Chapter 19 #2
Jackson has no energy for this ridiculousness, the voice more of a nuisance now than a source of anger.
Maybe a nap would help clear his head, his movements were getting sluggish, eyes growing heavy.
He considers a coffee to pick himself up, but he’s had three cups today and nothing seems to be coming from it.
A quick nap, then back to work. He should be up before Hakeem and Eddie get home.
Maybe he’ll take a crack at making dinner, nothing could be worse for the kitchen than this morning’s fiasco.
Jackson doesn’t bother changing out of his short sleeve polo and jeans, if he’s too comfortable the whole day would get away from him.
He pulls back the covers and settles into bed, burying himself in his duvet and pillows.
His eyes are so heavy, he shouldn’t be this tired but maybe it was just one of those days.
He can feel his breathing even out, the weight of his blankets settling down on him, they are so warm.
He let himself be engulfed by their embrace, just a quick nap is all he needs.
* * *
The sound of someone working in the kitchen, the smell of garlic and onion sauteed in butter tickles Jackson’s nose.
Was Hakeem home already? Jackson thought he had to work late in the lab today.
Maybe Eddie is back from the gym and took the lead on dinner.
It smells so good, causing his stomach to rumble.
Maybe he could give a hand with dinner, perhaps offering his service as a taste tester.
Something sparks in the back of Jackson’s mind, the smell is familiar. Was it a recipe the boys had made before? Jackson can’t put his finger on it. Then he remembers, his stomach turning at the memory as his eyes burst open. He jerks awake covered in a sheen of sweat. “No, no this isn’t real.”
Jackson looks around him as he goes to rise out of bed, this isn’t his room. It was though, just one he hadn’t been in for over sixty years. It was cramped, with exposed brick and piping. A slight draft coming in from the cracked open window, tickling his bare skin.
He realizes he isn’t wearing the shirt he had gone to bed in, and definitely isn’t wearing anything under the thin covers over his legs.
The sound of someone stirring next to him catches his attention, his heart twisting at the sound.
Jackson hasn’t heard that voice in decades.
Resigned to knowing it would be impossible to ever hear that melodic voice again.
“Jackson? What’s wrong, babe? Bad dream?”
Don’t look over, don’t look over. He isn’t there, he isn’t there.
Jackson’s mind races, overflowing with denial.
“Awe, my little bat, come here.” Gentle hands tug at Jackson’s arm, pulling him back into the small bed.
Arms of lean muscle pull him into a warm chest, dark brown skin pressing into his cheek as he’s pulled tighter into an embrace he knows shouldn’t be there.
Jackson dares a peek at the man holding him close, who once held Jackson’s heart in his hands like a precious jewel. He can feel heat build up behind his eyes, a treacherous tear rolling down his cheek. Gentle brown eyes meet his, a soft smile from full pink lips meant only for him.
This isn’t real, this can’t be real.
This is the cruelest joke the world had decided to play on Jackson.
Jackson’s voice catches in his throat, the sound a quivering whisper.
He can’t stop the name escaping his lips in a tremble, a name he dare not speak since that night.
“Ravi.” The name is bittersweet rolling off his tongue, how he missed the sound of it coming from his mouth.
“Is it really you?” He reaches out to caress the sharp jawline of the man he once loved, cheek warm to the touch, a sensation he had long ago forced himself to forget.
Ravi giggles as he guides Jackson face closer for a peck on the lips.
His heart jumps in his chest, swearing he had forgotten how Ravi had felt, how he tasted, but his body seems to remember in full force.
“Who else would you expect, my little bat, Judy Garland?” He pulls Jackson in closer, his embrace tightening as he nuzzles into Jackson’s neck.
Jackson tightens his hold on Ravi, breathing in his scent.
Ravi is really in his arms, he wants to believe that, no matter how impossible it seems.
“Jackie! Ravi! The sauce is almost done and Tony says the pasta and garlic bread isn’t far behind. Get your queer asses out of bed and set the table or you don’t get any!”
A familiar gruff voice, names he hasn’t heard in ages, the intoxicating smell of days past. Jackson doesn’t want to believe it true.
How he prays it is.
Ravi kisses Jackson’s neck, a smile forming on his lips.
He sits up, letting Jackson out of his hold.
He looks exactly like Jackson dared to remember.
Dark brown skin, pink hair cut close to the scalp, soulful brown eyes and intoxicating lips.
The shine of gold earring conduits on his pointed ears.
He looks beautiful. A slender frame, the sharp v that draws Jackson’s eyes to the spot hidden by the blanket.
“Coming, Vinny! Calm your ass down.” Ravi turns back to look down at Jackson, a warm smile making him melt under Ravi’s gaze.
“Let’s get up, baby. You know how pissy Vinny and Tony get when they have to wait to eat. ”
Jackson did know that, he spent decades trying to forget.
To shield his heart from the pain of losing this, this domestic life he had spent years building.
He knows this apartment, these people. He knows the sounds and smell of this life he had built with them.
Jackson loved them with all his heart, and it hurt even more when they slipped away from his grasp that fateful night.
Vincent and Antonio were a lion and tiger fated mate pair, and amazing cooks.
Ravi was a skilled mage, his specialty hydromancy, an aspiring journalist whose passion was researching the relation between the exiled queer communities of the human realm and those that awakened a spark of magic.
He dared to remember how they would use Ravi’s magic to dance on the water of New York’s shores, under the stars and moon hidden away from human eyes.
Simple illusion charms hiding their pointed ears.
These were the people he built a life within the human realm for nearly two decades.
His closest friends and the first love of his life.
No, no no no no no. Jackson shakes his head, refusing to be fooled by memories no matter how sweet. He faced the trauma of losing them once, he wouldn’t let himself be fooled into thinking he could have them again.
“Ravi, I-’’ Jackson began to speak, but the scene had changed.
Ravi is still in front of him, but they are no longer in bed together.
They were in a bar, one he knew far too well, in the heart of Greenwich Village.
He spies a calendar on the wall, all the blood draining from his face when he sees the date.
June, 1969.
This is the night Jackson had tried so hard to bury from his memory.
When his shadows awakened in full fury.
The night he lost control, lost everything.
That fateful night when his heart would crumble into a million pieces when he saw the light leave Ravi’s eyes.
He couldn’t count the times he wished he never suggested going out that night.
“Ravi, we have to go. Now!” Jackson yells, grabbing at Ravi’s arm trying desperately to get away. But even with all his magic, Jackson can’t change the history that had been written. The memories come flooding back in like a burst dam.
A police raid gone wrong. A cover up by the magical bureau to make sure all traces of magic had been wiped from the scene, and a massacre that stained Jackson’s hands red for the rest of his life.
“Please, no,” Jackson begs, his voice broken as tears streamed down his face.
“Please, stop this. Don’t make me remember.
Don’t make me go through this again.” Jackson is powerless to stop as history repeats itself around him.
The smell of copper souring the air, the feeling of life draining from the body going limp in his arms. The unquenchable rage that had begun to fester and burn in his very soul.
You could have stopped this, you had the power to end this before it dared begin.
Jackson can hardly breathe, hardly speak through the tears that choke out of him.
You shouldn’t be bound by the rules of the bureau, your magic far more ancient than they dare lay claim on.
“That’s how this works, I can’t just lash out and disturb the human realm. It is forbidden, there would be consequences.” The words burn as they leave Jackson. He doesn’t want to entertain the taunting voice.
Have you not paid your penance? Have you not suffered while those who wronged you live?
Jackson is confused, he had lashed out violently that night. Uniformed officers screamed, the streets of New York stained red by their blood.
Not them. HIM!
When Jackson next looks away from the body limp in his arms he sees Donnie, blackened eyes staring back at him.
“He’s not a threat, he didn’t win.”
Then why are you holding them in your arms?
This time Jackson looks down, his face screwing into a mask of horror. It’s Eddie, skin singed by dark flames. He hears whimpering from in front of him. Craning his neck up, his heart stops in his chest.
Hakeem was struggling to get away from a uniformed officer, one from that same night in 1969. “This isn’t right, this isn’t what happened.”
But it’s what could have happened. History repeats itself more often than you dare believe.
Now the images before him distort, the body in his arms shifting between Ravi and Eddie.
The figure holding onto Hakeem is replaced with Donnie, then back to the police officer.
It was then that Hakeem was replaced with an image of Tony, then Vinny in a blink of an eye.
History was distorted in front of Jackson but the theme remained that same.
He’s left holding the body of someone he truly cared for, while another who had become his peace was being forced away from him.
You could have stopped this.
“Shut up.”
You can still end this.
“This isn’t real.”
Your shadows can engulf the world, keeping those you love safe from harm.
“Please stop this.”
All you have to do is let go.
“I won’t.”
Let your rage consume you.
“Never again.”
And take back what is yours.
The figure stalks toward Jackson, whose arms now lay empty before him.
The figure shifts between Donnie and uniformed officers, a taunting shift between the person who threatened to take someone from him, and the people who succeeded.
The tears won’t stop, Jackson lay broken and helpless before the figure stalking towards him.
Their voice is distorted as they speak, it mimics that nagging voice that has haunted him for months.
Why won’t you stop this? The power is yours to command, only if you stop running away.
Jackson can’t lift his head to face the figure before him, his body betraying him. Shackled by his anxiety and memories of his grief, his words slur out of him.
“I’m not a monster. I won’t let myself become one.”
How else can you keep those you care for safe? All other means have failed you. Peace was never an option.
“You’re wrong, there’s always another way!” Jackson wants to scream, but his rage is overwhelmed by his sorrow.
What are you afraid of? Scared to hurt the wrong people? Scared of how they’ll look at you when they see what you really are? Do you fear they’ll see you as a monster when you claim what’s rightfully yours?
Jackson shakes his head frantically, “No, that will never happen. They’ll never look at me like that!”
Even when you finally lose control?
“No.”
When the darkness devours the sun, cloaking the realms in eternal night.
“That won’t happen.”
Are you scared of taking another life?
“Shut up!”
Do you dread the screams that would come from those who dare oppose you?
“Fuck off!”
Are you afraid you’ll enjoy the feeling of the life draining from your enemies?
“That’s enough!”
The figure stalks closer, grabbing Jackson’s face with a hand of shadows.
Grief now replaced with rage, his fangs extend into full display as he snarls at the faceless shadow he’s forced to confront.
His blood boils, the beat of his heart thundering in his ears.
The hand grasping his face hardens its grip, shadows digging into the flesh like daggers.
It speaks from a mouth of shadows, its voice echoing around him.
Tell me, little bat, are you afraid of the dark!?
Jackson’s mouth tears open, throat burning as he screams into the shadows.
The world around him falls into darkness.
His screams echo across the infinite void of the night, rage filling every corner of darkness.
That was the night Jackson lost the world he had built for himself.
The night he began closing himself off from his family, his realm, his magic, his world.
The night Jackson lost himself to sorrow, rage, and bloodlust.
That was when the Darkest Night first filled the skies.
“NO!”
Shadows erupt from Jackson, blades of pure black that slice through the world around him.
He would make them pay for what they took from him; avenge the sanctuary stolen from him and his people.
Make them suffer tenfold to make them feel the pain in his broken heart.
He would become the monster they wanted him to be, a creature to hate and blame.
People ran, faster than they ever had before. Officers fired shots, called for support, the mass of shadows silencing them before they could even scream, engulfing the streets in New York in the darkness that bled from his heart.
The sun never rose that day.