TDIR: Dreams of Darkness
Fandom: The Dark is Rising
Main characters: Barney, Bran, Will, Jane
Referenced characters: Simon, John
Pairings: None
Contains: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: Barney doesn't even see in dreams anymore.
He remembers Will saying, "I'm sorry, Barney, I just have to, alright?", and that's stupid, because Will doesn't have anything to do with all this, but that's what he remembers all the same. Will saying -- whispering? -- an apology, and then he woke up in the dark. He thought he woke up in the dark.
He woke up blind, permanently blind, but that was something they only found out months later, after the doctors were done pretending they knew what was going on. Barney doesn't even see in dreams now, which he thinks is probably weird, because he always used to have vivid dreams, dreams that sometimes seemed more real and sharp and in focus than real life. And other blind people, people who became blind and weren't born that way, still see things in dreams. He knows: he's asked.
Sometimes he still dreams that dream, though, the dream of darkness, and Will's apology. It makes no sense, but no one ever said dreams had to.
---
"Barney?"
"I'm awake," Barney says, sitting up and letting the covers slide off him. "What time is it?"
"You overslept," Jane says. He feels the bed tip as she sits on the end, near his feet. "It's eleven. There's a letter for you, and you missed a call from Simon. He'll be visiting at the weekend, maybe for a week or two. Do you want any breakfast, or shall I read you the letter first? Looks like it comes from Wales."
"Bran," Barney says, a little surprised. Bran doesn't have a phone at the moment, he knows: last time they spoke he was grumbling about the cost. But a letter? Bran knows he's blind... of course, there's always people to read stuff for him. He bites his lip. "Um, could you read me the letter first? It can't be urgent or anything, or he'd just have used Mr Rowlands' phone or something, but I'm curious."
"Okay," Jane says, and he hears her ripping the envelope open: she must have predicted his response. "You mind if I give you edited highlights?"
"No," Barney says. He actually does mind, a little, he wants to hear everything Bran has to say to him, but it doesn't really matter. What he really wants is to take that letter and read it for himself. See the smudges, the crossed out words -- Bran's letters have always been an exercise in squinting a little: his letters small and angular, bits crossed out and bits added in. Barney always got the idea he hated writing letters rather, but he kept on doing it all the same, letters for all three of them, and probably letters for Will as well.
Jane shuffles a little closer, and he can hear the sigh she's holding back in her voice. "He says he wants to come and see you. Will, too, maybe. Make it a reunion. Do you want to see them?"
"I won't be seeing them," Barney says, and then immediately feels bad: he's not normally this bitter. Jane says nothing. "I'm sorry, that was... Yeah, it'd be good to see them."
"You wouldn't be seeing them," she says, a little sharp, getting up. "I'll make you toast for breakfast."
"Jane -- "
"I know," she says, and this time she does sigh. "It isn't any easier for us, you know."
Barney doesn't reply to that. He thinks it probably is easier for them: they have their eyes and they can keep doing whatever it is they do. They can read books and go for walks on their own, they can make their own breakfasts. They can read their own letters, write their own replies. They can tell what time it is for themselves. They don't have to worry. They could even paint, if they wanted to. He still wants to, god, so badly, wants the smell and feel of paint, the deep concentration, getting lost in doing it.
They have it easy.
---
"God, Barney," Bran says, when he sees him. Barney tries to smile.
"What is it? I bet I'm getting pudgy, aren't I? I can't quite keep up the daily workout like this."
"If anything, you're thinner," Bran says, his accent thicker these days than ever, thickening now with his concern. "And your eyes..."
"What about my eyes?"
"You just look so lost, bachgen. So... Duw, I've never seen you this sad before."
"I'm glad you're here," Barney says, and he smiles, and that still feels the same to him, the same old sunny smile as ever, even though his world is in a constant state of total eclipse. He wishes he could see Bran -- it's been a while, and he bets Bran is taller again, and he can almost see him -- he can almost see the trace of a sunburn on that pale face, pink and peeling skin, the shoulders that have broadened even more, the little frown, the clear sharp eyes --
"I'm glad I'm here too. Will's going to be on the next train, I think, if he managed to get to the station in time. We should have come to see you sooner."
"No, that's okay."
"No, it's not. Where did Jane go, anyway? She shouldn't have left you alone."
"I'm not a baby," Barney says, and shrugs. "I think she went to grab a table in the coffee shop."
"Let's wait for Will before we go, then," he says, and Barney jumps a little when Bran takes his hand. "Sorry. I'm just going to... There's a bench over there, to your left. We're going to go and sit over there."
"Okay," Barney says, squeezing Bran's hand just a little. He's pretty sure Bran has an uncomfortable look on his face: holding hands with other boys isn't exactly something Welsh farmboys are supposed to do, even if they're blind, and he's never been that good with physical contact anyway. He's also pretty sure Bran is starting to smile, so he smiles back. He lets Bran lead him, sits down obediently when Bran gives him a little push, and tries to keep on smiling. "Tell me everything, what you've been up to. We haven't had chance to talk in way too long."
"There's not really much to say."
"Tell me anyway?"
Bran shrugs: Barney feels the movement of it. "Really, Barney, there's nothing much. I work on a farm. The sheep are stupid, the dogs are cleverer than you'd give them credit for."
"I knew a dog called Rufus," Barney says, laughing a little. "I know how clever dogs can be."
"You told me about him. I wish I could've met him."
"I don't know if he's still alive... I would've liked to see him again."
Bran only lets that hang in awkward silence for a second. "That's all, really, anyway. Work, sheep, dogs. Nothing much else."
"No girls?" Barney says, teasing, and senses the pink in Bran's cheeks deepening.
"No girls. None in Tywyn would be interested anyway."
"A handsome boy like you? Never."
"Ha, ha. You might not have noticed, but I'm an albino. In rural Wales, that makes me a freakshow."
"Why don't you just leave?"
Barney doesn't need to see Bran to imagine the puzzled look on his face. "Why? Tywyn's my home. Wales is my home. Anywhere I go I'd be just as much of a freak, and people would have to get used to me all over again. Besides, my da would never leave Tywyn. And in Tywyn there's John Rowlands and the Evanses. Friends, like. I think that's Will's train coming in. It's in the right direction, anyway. I'm going to go and try to find him. Wait here, you."
"I'm not going anywhere," Barney says. "Go on."
Bran actually gives his hand a quick squeeze before he drops it, and Barney finds himself honestly smiling. Then he's gone, and Barney is alone. He tries to listen for them, listen for Will's even tones and Bran's accent, for the strangeness of their meeting -- they never seem to say hello, as if they've never really been apart, they just start straight into it. Sometimes, surprisingly enough for Bran, they embrace. But he doesn't hear anything of them until someone is suddenly right in front of him, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet.
"Oh, Barney," Will says, and then, in the same tones as the dream, "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," Barney says, automatically, and shakes his head. "No one could help it."
Will doesn't seem to have anything to say to that.
---
Will and Bran share the room that has always been Barney and Simon's: Barney shares Jane's room, just for the week. If Simon comes back too, they'll be packed tight like sardines in a can, but Simon rarely comes home now. He's always got work to be doing, lectures to attend, bodies to cut up. He's become steadily more obsessed with becoming a doctor -- Barney suspects that he harbours dreams of helping him find his sight again. He doesn't think Simon will ever be successful, particularly as he's starting to be drawn towards psychiatry, but it's a nice thought. He doesn't see Simon enough now, and besides, the easiness is gone out of their brotherhood: Simon finds Barney's new inequality difficult.
Barney misses him.
He can't sleep well at the best of times, but in Jane's room, it's worse. He can smell her perfume strongly, which makes him want to sneeze, and she actually snores. It's a ladylike little snore, but it's still a snore, and he can't exactly reach over and whap her with a cushion. He lies still for a while, thirsty, sleepless, and then very, very carefully gets up. No one's awake, probably, but if he makes his way out of the room, he might be able to go and lay on the sofa instead, or get a drink... he thinks he might be able to do that for himself right now. It's not much worse than groping for the glass they keep in the bathroom, in the dark, back when he could see.
He hears voices, though, once he's out of Jane's room. Low voices. Will and Bran, he thinks, and turns toward them, feeling along the wall. They keep the hallway pretty clear for him, but you never know when someone has forgotten to move their slippers or a pile of washing or something...
"This isn't right," Bran says, suddenly louder, and Barney stops. He bites his lip, wondering what's going on and whether he should go and knock on the door or just go to the bathroom like he planned at first.
"I had to do it, Bran. There's so much you don't understand."
"Don't give me that crap. I know there's things you can't tell me, but that doesn't change anything! This isn't right."
"It's for his own protection."
"Bullshit. At this rate, he's going to fall onto the train tracks or something."
"He won't. People are taking good care of him."
Barney bites his lip hard.
"He's blind, Will. You can't -- you can't justify doing that to him, ever. How do you think he'd feel? Nobody is going to exactly say 'yes, Will, oh, yes, now I understand your motives it's all fine, I don't mind being blind'! He'd probably rather be in danger."
Barney takes a deep breath and another step forward, wanting to go and knock on the door. This almost has to be a dream, though, because it makes no sense. Why would Will have anything to do with what happened to him? It's just the same as that dream he's been having ever since -- Will saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Barney, like it was his fault. It can't be.
"Take it back," he hears Bran hiss, more commanding than he ever thought Bran could sound, more commanding than he ever thought anyone could sound when they were keeping quiet for fear of waking the whole household.
He doesn't know what the hell's going on, and he probably shouldn't be listening, but they were talking about him -- weren't they? He takes a couple of steps forward, closer to the door, near enough to hear --
To hear Will, sad and low. "I can't. He's blind forever now."
Barney hates himself for the way that makes his eyes sting. Because really, no matter what Will seems to think, no matter what Bran seems to think, none of this is Will's fault. It can't be. He shakes his head, flinging away the thoughts and takes a couple of steps back, carefully. He feels something underfoot and carefully, exaggeratedly, lifts his feet free, and then he finds his way back to his room, Jane's room, groping along the wall. His eyes sting more than ever and he feels like he wants to cry, but it really is stupid.
He's just blind, that's all. It's not anyone's fault, it can't be.
As he finds the door again, opening it quietly, he catches just a snatch more of the conversation -- "should tell" -- and then they're silent and he's tripping over Jane's feet, falling onto the bed, and he buries his face in the pillow and refuses to answer Jane's sleepy, questioning murmur.
This isn't anyone's fault. And it's not forever, the doctors are clever, someday, somehow...
---
"Bran said I should talk to you," Will says. Barney has forced the incident out of his mind, remembers it as nothing more than a fragmented dream, but his stomach still cramps with unease.
"Why?" he asks, trying to be sunny, normal, unsuspecting. What is there to suspect? There's nothing. Everything's fine.
"I... think I owe you an explanation of something. Something that I'm sorry about."
"I can't think of anything you need to be sorry about, Will."
"I knew you were out there," Will says, softly. "I don't know how much you heard, but I think you do have some idea of what I'm going to tell you. If nothing else, you should have heard me when it happened -- "
"That was a dream."
"No," Will says, helplessly, "and yes. Look, Barney -- "
"I can't look at anything."
"Figuratively! I'm sorry, Barney, I just... it needed to be done, okay?"
"Will, I don't know why you think -- "
"I think it because it's true." Will huffs out a breath, moving to sit next to Barney, the sofa cushions sliding a little. Barney almost jumps when Will takes his hand: it's unexpected, coming from Will, when they don't have to be going anywhere. "I don't have long to explain, okay? So just believe me. When we were kids, a lot of things happened to us."
"Kids attract trouble," Barney says, nervous now, a sick twist in the pit of his stomach.
"Mm, and we did especially. Especially you, really. You got involved three times -- Jane and Simon, too, but you were always deepest into it, I think. You won't remember it now."
"I remember everything that happened when we were kids."
"No, you don't, and I'm sorry, but I can't change that now, either. I'm... What you need to know is that it was good, okay? I know I've done something terrible to you, and I'm sorry, but I had to do it. I had to, Barney."
"There's no way you could have just made me blind, like this. Unless it's magic."
There's a silence.
"Will?"
"It was magic, in a way, I suppose."
"Will..."
"Look, just believe me, I really did do it, and I really am sorry. It's because... you're special. To the Light, the good cause, just like your brother and sister and Bran, but also in yourself. You have... had a gift. When you were younger, you used to be amazingly perceptive, and sometimes you could see answers that only you could see... that nobody else could have figured out."
"Will -- " Barney says, feeling stupid, repeating his name like that, but needing to say something, needing to interrupt... to tell Will he's crazy, to shut up.
"You know I'm not crazy," Will says, firmly. "As you grew older, this got stronger, and it could... draw attention to you. So for your safety, I blinded that sense of yours. Unfortunately, it took your sight too, and I'm sorry. If you just... think about what I said for a minute, you'll know it's true."
Barney opens his mouth to say no, no he doesn't know it's true, he thinks Will is slightly crazy, and then he closes it again. Suddenly he doesn't want to be anywhere near Will, and he pulls his hand out of that hold, and says nothing.
"I thought so," Will says, and god, he sounds so sad and lonely all of a sudden, but he gets up and leaves Barney there, on the sofa. "I'll tell Bran I told you."
Barney still doesn't answer. What's there to say?
---
Will avoids him, after that. Spends time with Jane. He can hear her laughing in the kitchen, can hear the low mumble of Will's voice, and has to clench his fists. He doesn't know how he feels -- angry? Confused? -- he just knows that right now, he can't go and join them, can't go and spend any time with Will.
"I'm glad he told you," Bran says, from the doorway, quiet and subdued. "It was wrong, to do what he did. So wrong. He had no right. And he should have told you from the first. I don't care if it was for your protection, he took away more than he had a right to."
"Bran," Barney says, and his eyes sting again, and he tries not to be a crybaby but this is all too much. Bran hesitates and then crosses the room quickly, wraps his arms around Barney too tightly and holds him. Barney bites his lip and then returns the awkward hold, squeezing Bran hard. "You -- thank you for persuading him to tell me."
"I thought you should know," Bran says, into Barney's hair.
"Thank you," Barney whispers, closing his eyes tightly, as tightly as he can. And nothing is alright, and he's blind, and he's lost so much, but he knows he'll get used to it, and that they're here for him -- his parents, and Jane, and Simon, and Bran, and even Will. And if that's the best he can hope for, at least he won't be alone.
At least there's that.
"I'm sorry, Barney," Will says again, from the door.
Barney doesn't look up, can't yet let Will see his vulnerable, open, blind eyes, but he nods and jerks out a lie, easier than it should be. "I know," he says, through a throat gone too tight, "it's alright. I understand."
Main characters: Barney, Bran, Will, Jane
Referenced characters: Simon, John
Pairings: None
Contains: Angst
Rating: G
Summary: Barney doesn't even see in dreams anymore.
He remembers Will saying, "I'm sorry, Barney, I just have to, alright?", and that's stupid, because Will doesn't have anything to do with all this, but that's what he remembers all the same. Will saying -- whispering? -- an apology, and then he woke up in the dark. He thought he woke up in the dark.
He woke up blind, permanently blind, but that was something they only found out months later, after the doctors were done pretending they knew what was going on. Barney doesn't even see in dreams now, which he thinks is probably weird, because he always used to have vivid dreams, dreams that sometimes seemed more real and sharp and in focus than real life. And other blind people, people who became blind and weren't born that way, still see things in dreams. He knows: he's asked.
Sometimes he still dreams that dream, though, the dream of darkness, and Will's apology. It makes no sense, but no one ever said dreams had to.
---
"Barney?"
"I'm awake," Barney says, sitting up and letting the covers slide off him. "What time is it?"
"You overslept," Jane says. He feels the bed tip as she sits on the end, near his feet. "It's eleven. There's a letter for you, and you missed a call from Simon. He'll be visiting at the weekend, maybe for a week or two. Do you want any breakfast, or shall I read you the letter first? Looks like it comes from Wales."
"Bran," Barney says, a little surprised. Bran doesn't have a phone at the moment, he knows: last time they spoke he was grumbling about the cost. But a letter? Bran knows he's blind... of course, there's always people to read stuff for him. He bites his lip. "Um, could you read me the letter first? It can't be urgent or anything, or he'd just have used Mr Rowlands' phone or something, but I'm curious."
"Okay," Jane says, and he hears her ripping the envelope open: she must have predicted his response. "You mind if I give you edited highlights?"
"No," Barney says. He actually does mind, a little, he wants to hear everything Bran has to say to him, but it doesn't really matter. What he really wants is to take that letter and read it for himself. See the smudges, the crossed out words -- Bran's letters have always been an exercise in squinting a little: his letters small and angular, bits crossed out and bits added in. Barney always got the idea he hated writing letters rather, but he kept on doing it all the same, letters for all three of them, and probably letters for Will as well.
Jane shuffles a little closer, and he can hear the sigh she's holding back in her voice. "He says he wants to come and see you. Will, too, maybe. Make it a reunion. Do you want to see them?"
"I won't be seeing them," Barney says, and then immediately feels bad: he's not normally this bitter. Jane says nothing. "I'm sorry, that was... Yeah, it'd be good to see them."
"You wouldn't be seeing them," she says, a little sharp, getting up. "I'll make you toast for breakfast."
"Jane -- "
"I know," she says, and this time she does sigh. "It isn't any easier for us, you know."
Barney doesn't reply to that. He thinks it probably is easier for them: they have their eyes and they can keep doing whatever it is they do. They can read books and go for walks on their own, they can make their own breakfasts. They can read their own letters, write their own replies. They can tell what time it is for themselves. They don't have to worry. They could even paint, if they wanted to. He still wants to, god, so badly, wants the smell and feel of paint, the deep concentration, getting lost in doing it.
They have it easy.
---
"God, Barney," Bran says, when he sees him. Barney tries to smile.
"What is it? I bet I'm getting pudgy, aren't I? I can't quite keep up the daily workout like this."
"If anything, you're thinner," Bran says, his accent thicker these days than ever, thickening now with his concern. "And your eyes..."
"What about my eyes?"
"You just look so lost, bachgen. So... Duw, I've never seen you this sad before."
"I'm glad you're here," Barney says, and he smiles, and that still feels the same to him, the same old sunny smile as ever, even though his world is in a constant state of total eclipse. He wishes he could see Bran -- it's been a while, and he bets Bran is taller again, and he can almost see him -- he can almost see the trace of a sunburn on that pale face, pink and peeling skin, the shoulders that have broadened even more, the little frown, the clear sharp eyes --
"I'm glad I'm here too. Will's going to be on the next train, I think, if he managed to get to the station in time. We should have come to see you sooner."
"No, that's okay."
"No, it's not. Where did Jane go, anyway? She shouldn't have left you alone."
"I'm not a baby," Barney says, and shrugs. "I think she went to grab a table in the coffee shop."
"Let's wait for Will before we go, then," he says, and Barney jumps a little when Bran takes his hand. "Sorry. I'm just going to... There's a bench over there, to your left. We're going to go and sit over there."
"Okay," Barney says, squeezing Bran's hand just a little. He's pretty sure Bran has an uncomfortable look on his face: holding hands with other boys isn't exactly something Welsh farmboys are supposed to do, even if they're blind, and he's never been that good with physical contact anyway. He's also pretty sure Bran is starting to smile, so he smiles back. He lets Bran lead him, sits down obediently when Bran gives him a little push, and tries to keep on smiling. "Tell me everything, what you've been up to. We haven't had chance to talk in way too long."
"There's not really much to say."
"Tell me anyway?"
Bran shrugs: Barney feels the movement of it. "Really, Barney, there's nothing much. I work on a farm. The sheep are stupid, the dogs are cleverer than you'd give them credit for."
"I knew a dog called Rufus," Barney says, laughing a little. "I know how clever dogs can be."
"You told me about him. I wish I could've met him."
"I don't know if he's still alive... I would've liked to see him again."
Bran only lets that hang in awkward silence for a second. "That's all, really, anyway. Work, sheep, dogs. Nothing much else."
"No girls?" Barney says, teasing, and senses the pink in Bran's cheeks deepening.
"No girls. None in Tywyn would be interested anyway."
"A handsome boy like you? Never."
"Ha, ha. You might not have noticed, but I'm an albino. In rural Wales, that makes me a freakshow."
"Why don't you just leave?"
Barney doesn't need to see Bran to imagine the puzzled look on his face. "Why? Tywyn's my home. Wales is my home. Anywhere I go I'd be just as much of a freak, and people would have to get used to me all over again. Besides, my da would never leave Tywyn. And in Tywyn there's John Rowlands and the Evanses. Friends, like. I think that's Will's train coming in. It's in the right direction, anyway. I'm going to go and try to find him. Wait here, you."
"I'm not going anywhere," Barney says. "Go on."
Bran actually gives his hand a quick squeeze before he drops it, and Barney finds himself honestly smiling. Then he's gone, and Barney is alone. He tries to listen for them, listen for Will's even tones and Bran's accent, for the strangeness of their meeting -- they never seem to say hello, as if they've never really been apart, they just start straight into it. Sometimes, surprisingly enough for Bran, they embrace. But he doesn't hear anything of them until someone is suddenly right in front of him, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet.
"Oh, Barney," Will says, and then, in the same tones as the dream, "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," Barney says, automatically, and shakes his head. "No one could help it."
Will doesn't seem to have anything to say to that.
---
Will and Bran share the room that has always been Barney and Simon's: Barney shares Jane's room, just for the week. If Simon comes back too, they'll be packed tight like sardines in a can, but Simon rarely comes home now. He's always got work to be doing, lectures to attend, bodies to cut up. He's become steadily more obsessed with becoming a doctor -- Barney suspects that he harbours dreams of helping him find his sight again. He doesn't think Simon will ever be successful, particularly as he's starting to be drawn towards psychiatry, but it's a nice thought. He doesn't see Simon enough now, and besides, the easiness is gone out of their brotherhood: Simon finds Barney's new inequality difficult.
Barney misses him.
He can't sleep well at the best of times, but in Jane's room, it's worse. He can smell her perfume strongly, which makes him want to sneeze, and she actually snores. It's a ladylike little snore, but it's still a snore, and he can't exactly reach over and whap her with a cushion. He lies still for a while, thirsty, sleepless, and then very, very carefully gets up. No one's awake, probably, but if he makes his way out of the room, he might be able to go and lay on the sofa instead, or get a drink... he thinks he might be able to do that for himself right now. It's not much worse than groping for the glass they keep in the bathroom, in the dark, back when he could see.
He hears voices, though, once he's out of Jane's room. Low voices. Will and Bran, he thinks, and turns toward them, feeling along the wall. They keep the hallway pretty clear for him, but you never know when someone has forgotten to move their slippers or a pile of washing or something...
"This isn't right," Bran says, suddenly louder, and Barney stops. He bites his lip, wondering what's going on and whether he should go and knock on the door or just go to the bathroom like he planned at first.
"I had to do it, Bran. There's so much you don't understand."
"Don't give me that crap. I know there's things you can't tell me, but that doesn't change anything! This isn't right."
"It's for his own protection."
"Bullshit. At this rate, he's going to fall onto the train tracks or something."
"He won't. People are taking good care of him."
Barney bites his lip hard.
"He's blind, Will. You can't -- you can't justify doing that to him, ever. How do you think he'd feel? Nobody is going to exactly say 'yes, Will, oh, yes, now I understand your motives it's all fine, I don't mind being blind'! He'd probably rather be in danger."
Barney takes a deep breath and another step forward, wanting to go and knock on the door. This almost has to be a dream, though, because it makes no sense. Why would Will have anything to do with what happened to him? It's just the same as that dream he's been having ever since -- Will saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Barney, like it was his fault. It can't be.
"Take it back," he hears Bran hiss, more commanding than he ever thought Bran could sound, more commanding than he ever thought anyone could sound when they were keeping quiet for fear of waking the whole household.
He doesn't know what the hell's going on, and he probably shouldn't be listening, but they were talking about him -- weren't they? He takes a couple of steps forward, closer to the door, near enough to hear --
To hear Will, sad and low. "I can't. He's blind forever now."
Barney hates himself for the way that makes his eyes sting. Because really, no matter what Will seems to think, no matter what Bran seems to think, none of this is Will's fault. It can't be. He shakes his head, flinging away the thoughts and takes a couple of steps back, carefully. He feels something underfoot and carefully, exaggeratedly, lifts his feet free, and then he finds his way back to his room, Jane's room, groping along the wall. His eyes sting more than ever and he feels like he wants to cry, but it really is stupid.
He's just blind, that's all. It's not anyone's fault, it can't be.
As he finds the door again, opening it quietly, he catches just a snatch more of the conversation -- "should tell" -- and then they're silent and he's tripping over Jane's feet, falling onto the bed, and he buries his face in the pillow and refuses to answer Jane's sleepy, questioning murmur.
This isn't anyone's fault. And it's not forever, the doctors are clever, someday, somehow...
---
"Bran said I should talk to you," Will says. Barney has forced the incident out of his mind, remembers it as nothing more than a fragmented dream, but his stomach still cramps with unease.
"Why?" he asks, trying to be sunny, normal, unsuspecting. What is there to suspect? There's nothing. Everything's fine.
"I... think I owe you an explanation of something. Something that I'm sorry about."
"I can't think of anything you need to be sorry about, Will."
"I knew you were out there," Will says, softly. "I don't know how much you heard, but I think you do have some idea of what I'm going to tell you. If nothing else, you should have heard me when it happened -- "
"That was a dream."
"No," Will says, helplessly, "and yes. Look, Barney -- "
"I can't look at anything."
"Figuratively! I'm sorry, Barney, I just... it needed to be done, okay?"
"Will, I don't know why you think -- "
"I think it because it's true." Will huffs out a breath, moving to sit next to Barney, the sofa cushions sliding a little. Barney almost jumps when Will takes his hand: it's unexpected, coming from Will, when they don't have to be going anywhere. "I don't have long to explain, okay? So just believe me. When we were kids, a lot of things happened to us."
"Kids attract trouble," Barney says, nervous now, a sick twist in the pit of his stomach.
"Mm, and we did especially. Especially you, really. You got involved three times -- Jane and Simon, too, but you were always deepest into it, I think. You won't remember it now."
"I remember everything that happened when we were kids."
"No, you don't, and I'm sorry, but I can't change that now, either. I'm... What you need to know is that it was good, okay? I know I've done something terrible to you, and I'm sorry, but I had to do it. I had to, Barney."
"There's no way you could have just made me blind, like this. Unless it's magic."
There's a silence.
"Will?"
"It was magic, in a way, I suppose."
"Will..."
"Look, just believe me, I really did do it, and I really am sorry. It's because... you're special. To the Light, the good cause, just like your brother and sister and Bran, but also in yourself. You have... had a gift. When you were younger, you used to be amazingly perceptive, and sometimes you could see answers that only you could see... that nobody else could have figured out."
"Will -- " Barney says, feeling stupid, repeating his name like that, but needing to say something, needing to interrupt... to tell Will he's crazy, to shut up.
"You know I'm not crazy," Will says, firmly. "As you grew older, this got stronger, and it could... draw attention to you. So for your safety, I blinded that sense of yours. Unfortunately, it took your sight too, and I'm sorry. If you just... think about what I said for a minute, you'll know it's true."
Barney opens his mouth to say no, no he doesn't know it's true, he thinks Will is slightly crazy, and then he closes it again. Suddenly he doesn't want to be anywhere near Will, and he pulls his hand out of that hold, and says nothing.
"I thought so," Will says, and god, he sounds so sad and lonely all of a sudden, but he gets up and leaves Barney there, on the sofa. "I'll tell Bran I told you."
Barney still doesn't answer. What's there to say?
---
Will avoids him, after that. Spends time with Jane. He can hear her laughing in the kitchen, can hear the low mumble of Will's voice, and has to clench his fists. He doesn't know how he feels -- angry? Confused? -- he just knows that right now, he can't go and join them, can't go and spend any time with Will.
"I'm glad he told you," Bran says, from the doorway, quiet and subdued. "It was wrong, to do what he did. So wrong. He had no right. And he should have told you from the first. I don't care if it was for your protection, he took away more than he had a right to."
"Bran," Barney says, and his eyes sting again, and he tries not to be a crybaby but this is all too much. Bran hesitates and then crosses the room quickly, wraps his arms around Barney too tightly and holds him. Barney bites his lip and then returns the awkward hold, squeezing Bran hard. "You -- thank you for persuading him to tell me."
"I thought you should know," Bran says, into Barney's hair.
"Thank you," Barney whispers, closing his eyes tightly, as tightly as he can. And nothing is alright, and he's blind, and he's lost so much, but he knows he'll get used to it, and that they're here for him -- his parents, and Jane, and Simon, and Bran, and even Will. And if that's the best he can hope for, at least he won't be alone.
At least there's that.
"I'm sorry, Barney," Will says again, from the door.
Barney doesn't look up, can't yet let Will see his vulnerable, open, blind eyes, but he nods and jerks out a lie, easier than it should be. "I know," he says, through a throat gone too tight, "it's alright. I understand."