people out of his way and ignoring their indignant cries. He ran all the way home, bursting through the doorway into the house and thundering up the stairs to the room.
There he stopped, out of breath and terrified that he was too late. The room was damp with humidity and sickly sweat, and in the dark corner the bandaged figure on the bed barely moved.
“Zach?” he stepped in further. “Zachary?” James could barely contain his sigh of relief when the figure on the bed stirred.
“James...” Too weak to sit up and greet his brother, Zachary coughed quietly and turned his smiling face towards the door. It was as though his entire face had sunk, cheekbones and eyes hollowed out, skin a sickly mix of white and yellow that made him blend into the aged pillows and sheets. James knelt by the bed and brushed the sweaty strands of long blonde hair from his brother’s face. Yes, this news would be good for him.
Both brothers knew there was little they could do besides wait. Zachary had been injured in one of the many battles with the redcoats, recieving a bullet in his leg and a bayonette in his gut, along with a head wound when he fell on the battlefield. James had taken him home soon after, but the doctors had little hope that the young man who had fought so bravely on the field could manage to fight as well in his bed. The wound infection and consequent sweating sickness it brought were assuredly young Zach’s final battle in this lifetime.
“They did it, Zach.” James clutched his dying brother’s hand tightly, willing the news to bring more life back into Zach’s glazed green eyes.
”The cha-cha?” he joked weakly.
James laughed. “No, stupid. They signed it. The declaration! Can’t you hear Adams shouting?”
Zachary cocked his head to the side, lips parted in a breathy smile. “Yes...I can hear him.” A laugh turned to a cough. “Freedom never sounded so loudly.”
“They finally pulled together and did what we’ve been fighting for all this time.” His brother’s frail hand was being crushed in his ernest enthusiasm. “You’ve got to pull yourself together now, you can’t leave things the way they are! Just when they’re getting better.”
“You’re right...” Zach’s sigh was like wind rustling through dry paper, and he closed his eyes. “But I don’t think I have a choice, Jamie.”
“But...” James clenched the bedsheets and lay his head down next to his brother’s shoulder. “This isn’t right! This news is too wonderful for things to go the way they have! It should give you the strength to pull through. Zach....please.”
“Jamie...” and even in the uttering of the name, James could tell just how much weaker Zach had gotten. “I’m sorry. America is free. And that news brings me more joy than I thought I could be capable of. It gives me the will to get better...but I’m afraid not the strength.”
And as sudden as that, he was dead.
James stared, the buzz of flies and the clatter of carts outside both deafening and silent in his ears. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Zach was supposed to get better. Not like this.
Don’t despair. He didn’t hear the voice so much as conceive it in his mind. The words were there, but the sound was not. He turned from his brother’s dead body and looked to the doorway, where his brother stood. Only, it wasn’t his brother. It looked like his brother, with the same blonde curls tumbling over his shoulders, same cheerful green eyes and winning smile...but there was something different, something ancient about this man. His clothes were all wrong; it looked as though he wore something straight from the medieval period with a flowing brown cape and a white soldier uniform embroidered with gold. A handsomely engraved sword hung at his side. The form shimmered closer and James fell back away from the strange ghost.
Don’t despair! The ghost whispered in his head again. I haven’t left you.
“Zachary?”
Not quite, but yes. James took in the similarities again, and something he didn’t understand clicked in his head.
I’ll never be far away from you. In this life, you honored me by being my brother. Who knows if, in our next life, we will even meet. But remember. James, Jadeite, brother, friend, we are always together. All of us, always.
And somehow, James knew what his brother Zachary (this ghost Zoisite) was saying. He didn’t understand, the words meant nothing to him. But he knew what was meant, and it comforted him.
I only wish...please. If you see her, tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I love her, and pray that she’s forgiven me...
And in those moments, the ghost too was gone, and James was alone with the shell of his brother.
In the way that humans have, it only took a few hours for the encounter with the ghost to fade completely from James’s mind. It was written off as a trick of the heat; his distressed mind making shadows out of shadows. By the time of the funeral, he didn’t even remember it happening. The burial was brief, and few attended. After all, the war was still on, despite the signing only days before, and many were called away to duty. James intended to join them himself in a few days time. To honor his brother, who was laid to rest beneath the soil of a maple tree. Beneath the maple tree...
A girl stood, watching the burial with tears in her eyes. James did not recognize her. Her blue petticoats blended into the shadows of the tree, and her black hair was pulled up and curled shortly around her heart-shaped face. The tears in her crystal eyes wrenched his heart, and James went to her on impulse.
“Hi.”
She sniffled, bringing a hankerchief to her reddening eyes. “Hello.”
James motioned to the grave. “Did you...I don’t know you. Were you a friend of Zach’s?”
“Oh!” she looked at him for the first time, grief mixed with embarassment and confusion on her face. “No, I...I saw the ceremony while I was walking to the store. I just...I needed to come. I needed to see him. I don’t know why...”
“He was my brother.”
“I’m sorry.” she took a step back. “It’s so terribly rude of me to intrude...I’m sorry for your loss.”
Before he could understand the words coming from his own mouth, he had blurted, “I’m sorry for yours.” She looked at him, eyes wide.
“Beg pardon?”
And it was like James was someone else, for her wrapped his arms around the girl and pulled her into his chest in an overwhelming hug. “He said he was sorry.” he murmured into her curls. “He said to tell you he loves you. He said...he hoped you would forgive him....”
And it was like she was someone else, for she burried her face in his shoulder and wept and wept. “Always!” she cried, shaking. They stood like that, beneath the shadows of the maple tree, crying on one another. At length they broke, familiar strangers.
“Let me walk you home.”
They didn’t understand, but they knew. There would be other chances, and maybe, someday, they would get it right again.