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randomweavingFic: Changeling
Characters: John Dorian/Perry Cox
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Chapter Rating: PG-13 (language)
Description: This is a wildly AU story with fantastical elements based on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thuri's Nano writing project. It begins late in season three, before Carla and Turk's wedding, and from there follows the characters as they face the Change, a strange, magical phenomenon that is turning ordinary humans into half-human creatures from fantasy.
Chapter listings: Contents Post
It was late morning, almost eleven o’clock, when JD finally awoke, feeling hung-over and achy. He sniffed, grimacing at the congested feeling in his head. Crying always made him feel so miserable afterwards.
He stumbled to the bathroom, scrubbing at his face, and peered at himself in the mirror. Then winced. He looked awful: his cheeks were splotchy from his tears, his eyes bloodshot, and there was a little bit of crust beneath his nose from where it had gone runny on him while he cried. His hair lay dull and flat against his brow, and the skin beneath his eyes looked thin and fragile as tissue paper.
Grimacing, he turned on the sink and splashed cold water into his face, reaching absently for a towel, then reassessed himself. And sighed. The water had taken care of the nose issue, but the cold had turned his face pale, making the blotchiness of his cheeks stand out more starkly than before. Great. Maybe the others would at least leave it be, though; they mostly had the night before. And surely Carla would've talked to Perry by now. It was late--she must've. And if she was right, and it really was something else that was bothering the other doctor, then they'd work things out. Or, if she was wrong, it'd be over. But at least he'd know for sure, one way or another.
He dressed quickly, shrugging a sweater over his wings, wistfully remembering when it hadn’t been a major production to get them on and off. At least he'd finally gotten it down. He paused at the door, hesitating--then went back to the bathroom, opening the little pot of wax and spiking his hair, just for the hell of it. He almost grinned, looking at his reflection. It was weird, seeing his hair spiked the way he’d always worn it before, with the dark shapes of the wings at the same time, like some surreal meeting of past and present. John Dorian: Then, and Now.
Finally satisfied, he nodded at his reflection once, then headed downstairs, imagination working at every possible scenario for how the coming confrontation would play itself out. He didn't think he'd cry again--he'd done his fair share of it yesterday and last night, and he thought he had it out of his system, mostly. Of course, being face-to-face with Perry, hearing him say again that all the things he'd claimed to feel were gone...well, he just hoped the others would have sense enough to be conveniently absent, before they got into things.
None of his concocted scenarios involved Perry not even being there, though, which was what he found when he reached the living room. He sighed, wondering if the older man had gone out walking. Avoiding him--that couldn’t be a good sign.
JD offered what he hoped was a sincere smile to the others, nodding. "Morning, guys,” he said, moving forward to stand before them and shoving his hands into his pockets. Then, doing everything he could to keep his voice casual: “Where's Perry?"
The smiles that had greeted him when he'd descended faltered, one by one. There was a long silence, during which the others glanced at one another then back at him, before Carla finally said, "He...wasn't with you?"
"What? No, I…I didn’t see him last night. But he’d said…he said he’d sleep on the couch, so I assumed…" JD felt the blood start to drain from his face at the looks on all of theirs. Turk and Elliot looked worried, Sean plain confused, but Carla had the same look of dawning horror JD knew must be mirrored on his own face. "He's...he's gone, isn't he?” he whispered, limbs feeling strangely weighted, holding his arms limply at his sides, his feet rooted to the spot. He shook himself sharply, trying to focus, and suddenly looked down when he saw a flicker of movement from the floor--Jack’s wings, moving softly as he played with Carla’s tail. “Jack's still here..." JD murmured, almost to himself. Then, louder, with a conviction he desperately wanted to feel: "Jack's still here. He can't have gone far."
The others looked to Perry’s son, and for a frozen moment the child was the center of attention. Then JD ran to the door, dragging it open it, peering through the thickly falling snow. He couldn't fly far in it, and even if Perry had only left an hour ago, his tracks would be gone by now.
He shivered, feeling his eyes sting partly in dismay, and partly from the chill in the air. It was fucking May--why was it getting colder, not warmer…?
"Perry," he whispered. Then, desperately, he cupped his hands to his face and shouted. "Perry!"
The snow muffled his shout, swallowing it instantly, and mocking him with its silence.
Shit. JD stared out for a moment longer before sliding the door closed, hearing it latch with a final sounding "click.” He shivered again, then turned back to the others. "Why…” he started, then swallowed, realizing his throat had gone dry. “Why would he...?"
"I don't know, Bambi," Carla replied, rising to her paws and padding over to him, putting her arms around him. He drew a sharp breath, and returned her hug automatically. He turned his head quickly as Turk came back in the room--JD hadn’t seen him leave, too absorbed in looking out the door, but when he met the surgeon’s eyes, Turk just sighed and shook his head.
Perry wasn't hiding somewhere else, then; hadn’t come down and they’d just missed him.
He was gone.
* * *
Perry had hiked through the night and by his estimate was now at least twelve or thirteen miles from the cabin. He hadn't made terribly good time, because he'd avoided the roads and trails and had to hike through snow, but he was also relatively certain that JD wouldn't be able to find him. He'd spent the first hour or so doubling back, so even if the snow that was now falling steadily didn't cover his tracks, they would be difficult to follow.
Assuming JD even tried. Perry’s lip twitched wryly at the thought, and he sighed, a heavy leaden feeling settling into his chest. In all honesty, it was just as likely JD would be glad he was gone. Last night had been horribly awkward, especially with Sean around now, and he knew JD had been missing the absence of their usual affection more keenly than ever. Throughout the night, the younger man had tossed him confused, surreptitious glances, always looking away quickly when Perry caught his eye. He’d been trying to stay cheerful, but even if his face could’ve fooled them, his body language and his eyes were an open book: shoulders and wings slightly slumped, hands awkward at his sides, eyes dark with pained confusion. There was no question in Perry’s mind that JD had bought his story. And to stick around even for only a few hours and see what it had done to the younger man’s spirit had been torturous. In a way, it had been a relief to leave those wounded eyes behind.
He sighed as he shifted the pack on his shoulders and continued to trudge through the powdery snow. God, that had been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do--to lie deliberately to JD like that, hit him where he knew it would hurt the most, and then to leave… he shook his head, glancing toward the sky and frowning absently at the snow that still swirled thickly through the protective canopy of the trees.
It wouldn't surprise him if JD never forgave him, even if he did make it back. But at least he would be safe.
He paused, pulling the compass out of his pocket and frowning at it before adjusting his direction slightly and moving on.
He still had a long way to go.
* * *
"I have to go after him," JD said, finally, when the odd weight of the chilling panic that had settled over him finally abated some. He pulled away from Carla’s embrace, staring out at the snowfall. "I have to find him...figure out what's wrong. I have to..." He trailed off, moving to head up the stairs, then looked Carla in mild surprise when her grip on his wrist held him in place. "Let go..."
"No, Bambi,” Carla said gently, pity in every line of her features. “Look, you don't even know which way he went, and it's a blizzard out there..."
“Yeah, and he’s out in it!”
Carla just shook her head, looking sorrier than he'd ever seen her, but determined, too. "You can't follow him, sweetheart. It's too risky."
"But..."
“Look, you don’t owe it to him to go after him,” Turk said, brow furrowed as he folded his arms over his chest. “After what he said to you? I think if he wanted you with him he’d’ve been up front to start with.”
JD shook his head, but Turk’s words were salt in an all-too-fresh wound: Perry didn’t want his help. He’d made that perfectly clear, hadn’t he? Made it perfectly clear he didn’t want JD at all, anymore…
Still. “He’s out there somewhere,” he gritted, balling his hands into fists. “I don’t care what he did to me, I can’t…I can’t let him…” he trailed off. “It’s dangerous out there, alone. It’s freezing, and it’s getting colder, and he…he could…”
“That was his decision,” Carla said softly, still shaking her head. “He knows this area, and hopefully he knows what he was doing, but…you can’t go after him. You’d just be putting yourself in danger, and more than him, because you’re no woodsman, JD.”
"She's right," Elliot said suddenly, rising to her hooves, scooping Jack up in one smooth motion. The child squirmed, trying to flap his wings, but Elliot held onto him, moving forward and handing him to JD, who took him automatically. In JD's arms, Jack settled, retracting his wings and settling for playing with JD's feathers instead. "It’s dangerous," Elliot continued, "and Jack needs you to stay."
JD's eyes filled suddenly as he remembered his promise to Perry, not to put them both in danger, so one of them could be there to look after Jack...Damn him for taking advantage of it. He swallowed hard, slumping, realizing he’d lost this fight. He nodded. "You're right,” he said, voice dull, drawing Jack closer to him and resting his cheek on the child’s hair. “Looks like it's me and you, now, bug," he murmured, rocking the child a little, who giggled. "Daddy?"
"I'm sure he'll be back soon," JD replied, his heart shattering a little more inside his chest. "He's just gone off for a bit...so we'll have to look after each other for now."
One by one, the others gradually withdrew from the den, leaving him alone with Jack. Who, as usual, seemed to sense that all wasn't well, and snuggled close, thumb popping into his mouth as he whimpered a little at JD’s obvious distress. JD soothed him, rocking him a little, fighting the urge to panic, the urge to ignore the others’ arguments and go after Perry anyway. Only Jack held him in place. JD found himself desperately praying Perry would return before dark. Even if they were over, even if Perry didn’t love him, the thought of losing him entirely was enough to call up the numbing fog that had closed over him when he’d learned of his mother and brother’s deaths.
Why? What could have been so bad to have forced Perry to leave?
* * *
It was midday before Perry allowed himself a real break, stopping and lowering himself down onto a frozen log, after brushing away as much of the snow as he could. He settled with a soft groan, the muscles of his legs aching, and reflected it would’ve been nice if his Change had gotten far enough along to give him the extra muscles and endurance JD’s had afforded him. It really had been a long time since he’d done any serious hiking, and he must’ve been more out of shape than he realized.
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out the canteen of water he’d packed there, keeping it close to his body to keep it from freezing. He’d also packed away some of the jerky in the inner pockets of his coat, absently grateful he’d read as much Jack London as he had when he was a kid. If nothing else, he’d learned a thing or two about how to survive in cold weather. Because crazy as it was, Elliot was right: it was getting colder. It was hard to believe he was hiking through California in May--it felt more like Alaska in November.
He took a swig of the water canteen, then pulled out the map he'd printed out yesterday while the others were in the field. The closest reported sighting of the Fae was about fifty miles from the cabin. As long as it didn't get any colder, he should be able to cover that distance in the next two or three days.
He lowered his pack to the ground, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of dried beef jerky, tearing into it ravenously. He wished he could attribute his hunger to the Change, but he knew it was just the hunger of honest work. Despite keeping it close to his body, the jerky was tough, but the chewing gave him something to focus on--kept him from worrying about JD, and Jack, and wondering just how long he’d be able to keep going if he couldn’t find the Fae.
If he didn’t, he knew, the chances of ever making it back to his family were basically nil.
Shoving those thoughts from his mind, he finished the piece of jerky quickly, then rooted around in his pack for the loaf of homemade bread he'd brought along. Finding it to be frozen solid, he hacked off a chunk and stuck it inside his jacket to thaw. Then, reluctantly, he shoved himself up, dusted off the snow that had begun to accumulate on his thighs and shoulders, and hoisted his pack up onto his back once more.
He couldn't afford to stay still for long. That much he'd realized. He'd brought a thermal sleeping bag, but he wasn't convinced it would do much for the kind of cold he was hiking into, as he got deeper into the mountains. Still, it was the best he had; if the snow was deep enough--and the way it was coming down, he doubted there'd be much question of that--he could simply cover himself in it, building a hollow like they did on the sled dog runs.
Adding the History Channel just under Jack London to his mental list of things he was grateful for, he drew a deep breath and began to walk again, idly wondering if it was the cold that had made his limbs so stiff and reluctant to move, or something else entirely.
* * *
The rest of the day passed in something of a blur for JD. Carla brought him food and he ate it, losing himself in playing with Jack, looking after him, fighting the urge to pace restlessly, trying desperately not to think. The others spent the morning searching the cabin, looked for a note, for some kind of sign or indication of where Perry had headed, but all they could tell him was that some food and Perry's hiking gear were missing. At one point, Carla had suggested calling Perry’s cell, but after a brief flare of hope when JD got a signal and a ring on the other line, Sean appeared at the top of the stairs, holding the older doctor’s phone in his hands, looking grim. “Sorry,” he said softly.
JD had almost sobbed his frustration.
Throughout the day, JD felt himself beginning to close down. He could hear the others outside the door to the den frequently, speaking in hushed, worried tones, but he ignored them. As long as they didn't come in and try to cheer him up, he would be okay. He could get through this...and Perry would come back. He had to...he'd left the truck, and it was too cold outside for him to camp. He had to be back by nightfall. As soon as the sky started to grow even darker, JD started half listening, glancing toward the window every few moments expectantly.
Perry would be back any moment.
* * *
As the day drew on toward evening, Perry halted again and scowled, wishing, not for the first time, that he'd invested in a GPS system of some sort.
He squinted at his compass, then at the map, a flashlight held fast between his teeth, then looked around at the trees that looked basically like every other place he’d stopped. He sighed, thinking he could at least safely assume he wasn’t going in circles: the snow had stopped falling about three hours ago, and his tracks were stretched behind him, marking the way he’d come quite clearly. He’d tried to keep mostly under the cover of trees, not wanting those tracks to be visible from the air; as soon as the snow stopped, he’d started worrying again about JD flying after him. He didn’t know how that confrontation would play out, if the younger man did manage to track him down, but he was fairly certain he didn’t want to find out.
He growled a little, folding the map and sticking it back into his pack, focusing his attention instead on the compass. Then, wishing there was some way to know exactly how far he’d come, he shoved the small metal instrument back into his jacket pocket, and began to unhook his sleeping bag. It was getting too dark to see, and he'd been hiking for nearly twenty hours; he was exhausted, physically and mentally, and frozen, and basically miserable. At least if he could get to sleep, he could take care of the first two.
As he spread the sleeping bag over the ground, packing it with another hunk of bread and more jerky to thaw for his breakfast, he glanced around himself, eying his surroundings. The darkness of the woods, which he’d never minded on previous hiking trips, now seemed oppressive, almost ominous. He shivered a little, not just from the cold, but shook off the sensation, beginning to dig a hollow in the snow. Maybe he really had been around JD for too long--his imagination was starting to play tricks with him. He could almost imagine the glinting of the hanging icicles were eyes, watching him curiously, vanishing into the shadows before he could get a good look at their owners.
He snorted, shaking his head to rid it of the fanciful thought, and crawled into the sleeping bag, zipping it up and packing the snow up around it to help it retain heat.
It was only after he’d finished, borrowing as deeply into the blankets as he could, that his mind began to wander back home, to Jack and Carla and Turk and Elliot and Sean, but mostly to JD.
JD. Perry closed his eyes, shivering as he curled in on himself a little, snuggling down as deep as he could in the sleeping bag and willing the heat to begin collecting.
He wondered how JD was doing, what they’d thought about finding Perry gone. Wondered if they were worried about him, wondering if JD missed him as much as he missed JD. Wondered if JD was thinking about him, even now, and what sorts of thoughts he might be having, if he was. Much as Perry wanted to believe JD would forgive him, he knew he couldn’t ignore the very likely possibility that JD would never understand what he'd done--why he’d done it. Even if he made it back somehow, JD might never trust him again.
He might even decide this was for the best.
Maybe his ploy had worked, and he'd successfully driven him away for good. Maybe he’d get back and JD wouldn’t even want him anymore; would have decided he really could do much better than the washed-up bitter old jackass that was Perry Cox.
He snorted, brow furrowing. It was the truth, after all. However hurt JD was now, he was young--he’d recover. And he might just decide he was better off.
He bit his lip, scowling a little, trying to shove away the self-pity that rose within him. After all, if he really wanted what was best for JD, then he should be happy about this. And JD would look after Jack. Of that, Perry had no doubts. Whatever the younger doctor might decide about him, Perry knew JD loved the child. And he had a good heart. He wouldn’t abandon him, no matter what had transpired between he and Perry.
Yeah. They’d be fine. They had each other, and the others…they’d take care of each other.
They didn’t need him.
* * *
Perry didn't come back.
JD put Jack to bed, and found himself suddenly with nothing to concentrate on, nothing with which to distract himself.
The others tried to help. Elliot unearthed a pack of cards and offered to be his teammate in a game of Hearts, but JD soon grew ill of the surreptitiously exchanged pitying glances the others kept throwing each other, so he went upstairs, sitting down on the bed he'd shared with Perry for nearly a month.
It was cold.
In fact, despite the house's heating and the fire, everything seemed cold. He stood, moving silently to look out the large French windows, watching the snow swirl in the light from the living room windows. Beyond that, everything was darkness. He shivered, suddenly feeling very small and alone; leaning forward, pressing his fingertips to the cold window, he whispered, "God...if you’re there…keep him safe, wherever he is?"
He pushed tears away again, climbing into bed curling into the covers, smelling Perry's scent on them. He scooted himself to Perry's side of the mattress, wrapping his arms around his lover's pillow. Only then did he let the tears start to fall.
For the second night in a row, he fell asleep before they stopped.
* * *
When morning finally came, Perry found it difficult to wake up. The warmth had finally started to gather around him, lulling him into something of a stupor, and when the brightness of the sunshine filtering through the ice-covered trees finally drew him back to consciousness, a very large part of him wanted to burrow back into the blankets and let sleep take him over again. It would be so easy, he knew--to let the darkness take back over, to drift off and just stay asleep, and stay asleep, until he would never have to worry about waking up again.
It was that thought, more than anything, that forced him awake, slightly alarmed. He pushed himself up out of the snow-covered sleeping bag, and walked around his make-shift campsite a few times, swinging his arms to get the circulation going again, shaking his head sharply to wake himself up. The frigid air helped, and soon he was awake, though his head was aching a little from the exhaustion or lack of food or both. His limbs were stiff and sore as well, remnants of his long hike the day before, and he spent some time simply stretching, trying to get them to loosen up a little.
It worked, sort of. He could move, at any rate.
He reached into his sleeping bag, pulling out the bread and jerky he’d stored there to keep it warm. The bread was a little squashed, and had started to turn slightly stale, but it was still palatable. He ate quickly, taking a long swig of water from his canteen before scooping a handful of snow into it, filling it back to the brim. Then, tucking it away into his jacket, he stowed his sleeping bag and attached it to his pack, climbing to his feet and glancing around. His tracks from the night before were still visible, so it was easy enough to determine which way he needed to go, but he reached into his pocket to check the compass anyway, wanting to be sure.
Only to discover his compass wasn’t there.
He frowned, squinting down at the pocket, then pulled off his gloves with his teeth and began a more frantic search. But it soon became clear that the instrument was gone, probably lying somewhere on his path behind him.
He swore softly to himself, momentarily at a loss. If he went back to get it, he would lose much precious time. He’d only packed about four days’ worth of food, not wanting to take more than he absolutely needed from the cabin, knowing the others would need it more. Doubling back would mean he’d cut very close into his supply--plus, there was no guarantee he’d even find the compass. Chances were good it was buried somewhere in the snow, covered by his footprints or a drift or carried off by some curious, scavenging animal.
But without it, he could end up miles off track, very quickly, and that would mean certain death as well.
He stood for a few moments, hands clenched in his curls, until his fingers started to ache from the cold. As he pulled his gloves on once more, he sighed, realizing he had no choice but to keep going forward. He did still have the map, after all, though without the compass he wasn’t sure what good it would do him, really. It wasn’t terribly detailed, and he had no way of knowing exactly where he was in the first place.
Still, it wasn’t like he had a lot of options. He sighed again, and, after carefully studying the angle of his tracks from the day before, he began to walk again.
He didn’t make it nearly as far that day. Whether it was the caution of walking without a compass, the lingering stiffness from the previous day’s hike, or the odd light-headed feeling that had joined his headache an hour or so into his trek, he didn’t know. Probably some combination of the three. He found he had to stop frequently to catch his breath, and more than once he’d realize he’d been walking without marking the trail, and have to double back and reassess his direction. He consulted the map a few times, but eventually gave up, finally admitting to himself that the symbols and landmarks meant next to nothing. He focused instead on staying in the same direction, moving carefully around obstacles to keep the angle the same. He was probably around twenty three miles from the cabin, by the time darkness fell again, but whether he’d moved twenty three miles in the right direction or ended up that far off track, he didn’t know.
As he burrowed into his sleeping bag, alone in the wilderness for the second night in a row, he was mildly alarmed to realize he didn’t care as much as he should have.
* * *
The next day was a near repeat of the one before it.
JD spent nearly all of his time with Jack, gently but firmly rejecting the advances of the others. They were more plentiful now than they had been, someone coming in every few hours to ask him if he was hungry, if he wanted to watch a movie, if he felt like talking.
But he didn't. He wanted to stay where he was, take care of his son.
He felt his jaw clench slightly whenever he thought of Jack that way. He knew it was perhaps no longer a right he could claim, but as long as Perry was gone, he was all Jack had. And dammit if he was going to be halfway about it. He loved the child, loved him as if he were JD’s flesh and blood, and there was no way he was going to allow him to be left alone. He couldn’t bring himself to think “orphan”--the thought implied more than he was willing to accept--but it was there, at the back of his mind, as he offered the child blocks and helped him build and tear down cities. Jack would not be an honorary nephew, not as long as JD had anything to say about it. Perry had offered him this place in the child’s life, and no matter what else the older man had decided to take away, he wasn’t taking this.
He knew his anger at Perry was really a way to hide his fear, but he couldn’t help it. It kept him from picturing the older man alone out in the wilderness, fighting cold and weariness and who knew what else, fulfilling whatever foolish quest he’d decided was important enough for him to abandon his child. For his part, JD couldn't imagine what could possibly be that important.
He got his answer to that question sooner than he expected. Sometime in the afternoon, Turk brought the laptop to him. "Dude...I thought maybe you should see this."
JD frowned, accepting the machine, which Turk had open to the internet browser. He glanced up at his friend, who looked grim. “Found this page in the history,” he said. “Thought you’d want to take a look.”
JD returned his attention to the screen, realizing Turk had opened one of the medical sites they frequented, to an article dated about three days prior. His eyes widened, and he released a soft, defeated moan, slumping to the ground as he read the words as though they were Perry's death warrant.
No. Oh, no…Perry...
Treatment only a delay. Rejection universally fatal.
* * *
He was dreaming again. He had to be dreaming again.
He couldn’t see the little girl, but he could hear her, her voice a sweet, innocent song, rising high then swooping low again, making dips and crescendos that seemed to carve out a path in the air before him, painting pictures of sound.
He was lying on the ground in his sleeping bag, but he was walking, too, wandering through the paths the music had mapped out before him, listening to the song become a giggle, then a whisper.
“Come find me!”
He was walking for real now, pushing himself up out of his sleeping bag, leaving the bag itself and his pack abandoned in the snow, half-buried in a drift that the winds had created as he’d slept. He didn’t care. All that mattered was to walk, to follow the music, to find the child who created it. If he found her, he would be okay. If he found her, she would make everything better, somehow. He wasn't sure why he knew it, but he did.
A very distant part of Perry’s brain registered the cold air around him, intensified by the fact that he'd left much of his warmer gear behind; registered the exhaustion, the pain each breath caused in his breast. Registered the way his heart was beating too quickly, his chest working too hard to force his lungs to take in air; the way the edges of his vision were gray, and murky. That part of his brain marked off his symptoms, nodding grimly to itself, assessing delirium, offering a diagnosis of hypothermia and shock, and a prognosis that was less than favorable.
Keep walking. Keep walking. The song…follow the song, find the child…
His rational brain clucked at him, but did not have the power to stop his staggering progress. She was close. He knew she was close--she had to be. He could hear her. Couldn’t he? He could hear…voices, many voices, soft, lifted in song, painting the child’s picture more clearly than before, enhancing it: the steady hand of an adult assisting a child's crayon coloring, filling it in with more confident strokes, more brilliant colors. They were calling him, drawing him forward, urging him on, enticing him stumbling through the snow.
Find us. Follow the song.
He fell. He didn’t notice at first, but when his hands began to grow cold, he realized it was because they were buried in snow, and some of it had gotten packed into his gloves. He rose unsteadily to his feet, pulling the gloves off and leaving them on the ground before continuing on his way, staggering drunkenly but persistently onward.
(Hypothermia. Freezing, then stupor, then warmth, then sleep.)
He knew how this worked. He’d fall again, eventually, and this time he would not get up. Even if he weren’t exhausted, the dizziness had returned full force, and he might as well have been trying to navigate a tilt-a-whirl. The light headedness, the headache, the pain in his chest. (Rejection.) The numbness, the tingling, the stupor. (Hypothermia.) It was getting hard to tell what was doing what, and the detached part of his brain found it mildly entertaining to try to predict which would take him down first.
The giggling was closer, now, and as Perry staggered on, blinking, he thought he caught a glimpse of blue. “Come on!” the girlish voice called, before it joined its elders in song again.
“M’comin’…” Perry mumbled aloud, the sound of his own voice shattering the illusion for a moment. He paused, blinking, the world returned briefly to sharp focus: the cold snow, the silently indifferent forest, the unsteady trail of his footsteps behind him, the puffs of steam his ragged breath conjured in the air before him.
Silence. Empty, cold.
Alone.
He faltered, and for a flash of a second, panic settled into his brain. Oh, God, I’m losing it, I'm hallucinating...I’m going to die out here. I’m going to die. Jack...JD...
But the panic faded quickly, buried in the recesses of his brain, the stupor taking over once more, calming him, warming him. He giggled a little, hearing the child laughing at him, seeing her again through the trees, beckoning. “You’re almost there!” she whispered, and from her blue back, a pair of gossamer wings appeared. She began to flap them, rising gently into the air, floating. A soft glow of light grew around her, surrounding her, encasing her as the music began to swell.
“You’re almost there!" she called to him. "Keep going!”
Go to the light.
He snorted. That’s what they said in cheesy movies, that’s not how it really worked. He’d witnessed too much death to still harbor any romantic ideas about it. There was no light, no tunnel, no waiting arms of long-lost loved ones.
No. There’s just a singing blue fairy girl.
(Delirious.)
He stumbled forward, and the child called him on. “You’re almost there! You’re almost there!”
Almost there. So close…
So tired.
He fell again, and this time, as he'd predicted, there was no getting up. The song swelled around him, and he sighed softly, sinking into the snow as if it were a giant blanket, not even feeling the sting of the cold against his raw skin. It was comfortable. It was warm. He could just sleep, for a little while, and then get up and walk some more, later.
(Hypothermia.)
Yeah, later. Later was good. He was tired, now, and he just wanted to sleep.
JD.
He opened his eyes a little, and watched the strange play of light and dark as the cold finally took him, listening to the swell of the music around him.
JD, I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried.
Then, closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift, knowing, even as he promised himself it would only be a short nap, that he would never wake again.
* * *
Next Chapter
* * *
Characters: John Dorian/Perry Cox
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Chapter Rating: PG-13 (language)
Description: This is a wildly AU story with fantastical elements based on
thuri's Nano writing project. It begins late in season three, before Carla and Turk's wedding, and from there follows the characters as they face the Change, a strange, magical phenomenon that is turning ordinary humans into half-human creatures from fantasy.Chapter listings: Contents Post
It was late morning, almost eleven o’clock, when JD finally awoke, feeling hung-over and achy. He sniffed, grimacing at the congested feeling in his head. Crying always made him feel so miserable afterwards.
He stumbled to the bathroom, scrubbing at his face, and peered at himself in the mirror. Then winced. He looked awful: his cheeks were splotchy from his tears, his eyes bloodshot, and there was a little bit of crust beneath his nose from where it had gone runny on him while he cried. His hair lay dull and flat against his brow, and the skin beneath his eyes looked thin and fragile as tissue paper.
Grimacing, he turned on the sink and splashed cold water into his face, reaching absently for a towel, then reassessed himself. And sighed. The water had taken care of the nose issue, but the cold had turned his face pale, making the blotchiness of his cheeks stand out more starkly than before. Great. Maybe the others would at least leave it be, though; they mostly had the night before. And surely Carla would've talked to Perry by now. It was late--she must've. And if she was right, and it really was something else that was bothering the other doctor, then they'd work things out. Or, if she was wrong, it'd be over. But at least he'd know for sure, one way or another.
He dressed quickly, shrugging a sweater over his wings, wistfully remembering when it hadn’t been a major production to get them on and off. At least he'd finally gotten it down. He paused at the door, hesitating--then went back to the bathroom, opening the little pot of wax and spiking his hair, just for the hell of it. He almost grinned, looking at his reflection. It was weird, seeing his hair spiked the way he’d always worn it before, with the dark shapes of the wings at the same time, like some surreal meeting of past and present. John Dorian: Then, and Now.
Finally satisfied, he nodded at his reflection once, then headed downstairs, imagination working at every possible scenario for how the coming confrontation would play itself out. He didn't think he'd cry again--he'd done his fair share of it yesterday and last night, and he thought he had it out of his system, mostly. Of course, being face-to-face with Perry, hearing him say again that all the things he'd claimed to feel were gone...well, he just hoped the others would have sense enough to be conveniently absent, before they got into things.
None of his concocted scenarios involved Perry not even being there, though, which was what he found when he reached the living room. He sighed, wondering if the older man had gone out walking. Avoiding him--that couldn’t be a good sign.
JD offered what he hoped was a sincere smile to the others, nodding. "Morning, guys,” he said, moving forward to stand before them and shoving his hands into his pockets. Then, doing everything he could to keep his voice casual: “Where's Perry?"
The smiles that had greeted him when he'd descended faltered, one by one. There was a long silence, during which the others glanced at one another then back at him, before Carla finally said, "He...wasn't with you?"
"What? No, I…I didn’t see him last night. But he’d said…he said he’d sleep on the couch, so I assumed…" JD felt the blood start to drain from his face at the looks on all of theirs. Turk and Elliot looked worried, Sean plain confused, but Carla had the same look of dawning horror JD knew must be mirrored on his own face. "He's...he's gone, isn't he?” he whispered, limbs feeling strangely weighted, holding his arms limply at his sides, his feet rooted to the spot. He shook himself sharply, trying to focus, and suddenly looked down when he saw a flicker of movement from the floor--Jack’s wings, moving softly as he played with Carla’s tail. “Jack's still here..." JD murmured, almost to himself. Then, louder, with a conviction he desperately wanted to feel: "Jack's still here. He can't have gone far."
The others looked to Perry’s son, and for a frozen moment the child was the center of attention. Then JD ran to the door, dragging it open it, peering through the thickly falling snow. He couldn't fly far in it, and even if Perry had only left an hour ago, his tracks would be gone by now.
He shivered, feeling his eyes sting partly in dismay, and partly from the chill in the air. It was fucking May--why was it getting colder, not warmer…?
"Perry," he whispered. Then, desperately, he cupped his hands to his face and shouted. "Perry!"
The snow muffled his shout, swallowing it instantly, and mocking him with its silence.
Shit. JD stared out for a moment longer before sliding the door closed, hearing it latch with a final sounding "click.” He shivered again, then turned back to the others. "Why…” he started, then swallowed, realizing his throat had gone dry. “Why would he...?"
"I don't know, Bambi," Carla replied, rising to her paws and padding over to him, putting her arms around him. He drew a sharp breath, and returned her hug automatically. He turned his head quickly as Turk came back in the room--JD hadn’t seen him leave, too absorbed in looking out the door, but when he met the surgeon’s eyes, Turk just sighed and shook his head.
Perry wasn't hiding somewhere else, then; hadn’t come down and they’d just missed him.
He was gone.
* * *
Perry had hiked through the night and by his estimate was now at least twelve or thirteen miles from the cabin. He hadn't made terribly good time, because he'd avoided the roads and trails and had to hike through snow, but he was also relatively certain that JD wouldn't be able to find him. He'd spent the first hour or so doubling back, so even if the snow that was now falling steadily didn't cover his tracks, they would be difficult to follow.
Assuming JD even tried. Perry’s lip twitched wryly at the thought, and he sighed, a heavy leaden feeling settling into his chest. In all honesty, it was just as likely JD would be glad he was gone. Last night had been horribly awkward, especially with Sean around now, and he knew JD had been missing the absence of their usual affection more keenly than ever. Throughout the night, the younger man had tossed him confused, surreptitious glances, always looking away quickly when Perry caught his eye. He’d been trying to stay cheerful, but even if his face could’ve fooled them, his body language and his eyes were an open book: shoulders and wings slightly slumped, hands awkward at his sides, eyes dark with pained confusion. There was no question in Perry’s mind that JD had bought his story. And to stick around even for only a few hours and see what it had done to the younger man’s spirit had been torturous. In a way, it had been a relief to leave those wounded eyes behind.
He sighed as he shifted the pack on his shoulders and continued to trudge through the powdery snow. God, that had been the hardest thing he'd ever had to do--to lie deliberately to JD like that, hit him where he knew it would hurt the most, and then to leave… he shook his head, glancing toward the sky and frowning absently at the snow that still swirled thickly through the protective canopy of the trees.
It wouldn't surprise him if JD never forgave him, even if he did make it back. But at least he would be safe.
He paused, pulling the compass out of his pocket and frowning at it before adjusting his direction slightly and moving on.
He still had a long way to go.
* * *
"I have to go after him," JD said, finally, when the odd weight of the chilling panic that had settled over him finally abated some. He pulled away from Carla’s embrace, staring out at the snowfall. "I have to find him...figure out what's wrong. I have to..." He trailed off, moving to head up the stairs, then looked Carla in mild surprise when her grip on his wrist held him in place. "Let go..."
"No, Bambi,” Carla said gently, pity in every line of her features. “Look, you don't even know which way he went, and it's a blizzard out there..."
“Yeah, and he’s out in it!”
Carla just shook her head, looking sorrier than he'd ever seen her, but determined, too. "You can't follow him, sweetheart. It's too risky."
"But..."
“Look, you don’t owe it to him to go after him,” Turk said, brow furrowed as he folded his arms over his chest. “After what he said to you? I think if he wanted you with him he’d’ve been up front to start with.”
JD shook his head, but Turk’s words were salt in an all-too-fresh wound: Perry didn’t want his help. He’d made that perfectly clear, hadn’t he? Made it perfectly clear he didn’t want JD at all, anymore…
Still. “He’s out there somewhere,” he gritted, balling his hands into fists. “I don’t care what he did to me, I can’t…I can’t let him…” he trailed off. “It’s dangerous out there, alone. It’s freezing, and it’s getting colder, and he…he could…”
“That was his decision,” Carla said softly, still shaking her head. “He knows this area, and hopefully he knows what he was doing, but…you can’t go after him. You’d just be putting yourself in danger, and more than him, because you’re no woodsman, JD.”
"She's right," Elliot said suddenly, rising to her hooves, scooping Jack up in one smooth motion. The child squirmed, trying to flap his wings, but Elliot held onto him, moving forward and handing him to JD, who took him automatically. In JD's arms, Jack settled, retracting his wings and settling for playing with JD's feathers instead. "It’s dangerous," Elliot continued, "and Jack needs you to stay."
JD's eyes filled suddenly as he remembered his promise to Perry, not to put them both in danger, so one of them could be there to look after Jack...Damn him for taking advantage of it. He swallowed hard, slumping, realizing he’d lost this fight. He nodded. "You're right,” he said, voice dull, drawing Jack closer to him and resting his cheek on the child’s hair. “Looks like it's me and you, now, bug," he murmured, rocking the child a little, who giggled. "Daddy?"
"I'm sure he'll be back soon," JD replied, his heart shattering a little more inside his chest. "He's just gone off for a bit...so we'll have to look after each other for now."
One by one, the others gradually withdrew from the den, leaving him alone with Jack. Who, as usual, seemed to sense that all wasn't well, and snuggled close, thumb popping into his mouth as he whimpered a little at JD’s obvious distress. JD soothed him, rocking him a little, fighting the urge to panic, the urge to ignore the others’ arguments and go after Perry anyway. Only Jack held him in place. JD found himself desperately praying Perry would return before dark. Even if they were over, even if Perry didn’t love him, the thought of losing him entirely was enough to call up the numbing fog that had closed over him when he’d learned of his mother and brother’s deaths.
Why? What could have been so bad to have forced Perry to leave?
* * *
It was midday before Perry allowed himself a real break, stopping and lowering himself down onto a frozen log, after brushing away as much of the snow as he could. He settled with a soft groan, the muscles of his legs aching, and reflected it would’ve been nice if his Change had gotten far enough along to give him the extra muscles and endurance JD’s had afforded him. It really had been a long time since he’d done any serious hiking, and he must’ve been more out of shape than he realized.
Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out the canteen of water he’d packed there, keeping it close to his body to keep it from freezing. He’d also packed away some of the jerky in the inner pockets of his coat, absently grateful he’d read as much Jack London as he had when he was a kid. If nothing else, he’d learned a thing or two about how to survive in cold weather. Because crazy as it was, Elliot was right: it was getting colder. It was hard to believe he was hiking through California in May--it felt more like Alaska in November.
He took a swig of the water canteen, then pulled out the map he'd printed out yesterday while the others were in the field. The closest reported sighting of the Fae was about fifty miles from the cabin. As long as it didn't get any colder, he should be able to cover that distance in the next two or three days.
He lowered his pack to the ground, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of dried beef jerky, tearing into it ravenously. He wished he could attribute his hunger to the Change, but he knew it was just the hunger of honest work. Despite keeping it close to his body, the jerky was tough, but the chewing gave him something to focus on--kept him from worrying about JD, and Jack, and wondering just how long he’d be able to keep going if he couldn’t find the Fae.
If he didn’t, he knew, the chances of ever making it back to his family were basically nil.
Shoving those thoughts from his mind, he finished the piece of jerky quickly, then rooted around in his pack for the loaf of homemade bread he'd brought along. Finding it to be frozen solid, he hacked off a chunk and stuck it inside his jacket to thaw. Then, reluctantly, he shoved himself up, dusted off the snow that had begun to accumulate on his thighs and shoulders, and hoisted his pack up onto his back once more.
He couldn't afford to stay still for long. That much he'd realized. He'd brought a thermal sleeping bag, but he wasn't convinced it would do much for the kind of cold he was hiking into, as he got deeper into the mountains. Still, it was the best he had; if the snow was deep enough--and the way it was coming down, he doubted there'd be much question of that--he could simply cover himself in it, building a hollow like they did on the sled dog runs.
Adding the History Channel just under Jack London to his mental list of things he was grateful for, he drew a deep breath and began to walk again, idly wondering if it was the cold that had made his limbs so stiff and reluctant to move, or something else entirely.
* * *
The rest of the day passed in something of a blur for JD. Carla brought him food and he ate it, losing himself in playing with Jack, looking after him, fighting the urge to pace restlessly, trying desperately not to think. The others spent the morning searching the cabin, looked for a note, for some kind of sign or indication of where Perry had headed, but all they could tell him was that some food and Perry's hiking gear were missing. At one point, Carla had suggested calling Perry’s cell, but after a brief flare of hope when JD got a signal and a ring on the other line, Sean appeared at the top of the stairs, holding the older doctor’s phone in his hands, looking grim. “Sorry,” he said softly.
JD had almost sobbed his frustration.
Throughout the day, JD felt himself beginning to close down. He could hear the others outside the door to the den frequently, speaking in hushed, worried tones, but he ignored them. As long as they didn't come in and try to cheer him up, he would be okay. He could get through this...and Perry would come back. He had to...he'd left the truck, and it was too cold outside for him to camp. He had to be back by nightfall. As soon as the sky started to grow even darker, JD started half listening, glancing toward the window every few moments expectantly.
Perry would be back any moment.
* * *
As the day drew on toward evening, Perry halted again and scowled, wishing, not for the first time, that he'd invested in a GPS system of some sort.
He squinted at his compass, then at the map, a flashlight held fast between his teeth, then looked around at the trees that looked basically like every other place he’d stopped. He sighed, thinking he could at least safely assume he wasn’t going in circles: the snow had stopped falling about three hours ago, and his tracks were stretched behind him, marking the way he’d come quite clearly. He’d tried to keep mostly under the cover of trees, not wanting those tracks to be visible from the air; as soon as the snow stopped, he’d started worrying again about JD flying after him. He didn’t know how that confrontation would play out, if the younger man did manage to track him down, but he was fairly certain he didn’t want to find out.
He growled a little, folding the map and sticking it back into his pack, focusing his attention instead on the compass. Then, wishing there was some way to know exactly how far he’d come, he shoved the small metal instrument back into his jacket pocket, and began to unhook his sleeping bag. It was getting too dark to see, and he'd been hiking for nearly twenty hours; he was exhausted, physically and mentally, and frozen, and basically miserable. At least if he could get to sleep, he could take care of the first two.
As he spread the sleeping bag over the ground, packing it with another hunk of bread and more jerky to thaw for his breakfast, he glanced around himself, eying his surroundings. The darkness of the woods, which he’d never minded on previous hiking trips, now seemed oppressive, almost ominous. He shivered a little, not just from the cold, but shook off the sensation, beginning to dig a hollow in the snow. Maybe he really had been around JD for too long--his imagination was starting to play tricks with him. He could almost imagine the glinting of the hanging icicles were eyes, watching him curiously, vanishing into the shadows before he could get a good look at their owners.
He snorted, shaking his head to rid it of the fanciful thought, and crawled into the sleeping bag, zipping it up and packing the snow up around it to help it retain heat.
It was only after he’d finished, borrowing as deeply into the blankets as he could, that his mind began to wander back home, to Jack and Carla and Turk and Elliot and Sean, but mostly to JD.
JD. Perry closed his eyes, shivering as he curled in on himself a little, snuggling down as deep as he could in the sleeping bag and willing the heat to begin collecting.
He wondered how JD was doing, what they’d thought about finding Perry gone. Wondered if they were worried about him, wondering if JD missed him as much as he missed JD. Wondered if JD was thinking about him, even now, and what sorts of thoughts he might be having, if he was. Much as Perry wanted to believe JD would forgive him, he knew he couldn’t ignore the very likely possibility that JD would never understand what he'd done--why he’d done it. Even if he made it back somehow, JD might never trust him again.
He might even decide this was for the best.
Maybe his ploy had worked, and he'd successfully driven him away for good. Maybe he’d get back and JD wouldn’t even want him anymore; would have decided he really could do much better than the washed-up bitter old jackass that was Perry Cox.
He snorted, brow furrowing. It was the truth, after all. However hurt JD was now, he was young--he’d recover. And he might just decide he was better off.
He bit his lip, scowling a little, trying to shove away the self-pity that rose within him. After all, if he really wanted what was best for JD, then he should be happy about this. And JD would look after Jack. Of that, Perry had no doubts. Whatever the younger doctor might decide about him, Perry knew JD loved the child. And he had a good heart. He wouldn’t abandon him, no matter what had transpired between he and Perry.
Yeah. They’d be fine. They had each other, and the others…they’d take care of each other.
They didn’t need him.
* * *
Perry didn't come back.
JD put Jack to bed, and found himself suddenly with nothing to concentrate on, nothing with which to distract himself.
The others tried to help. Elliot unearthed a pack of cards and offered to be his teammate in a game of Hearts, but JD soon grew ill of the surreptitiously exchanged pitying glances the others kept throwing each other, so he went upstairs, sitting down on the bed he'd shared with Perry for nearly a month.
It was cold.
In fact, despite the house's heating and the fire, everything seemed cold. He stood, moving silently to look out the large French windows, watching the snow swirl in the light from the living room windows. Beyond that, everything was darkness. He shivered, suddenly feeling very small and alone; leaning forward, pressing his fingertips to the cold window, he whispered, "God...if you’re there…keep him safe, wherever he is?"
He pushed tears away again, climbing into bed curling into the covers, smelling Perry's scent on them. He scooted himself to Perry's side of the mattress, wrapping his arms around his lover's pillow. Only then did he let the tears start to fall.
For the second night in a row, he fell asleep before they stopped.
* * *
When morning finally came, Perry found it difficult to wake up. The warmth had finally started to gather around him, lulling him into something of a stupor, and when the brightness of the sunshine filtering through the ice-covered trees finally drew him back to consciousness, a very large part of him wanted to burrow back into the blankets and let sleep take him over again. It would be so easy, he knew--to let the darkness take back over, to drift off and just stay asleep, and stay asleep, until he would never have to worry about waking up again.
It was that thought, more than anything, that forced him awake, slightly alarmed. He pushed himself up out of the snow-covered sleeping bag, and walked around his make-shift campsite a few times, swinging his arms to get the circulation going again, shaking his head sharply to wake himself up. The frigid air helped, and soon he was awake, though his head was aching a little from the exhaustion or lack of food or both. His limbs were stiff and sore as well, remnants of his long hike the day before, and he spent some time simply stretching, trying to get them to loosen up a little.
It worked, sort of. He could move, at any rate.
He reached into his sleeping bag, pulling out the bread and jerky he’d stored there to keep it warm. The bread was a little squashed, and had started to turn slightly stale, but it was still palatable. He ate quickly, taking a long swig of water from his canteen before scooping a handful of snow into it, filling it back to the brim. Then, tucking it away into his jacket, he stowed his sleeping bag and attached it to his pack, climbing to his feet and glancing around. His tracks from the night before were still visible, so it was easy enough to determine which way he needed to go, but he reached into his pocket to check the compass anyway, wanting to be sure.
Only to discover his compass wasn’t there.
He frowned, squinting down at the pocket, then pulled off his gloves with his teeth and began a more frantic search. But it soon became clear that the instrument was gone, probably lying somewhere on his path behind him.
He swore softly to himself, momentarily at a loss. If he went back to get it, he would lose much precious time. He’d only packed about four days’ worth of food, not wanting to take more than he absolutely needed from the cabin, knowing the others would need it more. Doubling back would mean he’d cut very close into his supply--plus, there was no guarantee he’d even find the compass. Chances were good it was buried somewhere in the snow, covered by his footprints or a drift or carried off by some curious, scavenging animal.
But without it, he could end up miles off track, very quickly, and that would mean certain death as well.
He stood for a few moments, hands clenched in his curls, until his fingers started to ache from the cold. As he pulled his gloves on once more, he sighed, realizing he had no choice but to keep going forward. He did still have the map, after all, though without the compass he wasn’t sure what good it would do him, really. It wasn’t terribly detailed, and he had no way of knowing exactly where he was in the first place.
Still, it wasn’t like he had a lot of options. He sighed again, and, after carefully studying the angle of his tracks from the day before, he began to walk again.
He didn’t make it nearly as far that day. Whether it was the caution of walking without a compass, the lingering stiffness from the previous day’s hike, or the odd light-headed feeling that had joined his headache an hour or so into his trek, he didn’t know. Probably some combination of the three. He found he had to stop frequently to catch his breath, and more than once he’d realize he’d been walking without marking the trail, and have to double back and reassess his direction. He consulted the map a few times, but eventually gave up, finally admitting to himself that the symbols and landmarks meant next to nothing. He focused instead on staying in the same direction, moving carefully around obstacles to keep the angle the same. He was probably around twenty three miles from the cabin, by the time darkness fell again, but whether he’d moved twenty three miles in the right direction or ended up that far off track, he didn’t know.
As he burrowed into his sleeping bag, alone in the wilderness for the second night in a row, he was mildly alarmed to realize he didn’t care as much as he should have.
* * *
The next day was a near repeat of the one before it.
JD spent nearly all of his time with Jack, gently but firmly rejecting the advances of the others. They were more plentiful now than they had been, someone coming in every few hours to ask him if he was hungry, if he wanted to watch a movie, if he felt like talking.
But he didn't. He wanted to stay where he was, take care of his son.
He felt his jaw clench slightly whenever he thought of Jack that way. He knew it was perhaps no longer a right he could claim, but as long as Perry was gone, he was all Jack had. And dammit if he was going to be halfway about it. He loved the child, loved him as if he were JD’s flesh and blood, and there was no way he was going to allow him to be left alone. He couldn’t bring himself to think “orphan”--the thought implied more than he was willing to accept--but it was there, at the back of his mind, as he offered the child blocks and helped him build and tear down cities. Jack would not be an honorary nephew, not as long as JD had anything to say about it. Perry had offered him this place in the child’s life, and no matter what else the older man had decided to take away, he wasn’t taking this.
He knew his anger at Perry was really a way to hide his fear, but he couldn’t help it. It kept him from picturing the older man alone out in the wilderness, fighting cold and weariness and who knew what else, fulfilling whatever foolish quest he’d decided was important enough for him to abandon his child. For his part, JD couldn't imagine what could possibly be that important.
He got his answer to that question sooner than he expected. Sometime in the afternoon, Turk brought the laptop to him. "Dude...I thought maybe you should see this."
JD frowned, accepting the machine, which Turk had open to the internet browser. He glanced up at his friend, who looked grim. “Found this page in the history,” he said. “Thought you’d want to take a look.”
JD returned his attention to the screen, realizing Turk had opened one of the medical sites they frequented, to an article dated about three days prior. His eyes widened, and he released a soft, defeated moan, slumping to the ground as he read the words as though they were Perry's death warrant.
No. Oh, no…Perry...
Treatment only a delay. Rejection universally fatal.
* * *
He was dreaming again. He had to be dreaming again.
He couldn’t see the little girl, but he could hear her, her voice a sweet, innocent song, rising high then swooping low again, making dips and crescendos that seemed to carve out a path in the air before him, painting pictures of sound.
He was lying on the ground in his sleeping bag, but he was walking, too, wandering through the paths the music had mapped out before him, listening to the song become a giggle, then a whisper.
“Come find me!”
He was walking for real now, pushing himself up out of his sleeping bag, leaving the bag itself and his pack abandoned in the snow, half-buried in a drift that the winds had created as he’d slept. He didn’t care. All that mattered was to walk, to follow the music, to find the child who created it. If he found her, he would be okay. If he found her, she would make everything better, somehow. He wasn't sure why he knew it, but he did.
A very distant part of Perry’s brain registered the cold air around him, intensified by the fact that he'd left much of his warmer gear behind; registered the exhaustion, the pain each breath caused in his breast. Registered the way his heart was beating too quickly, his chest working too hard to force his lungs to take in air; the way the edges of his vision were gray, and murky. That part of his brain marked off his symptoms, nodding grimly to itself, assessing delirium, offering a diagnosis of hypothermia and shock, and a prognosis that was less than favorable.
Keep walking. Keep walking. The song…follow the song, find the child…
His rational brain clucked at him, but did not have the power to stop his staggering progress. She was close. He knew she was close--she had to be. He could hear her. Couldn’t he? He could hear…voices, many voices, soft, lifted in song, painting the child’s picture more clearly than before, enhancing it: the steady hand of an adult assisting a child's crayon coloring, filling it in with more confident strokes, more brilliant colors. They were calling him, drawing him forward, urging him on, enticing him stumbling through the snow.
Find us. Follow the song.
He fell. He didn’t notice at first, but when his hands began to grow cold, he realized it was because they were buried in snow, and some of it had gotten packed into his gloves. He rose unsteadily to his feet, pulling the gloves off and leaving them on the ground before continuing on his way, staggering drunkenly but persistently onward.
(Hypothermia. Freezing, then stupor, then warmth, then sleep.)
He knew how this worked. He’d fall again, eventually, and this time he would not get up. Even if he weren’t exhausted, the dizziness had returned full force, and he might as well have been trying to navigate a tilt-a-whirl. The light headedness, the headache, the pain in his chest. (Rejection.) The numbness, the tingling, the stupor. (Hypothermia.) It was getting hard to tell what was doing what, and the detached part of his brain found it mildly entertaining to try to predict which would take him down first.
The giggling was closer, now, and as Perry staggered on, blinking, he thought he caught a glimpse of blue. “Come on!” the girlish voice called, before it joined its elders in song again.
“M’comin’…” Perry mumbled aloud, the sound of his own voice shattering the illusion for a moment. He paused, blinking, the world returned briefly to sharp focus: the cold snow, the silently indifferent forest, the unsteady trail of his footsteps behind him, the puffs of steam his ragged breath conjured in the air before him.
Silence. Empty, cold.
Alone.
He faltered, and for a flash of a second, panic settled into his brain. Oh, God, I’m losing it, I'm hallucinating...I’m going to die out here. I’m going to die. Jack...JD...
But the panic faded quickly, buried in the recesses of his brain, the stupor taking over once more, calming him, warming him. He giggled a little, hearing the child laughing at him, seeing her again through the trees, beckoning. “You’re almost there!” she whispered, and from her blue back, a pair of gossamer wings appeared. She began to flap them, rising gently into the air, floating. A soft glow of light grew around her, surrounding her, encasing her as the music began to swell.
“You’re almost there!" she called to him. "Keep going!”
Go to the light.
He snorted. That’s what they said in cheesy movies, that’s not how it really worked. He’d witnessed too much death to still harbor any romantic ideas about it. There was no light, no tunnel, no waiting arms of long-lost loved ones.
No. There’s just a singing blue fairy girl.
(Delirious.)
He stumbled forward, and the child called him on. “You’re almost there! You’re almost there!”
Almost there. So close…
So tired.
He fell again, and this time, as he'd predicted, there was no getting up. The song swelled around him, and he sighed softly, sinking into the snow as if it were a giant blanket, not even feeling the sting of the cold against his raw skin. It was comfortable. It was warm. He could just sleep, for a little while, and then get up and walk some more, later.
(Hypothermia.)
Yeah, later. Later was good. He was tired, now, and he just wanted to sleep.
JD.
He opened his eyes a little, and watched the strange play of light and dark as the cold finally took him, listening to the swell of the music around him.
JD, I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I tried.
Then, closing his eyes, he allowed himself to drift, knowing, even as he promised himself it would only be a short nap, that he would never wake again.
* * *
Next Chapter
* * *
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 06:12 (UTC)*off to read now*
~m
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 06:27 (UTC)... ok, assholes, now go post the next one. RIGHT NOW.
This had better have a happy ending, because congratulations, you've got me all sniffly and sad and angsted out right about now. Poor Perry, poor JD, and poor, poor Jack. What the hell.
Still. Lovely. I can't wait for the next one!
~m
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 06:25 (UTC)I know I've said this several times before, but you guys really put in a lot of effort and research, and that just makes the story even more enjoyable for me.
See you next week.
--Alissa
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 18:25 (UTC)Thanks for reading, much thanks for the comment! And check us out Wednesday--I think we're going to be posting the next one then. *crosses fingers*
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From: (Anonymous) - Date: 12 Mar 2007 01:29 (UTC) - Expandno subject
Date: 11 Mar 2007 06:55 (UTC)no subject
Date: 14 Mar 2007 02:56 (UTC)And thank you! I'm glad to hear you were so into it!
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 07:33 (UTC)no subject
Date: 11 Mar 2007 07:36 (UTC)(no subject)
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From: (Anonymous) - Date: 12 Mar 2007 03:37 (UTC) - Expandno subject
Date: 11 Mar 2007 07:43 (UTC)Is Perry turning into some sort of fey creature? It would explain the dragon type features of his change.
MORE PLEASE
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Date: 14 Mar 2007 02:57 (UTC)no subject
Date: 11 Mar 2007 07:48 (UTC)no subject
Date: 11 Mar 2007 18:23 (UTC)Sorry!! It's just the natural division of the chapters! *snuggles*
But if you feel any better, I think we're posting the next chapter on Wednesday. It's a little shorter, so we'll have time to get it done.
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 13:42 (UTC)no subject
Date: 14 Mar 2007 02:59 (UTC)More tonight, promise.
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 14:53 (UTC)no subject
Date: 11 Mar 2007 18:20 (UTC)EXCUSE ME? (You know I love you.)
Date: 11 Mar 2007 16:21 (UTC)Me:WHAT?!?!?!
My roommate: Ok, only dogs could hear that...
Because seriously! EVIL! I mean geez! I think you've just earned your official Sith membership cards. Sauron is recruiting, and you're the top on his list! You can keep the obituary notices of the people you've killed with the All Powerful Cliffie right next to all that candy that you've taken from babies. (Now give Jack back his lollipop, dammit.)
Good God, folks, do ya think that you hold off slaughtering your readers until it can be with the Cute? Do ya?
Re: EXCUSE ME? (You know I love you.)
Date: 14 Mar 2007 03:01 (UTC)God, I love you.
Not to mention highly amused that you hit my two other fandoms--Star Wars and LOTR. Though the hobbit in me quails at being on Sauron's list. ;D
*eats candy and cackles*
more tonight.
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 16:43 (UTC)no subject
Date: 11 Mar 2007 18:19 (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 11 Mar 2007 17:43 (UTC)no subject
Date: 14 Mar 2007 03:13 (UTC)I don't know about happy, but the next part'll be up tonight!
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 17:51 (UTC)PLEASE PLEASE POST THE NEXT CHAPTER! I CAN'T WAIT ANOTHER WEEK! AHHHHHHHH! PERRY! PERRY! DON'T DIE! LIVE LIVE LIVE LIVE! AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU CAN'T LEAVE A CLIFFHANGER LIKE THIS! ARGH!
Pwease? ;-;
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 18:18 (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 19:55 (UTC)no subject
Date: 14 Mar 2007 03:14 (UTC)More tonight!
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 21:39 (UTC)ZZZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMGGGGGGGGGGGGG
OHHHHHHHHHH NNNNOOOOOOOOOOEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS
That is all
*camps out to wait for wednesday*
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Date: 14 Mar 2007 03:21 (UTC)*giggles* posting soon!
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 22:24 (UTC)*drinks the poison and dies, ack :(*
~Ricka~
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Date: 11 Mar 2007 22:39 (UTC)Waiting
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Date: 12 Mar 2007 03:39 (UTC)Perry can't die... and he can't not keep Changing.
*snugglez poor abandoned JD and Jack* It's okay dears; Daddy's coming home.
I dont know if i can wait another week.
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Date: 14 Mar 2007 03:15 (UTC)In which...some questions may be answered. Sort of.
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Date: 12 Mar 2007 05:15 (UTC)And then I read it.
And I cried.
I was all happy and yay about getting to read it and then it made me cry. I hope you're happy, you mean, mean writers.
(But it was still teh awesome. Poor JD. And *smacks Perry* YOU'D BETTER NOT DIE, MISTER! *waits for Wednesday* )
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Date: 14 Mar 2007 03:20 (UTC)Don't cry!! *hugs again*
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Date: 12 Mar 2007 17:05 (UTC)Meanwhile, we're left in massive emotional pain while we wait to see just HOW it works out. Gah. Between this and House I'm being driven insane! You brilliantly evil people, you've manipulated the readers so perfectly!
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Date: 14 Mar 2007 03:16 (UTC)no subject
Date: 13 Mar 2007 23:08 (UTC)This was mean. Very mean. But also, as always, a good read.
You guys still suck though.**
)
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Date: 14 Mar 2007 03:19 (UTC)Glad you like it, even if we do suck! NO argument there. I certainly wouldn't want to be reading us...we're evil! :(
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Date: 13 Mar 2007 23:27 (UTC)no subject
Date: 14 Mar 2007 03:17 (UTC)I'm not sure it'll help with the crying, though...
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Date: 3 Apr 2007 04:38 (UTC)no subject
Date: 17 Apr 2007 19:48 (UTC)no subject
Date: 2 Jun 2007 22:12 (UTC)I liked the part about JD firmly believing Jack was his son. Nice to know. But NEXT CHAPTER OMG.
I can create website for you (free)
Date: 3 Mar 2017 16:25 (UTC)