Conversation

You can't have her. 

An incurious glance from inside the dark.

We shall see.

I straighten her legs, pull her to me from the Raggedy Ann pile she's fallen into there against the wall, ready to start CPR. She gasps and faintly responds to my voice. I hear sirens in the distance, a million miles away. A half aspirin, under the tongue. She speaks, logical nonsense, telling me to pull her nightgown down over her legs so she won't be embarrassed. I tell her I have done it and she thanks me and begins to fade again.

No. You've always been associated with my life and my jobs and my times and turnings - you lurk, always there, sometimes surprisingly, sometimes a curse, always awfully. But I've never feared you. You've come when I called, and I've touched you in every form you take and looked you straight in your face. I've always known you would come for me one day, and I am ready, always, and forever. But you owe me.

She tenses and begins small seizures. Surely a bad sign. Where's the fucking ambulance?

I owe no man. I am part of each soul's universe, no more yours than theirs. You of all people know that I am the dark runnel in the woof and weave and design of every thread woven by the great loom. And you having that knowledge, or their lack of it, makes you no more or less than them. You don't run in terror from me, but that matters not a whit. I am the leveler, and where I pass, all are one. Even those who know me as well as you.

I am talking to her, loud, brushing her hair back - she responds to me from some deep place, unconscious but trying to find me.

So, what from here? Where is she going? Will she wait for me there? Or is life after all just a pretty, delicate, complex castle made of shiny glass cards that simply fall when the game is done, all the parts needed for life still there, but in an ugly dead pile, no more alive than a handful of chemistry?

Silence.

TELL ME WHERE SHE'S GOING!

Silence.

Fuck you, it doesn't matter. You can't have her.

Fuck ME? A split second of amusement ripples. Mortal, I am worshiped as a god by many of your race. I was at the beginning and will be at the end, the alpha and omega, as another has said. All belong to me, and I will take her as I wish.

The cold exhalation wraps around her; she coughs and foam appears, and she stops breathing. I clear her mouth and move up to begin...

Please. You've never scared me before, and now I'm frightened out of my mind. Why are you doing this? You know I can't live without her.

Suddenly she gasps in a breath, and the dark passes through me, and ice crushes my heart and lungs and guts and my blood crystallizes to frozen sludge.

Then perhaps I shall take you both.

And as she begins to struggle again, I know I cannot survive her going.

YOU CAN'T HAVE HER!

I am yelling now, calling her back. She calms, and her eyes half-open - yeah, I can hear you, she says...

Not your choice. But, I don't want her. Not now. Another time. Prepare yourself.

And the dark was gone.

In Our Next Episode: Three days in the hospital, a week looking over my shoulder, and some time figuring out that the dialogue was internal. Probably.