Exitus - 5. Part I, chapter 5

- V -

Raven kept looking out of the round window without really seeing anything. The airport kept growing bigger and bigger with each minute, as if someone used a magnifying glass, making everything to appear in better focus and real size. He leaned onto the back of his seat when the plane made a mild impact with the ground after it finally landed. He sighed and looked up. The red blinking ‘Buckle Up’ sign blinked one last time and became a lifeless black shadow. Raven sighed again and unbuckled his seat belt, looking out of the window once more. He slowly nodded to himself when he saw a familiar-looking car waiting not too far from the plane, and stood up after the plane came to a smooth, rocking stop.

“What time do you need us to be ready for you, master Delamorte?” the flight attendant appeared in the fairly wide hallway, her expression calm and respectful.

Raven tried to remember her name, and gave up after a minute or so – he had no idea.

“I won’t need you,” he said, patting the back pocket of his pants and making sure he didn’t drop his wallet. “Go home,” he nodded when the attendant blinked rapidly at that statement.

“You are not coming back?” The young woman seemed very cautious when she asked that.

Raven gave her a tired smile.

“I am,” he nodded. “Not by plane, however.”

“We could wait for you just in case...” she started saying, but Raven quickly shook his head.

“Go home,” he said again and headed towards the exit. “I am sure,” he paused for a second before stepping closer to the oval door leading into startlingly bright sunlight.

“All right, master Delamorte,” the woman said slowly. “Enjoy your stay.”

“Yeah,” Raven muttered and stepped outside, holding onto the railing of the white ladder, his eyes fixed on the steps.

...He looked at the familiar-looking door for almost five minutes before finally raising his hand and pressing his finger into the button of the doorbell. He bit his lip while waiting for someone to come to the door, his mind racing. “What if this whole trip was done for nothing?” he thought numbly without looking away from dark oak of the door. “What if they will just tell me to get lost...? What if I had completely unrealistic hopes and thoughts...? What if...”

The door swung open, catching Raven by surprise – he expected much more creaking. The man who opened the door stared at him in quiet astonishment.

“Raven...” he said finally, very slowly, as if making sure he wasn’t seeing things.

“Is this a bad time?” Raven asked tightly after the man wouldn’t move away from the door, his posture rigid.

“No, not at all...” the man shook his head and took two quick steps sideways. “Come in... What’s up?” he turned towards Raven after shutting the door, his expression less bewildered than a minute ago.

“Is Gabriel here?” Raven asked in the same tight manner, and the man slowly nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “He is; it’s Saturday, he is off work... What’s up?” he said again.

Raven briefly closed his eyes.

“Raven...!” he heard another puzzled voice and opened his eyes.

“Sorry for intruding on you two without any warning,” he said dully. “I won’t take too much of your time though...”

“Take as much as you need,” the man who opened the door shrugged without much effort. “Coffee...?”

“Sure,” Raven said slowly, trying to figure out the best way to say it.

He followed both men into the kitchen, his hands frozen in his pockets, his heartbeat slow and steady.

“I need your help,” he said finally after one of the men started to work the coffeemaker.

Both of them stared at him in the identical questioning manner. “I wonder if Julian and I looked alike sometimes...” he thought, and gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stop thinking about that.

“I need your help,” he nodded again. “I decided that asking you face to face would be a better alternative rather than using a phone...”

“Desmond, coffee,” one of the men said after glancing at the coffeemaker that was patiently waiting for the correct ingredients.

Desmond blinked and grabbed the carafe.

“What do you need?” he asked after he filled the carafe with water. “Rayhe, move... What kind of help?” He glanced at Raven with genuine interest and poured water into the back opening of the coffeemaker.

Raven took a deep breath.

“I need...” he started saying slowly, realizing that it would not sound like a normal, every-day request no matter how carefully he would choose the words. “I need you to go back in time with me, so I can prevent Julian’s death from happening,” he finished without looking away from Desmond’s green eyes.

Those eyes started to reflect a look that became more and more incredulous. Suddenly, Desmond blinked and glanced at Rayhe, who was identically stunned.

“He does,” Desmond nodded, and Raven frowned at that. “No, he is not,” Desmond said after a few seconds. Then he blinked again, frowned, and shifted his gaze to Raven. “He might be...” he said slowly, his expression suddenly wary.

Raven rolled his eyes.

“I am not insane,” he said shortly. “I can’t hear thoughts,” he continued in a slightly irritated voice after Desmond’s expression became suspicious. “I didn’t have to hear your little half-silent exchange; I am not blind, and I am not completely dumb! It was written on your faces,” he nodded. “I haven’t lost my mind...” He frowned somewhat thoughtfully. “Not yet... I mean,” he shrugged. “I have my moments sometimes, but I am still in charge,” he nodded again.

Rayhe cleared his throat.

“I absolutely understand how such an idea might seem like a perfect solution,” he started saying carefully. “And I certainly understand how alluring it is... However,” he cleared his throat again. “Nobody can go back in time; otherwise, it would be done by...” He shrugged. “Well, by everyone... I don’t know how you came up with this, and I don’t know what made you come all the way here, but...”

“I am going back there at midnight,” Raven interrupted him dully. “I was hoping to find some help before I do... Everything would be much better with help,” he nodded without looking away from Rayhe’s brown eyes. “And when it comes to any kind of help, you two are the best choice.”

“Flattery...” Desmond muttered automatically. “I am sorry, but are you high on something?” he narrowed his eyes.

“No, I am not,” Raven sighed, the irritable feeling never leaving his chest. “I am not high, and I am not insane...! I get one chance; if I fail...” He gritted his teeth. “It will be permanent,” he finished quietly.

“For argument’s sake...” Rayhe said slowly. “Let’s imagine that you are telling the sober truth...” He shook his head. “How in the world would you do it? Some bizarre quantum physics or...”

“Claudia,” Raven interrupted him.

“Claudia?” Rayhe repeated incredulously; Desmond was completely mute, it seemed.

“Yes,” Raven looked at the huffing coffeemaker. “She is the only one who can control time; I found that out yesterday afternoon. Then she agreed to meet me and...”

“How?” Desmond was finally able to produce sounds.

“Doesn’t matter,” Raven impatiently shook his head. “What matters is the fact that she gave me a chance...! One single chance... She also told me that I might need help, and that everything would be much harder if I were to do it alone. That was when I thought about you,” he nodded without looking away from Desmond’s face.

He waited for several long, clock-ticking-filled minutes, digging his fingernails into his palms, impatient desperation flooding him with each passing second. Finally, Desmond looked at Rayhe, gave him a small, slow nod, and shifted his gaze towards Raven.

“Raven...” he said slowly, and the smaller man knew his answer immediately. “I am sorry... The answer is no,” he kept his eyes locked on Raven’s, his voice quiet but firm. “I’d rather not discuss the reasons,” he added a second later.

Raven stood frozen for several silent minutes, hearing nothing but thudding of his own heart.

“Yeah,” he muttered finally, still unable to relax his fists. “Yeah...”

He slowly turned around and headed towards the door without saying anything else.

“If I were you...” Desmond said suddenly. “I would just let it be...”

Raven came to a dead stop when he heard that.

“Meddling with time could be disastrous,” Desmond continued. “The consequences...”

Raven turned around, staring at him without blinking.

“You would just let it be?” he interrupted the man in a low, even voice.

“Yes,” Desmond nodded without looking away. “I would.”

Raven stretched his mouth in a small, rubber smile.

“Then I am sorry,” he said in the same even manner, and Desmond frowned slightly.

“For what?” he asked.

“For calling you a dirty liar to your face,” Raven said, and Desmond blinked at that. “If he...” he glanced at silent Rayhe for a second. “...were dead, you would rip the entire world into shreds to be able to bring him back,” he continued calmly. “And you wouldn’t give a flying shit about the consequences...”

He finally managed to relax his fists and pulled both hands out of his pockets.

“You are not the only one who knows how to love, Desmond,” he said quietly. “I gotta go,” he nodded slightly. “I don’t have much time,” he turned away again.

He made it all the way to the front door and put his hand onto the doorknob, when Desmond let out a low, hissing:

“Shit...!”

Raven ignored that and opened the door.

“Raven...!” Desmond called after him, but Raven ignored that as well. “Goddammit... Raven, wait...!” He called louder, and Raven came to an unwilling stop, glancing at him above his shoulder.

“What am I waiting for?” he asked with dull impatience. “As I said, I don’t have much time... I need to come up with some sort of strategy, so I don’t do too much improvisation. I gotta go...”

“Shit,” Desmond said again and briefly closed his eyes. “I will help you,” he said with defeated determination and opened his eyes, ignoring Rayhe’s incredulous, wide-eyed look.

Raven’s fingers wrapped tightly around the doorknob, thudding of his heart echoing in his ears louder than before. He stood in rigid silence for almost thirty seconds, and then finally said very quietly:

“If this is some sort of a twisted joke, please stop it...”

“It’s not a joke,” Desmond replied tightly. “My sense of humor isn’t that dreadful. I will help you,” he nodded, and finally, looked at Rayhe. “Gabriel,” he started saying slowly, looking at the other man without blinking. “I know that you don’t want to do this; I know that you are against this... It’s fine,” he nodded. “You don’t have to do it, and you don’t have to explain anything. Nothing will change, all right? I am the one who probably owes you a couple of explanations...” He let out a quick sigh. “Anyway,” he continued. “That’s why I said ‘I will help,’ and not ‘We will’... Are we okay?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said slowly several seconds later in a thoughtful manner. “Yes, we are okay, and no, I don’t want to do this...”

“I know,” Desmond said quietly. “I will...” He glanced at Raven, who stood frozen by the front door. “We will do it,” he shrugged.

“To let the two of you to jump back in time,” Gabriel said in the same thoughtful fashion. “Knowing that most probably you will manage to screw everything up without any hope of ever fixing it...? Tempting,” he nodded. “If you are doing it, then so am I,” he nodded again, firmer this time, and Desmond frowned.

“Rayhe...” he started saying, but Gabriel interrupted him.

“I am doing it,” he repeated. “I will probably bitch about it along the way, though,” he added after a few seconds, and Desmond snorted at that, his expression relieved.

Gabriel sighed and looked at Raven.

“Shut the door,” he said tiredly. “The heater is on.”

Raven blinked several times, shut the door, and then turned around and took two slow steps forward.

“One of the reasons I am doing this,” Desmond looked at him pointedly. “Is that if it works out, then we will get our Blue Line back,” he nodded firmly, and Raven stared at him for a several seconds before letting out a short, wild laughter.

“I miss that,” Rayhe sighed and reached for the mugs that he set on the counter earlier.

“Yeah,” Desmond agreed with him. “I do too...!”

Raven let out another laughter, feeling suddenly-lightheaded.

“All right,” Desmond sighed. “I need you to tell me...” He glanced at Gabriel. “Us,” he corrected himself with a slight nod. “I need you to tell us everything you can possibly recall that happened prior to the whole thing... Let’s say...” he thought for a few seconds. “Let’s say, a week prior to that,” he nodded finally. “Oh, by the way...” He frowned. “How the hell would we prevent anything if we wouldn’t have a slightest clue what would happen? I mean, once we go back, we won’t remember anything, right?”

“Wrong,” Raven shook his head and took a coffee filled mug out of Gabriel’s hands, his fingers shaking. “Claudia said that we would keep all our memories... Also,” he added quickly, answering Desmond’s unasked question. “There is no ritual or anything like that for you to go with me. She said that a verbal agreement would be enough.”

“I see,” Desmond muttered thoughtfully, automatically reaching for the pack of cigarettes. “How in the bloody hell did you manage to convince her to even meet you?” He narrowed his eyes with genuine interest. “Let alone, to agree to this whole thing...! Seriously, how...?”

“I had a hell of a motivation,” Raven answered solemnly, and Desmond sighed and nodded.

“All right,” he said a minute later. “So, a week prior... Oh, by the way...” He looked at Raven without blinking. “Skip the sex scenes, unless they are relevant,” he nodded firmly.

Raven let out a small smile and sat down on the chair, feeling tired all of a sudden.

“Okay,” he started talking slowly, his eyes fixed on his coffee mug, a concentrated, thoughtful frown twisting his eyebrows together. “A week before...”

...“...and that was it,” Raven finished some time later, gritting his teeth involuntarily, all those memories making his hands shake worse than before. “He never said anything; it was instant, I think...” He gritted his teeth again.

“Something doesn’t fit,” Desmond said thoughtfully, and Raven looked at him with a silent question. “Something doesn’t fit,” Desmond repeated with a slight nod. “I am not sure what, though...”

“It was a mistake,” Gabriel said suddenly, and both men looked at him at the same time. “That stream wasn’t meant for Julian; it was meant for you,” he looked at Raven and lit a cigarette. “That’s why he never felt anything; it was meant for you,” he nodded without looking away. “That’s the thing with black streams – only the potential victim feels it when it gets close; everyone else has no idea what is about to happen.”

Raven stared at him with wide eyes, his cigarette forgotten.

“Me?” he said quietly. “This entire thing happened because of me? I lost him because...”

“Because some son of a bitch was aiming for you,” Desmond interrupted him. “And not because it’s somehow, your fault. Now, stop with self-punishing, and concentrate on what we are doing, would you?”

Raven blinked at the familiar irritable notes in Desmond’s voice and looked at his dying cigarette. He puffed on it a couple of times, bringing it back to life, and pressed his elbows into the tabletop.

“Why hasn’t it happened again?” he asked, looking at Gabriel. “I mean, if someone wanted me dead...” He stuttered slightly. “...then why didn’t they try again?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel replied thoughtfully. “Maybe because they simply wanted just one of you dead, and figured that you would be an easier target? Or maybe because they were afraid they wouldn’t be able to produce enough strength for another jolt...? I don’t know,” he shook his head.

Raven dropped his head into his palms and sat silently for several minutes, gritting his teeth with helpless hatred and frustration. He had no idea who would want him dead and why. “I lost him because he pushed me out of its way,” he thought dully. “I lost him because...”

He gritted his teeth again and straightened up without finishing his thought.

“I am going to use your bathroom,” he said calmly and stood up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Uh huh,” Desmond said, watching him walk away. “Rayhe,” he said after he heard the bathroom door close. “I don’t believe this; maybe someone was fucking with him just for the hell of it, you know? I mean, Claudia...?” He shook his head and lit another cigarette. “Time travel...?” he continued. “No way in hell! I don’t believe this,” he said once again, and Gabriel shrugged.

“I guess we’ll find out at midnight,” he glanced at the clock; it was almost seven in the evening. “Five more hours,” he muttered.

“I don’t believe this,” Desmond repeated firmly and finished his coffee.

“I don’t know what to believe, Des,” Rayhe sighed. “This entire story still doesn’t make much sense... Shit happens, you know...? Maybe she really did agree to give him a chance,” he shrugged once again, and Desmond doubtfully shook his head without saying anything else.

...“Ain’t gonna happen,” Desmond thought when it was three minutes until midnight, wisely deciding against saying anything out loud – Raven seemed to be beyond tense and anxious. “I wonder who messed with him. That was cruel, to say the least...” He sighed and looked at the clock again. Two minutes left. “Bloody hell,” he thought darkly. “He’s gonna lose it...!”

He glanced at Gabriel and realized that he and Rayhe were on the same mind-wave length – Gabriel’s expression was tight and dark, a small worried frown splitting his forehead in half.

“One minute,” Raven said in a suddenly-raspy voice without looking away from the clock.

“Yes,” Gabriel nodded slowly. He stabbed his cigarette in the ashtray and straightened up. “So...” He took a quick breath and glanced at the clock, noting that Raven was silently counting the seconds, his lips moving. “Figure out when we end up; we will take off as soon as we are there, I suppose,” he nodded once more, and Raven threw him a quick look before staring at the clock again.

“Uh huh,” he said without interrupting his counting.

Desmond killed his cigarette in one jerky, angry gesture, his expression gloomy. “Shit,” he thought and briefly closed his eyes when the clock hand twitched and unwillingly clicked onto the dully glowing number 12. Nothing happened. Desmond sighed and opened his eyes, slightly surprised to feel some weak disappointment stirring deep inside his chest. “I was actually expecting for something to happen?” he thought with mild amusement. “Huh, I suppose, mass hysteria is contagious after all...”

“What...” Raven muttered, blinking rapidly. “It’s midnight...!”

“Yes, it is,” Gabriel said quietly, avoiding looking at the tense man.

“I don’t understand,” Raven shook his head. “I don’t understand...!” he repeated numbly.

He slowly stood up, his hands clasped together. The clock clicked its hand once again, moving one minute forward, and Raven started to shake.

“Raven...” Desmond stood up as well. “Look, I hate to say this...”

“Then don’t!” Raven interrupted him shrilly. “Don’t say it! Something is wrong with your clock! That has to be it!”

He lunged towards the clock, and Desmond grabbed his arm.

“Raven...”

“Let go...!”

The smaller man twisted his arm out of Desmond’s grasp and let out a strange, muffled sound when the clock clicked yet another minute ahead.

“Son of a bitch!” he screamed and lunged towards the clock again.

This time, he succeeded. He grabbed the indifferently ticking object and shook it furiously.

“You are wrong...!” he hissed, ignoring both men in the kitchen. “You are bloody wrong...!”

He raised both arms above his head, clearly intending to smash the hateful clock on the floor, and Desmond closed his eyes in defeat.

“I’ll just get a new clock,” he thought dully, expecting to hear a shattering sound.

There was nothing, and he frowned and opened his eyes. Then he started blinking very rapidly.

“What...” he muttered, wildly glancing around.

He was standing in the back yard, slightly shivering from the wind, and it seemed like it was the middle of the day. He whirled around, looking for Gabriel, and then he heard his phone ring. He glanced around once again, and staggered towards the sliding glass door, jerking it open. He noticed his phone right away – there it was, in the middle of the table, pulsating with an urgent red light, letting him know he had an incoming call.

“Yeah...” he muttered numbly after he flipped it open and pressed it against his ear. He felt like he was in one of his dreams.

“Des, it worked...” Gabriel’s voice on the other end of the line sounded as numb and disbelieving as Desmond’s did. “Holy hell, Des, it worked...!”

“Where are you?” Desmond slowly sat down on the chair, staring into the wall, reconsidering the dream theory.

“I am at work,” Rayhe said mechanically. “Where are you?”

“Home,” Desmond frowned for a few seconds. “Why aren’t I at school?” he muttered, and then blinked again. “It’s one week before Salamander’s death,” he said slowly. “Remember that Friday that I took off just for the hell of it...? That’s why I am at home!”

“Fuck me ‘till I cry,” Gabriel said with feeling.

“Gladly,” Desmond nodded to no one in particular, and Rayhe let out a wild laughter. “I guess our clock is two minutes ahead... Raven was right after all... Holy hell...” he shook his head.

“Call the airport,” Gabriel sounded anxious. “We promised him, Des,” he said quietly when Desmond remained silent. “We promised...!”

“I’ll let you know what time our plane leaves,” Desmond replied evenly after a couple of seconds. “You might have to take off early. After I reserve the tickets, I am going to run to school and take two weeks off... Do the same, would you? Just make up an ‘emergency’ story,” he sighed and stood up, glancing at the clock again.

“Yeah,” Gabriel muttered. “I will.”

Desmond slowly snapped the phone shut and stared at the clock without blinking. Finally, he bit his lower lip and walked closer to the ticking gadget. He carefully moved one of the clock hands two notches back and straightened up, looking at it thoughtfully.

“Bloody hell...” he muttered after a while and flipped his phone open once again.