Peanut Butter Week I
Title: I Will Not Last the Night
Story Continuity: Down By the Water (icebreaker canon)
Flavors: Peanut Butter 1: fire, Blueberry Yogurt 28: for your own good, Papaya 1: because I said so
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 834
Summary: Dawn has a vague warning for Jemesk.
"I've been trying to reach you ever since you killed me," Dawn said, after Jemesk fell onto the nearest seat. "There's something chasing me on the other side."
There were a lot of reasonable responses to that. He could have asked what was chasing her. He could have asked why he would kill his own wife, or if she was there to exact vengeance on him. On the other hand, what the everlasting hell.
"Husband," Jemesk said, shocked blank. "I had a wife, and nobody thought to tell me. I killed my own wife, and nobody thought to tell me. Sorry about that, by the way."
"It was probably for the best," Dawn said. Her smile was soft and reassuring, but there was something serrated behind it. The room seemed colder; Jem wondered if it was just her smile. "You'll understand one day. How much did they take from you, really? This is important, Jem."
"I woke up knowing only Common, most of my basic job skills, and my name," Jemesk said. "That was six weeks ago. But I'm being reeducated. There was an accident during the operation. They told me the surgeon at fault had been punished, and that I was lucky I hadn't woken up a vegetable."
That was all they had thought he should know, but he suspected there was more. Jem assumed it was rather more innocuous than Dawn was making it seem, but women didn't come back from the dead to not kill their murdering husbands for no reason. He woke up with his entire body ablaze with pain in a large, sparse white room, with Dr. Bailey's wormy lips frowning down at him. It had been an even less welcome sight when he'd been told to lie still so the doctor could finish with "some superficial stitching." Throughout the entire affair Jem felt like he'd been dismissed of all importance, but he'd learned since that Dr. Bailey just hated everyone. It was difficult not to suspect Dr. Bailey. Of anything, really. Jem had already remarked on it, and Bailey had just laughed.
"I act purposefully sinister, Mr. Graymarch, because it amuses me to hear what people say behind my back," the doctor had told him. "I believe I may have a hand in a little over half of the city's conspiracies now, can you imagine? One wonders where I find all the hands. Or the time. I must keep more than the usual twenty-four hours around here somewhere."
"Six weeks, really?" Dawn said, voice tinged with anxiety. "Have you been drinking water from the tap?"
"Of course. Why would I not?" Jemesk said.
"Like you, I can't remember everything I should," Dawn said. "It's because I'm freshly dead; it's tougher for me to manifest than if I'd been dead a hundred years longer. I'm already starting to disappear, but I will come back to you. You shouldn't have forgotten anything, but right now, all you need to know is that you shouldn't show your back to Dr. Bailey. He's a vulture of a man. And get yourself checked out at work, please. There's something in the water, something bad that can't be undone. Please don't ask me what. You don't remember what I do; you wouldn't understand right now."
"You may say that with your lips," Jemesk said, "but below your words you're asking me to do some pretty thorough independent research."
Dawn was disappearing, true to her word, and the edges of her flickered and lapped at the air like dying flames in a fireplace. She was a blurry halo of blue, beige, and black, but she stood tall and present nonetheless, smoldering in every sense of the word. She could have scorched him into dust if she so chose, and Jemesk felt suddenly, strangely safe. If she came seeking vengeace, it would have come messily and unmistakably the moment he walked through his front door.
"Think for one moment, and you'll know my intentions toward you are kindly," Dawn said, exasperated. "All I'm asking of you now is one thing; do not go looking for the answers I will give you freely soon enough. Why do you think I am dead and you are washed clean of any real memories? Are you really in such a rush to join me?"
Jem sighed, "I place my trust in you, then. For now."
"I could ask for no more," Dawn said, a touch of sadness in her voice. She floated to his side and kissed the top of his head. It burned ice where her lips touched him. "Take care."
"With the mountain of bullshit that towers over me tonight? I think that's rather impossible, don't you?" Jemesk said.
Dawn faded, a wisp of blue on a spectral breeze, and with a sigh that might have been the howl of the wind outside, she said: "Take care."
Jemesk collapsed in a heap on his bed not long after, spent and exhausted, but not before double bolting his doors.
Story Continuity: Down By the Water (icebreaker canon)
Flavors: Peanut Butter 1: fire, Blueberry Yogurt 28: for your own good, Papaya 1: because I said so
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 834
Summary: Dawn has a vague warning for Jemesk.
"I've been trying to reach you ever since you killed me," Dawn said, after Jemesk fell onto the nearest seat. "There's something chasing me on the other side."
There were a lot of reasonable responses to that. He could have asked what was chasing her. He could have asked why he would kill his own wife, or if she was there to exact vengeance on him. On the other hand, what the everlasting hell.
"Husband," Jemesk said, shocked blank. "I had a wife, and nobody thought to tell me. I killed my own wife, and nobody thought to tell me. Sorry about that, by the way."
"It was probably for the best," Dawn said. Her smile was soft and reassuring, but there was something serrated behind it. The room seemed colder; Jem wondered if it was just her smile. "You'll understand one day. How much did they take from you, really? This is important, Jem."
"I woke up knowing only Common, most of my basic job skills, and my name," Jemesk said. "That was six weeks ago. But I'm being reeducated. There was an accident during the operation. They told me the surgeon at fault had been punished, and that I was lucky I hadn't woken up a vegetable."
That was all they had thought he should know, but he suspected there was more. Jem assumed it was rather more innocuous than Dawn was making it seem, but women didn't come back from the dead to not kill their murdering husbands for no reason. He woke up with his entire body ablaze with pain in a large, sparse white room, with Dr. Bailey's wormy lips frowning down at him. It had been an even less welcome sight when he'd been told to lie still so the doctor could finish with "some superficial stitching." Throughout the entire affair Jem felt like he'd been dismissed of all importance, but he'd learned since that Dr. Bailey just hated everyone. It was difficult not to suspect Dr. Bailey. Of anything, really. Jem had already remarked on it, and Bailey had just laughed.
"I act purposefully sinister, Mr. Graymarch, because it amuses me to hear what people say behind my back," the doctor had told him. "I believe I may have a hand in a little over half of the city's conspiracies now, can you imagine? One wonders where I find all the hands. Or the time. I must keep more than the usual twenty-four hours around here somewhere."
"Six weeks, really?" Dawn said, voice tinged with anxiety. "Have you been drinking water from the tap?"
"Of course. Why would I not?" Jemesk said.
"Like you, I can't remember everything I should," Dawn said. "It's because I'm freshly dead; it's tougher for me to manifest than if I'd been dead a hundred years longer. I'm already starting to disappear, but I will come back to you. You shouldn't have forgotten anything, but right now, all you need to know is that you shouldn't show your back to Dr. Bailey. He's a vulture of a man. And get yourself checked out at work, please. There's something in the water, something bad that can't be undone. Please don't ask me what. You don't remember what I do; you wouldn't understand right now."
"You may say that with your lips," Jemesk said, "but below your words you're asking me to do some pretty thorough independent research."
Dawn was disappearing, true to her word, and the edges of her flickered and lapped at the air like dying flames in a fireplace. She was a blurry halo of blue, beige, and black, but she stood tall and present nonetheless, smoldering in every sense of the word. She could have scorched him into dust if she so chose, and Jemesk felt suddenly, strangely safe. If she came seeking vengeace, it would have come messily and unmistakably the moment he walked through his front door.
"Think for one moment, and you'll know my intentions toward you are kindly," Dawn said, exasperated. "All I'm asking of you now is one thing; do not go looking for the answers I will give you freely soon enough. Why do you think I am dead and you are washed clean of any real memories? Are you really in such a rush to join me?"
Jem sighed, "I place my trust in you, then. For now."
"I could ask for no more," Dawn said, a touch of sadness in her voice. She floated to his side and kissed the top of his head. It burned ice where her lips touched him. "Take care."
"With the mountain of bullshit that towers over me tonight? I think that's rather impossible, don't you?" Jemesk said.
Dawn faded, a wisp of blue on a spectral breeze, and with a sigh that might have been the howl of the wind outside, she said: "Take care."
Jemesk collapsed in a heap on his bed not long after, spent and exhausted, but not before double bolting his doors.