The lights are off save for the solitary table lamp, windows thrown open to the cool night air.

Jake sprawls in the center of the room, boots shoved into a corner, hair mussed and jeans slung low, eyes wandering across the pages of a dusty book.

The windows in the room are thrown wide open, curtains drawn back, to accomodate an almost non-existent breeze. An occasional thread of cool air is felt through the oppressive, musty heat. Just enough to lend hope ( Read more... )

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Measured steps. A page is turned. Blue eyes scan the lines back and forth, back and forth.

Another step. Another page.

Oy watches from his eternal perch at the foot of Jake's bed as his companion paces and reads.

Jake's legs carry him automatically up the stairs and down the hall to his room. His mind is far away from the physical - there is no sound and little sense of touch as he opens his door and makes himself comfortable on the narrow bed for the evening ( Read more... )

The greenhouse ( Read more... )

Jake shoves the door open and practically bursts out of the bar, Oy at his heels. He's a bit wild-eyed and color's in his cheeks now as he looks around, slowing his steps to a careful walk.

He waits.

I know you're here ... Oy's fur bristles and he stalks around Jake's feet, eyes roving ( Read more... )

The air is crisp but not particularly cold - spring smooths warm hands over the chill skin of winter and soothes her sharp winds.

Jake's feet carry him down to the edge of the lake and he sits in the grass, tossing small stones into the water that laps gently at his feet.

His mind is blessedly blank this once.

Jake stares after the retreating gunslinger and frowns.

He looks like something straight out of a Sergio Leone movie ....

And those eyes. He can't shake the feeling that he's seen them before.

He sighs and turns to the remaining group and the dog-creature on his bed.

"I think I'm at a bit of a loss ..." he says, and smiles a little.

A faint slash of color gives life to the pale cheeks. The eyes remain closed, however, and there is no sign of movement.

Jake Chambers sleeps, and somewhere his mind, tethered to the body by the thinnest of beams, grows weary.

The boy lying still and serene in bed has color in his cheeks and gold hair that curls around his ears and falls across his forehead.

He has aged two years.