The sky was a living thing. Pregnant belly hanging low, letting its shadowy form obscure anything it could reach. Grey swirling masses churned without pause inside, poking and prodding to be let out. The darkened road beneath was nearly empty. Like a pointing finger it lead them past the serene form of a church empty of repenting sinners, and beyond to the tranquil garden behind. With humanity's need to control the uncontrollable, the cemetery was a study in neatness. The grass cut just so, lines of headstones pure and straight. Splatters of colours were the only breaking points, flowers waiting to die lying on top of the ground, disconnected from the dirt underneath. So near and still so far away, the image bittersweet.
Thinking back, it had been a rainy day then too. Only in a house filled with living, not like this. Buck thought that they had talked, had cleared things up. But the thorn inside of him was still there, hidden so deep and so small and sharp that he hardly noticed it anymore unless he searched for it.
So on the morning of the stormy day, when Chris had suggested that they'd go for a walk, he knew something was coming. Felt the brewing changes everytime he touched something his lover had touched, felt the turmoil under sweet, smooth skin as they made love to the sound of the simmering winds outside. So here they were, hand in hand, on the gravel road leading to a place that was just meant for the dead. In some way normal rules didn't apply here. The living put control in the hands of the dead and watched it come alive there, snaking from uresponsive left-behind limbs to form a surreal spider's web. In here everything was sharp, naked and scary.
"I can't do this." Buck tried to retract his hand from Chris' too firm grip. "Not like this. Not here."
The air was grey, the morning had never reached light of day. There was a wildness to Chris's eyes as he replied, something cornered in the green-brown depths.
"It has to be here," he said. "It's the only place I can think of."
Their words were low and hushed. Speaking any louder was forbidden by the rules made by the remains underneath the ground.
"It needs to be here, Buck."
A soft rain had started to fall. Tiny pinpoints from dulled needles. The droplets were cold. Almost covering a dark headstone red roses bleed petals to the ground, the rain making the decay slick and shiny. The only sound now was the noises the steadily growing rain was making. On their way they passed a man, sitting unmoving in front of a fresh grave. The flowers were still young, bright and confident. To Buck the man bore the resemblance of a marble statue in the rain. Waxen features locked in grief, eyes dimmed. The rain greedily cascaded down on him, yet he never stirred as tears fell intermittently with the raindrops.
Feeling something constrict inside his chest Buck couldn't look away.
"It was his wife." Chris' voice came from beside him, strangely out of place in the wasteland he suddenly was in. "They had been married for just a few years. And now she is gone."
"He must be hurting so much," Buck murmured, connected through the feeling of being the only ones living and breathing in this world.
"He'll soon meet her again." The statement was even, flat.
Still not able to let go, Buck asked without thinking. "How do you know?"
The answer was simple.
"I dreamt it."
Above them the animal growled.
The gravel was wet and unsteady beneath their feet, and it was a relief to step out onto the lawn carpeting the garden of stony, thin and fat flowers. But everything in Buck still wanted to flee as he neared a light, heart-shaped stone. For a crazy second he thought he could see the longhaired, curved figure in between the shadows the rain created. White letters adorned the surface of the stone, spelling out Sarah's name, ending with a "dearly loved and deeply missed". White flowers separated the grass from the letters. Sarah had been buried in a white dress, Buck remembered.
"I can't do this," he repeated, shaking his head. "Not in front of her." He remembered Chris' comment about the man as well. He'll soon meet her again. Did that mean that Sarah was waiting up in heaven, waiting for Chris. Allowing Buck to keep him for now, before she could have him again. Instinctively Buck's hand tightened around Chris' hand, thinking about Ezra's words on the other rainy day.
Not his second choice.
"Come sit with me?" Chris used the hold Buck had on his hand to tug him down to the place where he'd sat down. Wetness crept into their clothes immediately.
"Do you... Do you think she is watching us?" Chris asked quietly. "I do. I think she is glad that we're together."
Buck wanted to think that too. It took the guilt away and the betrayal away from what he had done to poor, dead Sarah. The first kiss came to mind, the horrifying, exhilarating and perfect first kiss Chris and he had shared. And in an instant he was even further back in another grassy field to that terrible night, cradling Chris' shaking body to his as the blond screamed Sarah's name.
Lifting his face the sky was alive over them. Everything was blue light crashing, searching for them; reaching for them. "How very fitting," Buck thought absentmindly. The storm was on them, crescendos building. The air smelled of ozone. On his tongue it tasted like stale metal. As always the surroundings spoke to him, telling secrets never meant for sharing. It would be so easy, even tempting, to lose himself in it.
"Damn you, don't do this to me!"
The angry words made Buck jump. Strong hands gripped his shoulders and blue eyes blinked as Chris' face came into view. The rain pelted down, washing away everything but a bared soul.
"Don't you run away from me." Chris' low tone was harsh and raw. "I know what you're thinking and I hate it! For God's sake, Sarah knew what you felt about me, she was ok with it!"
The storm stilled for a split-second. Everything gathered to break again.
"She what?" Anger took hold of Buck as well, the storm driving him on. "How did she know anything about that? Hell, I didn't even know, not back then anyway."
"She did!" Chris persisted. "She didn't let it bother her. She even told me that I was attracted to you, if only I dared to admit it." The pause was heavy and foreboding. "She would never let it come between us, or you and me. She was better than that."
Something snapped in Buck. Before he knew it he reached out and pushed Chris away.
"I am sick and tired of hearing that! Sarah was this and Sarah was that... She couldn't do anything wrong, could she? Oh no, not flawless Sarah," he mocked, looking everywhere but at Chris' shocked, pale face. The thunder growled deep in the throat of the sky. "Well, guess what, Chris... Sarah's dead. As in gone forever, not here anymore. Left the fucking building..." Pushing himself forward now, both hands planted on the ground, Buck opened all his senses up wide.
She wasn't supposed to be there. They all said that the soul left the body when somebody died. It went to a better place, leaving the earthly shell behind. But she was still here, enough of her to surge up and meet him, jolt him out of balance and dive right into his mind. He was frozen in place.
Then, very slowly, he turned to Chris and saw his own fear echoed on the blond's face. Light eyes gone dark, Chris merely studied him.
"I'm sorry," Buck whispered, not knowing who he apologized to, Chris or Sarah. It was an eerie feeling, like something had been knocked out of place.
The storm grew fingers, and hands touching them. Idly wondering if they were there to tear them apart, Buck felt sickeningly calm. It was just too much. Sarah's ghost had always been between them, and out here she was more than just the shadowy image. She was solid, almost real.
Black-egded despair crept in over him as Buck looked at Chris again. Chris' mouth curved into a tentative smile and then love, pure and simple, flooded the hazel eyes.
And then Buck understood.
Understood why it had to be here of all places, knew why Chris had believed that this was the only way to show him what he needed to see. That Sarah wasn't a threat to them, that Chris loved him just as much as he had loved Sarah. Maybe even more as their love had had time to evolve and mature. Surging together they locked in a tight embrace. Wet, slick lips tasted of cold rain and underlying fire. Tears mingled with the raindrops to be soothed away by trembling hands. There wasn't any time for words, not yet anyway. What mattered now was the feel of each other, how skin burned on skin in heedless, desperate caresses. Hands sought out damp, chilled clothes and worked them out of the way, needing to remove anything that separated them from each other.
The sweet, strong smell of lillies brought them back, reminding them where they were.
Chris seemed almost shy, a hectic blush on his face. Buck shared the feeling of trespassing somehow, doing what they did. He could feel it perforating from what was under the ground here, this wasn't their place. Still holding on tightly to Buck, Chris looked up at him. "Let's get out of here, what do you say?"
Buck nodded, feeling giddy. "Absolutely."
As they passed the desolate man he looked up this time, his eyes meeting Chris'. For a long second they watched each other, something shared in their connection. Buck missed the sad look on Chris' face as they moved past, he was too relieved to be out of the cemetery's grip. The church, as they walked by it, was still empty.
A single gunshot rang out, then everything was silent again. Next to him, Chris visibly flinched, looking away with tear-filled eyes. Buck swiveled around, eyes wide. "We just passed him!" he gasped. "Oh my God, we should have..."
A hand gently grasped his arm.
"No. There was nothing we could have done. If it hadn't happened here, he still would have gone through with it. It was...he felt it was his only way out." The tears in Chris' hazel eyes spilled, forming glistening paths on his face. "You see...he killed her. He was having a headache, because he suffered from a cold...so he took some painkillers." Lifting his hand to rub away tears, Chris haltingly continued. "He took more than he was supposed to, and had a blackout or something. When he came to his senses again, his wife was dead. He had strangled her. A jury acquitted him for it, said he wasn't to blame. He didn't believe them." The tremble in his voice made the last words nearly inaudible. "He just wanted to be with her again, he couldn't go on without her."
For a little while the world went away. Their hands met between them. The haunted look on Chris' face touched something raw and fundamental inside of Buck.
"I love you, Buck."
The words had developed blades that cut deep, stinging sharply and icily strong. Buck's mind ran compulsively through every possibility of what could have been. Not able to speak he drew Chris close in a desperate hug, clinging wordlessly to him. Burying his face in the slightly shorter man's neck, he gave up fighting the tears. The murmured comforting words and soft touches that petted his hair and neck made it safe.
"Don't..." he started, just barely getting the words through. "Don't ever leave me. I don't want to ever be without you..."
"You won't," Chris soothed him, a new confidence in his voice. "I could never leave, you know that, don't you?"
A stab of sunlight broke through the clouds. The storm was passing for now. Another one would be back another day, but when it happened they would face it together. And, Chris was sure of this, somewhere Sarah was watching them with a smile.
The End
