He sat upright as the smell hit him; lilac, cinnamon and sandalwood. His room had gone dark at some point, although he didn't remember turning the light off and wasn't sure how he'd managed it while sitting at the cable spool table anyway. His phone LED glowed a steady blue, casting an entirely too appropriate ghostly luminescence. Just enough to see by, not enough to really see.
"Hey, Grey," she said softly. She was sitting across from him, the white flash of her smile and the moonglow of her hair the only thing visible in the dark. He reached out to catch her wrist, felt his fingers pass through like gossamer and stardust.
"Hey," he said through a throat gone tight. "Why are you haunting me, Sadie?"
"You sure it's not the other way around, baby boy?" That flash of her smile again, he could almost picture her violet eyes glancing away. Always with her secrets, that girl. Secrets that had gotten her killed, in the end...
"Pretty sure." He cleared his throat, sitting up. "I mean, I'm not complainin'. It's been....way too long." Dammit, something scratchin' at his eyes. Must have knocked over the ashtray or something. "I've missed you. You an' Moonie."
"We miss you too, Grey," she said. "But it's not time for you to join us yet. Don't wake up."
He rubbed his eyes, hoping he could clear that ash or whatever out. No good, they were still itching like crazy. "So, uh, what?s the occasion?" He tried for light and conversational. "Ain't the anniversary yet. Thought you were supposed to spook on a schedule. Isn't that how the stories go?"
He felt as much as heard her shrug. "You know me. Gotta march to the tune of my own drum." She stood, her skirts rustling like dry leaves in the fall or paper in dusty archives. Outside of the glow of phone's glow, it was almost impossible to see her in the shadows of the room; just a darker shape, moving here and there like a dancer. She always had been a butterfly, curious about the lives of others...."Heard you're seein' someone."
The laugh forced itself from between his lips before he even knew it was coming, more of a throaty caw than any sign of humor. "Does everyone know I'm....yeah. Yeah, I'm kinda seein' someone."
"It's serious?"
"Pretty serious." He wiped a hand down his face. "She told me she loves me. She means it, too."
"You tell her how you feel yet?"
"You're not here to warn me off her, too, are ya?" He tried to make her out in the gloom, wondering what her expression was. "Everyone keeps spouting off 'bout her bein' no good for me, like I'm some kinda white knight tryin' to save her. What the hell kinda romances you people been readin'?"
"No, no. Sweet as anything, our baby boy, but- no white knight." Her smile, a flash of light in the dark, hit him right between the ribs. Wounds he'd thought scarred over years ago reopened and bleeding again. "Just a boy who does what he can for the people he loves. Or their memory. Have you told her yet?"
"...no." He looked away. The rustling, and her smell, came closer. He hadn't been able to smell perfume for ages afterwards without it hitting him in the gut like a clenched fist. Still couldn't smell lilacs without getting that damn itch in his eyes. Allergies, had to be.
"What're you waiting for?" Cool fingers traced his brow, and he forced himself to neither flinch away nor lean in. They were both equally futile, and for much the same reason.
"Everyone I love goes away, Sadie," he whispered. "You. Moonie. Everyone."
"We weren't your fault, Grey." She traced his scars, patterns both familiar and not. He'd added a couple more since the last time she'd visited. "That's the thing about life; it goes on, then it ends. We all get the same amount."
"We all get a lifetime." He agreed, bitterly. "But it's not enough, Sadie. It's never e-frakkin'-nough."
"No," she agreed. "It's not. But it's what we get. You think not saying the words is gonna keep her safe, Grey' Some kind of reverse magical incantation' Don't admit it, don't gotta face it, right?" He felt his cheeks burn under her fingers, heard her laugh. Musical. Magical. Sadie could brighten the darkest room with that laugh, metaphorically speaking.
"What kinda future we got, Sadie?" The bitterness surprised him, a little. "Marriage" Pack of brats further down the line" I can barely take care of myself, how the hell am I gonna look after anyone else?"
"That how you think of Roach' Someone needs you looking after her?"
"No, but-"
"She doesn't need a keeper, Grey. She wants a partner. And you know she's just as scared of the future and what?s in it as you are."
"You know we don't have much time. I mean, hell....I could die today. Or she could. Or Robbie-boy could call in her contract, drag her back to him." He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "And all this shiz with Menace-"
"Same as everyone, Grey. One lifetime. No less, no more." He fingers traced across his, her touch like ice. "You really wanna spend the time you got holding her at arm's length, making her twist in the wind"
"Listen. Of course she's gonna break your heart. An' you're gonna break hers. The two of you, you're like magnets. You keep pushing each other away, and then dragging each other back. You're not gonna cut and run, Grey, 'cause it's not in you. You wouldn't know how if you wanted. So stop trying to walk the line, stop pretending that your heart's not involved. There's no 'middle,' not in this."
He rubbed at his eyes again. "You're the second person that's said that."
"How many is it gonna take for you to start listening" How do you feel, Grey' Beneath all the posturing and attitude, behind that crooked smile and that 'devil may care' attitude - how do you really feel?"
"I love her." A long pause, and then with a fragility he hated running through his voice like the fracture lines in a splintered pane of glass, "I'm in love with her."
There was a sharp chill as she tapped the center of his forehead with an outstretched finger. Boop. "Then maybe you should let her know that, dummy. Three little words. Five if you've gotta go and get fancy again."
"When this is over-" he started. That chill again, a swat this time.
"It's never gonna be over, Grey. You know it, I know it, and she already called you on that bull. You go from one fire to another, livin' on the edge. It's the way you are. One more day and one more day until suddenly time's run out and you're sitting there with all those unspoken words rattling around your head like cannonballs. Leaving you hollow inside. It's why you tried to get your fool self killed after Moonie and I....well. After us."
"She's not a replacement for you," he said quietly. That swat again.
"She's not supposed to be, you jerk. You don't replace people, that's not how these things work, and the only person who's afraid that's what it is, is you. Of all the things in your life, you pick happiness to be the one you get guilty over" Honestly, Grey..." He could picture the long suffering look on her face, and it was almost enough to make him laugh. Then her arms were around him, her embrace like a damp shroud wrapped tight around his neck. "Be happy, Grey. Make her happy. You both deserve one bright thing in this world, so why not each other?"
He reached up and patted her awkwardly, felt her thin, reedy bones, the hollow planes of her skull pressed against his hair. "You're just a dream, aren't you Sadie?"
"Look who's talkin', baby boy. Don't wake up."
He jerked and sat upright, staring around the room wildly. Same old basement. Back in the World it wouldn't legally be an apartment; you had to have windows for that, an exit route in case of fire. Rhydin didn't suffer from those legal niceties, although Grey had often mulled over the need for a bolthole or emergency egress. Problem was, an exit was just a more subtle entrance to anyone with bad intents.
There was a photo stuck to his face from where he musta fallen asleep with his head in a file, and he plucked it off with a wince. Roach smiled back at him, her and her grandmother standing in front of the house. He set it down, made a note to slip it into her stuff at some point when she wasn't looking. The dream was already shredding away like morning mist, leaving only a vague melancholy in its wake. "I gotta start goin' to bed earlier," he muttered. "Or drink more coffee." He pushed himself away from the table and paused, wondering why the room smelled like lilacs, and why his cheeks were damp with tears he couldn't remember having shed.