OOM: Conversations With Dead People - (Milliways) Halloween 2010

[isaysimplewords]

This time, he understands what's going on right away. A dream that isn't a dream, a meeting place between worlds more tenuous than Milliways. A way to make peace with those he has lost.

He knows whose turn it is this year before he even looks, and when he does look, and sees the familiar figure in the wheelchair he remembers so vividly

(It had shifted slightly under them as Cal swung his weight into it, settling himself neatly into place facing his uncle, cradling Grahame's head not ungently in his hands. Grahame had been too thin for that chair by then. There was plenty of room for Cal.)

he's pretty sure that the outcome of this meeting isn't going to be very peaceful.

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[isaysimplewords]

Again, Cal doesn't answer.

He can't.

He can't meet his uncle's triumphant gaze, either. He looks down at the watch instead, staring unseeing at the elegant scrolling text of the engraving.

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It's been so long since Grahame has had the upper hand

(nothing more important than the upper hand!)

that he'd almost forgotten what it was like.

"Speaking of whom," he continues, because while he's at it he may as well, he officially has nothing to lose and no reason to keep this little secret any longer, "you may want to ask that Bar of yours about a man by the name of Bobby Barrel. Make sure you get a picture."

Cal is, after all, the spitting image of his father.

[isaysimplewords]

There's a space in the back of Cal's head, where he puts things he didn't want to hear and can't let himself think about; he doesn't use it very often anymore, but he still knows how. He can't (won't let himself) put the revelation about Tina there - it's too big, it won't fit - but a strange name is easy to tuck away.

By the time he forces himself to look up, he can pretend Grahame never gave him this one.

(You don't like me very much, do you? he'd asked Grahame once.

No, Grahame had said, I don't like you. As a matter of fact -)

"Is there a reason?"

[showmenomercy.livejournal.com]

(- I despise you.)

The easy answer of years ago rises to his lips.

(A reason? Don't limit yourself, Cal.)

But instead - instead he looks into Cal's eyes and says,

"You read that letter. You tell me."

[isaysimplewords]

Cal awakens in his bed, blanket pulled up to his chin and clenched tight in his fingers.

There's no one else in the room.