Dyatlov Pass Sequel - All Our Passing Nights. [Chapter 2/?]
Title: Dyatlov Pass - All Our Passing Nights.
Author: x_carnivale_x
Pairing: Bam/Ville, et all.
Rating: R/NC17. for mentions of sex, violence, gore, and horror.
Summary: That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons, even death may die.
Author's Notes: So here's chapter 2, it's a little bit shorter than the first chapter, but I think you all will still approve. This was a harder chapter to write - I think it's because it was kind of angstapallooza, and it kind of wore me down while I was writing it. But oh well, I still quite like it as a chapter.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One //
For those that want to read the original story, here is a link to the full story. [Starts at the last chapter, all previous chapters are linked.]
Dyatlov Pass - The Original
Bam woke up in the middle of the night a lot now, and he didn't know why he couldn't remember his dreams anymore. He was pretty sure he was still having them; technically speaking, you were always having dreams, but remembering them was a different story. He heard once it wasn't a good thing to not remember your dreams [he couldn't have told you why it wasn't good, he just knew it wasn't]. He didn't remember anything though. So far the nights had been black and silent. Even the green on the walls faded away at night, and he wondered why he couldn't hear crickets. Wait, should he hear crickets? What floor was he on? He shook the thought away and glanced up at the tiny window in his room; he could see the moon through the clouds - it was almost full tonight. He swallowed thickly and a sickening feeling rose in is stomach. His throat gripped tight and he wanted to be able to breathe normally again.
The fact of the matter was that honestly, he just wanted something to be normal again. But it wouldn't be normal again. He knew that.
He wished he could dream, wished he could dream of Ville, but he couldn't. He didn't remember anything. That wasn't true. He remembered. He remembered all the time; but never in his dreams. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse, and instead, he almost wished it would stop so that he could at least see Ville's face again - just see that pretty face once more... He wondered if he'd ever want to wake up if that happened - probably not. He sighed and sat up slowly in bed, pulling the covers over himself as best he could. It was cold in the room; it was always fucking cold in that place. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been warm. He tossed the thought aside and shivered absentmindedly. He stared at the lump his toes made underneath the blanket. He twitched them and stared at them some more.
He shoved his thoughts to the side for the moment; he paused momentarily. Or was it really momentarily? He'd started to lose his ability to keep track of time - next thing he knew, the sun was coming up. He was pretty sure a nurse would be in soon to check on him. They always came in early as hell in the morning. If he had been sleeping, he probably would have been pretty pissed. He supposed it was lucky for the nurses that he wasn't really sleeping these days. He pulled his knees up to his chest, keeping the blanket over his legs, and rested his head on them. He let his eyes slipped closed and he tried to remember the sound of Ville laughing.
"I don't care, it's your birthday - you're getting old now. So you have to karaoke! It's a rule, you should know that by now."
Bam smiled as he could hear Ville laughing loudly in his head, and as he could almost feel the way he shoved Bam's shoulder lightly. But the smile faded, and Bam let his eyes open slowly and he stared blankly at the wall. He thought back to when his cousin had died years ago - and he remembered how even only after half a year, it'd been difficult to even remember what his voice sounded like. Bam didn't want to have to watch videos of Ville just to remember the sound of his voice. He sighed quietly and buried his face in his knees, inhaling deeply and feeling his chest hurting. He heard the squeak of the door as it opened slowly and there was a tiny click as it shut. He pulled his head up and stared at the door. The doctor stood there and strode over to him steadily. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Bam.
"Hi, Brandon."
Bam paused at let his eyes fall away from the doctor's face. His voice was strained and nigh broken when he spoke.
"My name is Bam."
He looked up again and saw the doctor lick his lips lightly and he sighed gently.
"How are you feeling?"
He chuckled breathily, sardonically, and he spoke with a tone of ill and a sudden air of emptiness in his voice.
"...Like hell, doc."
"Physically?"
"I'm okay."
They were quiet for a moment and Bam once again let his head rest on his knees. He tightened his grip around his legs and tried to breath as steadily as he could. He heard the doctor clear his throat.
"Bam, I'm. I'm going to okay your release." And Bam's head popped to attention. "I'm concerned about you, yes, but physically, you're okay. Your clothes had no traces of radiation on them, and all your tests have been just fine. I'm nervous to let you go, but I know that you're hurting. And therefore, I know that right now what you need is to recover... make this better in whatever way you need to do so. And so I know you need to leave, go home, and be around the people who love you. I'm going to authorize your release."
Bam nodded shakily and steadily blinked his eyelids. When he opened them, a small tear slipped down and trailed along his cheek. He sniffled and let out a quiet whimper. He bit his lip and breathed heavily.
"I don't know how to make this better..." Bam mumbled.
"...I wish I knew how to fix this, Bam. Make this go away. But... there's only so much a medical license can do. Making grief disappear isn't one of those things. We can counsel you all we want, but whether or not psychiatrists want to admit it, the only person who can make it better is the person who's hurting. You need to go home. You need to rest. And you need to work on moving on."
Bam said nothing, and the doctor paused for a moment before continuing.
"There's just a little bit of paperwork. We can have your friends take care of it or you can, if you feel up to it. But you should be able to get out of here tomorrow."
"I'll take care of it." Bam muttered quietly, letting his grip around his legs loosen slightly. They slid slowly down until he was sitting cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees. The doctor nodded at him and stood silently. Hesitantly, he let his hand rest on Bam's shoulder - maybe an attempt at comfort - Bam couldn't really be sure. But he accepted the touched and nodded back as the doctor left his room. He stood carefully, placing his bare feet against the tiles of the floor and he stared down at the ground. He let his eyes focus on each and every tile: their putrid green color, the small cracks that lined them all, and the way that now they suddenly seemed to trail towards the door of the room. He placed his feet side by side and made sure his big toes fit together in one tile square. And he turned his attention up to the door, staring at it as if it might open for him, but it didn't. Not yet anyway. For then, he stood there shivering, and he let his toes curl up and shrink into his feet. But he couldn't take his eyes off the door.
It was a dark grey color and there were cracks, or maybe just scratches, that etched along its length. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it earlier. He couldn't help but think back to the woods. He titled his head and stepped gingerly towards it, making sure he walked heel to toe with each step, until finally he was a step away. He reached his arm out to touch it, maybe grab the handle, but he suddenly didn't want to. He furrowed his brows and took a shaky step backwards.
A moment later the door opened, the doctor standing there, wanting to give him the necessary paper work to be filled out for his release. Bam merely shook his head, telling himself to snap out of wherever he'd just been, and nodded, taking the pad of paper. He sat gingerly on the bed, trying to force his eyes to read over everything - but he didn't really care very much about what the forms said. He scribbled his name - barely legible in the few blanks he was supposed to and handed the clipboard back to the doctor, letting his hands fall lightly to rest on his thighs.
"Your friends have your clothes... They said they were going wash them for you. They'll be in tomorrow to get you. For now, I recommend you rest. As best you can."
Bam swallowed thickly and looked up at the doctor from the bed, letting his fingers curl and his nails caught on the fabric of his pants.
"What about Ville's clothes?" he asked quietly.
"The police kept a couple of articles - the same ones from before. The others were given to your friends." Bam just nodded. The doctor continued. "Brandon, it's getting fairly late. You'll be leaving in the morning, for now just rest. You could use it."
And with that, the doctor slipped from the room quietly. Bam hadn't even had time to correct him about his name. He wondered what time it was - the lights would go out fairly soon, he was pretty sure. It had to be almost 11. He wondered where the day had gone. He scooted slowly up towards the head of the bed and leaned against the wall. He stared up at the window again and he noticed he couldn't see the moon. Instead, he saw a star. One star in the cloudy night. And for some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off of it. It twinkled for a moment and Bam furrowed his brow. He stared on, but it didn't twinkle anymore, and the clouds were rolling west now, and blocking the star out. Bam licked his lips silently and exhaled a shaky breath. He looked away from the window and curled down into the off-white sheets. He didn't know if he would sleep tonight. He would have liked to - he would have loved to dream, or to remember his dreams. But he doubted he would. He curled more tightly into himself, pulling his knees more flush against his chest and tucking his head downward as he let his fingers fiddle with the fabric of the pillow. He breathed quietly and shivered.
::
Bam was silent when his friends came to get him from the hospital. They entered his room, Mige carrying a small bag with him that he sat down at the door. They hugged him gently, and he calmly accepted their affection, but hardly could hug them back - not for lack of strength, but rather lack of will. Mige ran his fingers through Bam's hair and moved towards the bag. He unzipped it and pulled out a grey tshirt and jeans. He offered them silently to Bam and he nodded in thanks. He licked his lips and nodded again when they told him they had a flight booked for that day back to Los Angeles. They said they would be back in a minute, leaving Bam to change clothes. He slipped his clothes on steadily, feeling somehow unwelcomed in them. He noted quickly that these were the same clothes he'd worn to the Pass. He sighed and stared down at his shirt. It was spotless, and he could smell the vague smell of detergent. He ran his hands over his face and glanced over by the door. Mige had left the bag he'd brought in. He walked over to it and crouched down to his knees gently. He opened it and glanced inside, spying a pair of dark black jeans and a stray piece of jewelry. His breath hitched. Reluctantly, he let his fingers reach down to touch the chain, knowing well enough that they were Ville's dog tags.
"You're such a freak. Why do you have dog tags? You aren't even in the military."
"Hey man, never know if someone's gunna need to identify me."
"Whatever, freak."
"Identifiable freak." Ville corrected. Bam shoved his shoulder playfully and Ville just smiled up at him.
He let out a breathy sob as he held the tags in his hand, letting his thumb caress across the plate. He clenched it tightly in his fist and shut his eyes, breathing heavily. Without a second thought, his trembling fingers were undoing the clasp and lacing the chain around his neck. He couldn't help it as a tear slipped past his eye. He blinked heavily and touched the tags now around his neck. He let his fingers trace over them one last time, another coughing sob escaping past his lips, as he slowly tucked them down the collar of his shirt to be hidden and rest against his chest. He returned his attention to the bag, moving the pair of pants aside and his body went limp as he caught sight of black, lightly pin-striped, button up shirt at the bottom of the bag. He touched it gingerly, now not even trying to stop the drops of water dripping off his eyelashes, and curled his fingers around it to pull it up and out of the bag. He stared at it, unable to take his eyes off it, and noting how soft the fabric still felt against his fingertips. He fell down off his knees to sit on his rear, pressing his back against the wall. He closed his eyes and clutched the shirt to his body, letting his head fall down to press his cheek against the fabric. He inhaled deeply and cried more. It smelled like nothing. No scent at all. He choked out a sob and curled into himself. He didn't even care as he heard the door open again. All he heard was Mige's gentle voice.
"Oh, Bam..."
He thought he heard him sniffle and he let his hand rest on the back of his head, his fingers attempting to soothe Bam as they ran through his hair. He glanced at the chain around his neck. He couldn't see the majority of it, as it was tucked beneath his shirt, but he knew what it was... He scooted down close to Bam and hugged him tightly. Bam said nothing, merely crying and tightening his fingers in the familiar shirt. The others had come into the room now too, but Bam didn't care. He pulled his head up and stared at the shirt in his hands. His forehead was wrinkled with worry, and with what Mige knew was pain, and he licked his lips, bringing the collar of the shirt towards his mouth and he let it touch his lips. He wondered if he had brought these clothes from home - he didn't remember Ville wearing them recently. But he didn't want to think about it anymore; he let his eyes wander up to look at his friends, who looked at him with empathy, and he noted a few of them were glassy-eyed. He swallowed thickly and spoke, despite how his voice cracked.
"I wanna go home..."
[Chapter Two Cut]
Well, there's chapter two!
So nothing huge has happened so far, but there are still a ton of small little nuances and such that are going to be playing in majorly later, hopefully you'll soak them in. :)
How was it? Reviews please?
Much love.
[pandora]
Author: x_carnivale_x
Pairing: Bam/Ville, et all.
Rating: R/NC17. for mentions of sex, violence, gore, and horror.
Summary: That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons, even death may die.
Author's Notes: So here's chapter 2, it's a little bit shorter than the first chapter, but I think you all will still approve. This was a harder chapter to write - I think it's because it was kind of angstapallooza, and it kind of wore me down while I was writing it. But oh well, I still quite like it as a chapter.
Previous Chapters: Chapter One //
For those that want to read the original story, here is a link to the full story. [Starts at the last chapter, all previous chapters are linked.]
Dyatlov Pass - The Original
Bam woke up in the middle of the night a lot now, and he didn't know why he couldn't remember his dreams anymore. He was pretty sure he was still having them; technically speaking, you were always having dreams, but remembering them was a different story. He heard once it wasn't a good thing to not remember your dreams [he couldn't have told you why it wasn't good, he just knew it wasn't]. He didn't remember anything though. So far the nights had been black and silent. Even the green on the walls faded away at night, and he wondered why he couldn't hear crickets. Wait, should he hear crickets? What floor was he on? He shook the thought away and glanced up at the tiny window in his room; he could see the moon through the clouds - it was almost full tonight. He swallowed thickly and a sickening feeling rose in is stomach. His throat gripped tight and he wanted to be able to breathe normally again.
The fact of the matter was that honestly, he just wanted something to be normal again. But it wouldn't be normal again. He knew that.
He wished he could dream, wished he could dream of Ville, but he couldn't. He didn't remember anything. That wasn't true. He remembered. He remembered all the time; but never in his dreams. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse, and instead, he almost wished it would stop so that he could at least see Ville's face again - just see that pretty face once more... He wondered if he'd ever want to wake up if that happened - probably not. He sighed and sat up slowly in bed, pulling the covers over himself as best he could. It was cold in the room; it was always fucking cold in that place. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been warm. He tossed the thought aside and shivered absentmindedly. He stared at the lump his toes made underneath the blanket. He twitched them and stared at them some more.
He shoved his thoughts to the side for the moment; he paused momentarily. Or was it really momentarily? He'd started to lose his ability to keep track of time - next thing he knew, the sun was coming up. He was pretty sure a nurse would be in soon to check on him. They always came in early as hell in the morning. If he had been sleeping, he probably would have been pretty pissed. He supposed it was lucky for the nurses that he wasn't really sleeping these days. He pulled his knees up to his chest, keeping the blanket over his legs, and rested his head on them. He let his eyes slipped closed and he tried to remember the sound of Ville laughing.
"I don't care, it's your birthday - you're getting old now. So you have to karaoke! It's a rule, you should know that by now."
Bam smiled as he could hear Ville laughing loudly in his head, and as he could almost feel the way he shoved Bam's shoulder lightly. But the smile faded, and Bam let his eyes open slowly and he stared blankly at the wall. He thought back to when his cousin had died years ago - and he remembered how even only after half a year, it'd been difficult to even remember what his voice sounded like. Bam didn't want to have to watch videos of Ville just to remember the sound of his voice. He sighed quietly and buried his face in his knees, inhaling deeply and feeling his chest hurting. He heard the squeak of the door as it opened slowly and there was a tiny click as it shut. He pulled his head up and stared at the door. The doctor stood there and strode over to him steadily. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Bam.
"Hi, Brandon."
Bam paused at let his eyes fall away from the doctor's face. His voice was strained and nigh broken when he spoke.
"My name is Bam."
He looked up again and saw the doctor lick his lips lightly and he sighed gently.
"How are you feeling?"
He chuckled breathily, sardonically, and he spoke with a tone of ill and a sudden air of emptiness in his voice.
"...Like hell, doc."
"Physically?"
"I'm okay."
They were quiet for a moment and Bam once again let his head rest on his knees. He tightened his grip around his legs and tried to breath as steadily as he could. He heard the doctor clear his throat.
"Bam, I'm. I'm going to okay your release." And Bam's head popped to attention. "I'm concerned about you, yes, but physically, you're okay. Your clothes had no traces of radiation on them, and all your tests have been just fine. I'm nervous to let you go, but I know that you're hurting. And therefore, I know that right now what you need is to recover... make this better in whatever way you need to do so. And so I know you need to leave, go home, and be around the people who love you. I'm going to authorize your release."
Bam nodded shakily and steadily blinked his eyelids. When he opened them, a small tear slipped down and trailed along his cheek. He sniffled and let out a quiet whimper. He bit his lip and breathed heavily.
"I don't know how to make this better..." Bam mumbled.
"...I wish I knew how to fix this, Bam. Make this go away. But... there's only so much a medical license can do. Making grief disappear isn't one of those things. We can counsel you all we want, but whether or not psychiatrists want to admit it, the only person who can make it better is the person who's hurting. You need to go home. You need to rest. And you need to work on moving on."
Bam said nothing, and the doctor paused for a moment before continuing.
"There's just a little bit of paperwork. We can have your friends take care of it or you can, if you feel up to it. But you should be able to get out of here tomorrow."
"I'll take care of it." Bam muttered quietly, letting his grip around his legs loosen slightly. They slid slowly down until he was sitting cross-legged, his elbows resting on his knees. The doctor nodded at him and stood silently. Hesitantly, he let his hand rest on Bam's shoulder - maybe an attempt at comfort - Bam couldn't really be sure. But he accepted the touched and nodded back as the doctor left his room. He stood carefully, placing his bare feet against the tiles of the floor and he stared down at the ground. He let his eyes focus on each and every tile: their putrid green color, the small cracks that lined them all, and the way that now they suddenly seemed to trail towards the door of the room. He placed his feet side by side and made sure his big toes fit together in one tile square. And he turned his attention up to the door, staring at it as if it might open for him, but it didn't. Not yet anyway. For then, he stood there shivering, and he let his toes curl up and shrink into his feet. But he couldn't take his eyes off the door.
It was a dark grey color and there were cracks, or maybe just scratches, that etched along its length. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it earlier. He couldn't help but think back to the woods. He titled his head and stepped gingerly towards it, making sure he walked heel to toe with each step, until finally he was a step away. He reached his arm out to touch it, maybe grab the handle, but he suddenly didn't want to. He furrowed his brows and took a shaky step backwards.
A moment later the door opened, the doctor standing there, wanting to give him the necessary paper work to be filled out for his release. Bam merely shook his head, telling himself to snap out of wherever he'd just been, and nodded, taking the pad of paper. He sat gingerly on the bed, trying to force his eyes to read over everything - but he didn't really care very much about what the forms said. He scribbled his name - barely legible in the few blanks he was supposed to and handed the clipboard back to the doctor, letting his hands fall lightly to rest on his thighs.
"Your friends have your clothes... They said they were going wash them for you. They'll be in tomorrow to get you. For now, I recommend you rest. As best you can."
Bam swallowed thickly and looked up at the doctor from the bed, letting his fingers curl and his nails caught on the fabric of his pants.
"What about Ville's clothes?" he asked quietly.
"The police kept a couple of articles - the same ones from before. The others were given to your friends." Bam just nodded. The doctor continued. "Brandon, it's getting fairly late. You'll be leaving in the morning, for now just rest. You could use it."
And with that, the doctor slipped from the room quietly. Bam hadn't even had time to correct him about his name. He wondered what time it was - the lights would go out fairly soon, he was pretty sure. It had to be almost 11. He wondered where the day had gone. He scooted slowly up towards the head of the bed and leaned against the wall. He stared up at the window again and he noticed he couldn't see the moon. Instead, he saw a star. One star in the cloudy night. And for some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off of it. It twinkled for a moment and Bam furrowed his brow. He stared on, but it didn't twinkle anymore, and the clouds were rolling west now, and blocking the star out. Bam licked his lips silently and exhaled a shaky breath. He looked away from the window and curled down into the off-white sheets. He didn't know if he would sleep tonight. He would have liked to - he would have loved to dream, or to remember his dreams. But he doubted he would. He curled more tightly into himself, pulling his knees more flush against his chest and tucking his head downward as he let his fingers fiddle with the fabric of the pillow. He breathed quietly and shivered.
::
Bam was silent when his friends came to get him from the hospital. They entered his room, Mige carrying a small bag with him that he sat down at the door. They hugged him gently, and he calmly accepted their affection, but hardly could hug them back - not for lack of strength, but rather lack of will. Mige ran his fingers through Bam's hair and moved towards the bag. He unzipped it and pulled out a grey tshirt and jeans. He offered them silently to Bam and he nodded in thanks. He licked his lips and nodded again when they told him they had a flight booked for that day back to Los Angeles. They said they would be back in a minute, leaving Bam to change clothes. He slipped his clothes on steadily, feeling somehow unwelcomed in them. He noted quickly that these were the same clothes he'd worn to the Pass. He sighed and stared down at his shirt. It was spotless, and he could smell the vague smell of detergent. He ran his hands over his face and glanced over by the door. Mige had left the bag he'd brought in. He walked over to it and crouched down to his knees gently. He opened it and glanced inside, spying a pair of dark black jeans and a stray piece of jewelry. His breath hitched. Reluctantly, he let his fingers reach down to touch the chain, knowing well enough that they were Ville's dog tags.
"You're such a freak. Why do you have dog tags? You aren't even in the military."
"Hey man, never know if someone's gunna need to identify me."
"Whatever, freak."
"Identifiable freak." Ville corrected. Bam shoved his shoulder playfully and Ville just smiled up at him.
He let out a breathy sob as he held the tags in his hand, letting his thumb caress across the plate. He clenched it tightly in his fist and shut his eyes, breathing heavily. Without a second thought, his trembling fingers were undoing the clasp and lacing the chain around his neck. He couldn't help it as a tear slipped past his eye. He blinked heavily and touched the tags now around his neck. He let his fingers trace over them one last time, another coughing sob escaping past his lips, as he slowly tucked them down the collar of his shirt to be hidden and rest against his chest. He returned his attention to the bag, moving the pair of pants aside and his body went limp as he caught sight of black, lightly pin-striped, button up shirt at the bottom of the bag. He touched it gingerly, now not even trying to stop the drops of water dripping off his eyelashes, and curled his fingers around it to pull it up and out of the bag. He stared at it, unable to take his eyes off it, and noting how soft the fabric still felt against his fingertips. He fell down off his knees to sit on his rear, pressing his back against the wall. He closed his eyes and clutched the shirt to his body, letting his head fall down to press his cheek against the fabric. He inhaled deeply and cried more. It smelled like nothing. No scent at all. He choked out a sob and curled into himself. He didn't even care as he heard the door open again. All he heard was Mige's gentle voice.
"Oh, Bam..."
He thought he heard him sniffle and he let his hand rest on the back of his head, his fingers attempting to soothe Bam as they ran through his hair. He glanced at the chain around his neck. He couldn't see the majority of it, as it was tucked beneath his shirt, but he knew what it was... He scooted down close to Bam and hugged him tightly. Bam said nothing, merely crying and tightening his fingers in the familiar shirt. The others had come into the room now too, but Bam didn't care. He pulled his head up and stared at the shirt in his hands. His forehead was wrinkled with worry, and with what Mige knew was pain, and he licked his lips, bringing the collar of the shirt towards his mouth and he let it touch his lips. He wondered if he had brought these clothes from home - he didn't remember Ville wearing them recently. But he didn't want to think about it anymore; he let his eyes wander up to look at his friends, who looked at him with empathy, and he noted a few of them were glassy-eyed. He swallowed thickly and spoke, despite how his voice cracked.
"I wanna go home..."
[Chapter Two Cut]
Well, there's chapter two!
So nothing huge has happened so far, but there are still a ton of small little nuances and such that are going to be playing in majorly later, hopefully you'll soak them in. :)
How was it? Reviews please?
Much love.
[pandora]