fic: darkcity | price

I found this one in my Livejournal. I wrote it exactly 2 years and 7 days ago. I wanted to play around with possible reasons for Sam's powers. Apparently "Well, he died and then was brought back to life" struck me as a suitable enough answer that I wrote this. I suppose it's a good enough reason. I mean, it stuck, which explains [this piece.]

This is a possible explanation as to how Sam was resurrected. It's probably not the correct one.

You probably don't want to know what price Richard paid, either.

-

Price

They meet in a dusty little café that sits hidden between a cleaner's and a bookstore. It smells tangy, and the waitresses are tired-looking teenagers with chipped nail polish and too much make-up. Richard spies the boy sitting at the back, and as he approaches he holds out his hand and says, "It's nice to meet you."

The black-haired boy smiles and shakes his hand. The boy, Richard notes as they sit down, does not return the greeting.

"Is it true?" Richard blurts out before he can stop himself. It's a question that has been digging into his mind since the boy first contacted him. The boy, at least, doesn't seem surprised by the question; his smile only widens. His eyes are blue, but they're a shade of blue Richard has never seen before—strange and bright, almost glowing.

A waitress stops by their table and glares at them until the boy says, "Cappuccino for both of us, please."

"Yes, thank you," Richard says, even though he hates cappuccino. As soon as the waitress is gone he says, "So is it?"

"Yes, Mr. Gray," the boy says. "I can bring back the dead."

Richard sits and waits for doubt to shoot through his mind. You're crazy, he thinks. You're lying. You're a fucking lunatic. But none of the thoughts ring true. Maybe the boy is crazy—probably is, actually—but Richard finds he believes him. He has to.

Richard digs into the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet and takes out the picture of his son. "This is him," Richard says. "He died a year ago."

The boy frowns and looks at the picture. Richard doesn't. His chest aches every time he sees that familiar, bright smile in the photograph. "A year?"

"Is that—is that bad?"

"Of course not," the boy says smoothly. "It's just...." He stops speaking as soon as the waitress comes by with their drinks. Richard sips at his mug and winces. He really hates coffee.

"It's just?" he prompts.

"How much are you willing to pay?" the boy asks.

"Anything. Everything."

The boy raises an eyebrow. "Anything?" he says.

"Yes." He doesn't even hesitate.

The boy grins and leans back in his seat. He takes a long drink from his mug and then says, "I won't."

Richard feels his heart stop. "You won't bring him back?"

"I won't ask you for anything," the boy clarifies. "I'm tempted, though." He laughs, like he's just said something really funny.

"Alright, Mr. Gray," the boy says. He's smiling, and it's a smile that makes Richard uneasy. "This is what we'll do. You will go home. You will get your house ready. Clean up your son's room. Make sure his favorite food is in the fridge. Get him all the toys you never got a chance to give him." The smile becomes softer, kinder. "And in two weeks, you will open the door and your son will be there, alive and well."

Richard closes his eyes. He finds himself believing it. He can see it now, in fact. He'll open the door, and Sam will be there, his eyes bright and his hair tousled, and he'll grin up at Richard and say, "Long day, Dad?" like he never left at all.

When he opens his eyes, the boy's gone. For a moment he wonders if the conversation really happened. Then he sees the empty mug the boy left behind, and he decides, for the sake of his sanity, that it did.

He pays for the coffee and walks out of the café and into the sunlight, which glares down at him, hot and bright. Richard stares up at the sky and realizes that, for he first time in a year, he feels really and truly alive.

Labels: _fiction, c: richard gray, c: samuel gray, verse: darkcity