#off-screen death

It was John who activated the call. Val Casey looked grim even in holographic form. There was no preamble.

‘John. Virgil.’

‘Colonel.’

‘Any news?’

‘I’m afraid they didn’t make it.’

‘Oh my god.’

‘How is Scott?’

‘Not good. Not good at all.’

‘He’s already eaten up with guilt, this is going to push him over the edge.’

‘That’s not all.’

John and Virgil exchanged glances as Colonel Casey grimaced.

‘What – what else can there be?’

‘I need one of you to bring Scott in.’

‘Bring Scott in? What on earth?!?’

‘We have been contacted by a lawyer who has asked us to arrest Scott.’

‘Arrest Scott? For what?!? He was kidnapped and goodness knows what else!’

‘What is he being charged with, Colonel?’

Taking control of the conversation, John became Thunderbird Five as he spoke, keeping it together better than Virgil was managing.

After the ball, they made their way up to their rooms. Neither Lust nor Dance truly belonged in the royal castle, but who was going to deny an Angel of Physical Love anything? Even if he only was a lesser angel? And even if he demanded that he and a common actor would get rooms and invitation to a royal ball. Because, well, why not actually make use of his holy position for once?

The rooms were incredibly fancy. This one was purple, Lust’s preferred colour. With an enormous bed and the most beautiful furniture. He was almost sure that this was his favourite century yet. Sitting down on the luxurious bed, he patted the place next to him.

Without protest, Dance sat down. Lust closed his eye sockets as the other carefully took his face in his hands and pressed a light kiss to his teeth. It was such a different sensation from the desperate, rough kisses he had been used to before meeting and falling in love with the other. As Dance’s teeth pressed against his he couldn’t help but smile. Memories flashed through his mind. Of meeting the other in a temple, of falling in love with the actor, of realizing he felt the same. His soul fluttered in his chest.

Slowly he broke the kiss, freeing himself from the other’s arms. With a wave of his hand, he opened his inventory and picked out the gift he had for his beloved. Dance’s sockets widened as he stared at the silver music box Lust held out toward him. With a slight smirk, Lust nodded.

“For you, my darling,” he told the other, putting it down in Dance’s lap.

“lust-“ the other started, breaking off. He tried again, eyelights flickering between the box and the angel. “- i can’t take this. it’s far too valuable.”

Snorting slightly, Lust rolled his own heart-shaped eyelights. Gently, he took the other’s hand in his and traced the engraved words on the lid with one of Dance’s phalanges.

Remember the tango in the glen?

That was when they’d both first fallen in love. Dancing in the glen in the middle of a forest near Dance’s home village. Lust knew that he’d never forget it no matter how many millenia he lived.

“What am I supposed to with silver, sweetest? I deal in pleasure.”

Dance blinked – the corners of his sockets almost seemed slighy moist, didn’t they? – and then turned to smile toward Lust. It was a little wobbly, but filled with joy, and Lust’s soul skipped a beat. He smiled back, and opened the lock.

A melody spilled out. It was cheerful and lively and the song that had played the first time Lust had seen Dance dance. The first time he had dared to believe there might be something more in mortals than an eternal craving for bodily gratification. The song filled the room, and Dance’s smile grew wider. Standing up, he bowed lightly and offered his hand to Lust. Without hesistation, he took it and was immediately spun into the other’s arms as they danced over the bedroom floor.

500 years later

“We’ve found something!”

The loud yell was enough to startle the entire excavation. Every archeolog and student immediately hurried over toward the professor who had called out. They’d been here for weeks and hadn’t found anything of value. Lust followed the others. He was dressed in the same working outfit as the other, perhaps a little more fashionable. After Dance’s death he’d mourned, and then decided to join humanity and monsterkind to his best ability.

Now, he was trying out being an archeologist. Had gotten his university degree only two years ago. Everyone who reached the professor immediately helped digging, and soon one of his colleagues, Jeanette, held up a silver box.

Gathering around her, every scholar on the excavation stared in awe. For many it was their first real finding. Lust grinned, studying it as well, before his sockets widened. He gasped.

He recognized that box.

Feeling tears start to press at his sockets, he forced his way through the small crowd. There were a few disgruntled noises as he elbowed his way past a few monsters, but he didn’t care. The closer he got the surer he was.

Memories flashed through his mind. Laughter, dancing, stories and the tears from years of sorrow as he lost the only one except his brother he’d ever truly loved.

“M-may I see that?” he asked Jeanette. His voice trembled slightly, and he didn’t wait for more than a “I gu-“ before almost snatching it out of her hands. Reverently, Lust called up a small bit of magic as he swept his sleeve over it, cleaning it much more effective than a sleeve should. With the hand not holding the music box, he traced the words. They were the same, if a little more worn and filled with mud.

Remember the tango in the glen?

Despite the tears that had started to drip down his cheeks, Lust opened the box. To his surprise it still worked, the very same tune filling the muddy hill. Someone said something, but he didn’t bother to listen as his gaze caught something between the tears. A note stuffed with angel magic to last. Fumbling slightly, he took it. With a gasping breath, he read the message he’d left for his most beloved for so many years ago.

My love for you is immortal.

Swallowing, he felt how he trembled as he looked up at the very confused archelogists and students around him. He gave them a watery smile.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know you worked hard to find this. But I don’t think I can lose him again. There’s a gold treasure beneath the other hill, if that helps.”

Snapping his fingers, he teleported. Lust clutched the music box tightly as he appeared in his home. He slowly sank to the floor, shutting his sockets and allowing the melody to take him back to the happiest times in his life as tears kept running down his cheeks and quiet sobs shook his body.

She needed dinner. I needed to get to the nursing home.

And do what, exactly?

Phone, I needed to find my phone again.

I pushed myself up so that I was sitting again with my back to the couch, Mousie butting her head against my knee. My phone had skittered off to the side. As I reached for it, my muscles screamed in protest at having lain in an awkward position for so long. My eyes still burned from earlier tears as I fumbled with the phone and swiped the screen to unlock it. I swallowed at the numerous notifications of missed texts and messages, first from my mother and then from various relatives.  First they were pissed on my mother’s behalf for my  hanging up from earlier, then they were growing more and more demanding for information about Uncle Hershel. Ignoring them, I instead dialed Frank, the office manager at Uncle Hershel’s nursing home.  As the phone rang, I used the back of the couch to pull myself up to my feet, trying to ignore the aching sensation in my legs and the insistent meowing as Mousie wound herself around my feet before climbing into my lap.

“Hello?”

“Frank? Hi, it’s me, Cassie,” I said, vaguely registering Mousie settling down.

“Cassie, it’s good to hear you. I am so sorry to deliver this news--”

“It’s okay, I heard it from my mother.” Please don’t rip my heart out again.

“Oh, I see. I am sorry you had to hear it from her. We couldn’t get ahold of you, and she was listed as Hershel’s next of kin after you.”

“No, no, you did what you had to.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The second listing of next of kin had been a nursing home requirement, one even Uncle Hershel couldn’t fight. I was still listed as the sole medical proxy for Uncle Hershel, however, so Mom would have heard that he died, but not from what. Trying not to think of what a horrible great-niece I was for not being there for Uncle Hershel, I finally mustered the courage to ask, “The end...was he at least comfortable?”

“Yes. When it came time, he said to tell you that it’s his fault that we didn’t call you to warn you. He didn’t want you to worry.”

I remained still, silent, numbed shock settling over myself like a blanket for the second time in hours. I felt torn, in that moment, between helplessness and anger at Uncle Hershel. Why did you do that, Uncle Hershel? You knew I would have wanted to be there for you. How dare you.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I belatedly realized that Frank was still talking. “Uh, Frank? Sorry, I zoned out just now. What did you say?” I said, slumping against the back of the couch as Mousie made herself comfortable in my lap before setting down.

“I said, your mother said you knew about the lawyer, and that you would settle any outstanding bills here. I will email you the funeral home information to the email address we have on file for you.”

Crap, I forgot about stuff like that.

I didn’t have a copy of the will myself, but Silas Caorrin was the lawyer that Uncle Hershel had named as the executor of the will. I had...opinions,  about Coarrin, but Uncle Hershel had known him for years, so I didn’t want to argue too much with Uncle Hershel about it. Or with Mr. Caorrin, for that matter. “Thank you, Frank. And thank you for telling me all this, I really appreciate it. I will be in touch about the outstanding bills soon--”

“Cassie...please don’t worry about that right now. Take some time for yourself and don’t worry about anything now. The lawyer can wait until tomorrow, we can wait a little longer.” Frank hesitates. “I am here if you want to talk about anything at all, something in particular.”

I slowly take a few deep breaths, trying to bring back my earlier anger and ever present grief back under some form of control so that I didn’t lash at someone who ultimately also had Uncle Hershel’s best interests in mind until the end. “Thanks Frank, I’ll, uh, call you tomorrow. Mousie needs food right now,” I said, the last of my words disappearing into a mumble as I looked down at Mousie, who looked up at me from her perch on my lap.

“Very well. Take care, I will talk to you soon.”

“Yeah...you too.”

I set my phone on the floor beside me, feeling drained. I told myself to wait until I got the funeral home information before starting to make the necessary arrangements, which would probably be tomorrow morning given how late it was today.  Taking a  few deep breaths, I gently scooped Mousie before leaning this way and that so I could force myself into a standing position despite screaming muscles at having stayed in one position for so long.

“Cassie? Are you still there? Did you hear what I just said?”

I blinked, vaguely aware of something hot blurring my vision. “What?”

“Hershel, he died a few hours ago. I tried to call you, but you didn’t pick up.”

I was working. “Um, I don’t keep my phone on me during the day. You know that,” I mumbled, trying to recall where I was sitting. Standing? I must have sat, I didn’t remember the ottoman seat being underneath me a few seconds ago. “Was he comfortable, in the end?” My voice sounded empty to my ears.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there with him. I actually thought you were.”

Wednesday, literally the one day of the week that I couldn’t visit Uncle Hershel.  She knew that, despite her claim otherwise. Twenty-four hours. I glanced over to see my overnight bag packed and sitting by the door. I inhaled once to collect myself, reminding myself that as much as I hated it, my mother was still on the phone and screaming wasn’t an option if I didn’t want a lecture on polite phone etiquette. She was really the last person I really wanted to be talking to right now, but in the immediate heartbeats, I felt frozen, unable to just even hang up on her. I barely registered her saying “Why weren’t you there? I thought you visited him every day, even it meant forsaking your other family members. For God’s sake, we had a talk about that.”

Was she talking again? Why was she still nattering in my ear? I had started skipping events when Uncle Hershel stopped going to them due his age and inability to walk unassisted. He stopped offering to host when he was turned down for the fiftieth time, and the cousins stopped inviting him. I always stayed with him instead, playing cards with him, or working on my papers when he wallowed in guilt for me giving up ‘quality family time’ to keep an eye on him. I had told him that he could sulk as much as he wanted to, and that I loved him, but when I made the decision to be with him, that was my call to make, not his. What neither of us mentioned was the loneliness I knew he had been suffering from since Aunt Barbara had died, and it seemed to sit over the room like a suffocating blanket until I walked in.

“Cassandra Sanford, don’t you know it’s rude to just sit there and not respond—”

I removed the phone from my ear and hit the ‘End’ button.

Right, ending the call was that easy.

I remained sitting on the floor, back against the side of the couch before I drew my knees close to my body. Resting my chin on my knees, I stared at the door and the overnight bag, the latter of which now seemed to be mocking me, the bright pink and yellow flowers standing out in the darkness of the little alcove by my front door. The apartment seemed deafeningly quiet, with not even the chirps from the nest near the kitchen window to break the silence. Each time I thought to get up, go back to packing, my brain whispered ‘why?’ and my butt fell back down on the hardwood floor.