fic: this isn't over.
Title: this isn't over
Author: l_s_d_me
Characters: Brad/Nate, Ray - Walt
Rating: PG-13, language
Word Count: 7,200
Genre: AU
Summary: this is a companion to Count to Three that takes place in the world Nate dreams of in Part 6. This picks up directly from the dream Nate has, you can click the link to the part above if you want a refresher, it's about halfway down the page. It alternates between Ray's POV and Nate's. This story incorporates some of the characters from The Dark Tower series.
Notes: I do not own or gain profit from any of this work. It was done for pure enjoyment. The title comes from a completely flawless fanmix deedlit50 made for Count to Three. Must thank deedlit50 for the beta and for being the greatest person on earth. And to alethea293 and michelleantonia for existing.
Ray awoke, running his hand back through his hair. He scratched the sides were it was shorter before letting his arm fall over the side of his bed. Even with his eyes still closed, it was too bright for him already.
He groaned before rolling over.
"Ugh" Ray grunted when he hit the floor. He could have sworn his bed was bigger than that. Whatever. He didn't care. Ray laid there with his eyes closed trying to hide from the sun. It was probably well past noon considering that he and Walt had stayed up until four-thirty in the morning celebrating the New Year. He was tired and it felt like there was a shoe digging into his side.
"I hate everything," he moaned as he pushed the shirt he was laying on aside to move the intrusion.
But his hand didn't touch a shoe. Where he was expecting to feel canvas, he found cold steel. The fuck? Ray thought as he pulled it out from underneath him. When he finally opened his eyes the brightness hit him like a subway train. He wasn't lying on his bedroom floor. Ray's eyes were looking out over the desert, stretched out for miles and miles ahead of him. His eyes shifted to his hand where he held an old revolver there. It scared him and made his head hurt.
He pushed himself up and saw that the sand which had been beneath his head was a sticky, deep red color. It stood out hot and angry against the surrounding tan rocks and dirt. He swallowed past the dryness in his throat and moved to touch the wetness on his scalp. Blood. Ray tried to control his breathing; tried not to freak out as he kicked away with his feet and fell back onto a body. No, no no no no, he thought as he toppled over. Walt.
Only this time when his back hit the floor it was in the silence of his bedroom. His eyes stared up at the slowly moving ceiling fan. Ray felt like he couldn't breathe. He didn't know what that was but he knew deep down in his chest that it was real.
"Ray! Ray!" Walt was yelling as he threw open the door to Ray's bedroom.
Ray could only look up at him from his spot on the floor, still unable to even out his breathing. There. Right in the corner of Walt's eye Ray could see it, something similar had just happened to him. Ray flailed his arms and legs in an attempt to get up off the floor and over to Walt as quickly as possible. Walt had panic on his face as he gripped the center of his chest with one hand.
"What do I look like?" Ray asked even though he knew Walt would have no idea what he was talking about.
But then Walt reached out and touched the spot on Ray's temple where Ray had felt blood earlier and shook his head. "You're fine," he said.
Ray's gaze drifted down to where Walt was still clutching his chest. When he looked back up at Walt’s face he caught him shrugging helplessly. "There was blood."
"Did you...?" Ray started before trailing off as Walt began speaking.
"The desert... I was asleep on the couch and, and then I wasn't. What was that?"
Ray shook his head thinking that the New Year had started off pretty fucking weird. "I don't know."
______
Nate shot awake, having fallen asleep at his computer. His breath was coming in short static bursts as his eyes tried to focus. He wasn't seeing what was in front of him, which was nothing more than a plain bedroom. No. He was seeing the city street, bright light everywhere as a man on a motorcycle wove through traffic. He looked carefree, maybe like he didn't care if he wove too closely to a car or barely made a light. He drove past Nate and their eyes locked. Then there was a skid and the man was on his knees in the middle of the street looking like he was waiting to kill or be killed as his eyes hardened. Nate watched him with a pang in his chest.
Then Nate blinked and it was over. His breathing returned to normal, and his eyes finally focused on the blinking cursor in front of him. He let his head fall back against his chair, exhaling as he sunk back down. The lids of his eyes drifted closed with a question behind them; a question that didn't have an answer.
The sound of a door clicking open somewhere in the distance roused him.
Click.
Or at least he thought he heard a door.
Nate stood slowly looking around; he twisted back and forth looking for something, anything that would explain what he just felt. It was as if his body was expanding and contracting as he moved. It was as if parts of him were filling out, or growing out of nothing. He laughed when a line from How the Grinch Stole Christmas popped into his head, but his heart had definitely not just grown three sizes. He just felt… more real than before.
There was something in him that was forcing him to move, an itch in his muscles that started at his scalp and shot to his feet. So Nate threw on his running clothes and moved.
The air outside seemed sweeter, fresher than before as he traveled methodically down the city side streets. The pat, pat, pat of his shoes on the pavement filled his ears as he sped up. He wove through people on the street, turning down alleys and cutting across short cuts. Nate turned too quickly then and slid on a patch of ice, landing on his hands and knees.
But no.
He wasn't kneeling on ice or pavement anymore. His knees and hands were covered in blood as his feet tried to leverage themselves in the sand. Two men lay out in front of him, one half on top of the other, dead. Nate could feel his whole body begin to shake.
"You okay, Sir?" a voice asked above him.
Nate blinked and looked up. He was in the city once more.
The man standing there looked concerned; it was as if he wanted to kneel down, grasp Nate's shoulders and make sure everything was fine. Nate knew him, but he didn't know him at all. There was something about the way he held himself and the cadence of his voice that made Nate want to reach out and touch his arm. His hand was grazing the deep blue of this man's motorcycle jacket before he could stop himself.
Motorcycle.
"I think I saw you on the street before," Nate whispered.
The man looked at him steadily. "You were watching me as I knelt there," the man said, turning a little and gesturing towards the road, his eyebrow twitched.
Nate realized he was still holding onto this man's forearm, still kneeling on the dirty ground. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Brad Colbert, Sir," he said.
"Why do you keep calling me Sir?" Nate looked at him, holding his breath.
Brad shook his head. "I don't know."
______
"What do you remember before yesterday?" Ray asked Walt.
They were sitting across from each other in the small hallway of their apartment. The living room was an absolute mess from the night before. Empty pizza boxes, beer bottles, and a half empty bottle of champagne covered nearly all the surfaces in a six-foot radius around the couch. So the hallway won. Walt's head lolled back and forth against the wall.
"I don't," he replied.
Ray lifted his head from where it was resting in his hands. His body felt hot and he wanted to throw up. "What's happening to us," he whispered as his hands started to shake. "Why does nothing exist before last night?"
"Was it only one night?" Walt asked. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Ray. "Tell me again what you did yesterday."
They had already been over this and Ray didn't see how going over this again would help them, plus his head was throbbing. He closed his eyes and said nothing.
"Ray," Walt said. "Tell me."
"Can we not do this right now," Ray sounded like he was trying to speak through Jell-O. His head felt thick.
He heard Walt shifting up onto his knees beside him. "Come on," he tried to coax Ray to look at him. "You didn't get that drunk last night." Nothing. "Listen," Walt continued quietly, "I remember being here all day yesterday. Then you showed up in the afternoon and we stayed up all night waiting for the New Year. What were you doing before that?"
Still Nothing.
"Ray," Walt said, settling his hand on Ray's knee, squeezing for encouragement.
Walt's hand felt like it was burning on his leg; heat pulsating away from it and up throughout his body. It was a different sensation than the waves of nausea that were rolling over him. This heat seemed to put out those fires and calmed him. It was familiar. He looked at Walt whose eyes were focused on where his hand was resting on Ray's knee.
Ray wished he could remember something, anything, before knocking on the door to the apartment because he couldn't get his key out with his hands full of food and drinks. And Walt was opening it with a smile on his face as he helped with the bags and began laughing at how much Ray had bought.
None of that was important to him now. His heart beat started to go back to normal and he was able to take deep breaths again. Soon they became slower and slower; he noticed Walt beginning to slump against his leg.
"It smells like spaghetti," fell off of Ray's lips as darkness took him.
______
Nate's mouth was on Brad as soon as he shoved the door closed behind him.
They had ridden back to Nate's apartment on Brad's motorcycle. It had felt like the right thing to do. The right place to be. And then they had been standing there silently as Nate unlocked the door, the heavy feel of Brad so close behind him like they were frozen in time. But then the door opened, and they were suddenly very much un-frozen.
Nate pressed against Brad, his hands running along his lower back, touching the tattoo that hid there. How did I know there's a tattoo, Nate thought absently as he ran his lips along Brad's cheek.
He realized Brad was speaking quickly under his breath. "Nate, Nate, I thought I'd never see you again. I knew that wasn't the end. I knew it. Remember the trees, Nate." It was as if he didn't realize he was saying any of it with his eyes closed and his iron grip at Nate's waist.
"I do remember the trees," Nate sighed, kissing the spot right below Brad's ear.
They both froze.
Nate was suddenly acutely aware of their position - a leg thrust between Brad’s, his fingers just dipping underneath the band of his pants, and Brad pulling him against his body. He disentangled himself in order to back up a few steps. The confusion, and maybe fear, was right underneath the surface of Brad's eyes for him to see; no doubt it was the same look Nate had on his face.
"What is going on?" Brad said half to himself. He slid down onto the floor with Nate mirroring him seconds later.
Something was happening, but Nate didn't know what. They sat there in silence, but they kept their eyes on one another. Nate thought over everything that had happened to him since that morning. He tried to remember past that, but he couldn't. His brain wouldn't go back further than when he had awoken in front of his computer screen, seeing Brad in the city street before him. He remembered the desert and blood too.
"Brad," Nate finally said. "Tell me everything you've seen and done today."
______
“So what do we do?” Ray said this more to himself than to Walt who was walking beside him.
They had to leave the apartment, get out into the fresh air, and move. Their skin felt too tight and their lungs had felt too small in the confines of the apartment building. They walked through the park together, elbows brushing every third step, not that Ray was counting. He found that he wanted to touch Walt, and to be touching him at all times. Each time their arms bumped his head felt clearer. And Walt didn’t seem to mind either. He didn’t move away, didn’t shift when they touched. No, Ray thought he was closer than before, like he wanted it too. Walt, who looked so closed off whenever a stranger got too close on the street or someone said hello to them, was walking as close to Ray as he could get without actually linking his arm around him.
The path curved and a bench came into view. Something sparked inside of Ray and he knew he had been here before. He glanced over at Walt whose mouth was hanging slightly open, his eyes wide.
Ray kept his eyes on him as they both moved to the bench; he didn’t speak, fearing to break whatever was happening.
“I know you’re right next to me, Ray,” Walt said, “but I can sense you here.” He put his hands out in front of him, moving them slowly. “It’s you…but different. Empty?”
Ray sat down and looked at the empty spots next to him. “Oh hey, Iceman,” he whispered, his eyes half closed.
Walt slid in next to him, their bodies touching shoulders to feet. “I can almost see them,” Walt whispered too, not willing to speak louder. “It’s like an outline of their memory. Brad and Nate.”
Ray’s breath shuddered. “This is where it happened.” His mind raced, information flicking in front of his eyes as he tried to keep up with it. “I met them; they weren’t from here… a different time entirely.” Ray couldn’t get enough air, “We found each other.”
His head turned to find Walt’s eyes already fixed on his own, and he felt his breathing even out, his head becoming clearer. “This is where I remembered you for the first time,” Ray told him, smiling.
“The first time?” Walt asked with a tremor in his voice.
And that’s when Ray realized that maybe this wasn’t the first time their lives had gone down this path. But it was the first; he remembers it now as the first because this was where Brad and Nate had been waiting for him that day in October. But was there a second, a third, a fiftieth? Why couldn’t he get this straight in his head? Ray pushed the palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to will himself to be better.
They both glanced back at the path in front of them as two people walked by: a man who looked to be about their ages and a boy of around ten or eleven. They were wearing stocking caps that individually read “Merry” and “Christmas”. Ray tilted his head as they made eye contact. He felt like he knew them, like they were a part of him somewhere deep inside.
“Merry Christmas,” he said to them as they crossed directly in front of where he was seated.
The pair smiled, and nodded their heads at them. “Good Luck,” the boy said, his voice making him sound about a hundred years older than he was. It was oddly comforting. Ray turned to look back at Walt who had a strange look in his eye.
“It’s not Christmas anymore, Ray,” he said. “Remember. Last night was New Years.”
“Didn’t you see their hats though?” Ray asked.
“Who are you talking about?”
______
Nate had found a truck and was headed out of St. Louis with Brad by nightfall.
It hadn’t taken them long to realize that was not where they were supposed to be. Nate’s small apartment was going to have to fend for itself, because his destiny wasn’t set inside city walls. There wasn’t much planning involved, Brad grabbed his pack off his motorcycle, Nate threw a few things into a duffle bag, and that was it.
Brad said goodbye to the bike, gently running his hand over the handle, telling it he would probably see it in another life. Nate didn’t doubt it.
Neither one of them remembered everything. Their memories were patchy at best, but after what had happened that morning they both knew one thing for certain: their lives were out there somewhere, and they were going to find them.
“I hope Ray and Walt found each other,” Nate said as they passed over the Mississippi River. “They’ll need each other to get home.”
Brad looked at him. “Where’s home?”
Nate didn’t know yet, he shrugged at Brad and smiled. “I think you know more than you’re letting on,” Brad said, his short hair ruffling as he rolled down his window a little, the smell of the river wafting into the cab of the truck.
“We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Nate told him. “Nothing can stop us now.”
______
“I think we should go south,” Walt told Ray through a mouthful of dinner.
Ray nodded, “And maybe a little west?”
______
Nate exhaled hard, his head leaning against the passenger side window, somewhere between asleep and wakefulness. The glass was cool against his skin in contrast to the heat in the cab of the truck. He looked up and saw a man standing fifty yards ahead. His eyes roamed over the man, he almost looked like a genuine cowboy; steeled against the elements, dirt on his clothes, bandana around his neck, a pair of older-looking revolvers on each hip, hat. There was a creature at his feet that wasn’t quite a dog or anything that Nate really recognized, and at his right hand there were two missing fingers. Their eyes locked as Brad sped past him. Didn’t Brad see him? Nate glanced over and Brad looked as if nothing had happened; he’s humming some tune under his breath that Nate recognized in the recesses of his mind, it felt like Ray.
He closed his eyes once more, took three deep breaths and that’s when he heard it. The voice in his head greeting him, “Long days and pleasant nights,” it said, weathered, male, the man on the side of the road.
“May you have twice the number,” Nate automatically responded. A metaphorical bow of the head and Nate could feel his body relax.
“I see you’ve found your first again,” he said in reference to Brad. Nate nodded. “You’ve got to find the others.”
“We’re trying,” Nate replied. “I can feel them; they’re together, moving, we will meet again, I am assured of it.”
“They will remember you,” he whispered as if scared to alert the cosmos that he was speaking with Nate. “Mine never remember; they don’t know what was before, what is coming, or where they are to go. We cycle through our lives coming together and being torn apart, and they don’t remember. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I do and don’t want to because it would be easier to start anew.”
Nate didn’t know what to say. Is he blessed to have a remembrance of his past? Are the others? There were so many and he could feel them pulsing around himself and the one he was speaking to. The revolvers at his side made Nate’s fingers twitch - rosewood and beautiful, and Nate could feel the weight of them in his hands from just seeing them. But he could also see Ray’s hand closing around one and ending his own life. He could see everything now.
“The desert is where I find mine again,” the voice began speaking again at a regular volume. “Jake never knows what’s coming and when I do I want to stop it, but can’t because that’s not how the world works.”
“Find your ka-tet, Nate and keep them well.”
Nate gasped a ragged breath and as the air filled his lungs it burned as if he hadn’t been breathing. It felt as if parts of his body and mind were once dormitory had woken up, he saw everything now. Brad’s eyebrow lowered in concern, but he said nothing. Nate closes his eyes again and Brad goes back to humming, “at this moment, you mean everything.”
______
The car Walt picked was sensible; the car Ray picked was a piece of shit, but he thought it was cool and had declared “the ‘80s speak to me, Walt!” So that’s how the pair ended up speeding out of New York in an ’88 Camaro.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into riding in this thing,” Walt was watching the snow lightly fall outside of the passenger side window.
Ray just rolled his eyes and sped up.
They drove through the night and most of the next day before stopping at a motel for a few hours; both of them sleeping through a marathon of old Friends re-runs on the television. Ray opened his eyes to find a woman sitting in a wheelchair next to his bed. She had no legs below the knee and looked from a time that Ray could not pinpoint.
She sat half in shadow, with the other half illuminated by the artificial light coming from the television. Ray squinted trying to see all of her, but he couldn’t, the light not permitting him to see everything. Walt was still asleep next to him, undisturbed by the change in the room. Ray started to sweat; he wanted to scoot back up all the way to the headboard, to curl up and will her to disappear, but he became aware that he was fixed to that spot and could not move no matter how hard he wished.
“Don’t be scared,” she said, her voice echoing in his head.
Ray swallowed hard and tried to mentally convince his body to relax. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his words getting stuck in the back of his throat. “I know it’s hard for you,” she continued. “Eddie had a hard time too, he did. Would sweat, and shake, and I would hold him to my chest until it passed,” her hands ghosting up like she could feel a person there against her body.
Eddie? A face flashed in his mind, a smile, a hat that read “Merry.” He gasped a breath that wouldn’t release; it held in his chest as she turned her face to him, their eyes meeting. He knew. Brad, Walt, Nate, their house, the detox, the training and laughing, eating, waking up on Walt’s bedroom floor, running, hiding, the desert… his death.
“Susannah,” he breathed out on the exhale.
She closed her eyes for a second in acknowledgement.
“Stop messing around and keep movin’” she spoke. “You’ve gotten there before. You’re just takin’ a different path now is all.”
“What about the others?” Ray whispered, not wanting to disturb Walt.
“Oh they’ll be there too,” she told him. “Brad’s helping Nate. It’s hard for him; he can feel all of us. You, Me, Walt over there, Eddie, Jake, all the ka-tets before and after. Roland is watching over him.”
“Susannah,” Ray almost didn’t trust his voice. “What happened to us?” Because Ray knew now, he knew what came before. He had read Susannah’s words over and over until they were practically memorized, burned into his brain. She unlocked it for him now, just like Walt had done before in the unknown time when they had lived and trained as one.
“It ended,” she put it simply. “But you went down together, which is more than I can say for my part, so get your ass out of this bed and go!”
Ray laughed a little, always getting yelled at.
“You remind me of my Eddie,” Susannah smiled.
Ray’s eyes opened again and this time he was looking at a sleeping Walt next to him. His Walt. Not in that way, not sexual, but Walt was his through time and space, and now they needed to find the rest.
______
There was a very real chill in the air, but both Brad and Nate were comfortable sitting next to a fire. Out in the country, underneath the stars, Nate watched Brad carve a small piece of wood he found while they were collecting firewood. He kept his eyes fixed on Brad’s hands and the small knife he held there, carving the wood in small strokes. Nate did not know what he’s making, but it reminded him of their last nights together, alone, tearing through the desert. But there in the corner of his mind he could see Brad handing him a carving of a tree and the look on Brad’s face when Nate expressed how he felt about it.
“I remember the trees,” Nate stated, mirroring their words from their first new day together. “All of them, the real ones by our house, the one we stopped under that day, us leaning together just breathing, and the carved one.”
“Christmas,” Brad said, his eyes closing.
“I can’t remember everything,” Brad began speaking, his hands still carving. “But I can see that night like it’s happening now. The four of us sitting around a fire, relaxed, happy, the joy before the terror.” Brad looked over at Nate, “You, me, together that night,” his knife carves off a sliver of wood.
Nate remembers it too of course. He can see it all laid out in front of him like a map of all their lives.
They sat there in silence as the fire cracked and popped, telling them its own story.
“I wonder where Ray and Walt are,” Brad absently wondered aloud.
“Virginia,” Nate told him with a grimace.
______
“Virginia is for Lovers,” Ray waggled his eyebrows as he read the sign they had passed out loud.
Walt was driving now, Ray in the passenger seat with his feet up on the dash. It was snowing pretty heavily, but Walt insisted that he knew where they were going and it was fine. Walt called him a worry-wart, Ray had scoffed, and then told him to put a scarf on because the heater in the car didn’t work that well. Maybe he worried a little.
Ray had fallen asleep like that, with his feet up and his coat draped over him like a blanket. Next thing he knew he was woken up by the sound of Walt shouting “shit!” and pulling over to the side of the road.
“Do I even want to know?” Ray asked, looking over at Walt.
“I think we’ve got a flat tire,” he looked guilty and Ray didn’t know why. Flat tires aren’t really anyone’s fault, shit happens.
It took Ray a few seconds to scoot back up into a proper sitting position and shrug back into his coat. “Don’t worry about it,” Ray said, “let’s just put the spare on.”
Of course there wasn’t a spare. Ray just shrugged, closed the trunk, and motioned for Walt to follow him to the sidewalk.
“Where are we going?” Walt asked, looking nervous.
“We need to call for a tow, there’s no spare tire.”
Ray thought Walt looked like he was going to be sick. “Come on,” he said, putting his arm around Walt’s shoulder and starting them down the road.
It was quiet, no sound except for their feet crunching on the snow beneath their feet. There were holiday lights up still on several of the houses and Ray felt like he was walking in a Christmas card.
“Walt,” Ray’s teeth chattered. “Let’s just stop here, my nose is cold,” he said, leaning in and pressing it against Walt’s cheek.
Walt smiled and pushed Ray away before turning to the house Ray had motioned to. He stopped dead in his tracks.
“No,” Walt said. “Not here.”
The house was normal to Ray’s eyes, and there were lights on. “Come on,” Ray urged, walking towards the bottom set of steps.
“I don’t want to stop here,” Walt looked panicked and small. Ray turned back to the house and saw a woman peering out the window, she looked familiar. Her eyes looked so blue even from the street. Oh god, Ray thought. This is Walt’s house. His parents. Goddammit. He turned back to Walt to tell him he changed his mind, that they should pick somewhere else, whatever Walt wanted. Ray didn’t want him to go through this, but when he looked back Walt’s face had changed, he had resolve in his eyes and pushed forward.
Ray watched as Walt took the stairs two at a time, his hand paused as if to knock, only to change his mind and turn the knob. Click. The door opened slowly to reveal the house, his mom standing off to the left at the entry to the living room. It was like watching a movie, Ray didn’t even feel like he was there anymore. He watched as Walt walked in completely ignoring his mom and picked up the phone. Ray was frozen on the spot, not even wanting to breathe. “Yes, Thank you,” he heard Walt speaking into the phone before dropping it back on the table, not even bothering to hang it up. He strode back out the room, past his mom, past Ray, and at the door he finally turned.
“Oh, hi, Mom,” Walt said off-handedly before grabbing Ray by the hand and slamming the door behind them.
______
The sun won’t seem to let us be. It’s an idea that Nate wanted to make him laugh, but he remembered too much about the endless days that led them to the Cradle to be amused by the sun’s behavior.
“Days shouldn’t be this long yet,” Brad supplied Nate with the words he couldn’t quite decide on.
They really shouldn’t. It was only January; it should have been dark by five o’clock in the evening. It was nearly seven thirty and it was just setting. Nate could feel the time slowing down. Speeding up? He honestly wasn’t sure, but the space between nights was changing in an unnatural pattern. It felt like a homecoming.
Nate opened the glove box to get out a pair of sunglasses Brad had tossed in there a couple days before when he saw a smashed up copy of a book shoved as far back as possible. He turned over the book a few times in his hands before opening it up to read the title page: Catch 22 by Joseph Heller. The next page has a quote “Everyman, I will go with thee, And be thy guide, In thy most need to go by thy side.” Below the quote is a handwritten note, clearly in the looping script of a younger woman.
“For you, I would let you be my guide for a lifetime ~ Kelly.”
Nate’s stomach turned, the lies people told to those he loves. “She’s lying,” he spit out.
“What?” Brad asked, his eyes landing on the book in Nate’s lap.
“She shouldn’t have lied to him. Not him. Walt didn’t deserve that,” Nate’s anger is burning his arms and legs, he could feel it everywhere.
Brad took a deep breath before speaking, “people lie every day, Nate; that’s the way the world is.” Not all of them, Nate thought.
“Walt needed her and she betrayed him.” Nate isn’t sure why he’s so affected by this, but it tears at his insides and makes the fire he feels in his body increase. "Some people don't see what's right in front of them.”
The force of the impact throws them to the side. A small car, a compact definitely smaller than the truck they were in, slammed into the driver’s side just missing the cab. The strength of it pushes Brad over to Nate’s side and Nate instinctively grabs a hold of Brad’s hand in the few seconds where they are turning, turning.
When they come to a stop Brad is sitting there, not moving a bone in his body, but Nate can see his chest is heaving. It takes only a moment and Nate is on his knees atop the seat, his hands running over Brad. “Are you okay? Brad! Brad?!” Nate’s fingers graze everywhere he can see, but there’s nothing.
“I’m fine. I’m fine, Nate,” Brad breathes out, his head moving forward to lean against Nate’s in front of him. “I’m fine.”
______
Ray glanced over at where Walt was sleeping in the passenger seat. For about an hour Walt slept quietly there with the sunlight filling his side of the car. But now he was becoming restless, small noises escaping his mouth.
“She’s lying,” Walt mumbled.
With this Ray turned the radio off completely so he could hear Walt. Part of him wanted to wake him up, let him out of this nightmare he’s having, but the other parts thought that it was important, and that maybe Walt’s dream was telling him something about himself. Maybe about all of them.
Suddenly Walt jerked awake, shooting up straight in his seat. His eyes darted back and forth. Ray watched the panic hit, and then eventually come back down when he realizes where he’s at.
“What were you dreaming about, Walt?” Ray barely asked.
“It was Nate, he found a book,” he paused. “I think it was something to do with me. He and Brad started arguing and then it all went dark and I woke up,” he finished, visibly shaken.
They continued to drive on in silence for ten minutes, Ray thinking about Walt’s dreams. This wasn’t the first one that he had had while they were traveling. There were others, and he knew there would be more.
“You said, ‘she’s lying,’” Ray finally spoke. “Who is ‘she’?”
Walt said nothing, and when Ray looked back at him he saw tears in his eyes. This wasn’t what Ray wanted. He reached over and took Walt’s hand in his, and began to sing under his breath. “Poor old Johnny Ray sounded sad upon the radio. Moved a million hearts in mono, our mothers cried, Sang along, who'd blame them?” Walt’s head lolled toward him, his face relaxing as he joined in “come on Eileen…”
______
“There shouldn’t be desert like this here, Nate.” Brad said from the passenger seat, his eyes scanning the area as they pass.
They had to leave the truck behind; it wouldn’t have been worth it after the crash to fix it up. They were unharmed. The man who hit them, a fellow who went by the name Craig Schwetje, tried to blame them for it as he yelled at them with malice in his voice. They left him there screaming at them on the side of the road as they started walking towards the nearest town.
Things had felt different between them after that. Nate thought that Brad was remembering something; their training, time at the house, them together, and everything that had happened. Maybe he now knew that it wasn’t the first time the two of them had a run-in with Schwetje. They had fled from him on the day with the big tree, dove into a pool to escape and let the water and darkness bring them together as they waited.
Nate glanced at Brad. He was right of course, about the desert, it didn’t belong there.
“Are you listening?” Brad asked, not accusing. “We should be in lush goddamn hills and mountains, Nate. There shouldn’t be desert here.”
“Shouldn’t there be?” Nate asked with a smile.
“No. This is similar to the Southwest, not the South, and definitely not the Southeast,” Brad knew his geography that much was certain.
“Maybe not now, but at one time it was sure to,” Nate told him, speeding forward to their final destination. “At one time.”
______
“Why is it so warm?” Walt was leaning with his right arm completely out of the car as they drove down a country blacktop road.
The pair had left Virginia as fast as possible and didn’t look back. Walt didn’t want to talk about it, but Ray could tell he was still troubled. He wasn’t himself yet, the Walt that he grew to be, the one that tore through the desert and led them on their last day in the right direction. Three days had passed since then; three days full of country roads, sunshine, and Walt dreaming in the passenger seat. Ray knew he was remembering stuff, he could see a subtle shift in his eyes, or the way he visibly relaxed when it was just the two of them.
“I’m serious, Ray,” Walt leaned completely back in the car, interrupting Ray’s thoughts. “Why is it so warm?”
“It’s called the sun, Walter, it warms the earth.”
“Stop the car,” Walt was sitting up even straighter.
“What? Why?”
“Just pull over!” he yelled. Ray looked at him like he had lost his mind. Walt didn’t yell.
“Okay, okay,” Ray complied, coming to a stop on the side of the road.
Walt was out and running out into the grass within seconds before he abruptly stopped and stared up into the sky. Ray watched him, leaning against the passenger side of the car. It was warm; he had to admit that to himself.
“Can you feel that?” Walt whispered, but Ray could hear him as clearly as if he was standing directly at his shoulder.
And Ray did feel it. Heat. And it smelled like late spring.
“How long ago did we leave our apartment?” Walt asked, his head turning to Ray.
“We left New York…four days ago?” Even his own answer made him pause. Had it really only been four days? It felt like longer. “That would mean it’s only January 8th….,” Ray trailed off. “Why is it so warm?!”
Walt barked out a laugh before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the sky. “I think they’re close, Ray. We’re close. I can feel them. Nate is reaching out for us.”
Ray watched the rise and fall of Walt’s chest, as his breath slowed, growing deeper, and for a split second Ray saw a shift in him, like a flicker against a stationary portrait. Ray knew they had to be no more than a couple days out. But Walt didn’t, at least he didn’t think Walt remembered it all yet.
“Come on, Walt,” Ray called out to him. “Let’s go home.”
______
Nate watched Brad sleep, quietly breathing beside him. “The days are not our own,” Nate whispered to him even though he would not hear. “We’re being called together again, we’re given our memories, we’re given sunlight and warmth and I don’t know what’s coming.”
It all spilled out of him at once to vacant ears. Nate’s eyes squeezed shut and he silently counted to three.
______
It was just like Ray remembered it.
The house stood out alone in the clearing. It didn’t look lived in, but it wasn’t run-down. It had the same look it had had their first week there before; an empty house just looking for owners. The large tree next to it was still there watching over their home. The tree he found Nate sitting against when he finally put all the clues of Susannah’s book together; the tree that he laid in the shade of while detoxing. This house had all the memories he ever wanted, and the only ones he needed.
Neither of them could even move. They just sat in the car staring up at the house. What were they going to do now? Save the world? Again? Ray just wanted to be at peace and be with his brothers. He had Walt already, very real in the seat next to him. Brad would be here soon with Nate, and that would be enough.
But he would follow them wherever they’d go, and he knew that about himself, so nothing else mattered.
“What do you think?” Ray looked to Walt, who was still sitting silently at his side.
“I think,” Walt began, “that I watched you almost die in this house. That I cried, and felt lost, and didn’t know myself for an age. I think that I can still feel the loss pouring out of it from being left alone far longer than it wanted. I think it built me up from the ground, and gave me purpose… And I think that I want to go inside now.”
Ray felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“Ray,” Walt finally turned to look at him, reaching his hand out to touch the side of Ray’s face, his fingers grazing where the gunshot wound had once been. “Welcome home.”
______
Brad and Nate stood next to each other at the base of the stairs up to the house.
Nate placed his hand on the banister, “hello,” he told it, squeezing before using his grasp to begin the ascent into the house. At his side Brad had his hand resting on Nate’s back, reassuring, pushing a little; moving them forward.
The screen door was closed, but the main door hung open, revealing the entryway, stairs, and part of the back hall. Ray and Walt are inside somewhere. Nate could feel them, but this sign of occupancy let him know that his senses were right, and that they were all finally in the same space again. As Nate pulled the door open he was forcibly taken aback with the force of Ray jumping on him, his arms wrapping around both he and Brad. Nate could hear Brad laughing beside him and his chest constricted.
Ray had an iron grip on both of them.
“You can let go, Ray,” Nate told him, laughing a little himself. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Ray let go, sliding back down to the ground. He moved aside and Nate saw Walt was there, just standing there behind the screen, quietly watching them all. “Walt,” Nate smiled and pulled him into a hug, the tension falling out of Walt’s body at once. “We’re here now,” he whispered. Brad moved, laid his hand on the back of Walt’s neck, reassuring and welcoming.
“Come inside,” Ray said, pulling the door back open. “I’ve got dinner on.”
Nate smiled, his chin falling to his chest. He’s not even going to ask what Ray’s making, it didn’t matter, he knew now that he’d missed this more than he’d missed anything, and nothing would ever pull them apart again.
“Ever?” Nate could hear Walt’s voice in his head; their eyes catching as Ray and Brad moved past him into the house. Walt was looking at him with something akin to hope in his eyes.
He moved to grab the door before it slammed closed behind Brad. Placing his other hand on Walt’s shoulder, he squeezed as they passed into the house letting the door click shut behind them.
The three, his ka-tet,
Even my memory of those moments is in black and white.
- N. Fick, One Bullet Away
Snapshots of finding their way home
Updated Master Post
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Author: l_s_d_me
Characters: Brad/Nate, Ray - Walt
Rating: PG-13, language
Word Count: 7,200
Genre: AU
Summary: this is a companion to Count to Three that takes place in the world Nate dreams of in Part 6. This picks up directly from the dream Nate has, you can click the link to the part above if you want a refresher, it's about halfway down the page. It alternates between Ray's POV and Nate's. This story incorporates some of the characters from The Dark Tower series.
Notes: I do not own or gain profit from any of this work. It was done for pure enjoyment. The title comes from a completely flawless fanmix deedlit50 made for Count to Three. Must thank deedlit50 for the beta and for being the greatest person on earth. And to alethea293 and michelleantonia for existing.
Ray awoke, running his hand back through his hair. He scratched the sides were it was shorter before letting his arm fall over the side of his bed. Even with his eyes still closed, it was too bright for him already.
He groaned before rolling over.
"Ugh" Ray grunted when he hit the floor. He could have sworn his bed was bigger than that. Whatever. He didn't care. Ray laid there with his eyes closed trying to hide from the sun. It was probably well past noon considering that he and Walt had stayed up until four-thirty in the morning celebrating the New Year. He was tired and it felt like there was a shoe digging into his side.
"I hate everything," he moaned as he pushed the shirt he was laying on aside to move the intrusion.
But his hand didn't touch a shoe. Where he was expecting to feel canvas, he found cold steel. The fuck? Ray thought as he pulled it out from underneath him. When he finally opened his eyes the brightness hit him like a subway train. He wasn't lying on his bedroom floor. Ray's eyes were looking out over the desert, stretched out for miles and miles ahead of him. His eyes shifted to his hand where he held an old revolver there. It scared him and made his head hurt.
He pushed himself up and saw that the sand which had been beneath his head was a sticky, deep red color. It stood out hot and angry against the surrounding tan rocks and dirt. He swallowed past the dryness in his throat and moved to touch the wetness on his scalp. Blood. Ray tried to control his breathing; tried not to freak out as he kicked away with his feet and fell back onto a body. No, no no no no, he thought as he toppled over. Walt.
Only this time when his back hit the floor it was in the silence of his bedroom. His eyes stared up at the slowly moving ceiling fan. Ray felt like he couldn't breathe. He didn't know what that was but he knew deep down in his chest that it was real.
"Ray! Ray!" Walt was yelling as he threw open the door to Ray's bedroom.
Ray could only look up at him from his spot on the floor, still unable to even out his breathing. There. Right in the corner of Walt's eye Ray could see it, something similar had just happened to him. Ray flailed his arms and legs in an attempt to get up off the floor and over to Walt as quickly as possible. Walt had panic on his face as he gripped the center of his chest with one hand.
"What do I look like?" Ray asked even though he knew Walt would have no idea what he was talking about.
But then Walt reached out and touched the spot on Ray's temple where Ray had felt blood earlier and shook his head. "You're fine," he said.
Ray's gaze drifted down to where Walt was still clutching his chest. When he looked back up at Walt’s face he caught him shrugging helplessly. "There was blood."
"Did you...?" Ray started before trailing off as Walt began speaking.
"The desert... I was asleep on the couch and, and then I wasn't. What was that?"
Ray shook his head thinking that the New Year had started off pretty fucking weird. "I don't know."
______
Nate shot awake, having fallen asleep at his computer. His breath was coming in short static bursts as his eyes tried to focus. He wasn't seeing what was in front of him, which was nothing more than a plain bedroom. No. He was seeing the city street, bright light everywhere as a man on a motorcycle wove through traffic. He looked carefree, maybe like he didn't care if he wove too closely to a car or barely made a light. He drove past Nate and their eyes locked. Then there was a skid and the man was on his knees in the middle of the street looking like he was waiting to kill or be killed as his eyes hardened. Nate watched him with a pang in his chest.
Then Nate blinked and it was over. His breathing returned to normal, and his eyes finally focused on the blinking cursor in front of him. He let his head fall back against his chair, exhaling as he sunk back down. The lids of his eyes drifted closed with a question behind them; a question that didn't have an answer.
The sound of a door clicking open somewhere in the distance roused him.
Click.
Or at least he thought he heard a door.
Nate stood slowly looking around; he twisted back and forth looking for something, anything that would explain what he just felt. It was as if his body was expanding and contracting as he moved. It was as if parts of him were filling out, or growing out of nothing. He laughed when a line from How the Grinch Stole Christmas popped into his head, but his heart had definitely not just grown three sizes. He just felt… more real than before.
There was something in him that was forcing him to move, an itch in his muscles that started at his scalp and shot to his feet. So Nate threw on his running clothes and moved.
The air outside seemed sweeter, fresher than before as he traveled methodically down the city side streets. The pat, pat, pat of his shoes on the pavement filled his ears as he sped up. He wove through people on the street, turning down alleys and cutting across short cuts. Nate turned too quickly then and slid on a patch of ice, landing on his hands and knees.
But no.
He wasn't kneeling on ice or pavement anymore. His knees and hands were covered in blood as his feet tried to leverage themselves in the sand. Two men lay out in front of him, one half on top of the other, dead. Nate could feel his whole body begin to shake.
"You okay, Sir?" a voice asked above him.
Nate blinked and looked up. He was in the city once more.
The man standing there looked concerned; it was as if he wanted to kneel down, grasp Nate's shoulders and make sure everything was fine. Nate knew him, but he didn't know him at all. There was something about the way he held himself and the cadence of his voice that made Nate want to reach out and touch his arm. His hand was grazing the deep blue of this man's motorcycle jacket before he could stop himself.
Motorcycle.
"I think I saw you on the street before," Nate whispered.
The man looked at him steadily. "You were watching me as I knelt there," the man said, turning a little and gesturing towards the road, his eyebrow twitched.
Nate realized he was still holding onto this man's forearm, still kneeling on the dirty ground. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Brad Colbert, Sir," he said.
"Why do you keep calling me Sir?" Nate looked at him, holding his breath.
Brad shook his head. "I don't know."
______
"What do you remember before yesterday?" Ray asked Walt.
They were sitting across from each other in the small hallway of their apartment. The living room was an absolute mess from the night before. Empty pizza boxes, beer bottles, and a half empty bottle of champagne covered nearly all the surfaces in a six-foot radius around the couch. So the hallway won. Walt's head lolled back and forth against the wall.
"I don't," he replied.
Ray lifted his head from where it was resting in his hands. His body felt hot and he wanted to throw up. "What's happening to us," he whispered as his hands started to shake. "Why does nothing exist before last night?"
"Was it only one night?" Walt asked. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Ray. "Tell me again what you did yesterday."
They had already been over this and Ray didn't see how going over this again would help them, plus his head was throbbing. He closed his eyes and said nothing.
"Ray," Walt said. "Tell me."
"Can we not do this right now," Ray sounded like he was trying to speak through Jell-O. His head felt thick.
He heard Walt shifting up onto his knees beside him. "Come on," he tried to coax Ray to look at him. "You didn't get that drunk last night." Nothing. "Listen," Walt continued quietly, "I remember being here all day yesterday. Then you showed up in the afternoon and we stayed up all night waiting for the New Year. What were you doing before that?"
Still Nothing.
"Ray," Walt said, settling his hand on Ray's knee, squeezing for encouragement.
Walt's hand felt like it was burning on his leg; heat pulsating away from it and up throughout his body. It was a different sensation than the waves of nausea that were rolling over him. This heat seemed to put out those fires and calmed him. It was familiar. He looked at Walt whose eyes were focused on where his hand was resting on Ray's knee.
Ray wished he could remember something, anything, before knocking on the door to the apartment because he couldn't get his key out with his hands full of food and drinks. And Walt was opening it with a smile on his face as he helped with the bags and began laughing at how much Ray had bought.
None of that was important to him now. His heart beat started to go back to normal and he was able to take deep breaths again. Soon they became slower and slower; he noticed Walt beginning to slump against his leg.
"It smells like spaghetti," fell off of Ray's lips as darkness took him.
______
Nate's mouth was on Brad as soon as he shoved the door closed behind him.
They had ridden back to Nate's apartment on Brad's motorcycle. It had felt like the right thing to do. The right place to be. And then they had been standing there silently as Nate unlocked the door, the heavy feel of Brad so close behind him like they were frozen in time. But then the door opened, and they were suddenly very much un-frozen.
Nate pressed against Brad, his hands running along his lower back, touching the tattoo that hid there. How did I know there's a tattoo, Nate thought absently as he ran his lips along Brad's cheek.
He realized Brad was speaking quickly under his breath. "Nate, Nate, I thought I'd never see you again. I knew that wasn't the end. I knew it. Remember the trees, Nate." It was as if he didn't realize he was saying any of it with his eyes closed and his iron grip at Nate's waist.
"I do remember the trees," Nate sighed, kissing the spot right below Brad's ear.
They both froze.
Nate was suddenly acutely aware of their position - a leg thrust between Brad’s, his fingers just dipping underneath the band of his pants, and Brad pulling him against his body. He disentangled himself in order to back up a few steps. The confusion, and maybe fear, was right underneath the surface of Brad's eyes for him to see; no doubt it was the same look Nate had on his face.
"What is going on?" Brad said half to himself. He slid down onto the floor with Nate mirroring him seconds later.
Something was happening, but Nate didn't know what. They sat there in silence, but they kept their eyes on one another. Nate thought over everything that had happened to him since that morning. He tried to remember past that, but he couldn't. His brain wouldn't go back further than when he had awoken in front of his computer screen, seeing Brad in the city street before him. He remembered the desert and blood too.
"Brad," Nate finally said. "Tell me everything you've seen and done today."
______
“So what do we do?” Ray said this more to himself than to Walt who was walking beside him.
They had to leave the apartment, get out into the fresh air, and move. Their skin felt too tight and their lungs had felt too small in the confines of the apartment building. They walked through the park together, elbows brushing every third step, not that Ray was counting. He found that he wanted to touch Walt, and to be touching him at all times. Each time their arms bumped his head felt clearer. And Walt didn’t seem to mind either. He didn’t move away, didn’t shift when they touched. No, Ray thought he was closer than before, like he wanted it too. Walt, who looked so closed off whenever a stranger got too close on the street or someone said hello to them, was walking as close to Ray as he could get without actually linking his arm around him.
The path curved and a bench came into view. Something sparked inside of Ray and he knew he had been here before. He glanced over at Walt whose mouth was hanging slightly open, his eyes wide.
Ray kept his eyes on him as they both moved to the bench; he didn’t speak, fearing to break whatever was happening.
“I know you’re right next to me, Ray,” Walt said, “but I can sense you here.” He put his hands out in front of him, moving them slowly. “It’s you…but different. Empty?”
Ray sat down and looked at the empty spots next to him. “Oh hey, Iceman,” he whispered, his eyes half closed.
Walt slid in next to him, their bodies touching shoulders to feet. “I can almost see them,” Walt whispered too, not willing to speak louder. “It’s like an outline of their memory. Brad and Nate.”
Ray’s breath shuddered. “This is where it happened.” His mind raced, information flicking in front of his eyes as he tried to keep up with it. “I met them; they weren’t from here… a different time entirely.” Ray couldn’t get enough air, “We found each other.”
His head turned to find Walt’s eyes already fixed on his own, and he felt his breathing even out, his head becoming clearer. “This is where I remembered you for the first time,” Ray told him, smiling.
“The first time?” Walt asked with a tremor in his voice.
And that’s when Ray realized that maybe this wasn’t the first time their lives had gone down this path. But it was the first; he remembers it now as the first because this was where Brad and Nate had been waiting for him that day in October. But was there a second, a third, a fiftieth? Why couldn’t he get this straight in his head? Ray pushed the palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to will himself to be better.
They both glanced back at the path in front of them as two people walked by: a man who looked to be about their ages and a boy of around ten or eleven. They were wearing stocking caps that individually read “Merry” and “Christmas”. Ray tilted his head as they made eye contact. He felt like he knew them, like they were a part of him somewhere deep inside.
“Merry Christmas,” he said to them as they crossed directly in front of where he was seated.
The pair smiled, and nodded their heads at them. “Good Luck,” the boy said, his voice making him sound about a hundred years older than he was. It was oddly comforting. Ray turned to look back at Walt who had a strange look in his eye.
“It’s not Christmas anymore, Ray,” he said. “Remember. Last night was New Years.”
“Didn’t you see their hats though?” Ray asked.
“Who are you talking about?”
______
Nate had found a truck and was headed out of St. Louis with Brad by nightfall.
It hadn’t taken them long to realize that was not where they were supposed to be. Nate’s small apartment was going to have to fend for itself, because his destiny wasn’t set inside city walls. There wasn’t much planning involved, Brad grabbed his pack off his motorcycle, Nate threw a few things into a duffle bag, and that was it.
Brad said goodbye to the bike, gently running his hand over the handle, telling it he would probably see it in another life. Nate didn’t doubt it.
Neither one of them remembered everything. Their memories were patchy at best, but after what had happened that morning they both knew one thing for certain: their lives were out there somewhere, and they were going to find them.
“I hope Ray and Walt found each other,” Nate said as they passed over the Mississippi River. “They’ll need each other to get home.”
Brad looked at him. “Where’s home?”
Nate didn’t know yet, he shrugged at Brad and smiled. “I think you know more than you’re letting on,” Brad said, his short hair ruffling as he rolled down his window a little, the smell of the river wafting into the cab of the truck.
“We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Nate told him. “Nothing can stop us now.”
______
“I think we should go south,” Walt told Ray through a mouthful of dinner.
Ray nodded, “And maybe a little west?”
______
Nate exhaled hard, his head leaning against the passenger side window, somewhere between asleep and wakefulness. The glass was cool against his skin in contrast to the heat in the cab of the truck. He looked up and saw a man standing fifty yards ahead. His eyes roamed over the man, he almost looked like a genuine cowboy; steeled against the elements, dirt on his clothes, bandana around his neck, a pair of older-looking revolvers on each hip, hat. There was a creature at his feet that wasn’t quite a dog or anything that Nate really recognized, and at his right hand there were two missing fingers. Their eyes locked as Brad sped past him. Didn’t Brad see him? Nate glanced over and Brad looked as if nothing had happened; he’s humming some tune under his breath that Nate recognized in the recesses of his mind, it felt like Ray.
He closed his eyes once more, took three deep breaths and that’s when he heard it. The voice in his head greeting him, “Long days and pleasant nights,” it said, weathered, male, the man on the side of the road.
“May you have twice the number,” Nate automatically responded. A metaphorical bow of the head and Nate could feel his body relax.
“I see you’ve found your first again,” he said in reference to Brad. Nate nodded. “You’ve got to find the others.”
“We’re trying,” Nate replied. “I can feel them; they’re together, moving, we will meet again, I am assured of it.”
“They will remember you,” he whispered as if scared to alert the cosmos that he was speaking with Nate. “Mine never remember; they don’t know what was before, what is coming, or where they are to go. We cycle through our lives coming together and being torn apart, and they don’t remember. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I do and don’t want to because it would be easier to start anew.”
Nate didn’t know what to say. Is he blessed to have a remembrance of his past? Are the others? There were so many and he could feel them pulsing around himself and the one he was speaking to. The revolvers at his side made Nate’s fingers twitch - rosewood and beautiful, and Nate could feel the weight of them in his hands from just seeing them. But he could also see Ray’s hand closing around one and ending his own life. He could see everything now.
“The desert is where I find mine again,” the voice began speaking again at a regular volume. “Jake never knows what’s coming and when I do I want to stop it, but can’t because that’s not how the world works.”
“Find your ka-tet, Nate and keep them well.”
Nate gasped a ragged breath and as the air filled his lungs it burned as if he hadn’t been breathing. It felt as if parts of his body and mind were once dormitory had woken up, he saw everything now. Brad’s eyebrow lowered in concern, but he said nothing. Nate closes his eyes again and Brad goes back to humming, “at this moment, you mean everything.”
______
The car Walt picked was sensible; the car Ray picked was a piece of shit, but he thought it was cool and had declared “the ‘80s speak to me, Walt!” So that’s how the pair ended up speeding out of New York in an ’88 Camaro.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into riding in this thing,” Walt was watching the snow lightly fall outside of the passenger side window.
Ray just rolled his eyes and sped up.
They drove through the night and most of the next day before stopping at a motel for a few hours; both of them sleeping through a marathon of old Friends re-runs on the television. Ray opened his eyes to find a woman sitting in a wheelchair next to his bed. She had no legs below the knee and looked from a time that Ray could not pinpoint.
She sat half in shadow, with the other half illuminated by the artificial light coming from the television. Ray squinted trying to see all of her, but he couldn’t, the light not permitting him to see everything. Walt was still asleep next to him, undisturbed by the change in the room. Ray started to sweat; he wanted to scoot back up all the way to the headboard, to curl up and will her to disappear, but he became aware that he was fixed to that spot and could not move no matter how hard he wished.
“Don’t be scared,” she said, her voice echoing in his head.
Ray swallowed hard and tried to mentally convince his body to relax. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his words getting stuck in the back of his throat. “I know it’s hard for you,” she continued. “Eddie had a hard time too, he did. Would sweat, and shake, and I would hold him to my chest until it passed,” her hands ghosting up like she could feel a person there against her body.
Eddie? A face flashed in his mind, a smile, a hat that read “Merry.” He gasped a breath that wouldn’t release; it held in his chest as she turned her face to him, their eyes meeting. He knew. Brad, Walt, Nate, their house, the detox, the training and laughing, eating, waking up on Walt’s bedroom floor, running, hiding, the desert… his death.
“Susannah,” he breathed out on the exhale.
She closed her eyes for a second in acknowledgement.
“Stop messing around and keep movin’” she spoke. “You’ve gotten there before. You’re just takin’ a different path now is all.”
“What about the others?” Ray whispered, not wanting to disturb Walt.
“Oh they’ll be there too,” she told him. “Brad’s helping Nate. It’s hard for him; he can feel all of us. You, Me, Walt over there, Eddie, Jake, all the ka-tets before and after. Roland is watching over him.”
“Susannah,” Ray almost didn’t trust his voice. “What happened to us?” Because Ray knew now, he knew what came before. He had read Susannah’s words over and over until they were practically memorized, burned into his brain. She unlocked it for him now, just like Walt had done before in the unknown time when they had lived and trained as one.
“It ended,” she put it simply. “But you went down together, which is more than I can say for my part, so get your ass out of this bed and go!”
Ray laughed a little, always getting yelled at.
“You remind me of my Eddie,” Susannah smiled.
Ray’s eyes opened again and this time he was looking at a sleeping Walt next to him. His Walt. Not in that way, not sexual, but Walt was his through time and space, and now they needed to find the rest.
______
There was a very real chill in the air, but both Brad and Nate were comfortable sitting next to a fire. Out in the country, underneath the stars, Nate watched Brad carve a small piece of wood he found while they were collecting firewood. He kept his eyes fixed on Brad’s hands and the small knife he held there, carving the wood in small strokes. Nate did not know what he’s making, but it reminded him of their last nights together, alone, tearing through the desert. But there in the corner of his mind he could see Brad handing him a carving of a tree and the look on Brad’s face when Nate expressed how he felt about it.
“I remember the trees,” Nate stated, mirroring their words from their first new day together. “All of them, the real ones by our house, the one we stopped under that day, us leaning together just breathing, and the carved one.”
“Christmas,” Brad said, his eyes closing.
“I can’t remember everything,” Brad began speaking, his hands still carving. “But I can see that night like it’s happening now. The four of us sitting around a fire, relaxed, happy, the joy before the terror.” Brad looked over at Nate, “You, me, together that night,” his knife carves off a sliver of wood.
Nate remembers it too of course. He can see it all laid out in front of him like a map of all their lives.
They sat there in silence as the fire cracked and popped, telling them its own story.
“I wonder where Ray and Walt are,” Brad absently wondered aloud.
“Virginia,” Nate told him with a grimace.
______
“Virginia is for Lovers,” Ray waggled his eyebrows as he read the sign they had passed out loud.
Walt was driving now, Ray in the passenger seat with his feet up on the dash. It was snowing pretty heavily, but Walt insisted that he knew where they were going and it was fine. Walt called him a worry-wart, Ray had scoffed, and then told him to put a scarf on because the heater in the car didn’t work that well. Maybe he worried a little.
Ray had fallen asleep like that, with his feet up and his coat draped over him like a blanket. Next thing he knew he was woken up by the sound of Walt shouting “shit!” and pulling over to the side of the road.
“Do I even want to know?” Ray asked, looking over at Walt.
“I think we’ve got a flat tire,” he looked guilty and Ray didn’t know why. Flat tires aren’t really anyone’s fault, shit happens.
It took Ray a few seconds to scoot back up into a proper sitting position and shrug back into his coat. “Don’t worry about it,” Ray said, “let’s just put the spare on.”
Of course there wasn’t a spare. Ray just shrugged, closed the trunk, and motioned for Walt to follow him to the sidewalk.
“Where are we going?” Walt asked, looking nervous.
“We need to call for a tow, there’s no spare tire.”
Ray thought Walt looked like he was going to be sick. “Come on,” he said, putting his arm around Walt’s shoulder and starting them down the road.
It was quiet, no sound except for their feet crunching on the snow beneath their feet. There were holiday lights up still on several of the houses and Ray felt like he was walking in a Christmas card.
“Walt,” Ray’s teeth chattered. “Let’s just stop here, my nose is cold,” he said, leaning in and pressing it against Walt’s cheek.
Walt smiled and pushed Ray away before turning to the house Ray had motioned to. He stopped dead in his tracks.
“No,” Walt said. “Not here.”
The house was normal to Ray’s eyes, and there were lights on. “Come on,” Ray urged, walking towards the bottom set of steps.
“I don’t want to stop here,” Walt looked panicked and small. Ray turned back to the house and saw a woman peering out the window, she looked familiar. Her eyes looked so blue even from the street. Oh god, Ray thought. This is Walt’s house. His parents. Goddammit. He turned back to Walt to tell him he changed his mind, that they should pick somewhere else, whatever Walt wanted. Ray didn’t want him to go through this, but when he looked back Walt’s face had changed, he had resolve in his eyes and pushed forward.
Ray watched as Walt took the stairs two at a time, his hand paused as if to knock, only to change his mind and turn the knob. Click. The door opened slowly to reveal the house, his mom standing off to the left at the entry to the living room. It was like watching a movie, Ray didn’t even feel like he was there anymore. He watched as Walt walked in completely ignoring his mom and picked up the phone. Ray was frozen on the spot, not even wanting to breathe. “Yes, Thank you,” he heard Walt speaking into the phone before dropping it back on the table, not even bothering to hang it up. He strode back out the room, past his mom, past Ray, and at the door he finally turned.
“Oh, hi, Mom,” Walt said off-handedly before grabbing Ray by the hand and slamming the door behind them.
______
The sun won’t seem to let us be. It’s an idea that Nate wanted to make him laugh, but he remembered too much about the endless days that led them to the Cradle to be amused by the sun’s behavior.
“Days shouldn’t be this long yet,” Brad supplied Nate with the words he couldn’t quite decide on.
They really shouldn’t. It was only January; it should have been dark by five o’clock in the evening. It was nearly seven thirty and it was just setting. Nate could feel the time slowing down. Speeding up? He honestly wasn’t sure, but the space between nights was changing in an unnatural pattern. It felt like a homecoming.
Nate opened the glove box to get out a pair of sunglasses Brad had tossed in there a couple days before when he saw a smashed up copy of a book shoved as far back as possible. He turned over the book a few times in his hands before opening it up to read the title page: Catch 22 by Joseph Heller. The next page has a quote “Everyman, I will go with thee, And be thy guide, In thy most need to go by thy side.” Below the quote is a handwritten note, clearly in the looping script of a younger woman.
“For you, I would let you be my guide for a lifetime ~ Kelly.”
Nate’s stomach turned, the lies people told to those he loves. “She’s lying,” he spit out.
“What?” Brad asked, his eyes landing on the book in Nate’s lap.
“She shouldn’t have lied to him. Not him. Walt didn’t deserve that,” Nate’s anger is burning his arms and legs, he could feel it everywhere.
Brad took a deep breath before speaking, “people lie every day, Nate; that’s the way the world is.” Not all of them, Nate thought.
“Walt needed her and she betrayed him.” Nate isn’t sure why he’s so affected by this, but it tears at his insides and makes the fire he feels in his body increase. "Some people don't see what's right in front of them.”
The force of the impact throws them to the side. A small car, a compact definitely smaller than the truck they were in, slammed into the driver’s side just missing the cab. The strength of it pushes Brad over to Nate’s side and Nate instinctively grabs a hold of Brad’s hand in the few seconds where they are turning, turning.
When they come to a stop Brad is sitting there, not moving a bone in his body, but Nate can see his chest is heaving. It takes only a moment and Nate is on his knees atop the seat, his hands running over Brad. “Are you okay? Brad! Brad?!” Nate’s fingers graze everywhere he can see, but there’s nothing.
“I’m fine. I’m fine, Nate,” Brad breathes out, his head moving forward to lean against Nate’s in front of him. “I’m fine.”
______
Ray glanced over at where Walt was sleeping in the passenger seat. For about an hour Walt slept quietly there with the sunlight filling his side of the car. But now he was becoming restless, small noises escaping his mouth.
“She’s lying,” Walt mumbled.
With this Ray turned the radio off completely so he could hear Walt. Part of him wanted to wake him up, let him out of this nightmare he’s having, but the other parts thought that it was important, and that maybe Walt’s dream was telling him something about himself. Maybe about all of them.
Suddenly Walt jerked awake, shooting up straight in his seat. His eyes darted back and forth. Ray watched the panic hit, and then eventually come back down when he realizes where he’s at.
“What were you dreaming about, Walt?” Ray barely asked.
“It was Nate, he found a book,” he paused. “I think it was something to do with me. He and Brad started arguing and then it all went dark and I woke up,” he finished, visibly shaken.
They continued to drive on in silence for ten minutes, Ray thinking about Walt’s dreams. This wasn’t the first one that he had had while they were traveling. There were others, and he knew there would be more.
“You said, ‘she’s lying,’” Ray finally spoke. “Who is ‘she’?”
Walt said nothing, and when Ray looked back at him he saw tears in his eyes. This wasn’t what Ray wanted. He reached over and took Walt’s hand in his, and began to sing under his breath. “Poor old Johnny Ray sounded sad upon the radio. Moved a million hearts in mono, our mothers cried, Sang along, who'd blame them?” Walt’s head lolled toward him, his face relaxing as he joined in “come on Eileen…”
______
“There shouldn’t be desert like this here, Nate.” Brad said from the passenger seat, his eyes scanning the area as they pass.
They had to leave the truck behind; it wouldn’t have been worth it after the crash to fix it up. They were unharmed. The man who hit them, a fellow who went by the name Craig Schwetje, tried to blame them for it as he yelled at them with malice in his voice. They left him there screaming at them on the side of the road as they started walking towards the nearest town.
Things had felt different between them after that. Nate thought that Brad was remembering something; their training, time at the house, them together, and everything that had happened. Maybe he now knew that it wasn’t the first time the two of them had a run-in with Schwetje. They had fled from him on the day with the big tree, dove into a pool to escape and let the water and darkness bring them together as they waited.
Nate glanced at Brad. He was right of course, about the desert, it didn’t belong there.
“Are you listening?” Brad asked, not accusing. “We should be in lush goddamn hills and mountains, Nate. There shouldn’t be desert here.”
“Shouldn’t there be?” Nate asked with a smile.
“No. This is similar to the Southwest, not the South, and definitely not the Southeast,” Brad knew his geography that much was certain.
“Maybe not now, but at one time it was sure to,” Nate told him, speeding forward to their final destination. “At one time.”
______
“Why is it so warm?” Walt was leaning with his right arm completely out of the car as they drove down a country blacktop road.
The pair had left Virginia as fast as possible and didn’t look back. Walt didn’t want to talk about it, but Ray could tell he was still troubled. He wasn’t himself yet, the Walt that he grew to be, the one that tore through the desert and led them on their last day in the right direction. Three days had passed since then; three days full of country roads, sunshine, and Walt dreaming in the passenger seat. Ray knew he was remembering stuff, he could see a subtle shift in his eyes, or the way he visibly relaxed when it was just the two of them.
“I’m serious, Ray,” Walt leaned completely back in the car, interrupting Ray’s thoughts. “Why is it so warm?”
“It’s called the sun, Walter, it warms the earth.”
“Stop the car,” Walt was sitting up even straighter.
“What? Why?”
“Just pull over!” he yelled. Ray looked at him like he had lost his mind. Walt didn’t yell.
“Okay, okay,” Ray complied, coming to a stop on the side of the road.
Walt was out and running out into the grass within seconds before he abruptly stopped and stared up into the sky. Ray watched him, leaning against the passenger side of the car. It was warm; he had to admit that to himself.
“Can you feel that?” Walt whispered, but Ray could hear him as clearly as if he was standing directly at his shoulder.
And Ray did feel it. Heat. And it smelled like late spring.
“How long ago did we leave our apartment?” Walt asked, his head turning to Ray.
“We left New York…four days ago?” Even his own answer made him pause. Had it really only been four days? It felt like longer. “That would mean it’s only January 8th….,” Ray trailed off. “Why is it so warm?!”
Walt barked out a laugh before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the sky. “I think they’re close, Ray. We’re close. I can feel them. Nate is reaching out for us.”
Ray watched the rise and fall of Walt’s chest, as his breath slowed, growing deeper, and for a split second Ray saw a shift in him, like a flicker against a stationary portrait. Ray knew they had to be no more than a couple days out. But Walt didn’t, at least he didn’t think Walt remembered it all yet.
“Come on, Walt,” Ray called out to him. “Let’s go home.”
______
Nate watched Brad sleep, quietly breathing beside him. “The days are not our own,” Nate whispered to him even though he would not hear. “We’re being called together again, we’re given our memories, we’re given sunlight and warmth and I don’t know what’s coming.”
It all spilled out of him at once to vacant ears. Nate’s eyes squeezed shut and he silently counted to three.
______
It was just like Ray remembered it.
The house stood out alone in the clearing. It didn’t look lived in, but it wasn’t run-down. It had the same look it had had their first week there before; an empty house just looking for owners. The large tree next to it was still there watching over their home. The tree he found Nate sitting against when he finally put all the clues of Susannah’s book together; the tree that he laid in the shade of while detoxing. This house had all the memories he ever wanted, and the only ones he needed.
Neither of them could even move. They just sat in the car staring up at the house. What were they going to do now? Save the world? Again? Ray just wanted to be at peace and be with his brothers. He had Walt already, very real in the seat next to him. Brad would be here soon with Nate, and that would be enough.
But he would follow them wherever they’d go, and he knew that about himself, so nothing else mattered.
“What do you think?” Ray looked to Walt, who was still sitting silently at his side.
“I think,” Walt began, “that I watched you almost die in this house. That I cried, and felt lost, and didn’t know myself for an age. I think that I can still feel the loss pouring out of it from being left alone far longer than it wanted. I think it built me up from the ground, and gave me purpose… And I think that I want to go inside now.”
Ray felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“Ray,” Walt finally turned to look at him, reaching his hand out to touch the side of Ray’s face, his fingers grazing where the gunshot wound had once been. “Welcome home.”
______
Brad and Nate stood next to each other at the base of the stairs up to the house.
Nate placed his hand on the banister, “hello,” he told it, squeezing before using his grasp to begin the ascent into the house. At his side Brad had his hand resting on Nate’s back, reassuring, pushing a little; moving them forward.
The screen door was closed, but the main door hung open, revealing the entryway, stairs, and part of the back hall. Ray and Walt are inside somewhere. Nate could feel them, but this sign of occupancy let him know that his senses were right, and that they were all finally in the same space again. As Nate pulled the door open he was forcibly taken aback with the force of Ray jumping on him, his arms wrapping around both he and Brad. Nate could hear Brad laughing beside him and his chest constricted.
Ray had an iron grip on both of them.
“You can let go, Ray,” Nate told him, laughing a little himself. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Ray let go, sliding back down to the ground. He moved aside and Nate saw Walt was there, just standing there behind the screen, quietly watching them all. “Walt,” Nate smiled and pulled him into a hug, the tension falling out of Walt’s body at once. “We’re here now,” he whispered. Brad moved, laid his hand on the back of Walt’s neck, reassuring and welcoming.
“Come inside,” Ray said, pulling the door back open. “I’ve got dinner on.”
Nate smiled, his chin falling to his chest. He’s not even going to ask what Ray’s making, it didn’t matter, he knew now that he’d missed this more than he’d missed anything, and nothing would ever pull them apart again.
“Ever?” Nate could hear Walt’s voice in his head; their eyes catching as Ray and Brad moved past him into the house. Walt was looking at him with something akin to hope in his eyes.
He moved to grab the door before it slammed closed behind Brad. Placing his other hand on Walt’s shoulder, he squeezed as they passed into the house letting the door click shut behind them.
The three, his ka-tet,
Even my memory of those moments is in black and white.
- N. Fick, One Bullet Away
Snapshots of finding their way home
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