FIC: What Remains (part 1 &2)
OH WAIT! I found this! I completely forgot that I wrote it way back when I wasn't procrastinating! This is a one-shot. Yes, that really is the ending.
Title: What Remains (part 1)
Prompt: 09. Ocean
Word Count: 3896
Rating: PG-13
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): Peter/Airlia
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): character death
Summary: A little story about two kids who find love at a summer camp for kids with cancer.
The smoke from the campfire obscured most of the faces in the large clearing. Dusk had just officially appeared out of the depth of the forest, bringing with it a saturating cold and a bevy of flying bugs that seemed lost and confused. Airlia empathized with them. For the last two weeks, she'd bumped up against her fellow campers without settling down next to any one person. They'd swatted at her in irritation but still she couldn't stop. No group felt comfortable. Besides, she kept reminding herself, she didn't need to make any new friends. Soon it would be Fall and she'd be back in her normal routine with her own friends. Her experience at "cancer camp" would be just a memory... if she was lucky.
"Marshmallow?" the boy on the other side asked and she found herself jumping belatedly as she realized he was talking to her.
"Thank you," she breathed, reaching out for the stick that held the gooey mass.
She'd never tried toasting one before, being a true city girl whose idea of outdoor activity usually meant she was at the city zoo or one of the outdoor garden exhibits the city she'd grown up in was known for. Eyeing the people around her, she quickly figured out what she was supposed to do and tried her best to blend in.
"Graham cracker?" The same boy offered her a couple of brown squares that she remembered from tea with her grandmother. She'd never liked them much.
The one thing she'd decided to do this summer was not to let anyone pester her into doing something she didn't want to do. "No thanks." She began shaking her head so quickly that her hair brushed up against the back of her neck and gave her a series of small shivers. "I think the marshmallow is enough sugar for me."
"You're supposed to put them together," retorted a girl from across the fire. This was the only person Airlia hadn't tried interacting with; the golden-haired beauty who held court in the middle of whatever activity they were forced to gather for. "You can't have a S'more without a graham cracker."
Airlia had no intention of saying anything but one of the older girls, more of a counselor than a camper, responded as if she might have been stupid enough to fire back a retort on her own and needed to be defended. "Sure you can. Maybe she just wants to eat the marshmallow. Not everyone is as addicted to chocolate as you are, Julia. Don't think we haven't seen you sneaking candy between meals."
"Whatever, Kendra. She seemed confused. I was only trying to help."
The wind changed direction and Airlia found a wave of smoke clogging her lungs. Pulling back from the warm fire and the strange argument between the girls that she had no real part in, she moved to stand on the other side of the log. It wasn't far enough to get away from the pervading aridness but she hadn't brought a jacket with her like some of the others who were able to move further into the shadowed ring near the trees. She'd been overly warm all afternoon and had forgotten how cold it got up here in the mountains. It never seemed possible for the heat to evaporate into the biting cold that descended without fail every evening.
"Are you going to eat that?" the boy asked. She'd failed to realize that she was still holding the slender stick and half-toasted marshmallow. Shaking her head, she handed it over to him and watched in fascination as he pulled it off and ate it in one bite. "Thanks. It just seemed a waste after you worked so hard on it."
"No problem. I didn't really want it. It's just that you offered and..."
"You didn't want to offend me?" His eyebrows shot up as he completed the sentence she didn't seem able to, nudging the knit cap he wore. It effectively camouflaged his head except at the back of his neck where a sparse sprinkling of hair crept down to his collar. So far, Airlia couldn't remember seeing him without some sort of hat, most of them interesting to the point of absurdity. For instance, during a boat race on the lake, he'd worn a sailor's cap. It had fit so snug on his head that it stayed in place even when he'd been pushed overboard by his jubilant teammates after their win.
There were a thousand other memories like this that Airlia could remember but she could never remember his name. It was something commonplace like Frank or Joe or Norman. She'd heard it over and over but couldn't ever recall it later. Names escaped her like this all the time these days. As did the day of the week or what she'd had for lunch the day before.
"I often offend people without meaning to." She tried to laugh but it was a very matter-of-fact statement. No use trying to cover it up because that always led to more confusion and stress that she didn't need. "My friends are used to it but I think it bothers new people. That's why I'm here. My parents think it will be good for me to meet more people and get out of my comfort zone. I only have one year left of high school before college."
"I'll be a senior next year, too. Where do you live?" He broke off part of the graham cracker and nibbled at it as he watched her, his eyes intent on hers.
"Fremont. Down near the border. I live on the east side. Happsburg Senior High."
"I think our football team plays yours. I go to Cottswald."
They both nodded and Airlia realized he cared about football about as much as she did. The people that might have actually known something about either team were on the other side of the fire. She had no desire to be over there. The ocean of people scared her. How in the world there were so many pretty people in one area without part of the earth cracking and falling into space was beyond her. It was eerie.
"That's about an hour away from the part of Fremont I live in," she responded, not able to think of anything else to say to him.
"Hour and fifteen minutes if you take the Van Buren intersection."
She laughed as she saw the same lost expression on his face that must also be on hers. They were both definitely reaching for conversation topics. "I can never remember names," she admitted, feeling more at ease just because he wasn't either. "I know I should know yours but I don't."
"Peter Wagner. And you're Airlia Metrekos. From the east side of Fremont."
"And you're Peter Wagner with the hats who goes to Cottswald."
They smiled at each other, neither of them completely sure where the conversation was going. Strangely, Airlia would have walked away at this point with anyone else but she wanted to know what might come next. Would he want to discuss the current state of the environment like her friend Penny always did when there was a break in the conversation? Or maybe he'd be more like Jesse and they'd talk about all the books they were reading. She hadn't been able to bring a single book with her, thanks to the fact that her mother thought she would get more done if she didn't constantly have her nose in a book here at camp. Her mother's words. Not her own. She'd never actually put a nose in any book before. It sounded uncomfortable.
There were a few other conversation starters she knew of. Since they'd already discussed hometowns and schools, that took care of nearly half her list. That left favorite foods, ethnic origins and family life. She'd noticed that list was used by most everyone else at camp. There were taboos that they all were intent to stay away from.
"Are marshmallows your favorite-"
"What does your name-"
This time they laughed and she indicated for him to talk. She really hated discussing her name but it was better than anything else.
"What does your name mean?" he asked, interrupted by a flair of smoke that made both of them cough and move slightly further away from the group.
Airlia wrapped her arms around her torso, hoping she wouldn't start to shiver too violently now that she couldn't feel the heat from the flames. "It's Greek. My mother thought it was pretty. She's not sure where her family came from so she's latched onto the fact that my grandparents are first generation Americans. Sometimes I think she's more Greek than they are. Are you named for anyone or did your parents just like the name..." She'd already forgotten his name. Furiously she began to look for the memory of just a few minutes ago. Those were the worst to access because they hadn't had time to really sink in yet.
"Peter," he helped out. She noticed that his smile was strained but at least he was still looking interested in carrying on the conversation. "And no, I'm not named for anyone. My mom was in a production of Peter and the Wolf while she was pregnant with me. Before me and my sisters came along and took up so much of her time, she played first cello in the City Symphony."
"That's impressive. I've always wanted to play an instrument but I didn't have much talent with the recorder in third grade so my parents decided not to throw good money after bad. What are your sister's names?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Is that a trick question? You're not going to remember them if I tell them to you."
"Am I making fun of your side effects?" Airlia asked, glad her arms were already crossed so she didn't look as defensive as she felt. She should have been used to this but she really wasn't. For awhile, she'd started carrying around a notebook but then everyone assumed she was writing a story and begging to be included in the character list. Considering she had as little aptitude for writing as she did for playing the recorder, she hadn't been able to pull that off well. Luckily most of the memory loss was isolated in new memories. How being forced into a situation like this could possibly help her, she didn't know.
This didn't take him down a peg, like she was hoping it would. Nor did it stop him. "Go ahead. I'm not that concerned. If you'd like to see what my head looks like-"
But she put up a hand to stop him from taking off his hat. No telling what he was hiding under there. "Never mind. I was just being irritable."
"Meds?"
She rolled her eyes and nodded. "Although my father thinks I use them as an excuse for being a normal teenager." The ice was broken now and she felt more comfortable trespassing into the subjects they weren't supposed to talk about. "Where's yours?"
"Blood. You?"
"Muscle. My chemo took away my short-term memory but actually gave me nicer hair. It used to be all kinky and I couldn't get a brush through it. Courtesy of my Greek roots. This is much nicer. The doctors consider me a fluke but I'm a fluke who's going to college. And, I suppose, this summer camp. There was no way I could have come to camp last summer. Even one like this that has one staff nurse for every two campers."
His grin spread to his whole face. For a moment, his eyes sparkled even without the light of the fire shining into them. He was... Peter... his name was Peter. Peter was gorgeous in that moment. She was suddenly aware of the fact that her hair had been reacting to the lack of humidity and she'd gotten a very unbecoming sunburn on her face yesterday and this shirt was wrinkled and had a smear of baked beans from dinner where she'd turned her head to listen in on a joke someone was telling at the end of her table and missed the fork altogether.
He noticed her sudden change of attitude and grew flustered. "I didn't mean to... it's just that college is a good thing. I'm traveling through Europe for the summer after graduation. I've always wanted to just be footloose and fancy free. No doctor visits or medication that needs to be taken a certain time. Just freedom."
"That's a nice one. I don't think my parents would let me go that far away just yet. I'm only going to the State University. It's an hour away so I'll feel that I'm getting away from home but they can check up on me to their hearts content. Your parents must have handled this a lot better than mine did."
"Are you kidding me?" He scratched at his ear. There was a bit of down coming out of the hat right there. Having his hair grow back during this heat must make wearing the hats unbearable some days. She was amazed that he still did it but it was hard to break habits. "They've been fighting me on this since I announced it. I'm going with Jeff and Brian, two guys I met here last summer. They're over there."
As he pointed them out, they waved briefly from where they sat over to the side with a group of kids that she'd seen them with before. She was about to wave back but they were already doing their best not to look up, a sure sign that the whole group was paying very close attention to them.
"That's cool that you've made friends here before," she responded shyly, envying him his plans. They were so much broader than hers. She'd barely been able to think her way through the application process and that was because her father was constantly reminding her of due dates and what papers she needed to fill out. "How many years have you been coming here? I've heard some of the kids have been like three or four times."
"This is only my second. Julia, that girl that talked to you earlier," he pointed out the blonde girl who liked chocolate, "is one of the long timers. This is her fifth summer. I've heard that she's completely clean but some of the kids don't know how to act in a regular group of people since this is all they've ever known."
"I'd never been to a camp before this. Give me a city park and that's all the nature I can handle." To prove her point, she swatted at a shadow on her arm but the bug got away before she could do any real damage. "But it's for an entire summer so I'm bound to remember something, right?"
He stepped forward, their eyes locking. "I hope so," he whispered as if he was afraid of anyone overhearing him. "I'd hate to think that you'd forget this conversation."
"Odds are good that I will," she laughed, feeling more at ease about discussing her side effect. He was closer now, his face mere inches from her. It was doing something to her stomach to be able to see the tiny flecks of amber in his dark eyes or the tiny scar on his nose. She wasn't uncomfortable although she was jumpy. What was he doing? Was she expected to understand this because she'd never been this close to a boy before.
He didn't come any closer. "I saw your name on the list of people taking the morning hike. We're going to have to be up awfully early. How about I walk you back to your cabin and then pick you up again when I walk by? That way I can make sure you start the day with someone telling you my name."
"Fine. You've earned the right to walk me back to my cabin. I trust you've stalked me enough to know which one I'm staying in?"
"Forgot?" he asked, his tone light enough that she knew he wasn't joking.
She rolled her eyes and locked arms with him, their arms both cold enough that she didn't figure he'd be able to warm her up, no matter how close she stood to him. "Every single time I leave. Tried writing it down and just ended up having it wash off in the lake. And you'll probably have to tell me your name again tomorrow. I don't know if you've cemented it in my brain well enough."
"Then I'll just have to try harder, won't I?" His eyes were sparkling again, mesmerizing her so that she believed that he might be able to be the first one she was able to retain. "It's fate, Airlia, that you and I met."
"Or the same brochure at the hospitals," she replied dryly but still she smiled brightly. Maybe it was fate. If it was, she might just remember him tomorrow so they wouldn't have to rehash the same bits and pieces of conversation from tonight. "What will you do when you know everything about me and the mystery is gone?"
The dark covered them almost completely as they trudged up the worn dirt path back to the main part of camp. Lights blazed in front of them and behind them where the fire still shot up toward the stars but there was nothing here in the middle. When the main group of campers started back, there would be enough people with flashlights that it wouldn't be hard for them to see where they were going but it was slow going now.
They were silent for most of the trip and Airlia wondered if he was going to answer her question. Finally he pulled his arm out of hers and put it around her shoulders. It was rather uncomfortable walking like this but she finally let herself stand closer to him so that she could anticipate his steps and mimic them.
"I'll just let you ask the questions. Since you won't necessarily remember which ones we've talked about, there will still be plenty of mystery."
She jabbed him in the side with her elbow. "Just for that comment, I think you should go without any of your hats tomorrow. Get a bit of a tan on that skull of yours, Peter"
"For you," he whispered and she felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold run down her spine, "I will. Especially if you say my name like that again."
"Every time I remember it," she promised.
There were plenty of opportunities to remember his name. Peter made sure of it. Each time Airlia saw him, she remembered it a little quicker and with less stress. It was still next to impossible for her to remember what she'd had for lunch all of the previous days but she always knew that she'd had it with him.
She could also remember snippets of conversations they had, some they'd had surrounded by the other campers and some while tucked away in remote parts of the camp, usually overlooking a beautiful spot that Peter knew about. He was bound and determined that she take back something of the nature that she'd never experienced before. And when they weren't talking, they were involved with the other campers. Large group events seemed to be the only way the directors of the camp could think to keep everyone occupied. At first, Airlia had been opposed to becoming involved in these but, with Peter's help, she gradually discovered how much she enjoyed being around people again.
"What does it mean we have to find a red sock?"
The five other people in her group looked at her strangely. "It's on the list. A red sock. We have to find-"
She waved away the explanation, irritated that she hadn't kept her mouth shut. They were plotting out what they could get first on the list of the Scavenger Hunt items and she'd remembered that she had a pair of red socks. They were more like thin slippers but she thought they would work. "I meant, is it legal if I find a pair of red socks in my suitcase?"
There was a pause as everyone processed her answer and the fact that she'd had something intelligent to add to the discussion where normally she'd stayed silent, before they all started laughing. Airlia laughed along but really she was still irritated. There was a week left of camp as the director had so calmly reminded them this morning and she was stuck playing this game with a bunch of people she wouldn't remember in three weeks time, no matter how many pictures she might bring back with her. The person she most wanted to spend time with was on another team and had gone in a completely opposite direction than her team.
"Have fun," he'd yelled over his shoulder as he'd joined his group, the sun making the yellow fluff on the top of his head look like gold.
"You're going to lose," she hollered back, trying not to let the keen sense of loss she felt at not having him by her side sour this experience. With any luck, the sense of fun and camaraderie would carry everyone past the fact that she couldn't figure out if she'd ever talked with them or not.
It took longer than they thought it would to complete the entire list and the head of the group kept insisting that they finish instead of going back with a partial list. Airlia didn't seem to care one way or the other. She was missing being with Peter but she found she was competitive enough that she agreed about finishing the list. At long last they limped back to where they'd started from, weary and sunburned but victorious. No one else was there.
"We aren't that far behind everyone else, are we?
The leader of the group once again took charge and began to shepherd them forward. "It's almost lunch time. Let's just head over to the mess hall. They probably decided not to wait for us."
"Or someone got hurt." One of the girls pointed out the flashing lights as they rounded a corner in the trail. An ambulance sat at a haphazard angle to the main doors to the large building, it's back doors open wide and effectively cutting off their view of the chaos.
As a group, they all stopped walking. All of them knew what an ambulance implied. Here at camp, they'd been able to get away from the more obvious affects of their diseases even though the specter of it was always with them. Everyone was in on the attempt to make this seem like as much a normal camp as possible. But what camp had their own ambulance that could make it to the helipad in less than ten minutes?
"I wonder who it is," speculated the short girl that had known where to find the biggest pine cones.
Airlia was the only one who looked down at her, needing to look away from the bright lights to get her bearings once again. There was as much pain in her heart as there was the same sick delight as any spectator of a horrific event gets, knowing she was safe for the moment. There, but the grace of God, go I.
Title: What Remains (part 2)
Prompt: You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly-that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” Anne Lamott
Word Count: 1574
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): Peter/Airlia
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): character death
Summary: What is given can be easily taken away.
The ambulance drove away before any of them could speculate more. They walk into the mess hall, the group of them the only silent ones in the room. The news of whatever had happened had spread through camp like a wild fire in dry heat. Airlia stayed with the group, at a loss now because Peter wasn't where she could see him and everyone seemed to be staring straight at her.
"I'm genuinely creeped out now," the boy next to her hissed, his thin limbs wrapped around himself as if he could erect a shield that might keep out the bad news. "Something bad happened. Everyone's scared."
"Are you okay?" one of the nurses asked as she approached the group. She was looking straight at Airlia who turned to look around at the other people in her group, trying to figure out why she had this niggling suspicion that she was being separated out from the group as a whole, before turning back around to stare into the sad eyes of the older woman.
Airlia shrugged. "Sure. A little tired from running around today."
"You haven't heard?" The woman took one of her hands between both of her larger ones. There were freckles all over on her skin, a sadistic game of connect the dots captured forever thanks to sun damage. "Peter fell from some rocks and hit his head."
"Will he be okay?" someone asked from behind her when she couldn't get the question to come out properly, her mouth just hanging open as if she'd had a stroke and lost her ability to speak.
The woman shook her head slowly, her hair looking dull and lifeless as it swung around and struck her cheek. More freckles. Lighter there. She must take better care of the skin on her face. Sun damage was hard to reverse. "We couldn't get him to wake up. The doctors don't know if they'll be able to do any thing more for him. It doesn't look good."
Now she knew why all the eyes were staring at her. They were looking at her to tell them that their grief was okay. Surely they were expecting a full-fledged tantrum of some sort. Crying. Lashing out. Falling to the ground in a swoon. After all, she and Peter had been inseparable for the last few weeks. She should have some outpouring of emotion. When she'd found out that she had cancer, she'd cried. Surely she could shed a few tears for this boy who had made her remember so much. Her grief was internal, shutting down functions that weren't needed anymore.
She hunched forward, her hands over her stomach as if she could keep the sick feeling inside. There were tears but they were burning the back of her eyes instead of streaming down her cheeks. It was too much. The emotions were overloading her system. She couldn't stay here.
"I want to go home," she whispered, her voice ragged and hoarse. "Just take me home."
Her parents welcomed her home, not once mentioning that she was back three weeks early. They let her sleep the day away, something they'd never allowed her to do even when she'd been at her sickest. When they talked to her, she felt as if she was made of glass and they were afraid of causing her to crack.
When the school year began, Airlia let herself be pulled into all that it meant to be a senior except for one thing. She couldn't bring herself to go to the Homecoming football game. Her ticket to the dance afterward was purchased and her new dress perfectly altered to her slightly heavier frame, thanks to a new found love of chocolate and marshmallows that she couldn't seem to stop eating no matter how hard she tried. But nothing could make her go to the game, not even the cute boy in her United States Government class offering to teach her the intricate rules before the big day. Neither the game nor the boy interested her.
Why, she wondered as she sat curled up on her window seat, an old baseball cap of her father's clutched in her hands. Why did the very idea of going to the game make her physically ill? She'd even tried to help make some signs for the pep rally but had been forced to set down the paint marker before she could complete the whole saying. Hers had only shown the words Beat the Coyotes. Send Co which made absolutely no sense.
Someone else had finished it for her so that it read Beat the Coyotes. Send Cottswald to the moon. It was a rather inane saying but it's what the pep squad had wanted. Complaining of an upset stomach, she'd escaped from having to finish up her obligation and walked home. Now she wondered if she shouldn't have stayed there. At least the flighty conversation had kept her own questions at bay.
"How's your memory these days?" the doctor asked at her check up the day after the dance. She'd had fun but had once again come home early, her stomach still a roiling mass of conflicted nerves. While she'd mentioned these sudden attack of nerves, the doctor had seemed to dismiss it. He was more concerned with sleep patterns and white blood counts, questions she could have answered while in a coma as many times as she'd had to answer them over the past several years.
"Better. At least, it feels better. Since school's started, I've seemed to remember more and more all the time."
"And what about your summer? How much of that do you remember?"
"My summer?" She looked at him blankly, struggling with the answer to that question. School had ended... and school had begun again. There was nothing between that she could remember.
The doctor sat down his pen, steepled his hands under his chin as he concentrated on her completely. "Yes. Your summer. You went to camp. You don't remember?"
"I don't." But she was lying. Not that she didn't remember. That was true. For some reason, she didn't want to remember. There was something inside her, telling her that it wasn't worth the effort. She grabbed at her stomach, bending down until her forehead almost touched her knees. "I don't remember anything."
"Not even Peter?"
She let out an anguished cry as the cramps ripped through her, rendering muscle and bone into seething masses of pain. "I don't remember," she repeated. "Don't make me remember."
"If you forget," he said quietly, right beside her ear, "who will remember him? Who will tell the stories of his last summer?"
"His parents," she spit out, her teeth grinding together so fiercely that she felt every ridge of her molars.
Somehow they were both on the floor and she was leaning into him. This man who had healed her was ripping her apart and still she clung to him as if he could fix her again. There were pieces missing this time. Pieces that she had destroyed. It had been deliberate. Oh, she remembered that part. The nights curled under the blankets of her bed, taking out everything she might remember from camp and pushing it so far back into her subconscious that it was lost behind a maze of useless memories that she never cared about anymore.
"His parents weren't there. They don't know about you or what you shared with Peter. What you meant to him."
"I didn't mean anything. Nothing. I was nothing to him. It was just a fling. It couldn't have lasted. It was just a few hours."
"That changed his life. Did they change yours?"
There weren't any tears but she couldn't hold back the sobs. All the pain she'd been feeling lately seemed to be bubbling to the surface where she could no longer contain it. "How do you know this?" she cried, pounding at his chest with open palms.
"He told me," the doctor said quietly, his face still calm and collected as if they were discussing diet and exercise. "He was awake for a few hours before he slipped back into the coma that he never woke up from. Peter was one of my patients. One of the success stories."
She couldn't stop the scream that erupted even though she tried to stop it before it ripped her apart. "But he died."
"Shouldn't you try harder to remember the moments you spent together? You were the last person he talked about, Airlia. He remembered you."
This time the scream was wordless, a burst of energy and sound that emptied her completely. She lay limp in the doctor's arms, her breathing shallow as she struggled to come to terms with the emptiness inside her heart for the first time. How could she have forgotten Peter? Peter Wagner. The boy who ate her first attempt at toasting a marshmallow and kissed her for the first time on the ramp out in the middle of the lake in the middle of the night when it was too hot to sleep. They'd made plans to meet at the Homecoming game and he was going to buy her some hot cocoa with little mini marshmallows on top and then kiss the foam off her lips.
"I remember him," she gasped, her inner eye growing dizzy from the speed that the memories were replaying. "His name was Peter Wagner. I think I loved him."
This entry was cross posted at dreamwidth - where the cool kids hang out.
Title: What Remains (part 1)
Prompt: 09. Ocean
Word Count: 3896
Rating: PG-13
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): Peter/Airlia
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): character death
Summary: A little story about two kids who find love at a summer camp for kids with cancer.
The smoke from the campfire obscured most of the faces in the large clearing. Dusk had just officially appeared out of the depth of the forest, bringing with it a saturating cold and a bevy of flying bugs that seemed lost and confused. Airlia empathized with them. For the last two weeks, she'd bumped up against her fellow campers without settling down next to any one person. They'd swatted at her in irritation but still she couldn't stop. No group felt comfortable. Besides, she kept reminding herself, she didn't need to make any new friends. Soon it would be Fall and she'd be back in her normal routine with her own friends. Her experience at "cancer camp" would be just a memory... if she was lucky.
"Marshmallow?" the boy on the other side asked and she found herself jumping belatedly as she realized he was talking to her.
"Thank you," she breathed, reaching out for the stick that held the gooey mass.
She'd never tried toasting one before, being a true city girl whose idea of outdoor activity usually meant she was at the city zoo or one of the outdoor garden exhibits the city she'd grown up in was known for. Eyeing the people around her, she quickly figured out what she was supposed to do and tried her best to blend in.
"Graham cracker?" The same boy offered her a couple of brown squares that she remembered from tea with her grandmother. She'd never liked them much.
The one thing she'd decided to do this summer was not to let anyone pester her into doing something she didn't want to do. "No thanks." She began shaking her head so quickly that her hair brushed up against the back of her neck and gave her a series of small shivers. "I think the marshmallow is enough sugar for me."
"You're supposed to put them together," retorted a girl from across the fire. This was the only person Airlia hadn't tried interacting with; the golden-haired beauty who held court in the middle of whatever activity they were forced to gather for. "You can't have a S'more without a graham cracker."
Airlia had no intention of saying anything but one of the older girls, more of a counselor than a camper, responded as if she might have been stupid enough to fire back a retort on her own and needed to be defended. "Sure you can. Maybe she just wants to eat the marshmallow. Not everyone is as addicted to chocolate as you are, Julia. Don't think we haven't seen you sneaking candy between meals."
"Whatever, Kendra. She seemed confused. I was only trying to help."
The wind changed direction and Airlia found a wave of smoke clogging her lungs. Pulling back from the warm fire and the strange argument between the girls that she had no real part in, she moved to stand on the other side of the log. It wasn't far enough to get away from the pervading aridness but she hadn't brought a jacket with her like some of the others who were able to move further into the shadowed ring near the trees. She'd been overly warm all afternoon and had forgotten how cold it got up here in the mountains. It never seemed possible for the heat to evaporate into the biting cold that descended without fail every evening.
"Are you going to eat that?" the boy asked. She'd failed to realize that she was still holding the slender stick and half-toasted marshmallow. Shaking her head, she handed it over to him and watched in fascination as he pulled it off and ate it in one bite. "Thanks. It just seemed a waste after you worked so hard on it."
"No problem. I didn't really want it. It's just that you offered and..."
"You didn't want to offend me?" His eyebrows shot up as he completed the sentence she didn't seem able to, nudging the knit cap he wore. It effectively camouflaged his head except at the back of his neck where a sparse sprinkling of hair crept down to his collar. So far, Airlia couldn't remember seeing him without some sort of hat, most of them interesting to the point of absurdity. For instance, during a boat race on the lake, he'd worn a sailor's cap. It had fit so snug on his head that it stayed in place even when he'd been pushed overboard by his jubilant teammates after their win.
There were a thousand other memories like this that Airlia could remember but she could never remember his name. It was something commonplace like Frank or Joe or Norman. She'd heard it over and over but couldn't ever recall it later. Names escaped her like this all the time these days. As did the day of the week or what she'd had for lunch the day before.
"I often offend people without meaning to." She tried to laugh but it was a very matter-of-fact statement. No use trying to cover it up because that always led to more confusion and stress that she didn't need. "My friends are used to it but I think it bothers new people. That's why I'm here. My parents think it will be good for me to meet more people and get out of my comfort zone. I only have one year left of high school before college."
"I'll be a senior next year, too. Where do you live?" He broke off part of the graham cracker and nibbled at it as he watched her, his eyes intent on hers.
"Fremont. Down near the border. I live on the east side. Happsburg Senior High."
"I think our football team plays yours. I go to Cottswald."
They both nodded and Airlia realized he cared about football about as much as she did. The people that might have actually known something about either team were on the other side of the fire. She had no desire to be over there. The ocean of people scared her. How in the world there were so many pretty people in one area without part of the earth cracking and falling into space was beyond her. It was eerie.
"That's about an hour away from the part of Fremont I live in," she responded, not able to think of anything else to say to him.
"Hour and fifteen minutes if you take the Van Buren intersection."
She laughed as she saw the same lost expression on his face that must also be on hers. They were both definitely reaching for conversation topics. "I can never remember names," she admitted, feeling more at ease just because he wasn't either. "I know I should know yours but I don't."
"Peter Wagner. And you're Airlia Metrekos. From the east side of Fremont."
"And you're Peter Wagner with the hats who goes to Cottswald."
They smiled at each other, neither of them completely sure where the conversation was going. Strangely, Airlia would have walked away at this point with anyone else but she wanted to know what might come next. Would he want to discuss the current state of the environment like her friend Penny always did when there was a break in the conversation? Or maybe he'd be more like Jesse and they'd talk about all the books they were reading. She hadn't been able to bring a single book with her, thanks to the fact that her mother thought she would get more done if she didn't constantly have her nose in a book here at camp. Her mother's words. Not her own. She'd never actually put a nose in any book before. It sounded uncomfortable.
There were a few other conversation starters she knew of. Since they'd already discussed hometowns and schools, that took care of nearly half her list. That left favorite foods, ethnic origins and family life. She'd noticed that list was used by most everyone else at camp. There were taboos that they all were intent to stay away from.
"Are marshmallows your favorite-"
"What does your name-"
This time they laughed and she indicated for him to talk. She really hated discussing her name but it was better than anything else.
"What does your name mean?" he asked, interrupted by a flair of smoke that made both of them cough and move slightly further away from the group.
Airlia wrapped her arms around her torso, hoping she wouldn't start to shiver too violently now that she couldn't feel the heat from the flames. "It's Greek. My mother thought it was pretty. She's not sure where her family came from so she's latched onto the fact that my grandparents are first generation Americans. Sometimes I think she's more Greek than they are. Are you named for anyone or did your parents just like the name..." She'd already forgotten his name. Furiously she began to look for the memory of just a few minutes ago. Those were the worst to access because they hadn't had time to really sink in yet.
"Peter," he helped out. She noticed that his smile was strained but at least he was still looking interested in carrying on the conversation. "And no, I'm not named for anyone. My mom was in a production of Peter and the Wolf while she was pregnant with me. Before me and my sisters came along and took up so much of her time, she played first cello in the City Symphony."
"That's impressive. I've always wanted to play an instrument but I didn't have much talent with the recorder in third grade so my parents decided not to throw good money after bad. What are your sister's names?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Is that a trick question? You're not going to remember them if I tell them to you."
"Am I making fun of your side effects?" Airlia asked, glad her arms were already crossed so she didn't look as defensive as she felt. She should have been used to this but she really wasn't. For awhile, she'd started carrying around a notebook but then everyone assumed she was writing a story and begging to be included in the character list. Considering she had as little aptitude for writing as she did for playing the recorder, she hadn't been able to pull that off well. Luckily most of the memory loss was isolated in new memories. How being forced into a situation like this could possibly help her, she didn't know.
This didn't take him down a peg, like she was hoping it would. Nor did it stop him. "Go ahead. I'm not that concerned. If you'd like to see what my head looks like-"
But she put up a hand to stop him from taking off his hat. No telling what he was hiding under there. "Never mind. I was just being irritable."
"Meds?"
She rolled her eyes and nodded. "Although my father thinks I use them as an excuse for being a normal teenager." The ice was broken now and she felt more comfortable trespassing into the subjects they weren't supposed to talk about. "Where's yours?"
"Blood. You?"
"Muscle. My chemo took away my short-term memory but actually gave me nicer hair. It used to be all kinky and I couldn't get a brush through it. Courtesy of my Greek roots. This is much nicer. The doctors consider me a fluke but I'm a fluke who's going to college. And, I suppose, this summer camp. There was no way I could have come to camp last summer. Even one like this that has one staff nurse for every two campers."
His grin spread to his whole face. For a moment, his eyes sparkled even without the light of the fire shining into them. He was... Peter... his name was Peter. Peter was gorgeous in that moment. She was suddenly aware of the fact that her hair had been reacting to the lack of humidity and she'd gotten a very unbecoming sunburn on her face yesterday and this shirt was wrinkled and had a smear of baked beans from dinner where she'd turned her head to listen in on a joke someone was telling at the end of her table and missed the fork altogether.
He noticed her sudden change of attitude and grew flustered. "I didn't mean to... it's just that college is a good thing. I'm traveling through Europe for the summer after graduation. I've always wanted to just be footloose and fancy free. No doctor visits or medication that needs to be taken a certain time. Just freedom."
"That's a nice one. I don't think my parents would let me go that far away just yet. I'm only going to the State University. It's an hour away so I'll feel that I'm getting away from home but they can check up on me to their hearts content. Your parents must have handled this a lot better than mine did."
"Are you kidding me?" He scratched at his ear. There was a bit of down coming out of the hat right there. Having his hair grow back during this heat must make wearing the hats unbearable some days. She was amazed that he still did it but it was hard to break habits. "They've been fighting me on this since I announced it. I'm going with Jeff and Brian, two guys I met here last summer. They're over there."
As he pointed them out, they waved briefly from where they sat over to the side with a group of kids that she'd seen them with before. She was about to wave back but they were already doing their best not to look up, a sure sign that the whole group was paying very close attention to them.
"That's cool that you've made friends here before," she responded shyly, envying him his plans. They were so much broader than hers. She'd barely been able to think her way through the application process and that was because her father was constantly reminding her of due dates and what papers she needed to fill out. "How many years have you been coming here? I've heard some of the kids have been like three or four times."
"This is only my second. Julia, that girl that talked to you earlier," he pointed out the blonde girl who liked chocolate, "is one of the long timers. This is her fifth summer. I've heard that she's completely clean but some of the kids don't know how to act in a regular group of people since this is all they've ever known."
"I'd never been to a camp before this. Give me a city park and that's all the nature I can handle." To prove her point, she swatted at a shadow on her arm but the bug got away before she could do any real damage. "But it's for an entire summer so I'm bound to remember something, right?"
He stepped forward, their eyes locking. "I hope so," he whispered as if he was afraid of anyone overhearing him. "I'd hate to think that you'd forget this conversation."
"Odds are good that I will," she laughed, feeling more at ease about discussing her side effect. He was closer now, his face mere inches from her. It was doing something to her stomach to be able to see the tiny flecks of amber in his dark eyes or the tiny scar on his nose. She wasn't uncomfortable although she was jumpy. What was he doing? Was she expected to understand this because she'd never been this close to a boy before.
He didn't come any closer. "I saw your name on the list of people taking the morning hike. We're going to have to be up awfully early. How about I walk you back to your cabin and then pick you up again when I walk by? That way I can make sure you start the day with someone telling you my name."
"Fine. You've earned the right to walk me back to my cabin. I trust you've stalked me enough to know which one I'm staying in?"
"Forgot?" he asked, his tone light enough that she knew he wasn't joking.
She rolled her eyes and locked arms with him, their arms both cold enough that she didn't figure he'd be able to warm her up, no matter how close she stood to him. "Every single time I leave. Tried writing it down and just ended up having it wash off in the lake. And you'll probably have to tell me your name again tomorrow. I don't know if you've cemented it in my brain well enough."
"Then I'll just have to try harder, won't I?" His eyes were sparkling again, mesmerizing her so that she believed that he might be able to be the first one she was able to retain. "It's fate, Airlia, that you and I met."
"Or the same brochure at the hospitals," she replied dryly but still she smiled brightly. Maybe it was fate. If it was, she might just remember him tomorrow so they wouldn't have to rehash the same bits and pieces of conversation from tonight. "What will you do when you know everything about me and the mystery is gone?"
The dark covered them almost completely as they trudged up the worn dirt path back to the main part of camp. Lights blazed in front of them and behind them where the fire still shot up toward the stars but there was nothing here in the middle. When the main group of campers started back, there would be enough people with flashlights that it wouldn't be hard for them to see where they were going but it was slow going now.
They were silent for most of the trip and Airlia wondered if he was going to answer her question. Finally he pulled his arm out of hers and put it around her shoulders. It was rather uncomfortable walking like this but she finally let herself stand closer to him so that she could anticipate his steps and mimic them.
"I'll just let you ask the questions. Since you won't necessarily remember which ones we've talked about, there will still be plenty of mystery."
She jabbed him in the side with her elbow. "Just for that comment, I think you should go without any of your hats tomorrow. Get a bit of a tan on that skull of yours, Peter"
"For you," he whispered and she felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold run down her spine, "I will. Especially if you say my name like that again."
"Every time I remember it," she promised.
There were plenty of opportunities to remember his name. Peter made sure of it. Each time Airlia saw him, she remembered it a little quicker and with less stress. It was still next to impossible for her to remember what she'd had for lunch all of the previous days but she always knew that she'd had it with him.
She could also remember snippets of conversations they had, some they'd had surrounded by the other campers and some while tucked away in remote parts of the camp, usually overlooking a beautiful spot that Peter knew about. He was bound and determined that she take back something of the nature that she'd never experienced before. And when they weren't talking, they were involved with the other campers. Large group events seemed to be the only way the directors of the camp could think to keep everyone occupied. At first, Airlia had been opposed to becoming involved in these but, with Peter's help, she gradually discovered how much she enjoyed being around people again.
"What does it mean we have to find a red sock?"
The five other people in her group looked at her strangely. "It's on the list. A red sock. We have to find-"
She waved away the explanation, irritated that she hadn't kept her mouth shut. They were plotting out what they could get first on the list of the Scavenger Hunt items and she'd remembered that she had a pair of red socks. They were more like thin slippers but she thought they would work. "I meant, is it legal if I find a pair of red socks in my suitcase?"
There was a pause as everyone processed her answer and the fact that she'd had something intelligent to add to the discussion where normally she'd stayed silent, before they all started laughing. Airlia laughed along but really she was still irritated. There was a week left of camp as the director had so calmly reminded them this morning and she was stuck playing this game with a bunch of people she wouldn't remember in three weeks time, no matter how many pictures she might bring back with her. The person she most wanted to spend time with was on another team and had gone in a completely opposite direction than her team.
"Have fun," he'd yelled over his shoulder as he'd joined his group, the sun making the yellow fluff on the top of his head look like gold.
"You're going to lose," she hollered back, trying not to let the keen sense of loss she felt at not having him by her side sour this experience. With any luck, the sense of fun and camaraderie would carry everyone past the fact that she couldn't figure out if she'd ever talked with them or not.
It took longer than they thought it would to complete the entire list and the head of the group kept insisting that they finish instead of going back with a partial list. Airlia didn't seem to care one way or the other. She was missing being with Peter but she found she was competitive enough that she agreed about finishing the list. At long last they limped back to where they'd started from, weary and sunburned but victorious. No one else was there.
"We aren't that far behind everyone else, are we?
The leader of the group once again took charge and began to shepherd them forward. "It's almost lunch time. Let's just head over to the mess hall. They probably decided not to wait for us."
"Or someone got hurt." One of the girls pointed out the flashing lights as they rounded a corner in the trail. An ambulance sat at a haphazard angle to the main doors to the large building, it's back doors open wide and effectively cutting off their view of the chaos.
As a group, they all stopped walking. All of them knew what an ambulance implied. Here at camp, they'd been able to get away from the more obvious affects of their diseases even though the specter of it was always with them. Everyone was in on the attempt to make this seem like as much a normal camp as possible. But what camp had their own ambulance that could make it to the helipad in less than ten minutes?
"I wonder who it is," speculated the short girl that had known where to find the biggest pine cones.
Airlia was the only one who looked down at her, needing to look away from the bright lights to get her bearings once again. There was as much pain in her heart as there was the same sick delight as any spectator of a horrific event gets, knowing she was safe for the moment. There, but the grace of God, go I.
Title: What Remains (part 2)
Prompt: You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly-that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” Anne Lamott
Word Count: 1574
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any): Peter/Airlia
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con/RPF etc): character death
Summary: What is given can be easily taken away.
The ambulance drove away before any of them could speculate more. They walk into the mess hall, the group of them the only silent ones in the room. The news of whatever had happened had spread through camp like a wild fire in dry heat. Airlia stayed with the group, at a loss now because Peter wasn't where she could see him and everyone seemed to be staring straight at her.
"I'm genuinely creeped out now," the boy next to her hissed, his thin limbs wrapped around himself as if he could erect a shield that might keep out the bad news. "Something bad happened. Everyone's scared."
"Are you okay?" one of the nurses asked as she approached the group. She was looking straight at Airlia who turned to look around at the other people in her group, trying to figure out why she had this niggling suspicion that she was being separated out from the group as a whole, before turning back around to stare into the sad eyes of the older woman.
Airlia shrugged. "Sure. A little tired from running around today."
"You haven't heard?" The woman took one of her hands between both of her larger ones. There were freckles all over on her skin, a sadistic game of connect the dots captured forever thanks to sun damage. "Peter fell from some rocks and hit his head."
"Will he be okay?" someone asked from behind her when she couldn't get the question to come out properly, her mouth just hanging open as if she'd had a stroke and lost her ability to speak.
The woman shook her head slowly, her hair looking dull and lifeless as it swung around and struck her cheek. More freckles. Lighter there. She must take better care of the skin on her face. Sun damage was hard to reverse. "We couldn't get him to wake up. The doctors don't know if they'll be able to do any thing more for him. It doesn't look good."
Now she knew why all the eyes were staring at her. They were looking at her to tell them that their grief was okay. Surely they were expecting a full-fledged tantrum of some sort. Crying. Lashing out. Falling to the ground in a swoon. After all, she and Peter had been inseparable for the last few weeks. She should have some outpouring of emotion. When she'd found out that she had cancer, she'd cried. Surely she could shed a few tears for this boy who had made her remember so much. Her grief was internal, shutting down functions that weren't needed anymore.
She hunched forward, her hands over her stomach as if she could keep the sick feeling inside. There were tears but they were burning the back of her eyes instead of streaming down her cheeks. It was too much. The emotions were overloading her system. She couldn't stay here.
"I want to go home," she whispered, her voice ragged and hoarse. "Just take me home."
Her parents welcomed her home, not once mentioning that she was back three weeks early. They let her sleep the day away, something they'd never allowed her to do even when she'd been at her sickest. When they talked to her, she felt as if she was made of glass and they were afraid of causing her to crack.
When the school year began, Airlia let herself be pulled into all that it meant to be a senior except for one thing. She couldn't bring herself to go to the Homecoming football game. Her ticket to the dance afterward was purchased and her new dress perfectly altered to her slightly heavier frame, thanks to a new found love of chocolate and marshmallows that she couldn't seem to stop eating no matter how hard she tried. But nothing could make her go to the game, not even the cute boy in her United States Government class offering to teach her the intricate rules before the big day. Neither the game nor the boy interested her.
Why, she wondered as she sat curled up on her window seat, an old baseball cap of her father's clutched in her hands. Why did the very idea of going to the game make her physically ill? She'd even tried to help make some signs for the pep rally but had been forced to set down the paint marker before she could complete the whole saying. Hers had only shown the words Beat the Coyotes. Send Co which made absolutely no sense.
Someone else had finished it for her so that it read Beat the Coyotes. Send Cottswald to the moon. It was a rather inane saying but it's what the pep squad had wanted. Complaining of an upset stomach, she'd escaped from having to finish up her obligation and walked home. Now she wondered if she shouldn't have stayed there. At least the flighty conversation had kept her own questions at bay.
"How's your memory these days?" the doctor asked at her check up the day after the dance. She'd had fun but had once again come home early, her stomach still a roiling mass of conflicted nerves. While she'd mentioned these sudden attack of nerves, the doctor had seemed to dismiss it. He was more concerned with sleep patterns and white blood counts, questions she could have answered while in a coma as many times as she'd had to answer them over the past several years.
"Better. At least, it feels better. Since school's started, I've seemed to remember more and more all the time."
"And what about your summer? How much of that do you remember?"
"My summer?" She looked at him blankly, struggling with the answer to that question. School had ended... and school had begun again. There was nothing between that she could remember.
The doctor sat down his pen, steepled his hands under his chin as he concentrated on her completely. "Yes. Your summer. You went to camp. You don't remember?"
"I don't." But she was lying. Not that she didn't remember. That was true. For some reason, she didn't want to remember. There was something inside her, telling her that it wasn't worth the effort. She grabbed at her stomach, bending down until her forehead almost touched her knees. "I don't remember anything."
"Not even Peter?"
She let out an anguished cry as the cramps ripped through her, rendering muscle and bone into seething masses of pain. "I don't remember," she repeated. "Don't make me remember."
"If you forget," he said quietly, right beside her ear, "who will remember him? Who will tell the stories of his last summer?"
"His parents," she spit out, her teeth grinding together so fiercely that she felt every ridge of her molars.
Somehow they were both on the floor and she was leaning into him. This man who had healed her was ripping her apart and still she clung to him as if he could fix her again. There were pieces missing this time. Pieces that she had destroyed. It had been deliberate. Oh, she remembered that part. The nights curled under the blankets of her bed, taking out everything she might remember from camp and pushing it so far back into her subconscious that it was lost behind a maze of useless memories that she never cared about anymore.
"His parents weren't there. They don't know about you or what you shared with Peter. What you meant to him."
"I didn't mean anything. Nothing. I was nothing to him. It was just a fling. It couldn't have lasted. It was just a few hours."
"That changed his life. Did they change yours?"
There weren't any tears but she couldn't hold back the sobs. All the pain she'd been feeling lately seemed to be bubbling to the surface where she could no longer contain it. "How do you know this?" she cried, pounding at his chest with open palms.
"He told me," the doctor said quietly, his face still calm and collected as if they were discussing diet and exercise. "He was awake for a few hours before he slipped back into the coma that he never woke up from. Peter was one of my patients. One of the success stories."
She couldn't stop the scream that erupted even though she tried to stop it before it ripped her apart. "But he died."
"Shouldn't you try harder to remember the moments you spent together? You were the last person he talked about, Airlia. He remembered you."
This time the scream was wordless, a burst of energy and sound that emptied her completely. She lay limp in the doctor's arms, her breathing shallow as she struggled to come to terms with the emptiness inside her heart for the first time. How could she have forgotten Peter? Peter Wagner. The boy who ate her first attempt at toasting a marshmallow and kissed her for the first time on the ramp out in the middle of the lake in the middle of the night when it was too hot to sleep. They'd made plans to meet at the Homecoming game and he was going to buy her some hot cocoa with little mini marshmallows on top and then kiss the foam off her lips.
"I remember him," she gasped, her inner eye growing dizzy from the speed that the memories were replaying. "His name was Peter Wagner. I think I loved him."
This entry was cross posted at dreamwidth - where the cool kids hang out.