Chapter twenty six - i feel like i'm just treading water

Chapter twenty six - i feel like i'm just treading water... is it the same for you?

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It was disconcerting how easy it was to get to the cove of Parade Island once we had cleared the rocks. There were no other obstacles, or traps, or warnings to deter us. Nothing but a great wrought iron gate, suffocated with wildflowers and bedded under layers of trodden sand, not hidden at all but clear and stark against the oddly sweet aloofness of the rest of the island. Behind the gates lay a tangled jungle of untouched plants, untamed vines and unconstrained trees. Human hands had yet to mangle this guarded sanctuary.

The air of nervous joy that lay in a heavy aura around Gerard pained me just a little. I knew it should have lifted me to see him happy, to recall that I was doing this for him, but I just felt wrong. If this failed, then he would lose a chance to see his brother again, and he would lose me too. I knew that Michael would be a much more devastating and higher regarded loss, and I knew that it would most likely destroy Gerard completely if his hope was crumbled into dust yet again, and I didn't want to be a part of that. I didn't want to be at fault, whether I'd actually be able to comprehend that with my crumpled mind or not.

But Gerard had cared for his brother so much. I couldn't imagine how it must feel to lose someone so close to you as a child. Of course I would try, at least try.

"Frank." Dewees' voice. I turned around, the wind rushing in my ears and Dewees rushing on his feet to reach me. His boots ploughed through the sand, spraying the hem of his coat with murky beige, and his hair was plastered down over his forehead, damp with sea spray. "Frank, wait." He seemed to pause, but perhaps it was just my mind pausing for my own benefit, to give me a brief moment to prepare myself for what the words Dewees was about to speak. "Don't do it."

"What?"

Dewees made a strangled groaning noise in frustration. "You're going to lose your mind, you fucker."

"But Gerard–"

"Gerard's having second thoughts. I think he's gradually regaining sanity. He doesn't think he wants you to do this."

"Dewees, his brother–"

"His brother is not here. You are, and you're real, and he wants you with him."

I exhaled. "Then why doesn't he just tell me this himself? I swear to god, if you're making this up–"

"He knows you're still going to do it, whether he asks you to or not."

I closed my mouth at that. How could he know that when I wasn't even sure of it?

Then again. I supposed it wasn't difficult to deduce. The chance of getting Michael back would make Gerard far happier than I ever could alone.

"Surely just a small part of him still wants me to do it," I defended quietly.

Dewees shook his head. His eyes looked blunt and dulled. He knew I wasn't going to back down.

"Just a very tiny part?"

That didn't even stir a response. My eyes caught on Gerard, tiptoeing over the sandy rocks by a flat grey cliff face. A few lilac wildflowers grew in the silver dust at the base of the low cliff, and Gerard knelt down to admire them. I tore my eyes away.

The gates loomed over me before I could really register that I'd walked over to them. The sun streamed across the island, bleaching the ground and spiralling dark, trembling shadows over the white sand, and over my hands, pallid in the faint blue glow of the ocean.

I didn't do anything. I didn't know what I was actually supposed to do. I merely looked up, and the gates were parting with a rusty screeching sound, tearing deep trails in the sand and shredding the stones scattered in their path.

Everybody's eyes were on me in less than a second. The shriek of the gates could have turned the heads of the entirety of a whole armada. Everybody watched me, but no one followed as I took a few cautious steps into the wilderness.

And then there was just a very prominent sense of waiting. Something was supposed to happen now, wasn't it? I was supposed to go mad. Or if I was really the scorpion child, Gerard was supposed to follow me in here– but he stayed balanced on the rocks, his hand still flat on the grey washed cliff face. I took a few steps further in, treading lightly as not to disturb the delicate balance of nature in this place.

There, ahead of me, was the fountain. White marble, with clear trickles of liquid spilling from the ornately carved tiers of bowls. It couldn't be water flowing from it, it was too... ethereal. It set my teeth on edge, and I ventured no further into the labyrinth of tangled dark flowers. I stared at the fountain, transfixed by the eerily soft stream of the liquid over the dense marble, so distracted by the faintly otherworldly glow that I didn't notice Gerard treading through the plants and appearing quietly at my side. "It's beautiful," he said, and his voice threaded warmly into my head and washed out the cold trickle of the fountain.

"It's ugly," I said. "This whole place is sickeningly sweet." I gestured vaguely with my hands. "It's choking me."

Gerard sniffed. "It just smells like flowers."

He didn't understand. I wondered if he was too preoccupied with the possibility of seeing Michael again to notice how distorted this whole place felt. "I don't mean the smell."

Gerard brushed off my pedantic complaints, and bent down to dip his hand in the fountain. The liquid eased between his fingers in smooth strands. "D'you think I'm supposed to drink it now?"

"I don't know, Gerard," I said, scrubbing my face in my hands. "You're the one who knows everything about this place."

Gerard paused. He cupped his hands in the water and brought it to his mouth to take a sip. The liquid squirmed in his hands and edged away, as if it was magnetically repelled from his lips.

"What?" I said: a flat, disbelieving utterance.

Gerard looked equally as baffled. He shook his head dumbly.

I knelt down beside him and reached into the large marble basin to hold a little of the liquid in my hands. It felt like water. It looked like water, too, against my skin. But not against Gerard's, and not against the stone basin. I made a small sound, not quite a word, and Gerard's eyes locked on mine. "Drink it out of my hands," I said.

Gerard gave me a dubious look. "How will that be any different from drinking out of my own hands?"

"Look. The water looks different in my hands."

"You're just being absurd now."

"This whole affair is absurd. Don't tell me you're not willing to go just a tiny step further into this weirdness. What's the worst that could happen?"

Gerard looked at me, his face tired, and slumped a little. "Fine." He leaned down to take a drink of the water from my cupped hands, and the liquid stayed in place. It didn't shy away. Gerard sipped a little, and then paused. "Now what?"

I blinked. The water dripped from my hands back into the fountain. "I don't know."

"I just wanna fucking see my brother. What the fuck's supposed to happen now?"

We'd not thought this far ahead. "I don't know." My voice was low and apologetic. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Gerard asked quietly. "You've done far more than I asked."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I parted my fingers and let the rest of the water in my hands fall back into the basin, then rested my hands on Gerard's hips and kissed him. My hands were damp, and they soaked through his coat, and Gerard's mouth was damp, and his warmth soaked into my body.

Gerard was soft and resigned and almost too still, like the eerie waters of the fountain, and I couldn't help but feel that I had let him down. I had unlocked the gates without even meaning to through some bizarre, mysterious force, but I'd not changed anything. I'd not solved anything. I had been useless, raising his hopes and then sending them crashing down. Perhaps I wasn't the scorpion child after all, and I only qualified to open the gates, not to grant the wishes of the men who entered.

We returned to the ship in a rather sad and sorry state, and all retired to our rooms. My spurring thoughts kept me restless through the night, and I started to wonder things on the ship had ever been this bleak.

It could have been far worse though, I supposed. At least I hadn't lost my mind.

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you don't make art, darling. you live it.

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