Crossover - Cliffton/Meeting of Breccan & Finbar: Not So Divine: Chapter 11
This is a crossover fanfiction of my The Meeting of Breccan & Finbar and n3m3sis43's Cliffton universes. For context, it might help to read n3m3sis43's piece, Everything You Touch.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10
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Gonna fucking do this. Make things right. Maris - she's fucking twitchy as we walk to my attic lab. Only private place in the fucking house. Don't want anyone finding out about what we're gonna do. Worried they might try and stop me from bringing Eric back.
Nobody's gonna fucking stop me. Still don't wanna deal with people until we're done. Stomach's twisting in fucking knots. Try to will it to shut up. Don't need second thoughts from my body. No reason for second fucking thoughts. With Maris, this has gotta work. So why am I so fucking worried?
We make it to the attic lab. Haven't been in here since Egan's body. Don't wanna fucking think about that. Can only bring back one person, anyway. Gotta be Eric, then.
Maris walks around the edges of the lab, muttering.
“The fuck are you doing?” I ask.
“Protecting your dumb ass,” she says.
The walls glow. Blue. Fucking blue. Just like - no, won't fucking think about it. My throat closes up. Tell myself to fucking calm down. It's over. And we're gonna get Eric back. It will be okay. Will be fucking okay.
Maris turns to me. “Are you okay?”
Not fucking okay. Can't say that or she won't help me. “I'm fine, Maris.” Will be fine once Eric's back. Just gotta get fucking through this.
“If you say so,” she mutters.
The walls stop glowing. Sigh with relief. Didn't like that fucking blue glow.
Maris says, “We're shielded now, better protected against any evil that might try to get through.”
“That's good.” Don't want to unleash any horrors worthy of a fucking monster vid.
Her expression's so fucking serious. “The longer the person's been dead, the harder it is to bring them back. If it's been more than five years, the risk goes up by a lot. It gets even more dangerous past twenty years, and after a half a century? I wouldn't even think about doing it unless you wanted to kill everything living. Luckily, I don't think you want to pull someone back from that long ago.”
Been seven years since Eric died. A risk that “goes up by a lot” after five years - still fucking worth it. Only way to make things right, after all. Stomach's twisting again. Can't fucking have that now.
“So, what do I do?” I ask.
Maris shrugs. Fucking shrugs. “I don't actually know the specifics. I'm not a god. From what little I do know, you have to concentrate on the person you want and lure them back to the land of the living. 'Sing them a song of magic' or something like that.”
The fuck? Fucking singing?
“Don't know how to fucking sing,” I mumble.
Maris says, “You need to figure it out if you're going to bring anybody back.”
Yeah, got it. I fucking figured that out. But singing? Don't fucking sing. Don't know how, much less how to sing with magic. Will figure it out. Gotta fucking figure it out.
“I'll figure it out.” After all, no other fucking option.
“This should be interesting,” she mutters.
How the fuck do I do this? No idea. Maris can't help. On my fucking own. Heart's hammering again. It doesn't fucking beat, but it will thud in my chest and distract me. Hard to even think about fucking singing. But I gotta. For Eric.
Try to imagine Eric. His lovely eyes. Think about how he deserves to fucking live. Unlike me. Keep thinking about him. Conjure up a picture of him in my mind. Everything from his floppy, kinda light brown hair to his skin that's like mine to those lovely eyes. Remember every feature I fucking can. Gotta get this right. Still don't know how to fucking sing to him.
Come on, dude, figure this out. Eric fucking needs you.
Gotta make myself fucking concentrate. Make my heart stop hammering, my stomach stop twisting. Manage all that by thinking of Eric and his lovely eyes. Am calm now. Still don't know how to fucking sing. What was it Maris said? “Sing them a song of magic.” Gotta think of this like I thought of healing Wes.
Order my brain to come up with a song. It does. I start fucking singing.
Doesn't sound like any music I ever heard, but I'm singing. Fucking singing. Can't believe it. Nothing's happening. Gotta fucking keep at it. See Maris out of the corner of my eye, fucking stunned or something. Still, nothing's happening.
The world around me goes funny. Fucking blurred, like steamed glass after a shower. Freaks me out but I keep singing. Can't stop singing. Not if I want this to fucking work.
Blink once and - the fuck? Where the fuck am I? A world of swirling white. A whole lot of nothing. At least it's not fucking blue. Heart starts hammering again. Can't let it. Gotta find Eric and find my way out of here. Place gives me the creeps.
Even now, I don't stop singing. Somehow I know I need to keep singing until I fucking see Eric. Or he won't come to me. Hear fucking footsteps. Try not to panic. Can't fucking panic. Not if I want to succeed. And I have to succeed. No other fucking option.
Swirling white fog shit dissipates a bit. Think I see a human figure in the distance. That Eric? Hope it's fucking Eric. Can't deal if something here attacks me. Don't trust this place at all. It's not blue, but it's too fucking similar to the blue room from before.
“Devin? Is that you?” Eric's voice.
It's him. It's fucking him! Eric, my friend who's been gone for too fucking long.
The figure walks forward. Can make out its features now. It's Eric. Can't be anybody else. Eric comes closer. Want to hug him to prove he's fucking real. When he gets close enough, I stop singing.
“It - it's me,” I croak. Voice fucking hurts from all that singing.
“Devin! It is you!” He leaps out of the remaining fog shit and crushes me in his arms.
“Can't fucking breathe, dude.” Doesn't have to know yet that I don't breathe.
Eric lets go of me, his lovely eyes shining. Hurts to fucking look at them. Feel like my own eyes are stinging. Don't wanna cry now. Still gotta get the fuck out of here.
“Told you there was such a thing as magic,” he breathes.
“No such thing as magic.” A fucking reflex, okay?
He just laughs. “So what are you doing here? Where are we?”
How do I fucking explain I'm here to bring him back to life? Don't even know where “here” is. No idea how to get back, either.
“I wanna take a little vacation. You're invited.” Had to fucking say something. Best I could manage at the moment.
Eric's eyes get fucking wide. “A vacation? My parents and I are supposed to go on vacation! I don't know if I have time to go with you.”
Throat closes up. He - he doesn't fucking realize he's dead. Thinks he's gonna go on that vacation he told me about. With his parents. Supposed to leave the week after their house burned down. With them in it.
“You have time,” I manage. Got all the time in the fucking world.
“Will there be magic? I want to see more magic, like there is here. Wish I knew what here was.” he says.
Don't wanna know, dude.
“Sure, there will be magic.” Why the fuck not?
I get an idea of how to return home. Hope it will fucking work. “Hey, Eric, take my hand.”
Looks up at me, not sure he should do what I say. Don't think this will fucking work unless we're connected, though. Eric decides to trust me. Takes my hand. Hope I've fucking got this right.
Start singing again. Need the fucking singing to get us home. Eric looks at me. Worried. He's fucking worried. Doesn't let go of my hand, though. I keep singing. The white fog shit around us gets thicker. Soon I can't fucking see Eric. Keep singing anyway. Need to keep it up until we're home.
Hope I've fucking got this right. Better have this right. Don't know what I'll fucking do if I screw this up, so I can't screw this up. I keep singing and hoping for the best. Nothing else I can do now.
The fuck?
Everything goes fucking pitch black. Like I'm falling through outer fucking space. Could almost swear I saw a huge many-tentacled monster out of the corner of my eye. Fucking imagining things, right?
Crash hard into something solid. Let go of Eric's hand. Fuck!
Blink my eyes. Try to orient myself. Fucking hope I made it. Think I might have gotten us lost.
“Devin?” Think that's Maris' voice
Sit up. Rub my eyes. Try to get the fuzziness out of my mind. Did I hear Maris? Can't be fucking sure.
“You actually did it. And who, may I ask, is your...rather young friend?” That is Maris.
Eric moans, “Uhhhh - where am I? Mom? Dad? Hello?” Doesn't seem to notice the rest of us.
“That's Eric,” I say.
His eyes meet mine. They're huge. Afraid. “Who are you? How do you know my name? Am I in trouble? I'm not in trouble am I?”
The fuck? Who am I? My stomach drops a million fucking feet. He doesn't recognize me. But he did before. How's that fucking possible?
Looking around, this is my fucking lab. That's Maris. And that's Eric. So why doesn't he fucking recognize me?
Want to fucking panic. Can't panic. Maybe Eric's just disoriented.
Maris pulls me aside. Whispers, “You know, the problem might be the fact that who knows how many years have passed. He's still the same age as when he died. You're not. And you've got violet eyes you didn't have before. There's your problem.”
Fuck. She's right. The fuck do I do about it? Gotta convince Eric I'm me.
I turn to Eric. “Hey Eric?” I say.
Still got those huge, scared eyes. “Wh-what do you want from me?”
Don't fucking want anything from you, dude. Just want you to remember me. I whisper, “It's me. Devin.”
“You - you're not Devin. My best friend - he's fourteen,” he breathes.
I sigh. “It's...been a long time. Seven fucking years, you were - unconscious.” Don't have the heart to tell him he died, yet.
“Unconscious?” Maris asks. Not fucking helping.
I continue. My heart's fucking heavy. “I am me, dude. Been seven fucking years since we - since we found...” Can't fucking go on. Have to fucking go on. “Since we found that pendant in the hedge maze. You - said it was magic. I said there was no such - no such thing as magic.”
Eric's eyes get even huger. “How do you know about that? I never told anybody!”
“Dude, I'm Devin. Don't believe me? Ask me anything. Fucking anything.” I'm fucking desperate.
Looks skeptical. “Alright, whose my favorite Revengers character?”
“Easy. ScientaSaurus. The fucking half-dinosaur mad scientist dude. Who else?” I say.
“That's - that's right,” he breathes.
“You would always doodle pictures of him when you were supposed to pay attention in Circuitry. Sat on you left hand side. Knew what you were fucking up to, dude,” I mutter.
His eyes get even fucking bigger. “You say 'fuck' too much, just like Devin does.”
“Because I fucking am Devin.”
Maris stands there. Just fucking watching.
“You are Devin, aren't you? But how? Was I really unconscious for seven years? And why are your eyes purple?” Eric wonders.
“That's a long fucking story, dude,” I say.
He mutters, “You need to tell it to me, then.” Eric believes me, but that's it. Still scared out of his fucking mind.
How the fuck am I supposed to handle this? Just how do I tell him why he was “unconscious” for seven fucking years? Deserves the truth, doesn't he? Didn't have the heart to tell him everything before and don't have the guts now. But I fucking gotta. Thought things would be easier than this, somehow. Guess I fucked up again, just like I always do.
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written for 500themes #2 - "Terror in the Night" & writerverse Table of Doom: Alpha #7 - Genre: Fantasy
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10
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Gonna fucking do this. Make things right. Maris - she's fucking twitchy as we walk to my attic lab. Only private place in the fucking house. Don't want anyone finding out about what we're gonna do. Worried they might try and stop me from bringing Eric back.
Nobody's gonna fucking stop me. Still don't wanna deal with people until we're done. Stomach's twisting in fucking knots. Try to will it to shut up. Don't need second thoughts from my body. No reason for second fucking thoughts. With Maris, this has gotta work. So why am I so fucking worried?
We make it to the attic lab. Haven't been in here since Egan's body. Don't wanna fucking think about that. Can only bring back one person, anyway. Gotta be Eric, then.
Maris walks around the edges of the lab, muttering.
“The fuck are you doing?” I ask.
“Protecting your dumb ass,” she says.
The walls glow. Blue. Fucking blue. Just like - no, won't fucking think about it. My throat closes up. Tell myself to fucking calm down. It's over. And we're gonna get Eric back. It will be okay. Will be fucking okay.
Maris turns to me. “Are you okay?”
Not fucking okay. Can't say that or she won't help me. “I'm fine, Maris.” Will be fine once Eric's back. Just gotta get fucking through this.
“If you say so,” she mutters.
The walls stop glowing. Sigh with relief. Didn't like that fucking blue glow.
Maris says, “We're shielded now, better protected against any evil that might try to get through.”
“That's good.” Don't want to unleash any horrors worthy of a fucking monster vid.
Her expression's so fucking serious. “The longer the person's been dead, the harder it is to bring them back. If it's been more than five years, the risk goes up by a lot. It gets even more dangerous past twenty years, and after a half a century? I wouldn't even think about doing it unless you wanted to kill everything living. Luckily, I don't think you want to pull someone back from that long ago.”
Been seven years since Eric died. A risk that “goes up by a lot” after five years - still fucking worth it. Only way to make things right, after all. Stomach's twisting again. Can't fucking have that now.
“So, what do I do?” I ask.
Maris shrugs. Fucking shrugs. “I don't actually know the specifics. I'm not a god. From what little I do know, you have to concentrate on the person you want and lure them back to the land of the living. 'Sing them a song of magic' or something like that.”
The fuck? Fucking singing?
“Don't know how to fucking sing,” I mumble.
Maris says, “You need to figure it out if you're going to bring anybody back.”
Yeah, got it. I fucking figured that out. But singing? Don't fucking sing. Don't know how, much less how to sing with magic. Will figure it out. Gotta fucking figure it out.
“I'll figure it out.” After all, no other fucking option.
“This should be interesting,” she mutters.
How the fuck do I do this? No idea. Maris can't help. On my fucking own. Heart's hammering again. It doesn't fucking beat, but it will thud in my chest and distract me. Hard to even think about fucking singing. But I gotta. For Eric.
Try to imagine Eric. His lovely eyes. Think about how he deserves to fucking live. Unlike me. Keep thinking about him. Conjure up a picture of him in my mind. Everything from his floppy, kinda light brown hair to his skin that's like mine to those lovely eyes. Remember every feature I fucking can. Gotta get this right. Still don't know how to fucking sing to him.
Come on, dude, figure this out. Eric fucking needs you.
Gotta make myself fucking concentrate. Make my heart stop hammering, my stomach stop twisting. Manage all that by thinking of Eric and his lovely eyes. Am calm now. Still don't know how to fucking sing. What was it Maris said? “Sing them a song of magic.” Gotta think of this like I thought of healing Wes.
Order my brain to come up with a song. It does. I start fucking singing.
Doesn't sound like any music I ever heard, but I'm singing. Fucking singing. Can't believe it. Nothing's happening. Gotta fucking keep at it. See Maris out of the corner of my eye, fucking stunned or something. Still, nothing's happening.
The world around me goes funny. Fucking blurred, like steamed glass after a shower. Freaks me out but I keep singing. Can't stop singing. Not if I want this to fucking work.
Blink once and - the fuck? Where the fuck am I? A world of swirling white. A whole lot of nothing. At least it's not fucking blue. Heart starts hammering again. Can't let it. Gotta find Eric and find my way out of here. Place gives me the creeps.
Even now, I don't stop singing. Somehow I know I need to keep singing until I fucking see Eric. Or he won't come to me. Hear fucking footsteps. Try not to panic. Can't fucking panic. Not if I want to succeed. And I have to succeed. No other fucking option.
Swirling white fog shit dissipates a bit. Think I see a human figure in the distance. That Eric? Hope it's fucking Eric. Can't deal if something here attacks me. Don't trust this place at all. It's not blue, but it's too fucking similar to the blue room from before.
“Devin? Is that you?” Eric's voice.
It's him. It's fucking him! Eric, my friend who's been gone for too fucking long.
The figure walks forward. Can make out its features now. It's Eric. Can't be anybody else. Eric comes closer. Want to hug him to prove he's fucking real. When he gets close enough, I stop singing.
“It - it's me,” I croak. Voice fucking hurts from all that singing.
“Devin! It is you!” He leaps out of the remaining fog shit and crushes me in his arms.
“Can't fucking breathe, dude.” Doesn't have to know yet that I don't breathe.
Eric lets go of me, his lovely eyes shining. Hurts to fucking look at them. Feel like my own eyes are stinging. Don't wanna cry now. Still gotta get the fuck out of here.
“Told you there was such a thing as magic,” he breathes.
“No such thing as magic.” A fucking reflex, okay?
He just laughs. “So what are you doing here? Where are we?”
How do I fucking explain I'm here to bring him back to life? Don't even know where “here” is. No idea how to get back, either.
“I wanna take a little vacation. You're invited.” Had to fucking say something. Best I could manage at the moment.
Eric's eyes get fucking wide. “A vacation? My parents and I are supposed to go on vacation! I don't know if I have time to go with you.”
Throat closes up. He - he doesn't fucking realize he's dead. Thinks he's gonna go on that vacation he told me about. With his parents. Supposed to leave the week after their house burned down. With them in it.
“You have time,” I manage. Got all the time in the fucking world.
“Will there be magic? I want to see more magic, like there is here. Wish I knew what here was.” he says.
Don't wanna know, dude.
“Sure, there will be magic.” Why the fuck not?
I get an idea of how to return home. Hope it will fucking work. “Hey, Eric, take my hand.”
Looks up at me, not sure he should do what I say. Don't think this will fucking work unless we're connected, though. Eric decides to trust me. Takes my hand. Hope I've fucking got this right.
Start singing again. Need the fucking singing to get us home. Eric looks at me. Worried. He's fucking worried. Doesn't let go of my hand, though. I keep singing. The white fog shit around us gets thicker. Soon I can't fucking see Eric. Keep singing anyway. Need to keep it up until we're home.
Hope I've fucking got this right. Better have this right. Don't know what I'll fucking do if I screw this up, so I can't screw this up. I keep singing and hoping for the best. Nothing else I can do now.
The fuck?
Everything goes fucking pitch black. Like I'm falling through outer fucking space. Could almost swear I saw a huge many-tentacled monster out of the corner of my eye. Fucking imagining things, right?
Crash hard into something solid. Let go of Eric's hand. Fuck!
Blink my eyes. Try to orient myself. Fucking hope I made it. Think I might have gotten us lost.
“Devin?” Think that's Maris' voice
Sit up. Rub my eyes. Try to get the fuzziness out of my mind. Did I hear Maris? Can't be fucking sure.
“You actually did it. And who, may I ask, is your...rather young friend?” That is Maris.
Eric moans, “Uhhhh - where am I? Mom? Dad? Hello?” Doesn't seem to notice the rest of us.
“That's Eric,” I say.
His eyes meet mine. They're huge. Afraid. “Who are you? How do you know my name? Am I in trouble? I'm not in trouble am I?”
The fuck? Who am I? My stomach drops a million fucking feet. He doesn't recognize me. But he did before. How's that fucking possible?
Looking around, this is my fucking lab. That's Maris. And that's Eric. So why doesn't he fucking recognize me?
Want to fucking panic. Can't panic. Maybe Eric's just disoriented.
Maris pulls me aside. Whispers, “You know, the problem might be the fact that who knows how many years have passed. He's still the same age as when he died. You're not. And you've got violet eyes you didn't have before. There's your problem.”
Fuck. She's right. The fuck do I do about it? Gotta convince Eric I'm me.
I turn to Eric. “Hey Eric?” I say.
Still got those huge, scared eyes. “Wh-what do you want from me?”
Don't fucking want anything from you, dude. Just want you to remember me. I whisper, “It's me. Devin.”
“You - you're not Devin. My best friend - he's fourteen,” he breathes.
I sigh. “It's...been a long time. Seven fucking years, you were - unconscious.” Don't have the heart to tell him he died, yet.
“Unconscious?” Maris asks. Not fucking helping.
I continue. My heart's fucking heavy. “I am me, dude. Been seven fucking years since we - since we found...” Can't fucking go on. Have to fucking go on. “Since we found that pendant in the hedge maze. You - said it was magic. I said there was no such - no such thing as magic.”
Eric's eyes get even huger. “How do you know about that? I never told anybody!”
“Dude, I'm Devin. Don't believe me? Ask me anything. Fucking anything.” I'm fucking desperate.
Looks skeptical. “Alright, whose my favorite Revengers character?”
“Easy. ScientaSaurus. The fucking half-dinosaur mad scientist dude. Who else?” I say.
“That's - that's right,” he breathes.
“You would always doodle pictures of him when you were supposed to pay attention in Circuitry. Sat on you left hand side. Knew what you were fucking up to, dude,” I mutter.
His eyes get even fucking bigger. “You say 'fuck' too much, just like Devin does.”
“Because I fucking am Devin.”
Maris stands there. Just fucking watching.
“You are Devin, aren't you? But how? Was I really unconscious for seven years? And why are your eyes purple?” Eric wonders.
“That's a long fucking story, dude,” I say.
He mutters, “You need to tell it to me, then.” Eric believes me, but that's it. Still scared out of his fucking mind.
How the fuck am I supposed to handle this? Just how do I tell him why he was “unconscious” for seven fucking years? Deserves the truth, doesn't he? Didn't have the heart to tell him everything before and don't have the guts now. But I fucking gotta. Thought things would be easier than this, somehow. Guess I fucked up again, just like I always do.
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written for 500themes #2 - "Terror in the Night" & writerverse Table of Doom: Alpha #7 - Genre: Fantasy