"My worst fears have come to pass. Jacob went off and joined the Army. He left a note; something about his patriotic duty and nonsense like that. But I truly believe there's more to it. His guilt over Aaron's death has never quite faded, and I think living with Annabelle has just made it worse. I know there's more to what happened than the accident he claimed it was--a simple squabble and a slip and fall. But I can't imagine he'd have deliberately pushed Aaron. All I do know is that Annabelle is heartbroken, having lost both the young men she loved..."
--excerpt from the private journal of Ephraim Barton
Smoky Hills Part 25
Fears
Heero was out at the barn before Leon roared for the third time. Having dashed down the stairs in just a tee shirt and boxers, he grabbed the flashlight, flung open the door, and literally raced to the weathered structure, sliding open the door just enough to slip through.
"Hush!" he scolded in a harsh whisper. "Pipe down you silly creature."
The big lion had been startled just enough by the door's opening and Heero's appearance that he'd ceased his vocalizations and edged back away from the front of the cage.
"Here," Heero muttered, opening the refrigeration chest and pulling out a paper-wrapped chunk of meat. "Maybe a midnight snack will quiet you down." He peeled off the wrapping and tossed the food between the bars, onto the metal food tray.
Leon regarded him for a long moment, and then slowly meandered over to the food, taking a cautious sniff or two, giving it a cursory lick, and then settling into a crouch beside it.
"Not hungry," Heero concluded, heaving a sigh, and running a hand through his bangs. "What do you want then?"
"Company," came a quiet voice at the door.
Heero all but jumped out of his skin. "Jesus, Trowa! Don't do that!"
Trowa leaned in the doorway, giving a casual shrug of one shoulder. "Sorry," he said unrepentantly. "Can't help it if I move quietly."
"Yes, you can. Next time call out before you come skulking in like that."
"Wasn't skulking. Jeeze--get your verbs straight. I was tiptoeing."
Heero just shook his head, turning his gaze back to Leon, who'd begun pacing again. "So, what's his problem?"
"He's lonely."
"Lonely," Heero echoed flatly.
"Yeah. You know what that's like."
Heero just gave him an irritated glance, keeping his attention on the restless lion.
"Lions live in groups," Trowa went on to explain. "They protect each other, hunt together, and raise young together. It's not natural for one to be on its own. He's missing his pride."
"He's not a wild lion," Heero argued. "You said he was born at the circus, and raised in captivity. How can he miss what he never had?"
"He may not have lived with a wild pride, but there were other big cats in the circus--other lions, too. They were within sight and smell of one another, even if they were housed in separate cages."
"But he's been here for weeks. Why'd he wait so long to start yowling for company?"
"That I don't know. Maybe he smelled something--" Trowa glanced over his shoulder at the dark yard and the forest beyond. "Could be a wild animal that triggered his behavior. Didn't the mailman say there were mountain lions in these hills?"
"Yes, but the man at the grocery store laughed when I mentioned concerns about them. He said the stories are blown out of proportion--that folks claim to see mountain lions when all they glimpse is coyotes or bobcats."
"I beg to differ," Trowa said with a frown. "Ephraim wrote about pumas a lot. They were one of the indigenous species, and a bit of a problem with livestock back then. It's not outside the realm of possibility that there's still a wild population out there."
Leon's head was raised, eyes distant as he sniffed the cool breeze.
"He smells something," Trowa asserted.
"Then how do we keep him quiet?"
He got a shrug for an answer. "Find him a girlfriend?" Trowa hazarded.
Heero rolled his eyes at the obvious conclusion. "Just what we need--another lion. Can we at least wait until we've had the final inspection and the permit is on its way?"
"That depends on how noisy he decides to be, doesn't it? I hope his voice didn't carry all the way to the forensic crew--but then, a lion's roar can be heard from miles away, if the acoustics are right."
"Let's just hope we don't have any cops showing up here--or awkward questions to answer in the morning," Heero sighed. "You can contact Catherine then about procuring a companion to settle Leon down."
"I think we should."
Trowa stood looking at the tawny animal long after Heero headed back to the house to return to bed. "You can miss what you never had, right Leon?" he asked rhetorically. "Take Heero for example. He's never had someone to call his own. Not even Chang was really his. But I think Duo could be--if he'd just open up and let him in." He moved closer, his quiet voice soothing the big cat until it rolled onto its side and let the tension drain out of its muscles.
"Whaddaya think, Leon? We need to find a way to bring those two together, don't we?" He sat down just out of reach of both claws and teeth, in case the lion decided to try reaching through the bars. "We could kind of kill two birds with one stone, I think," Trowa mused sleepily. "They're both lonely, aren't they? We get 'em together, and both problems are solved." He yawned and settled his head back against the weathered boards of the barn, and was asleep before another word escaped his lips.
~*~
While Trowa was lulling a lion back to sleep, Duo had noticed Quatre's pensive expression and decided to just back off and let his companion mull things over on his own. He busied himself by throwing yet another piece of wood into the fire, and stirring it up even higher than Quatre had. "Cold out here," he commented, glancing over at the blonde's brooding look. "Want me to put on some water for cocoa?"
"Sure," Quatre replied, snapping out of his mood. "There's some chocolate left, and a few marshmallows and graham crackers."
"Great. I could go for another s'more," Duo said eagerly, rubbing his hands together over the flames. "Seein' as we're wide awake, we may as well enjoy ourselves."
Quatre gave a half-smile, and rolled his eyes. "That's kinda sad, Duo," he pointed out. "Here we are alone in the woods, two good-looking gay guys with normal, healthy libidos, and our idea of enjoying ourselves consists of hot cocoa and melted chocolate snacks." He shook his head. "Pathetic."
Busy digging in his pack for the marshmallows, Duo paused and looked at the blonde for a long, serious moment. "Sorry."
Blue eyes shot him a startled look, and then a softer one. "Can't help it if you're into brunets and I'm hung up on green eyes," he chided.
Duo sat back, regarding him very intently. "I wish like hell I hadn't been so messed up when you moved to town," he said flatly. "If I were meeting you now, for the first time--" He shook his head. "But back then I was so fixated on Solo, I couldn't imagine ever being with anyone else. And now, you're my best friend in the world; as hot as you are, I can't even imagine what it'd be like to kiss you."
"It'd be weird," Quatre said with a grin. "As weird as it'd be for me, kissing you." He lay back on his blankets, looking up at the sky while Duo continued making their snacks. "You ever wonder why it is that we're attracted to one person and not another?"
"All the time," came a vaguely bitter reply.
"I mean, Yuy was downright unpleasant to you the first time you met, face to face, and yet--you're really attracted to him, aren't you?"
"Let's not even go there," muttered the brunet, sticking a branch through the marshmallows with a little more force than necessary.
"It just doesn't make sense," Quatre mused, closing his eyes. "Trowa was way nicer to you, and yet I never saw that little glimmer of lust in your eyes when you mentioned him."
And did he sound a bit hopeful as he made that observation?
"Bullshit," Duo said with a hint of humor. "I'd jump his bones in a heartbeat, too."
"Yes, but--Heero's the one you want." Quatre raised his head and looked at Duo. "What do you see in him?"
Duo frowned, his gaze fixed on a marshmallow that was slowly turning golden on one side. "I guess--the night I took the dog home--" he said hesitantly. "When he looked at Thor's paw, there was the warmest, most tender expression in his eyes." He looked over at Quatre. "All I could think was how amazing it'd feel to be on the receiving end of that look." He shook his head and turned back to his task. "Gave me chills just thinking about how intense it'd be."
"Jeeze. You're totally in love," Quatre said in an awed voice.
Duo snorted. "Hardly. I just--y'know I don't lie, Quat. I'm not gonna say I'm not drawn to the guy. And I'm not even sure exactly why. Trowa was nice to me, and easy to be around, and definitely good-looking. But I didn't feel his smile all the way down to my soul the way I did when Heero--" The braided man bit off the rest of his sentence, recalling the warm "thank you" the Japanese man had said as he carried Thor up to the house. "I'm an ass," he sighed.
"No, you're not," Quatre asserted. "You just want what everyone wants. You want someone to care about you--to put you before everything else in his life. You want love. And that's just plain normal."
He got a chuckle for that comment. "No one's ever accused me of being normal before."
"Well, in some ways, you are," Quatre countered. "Me too. I mean, I only met Trowa that one time at the office. But I feel like there's something special about him--like I want to know him better. I want to matter to him."
"And what if he and his gorgeous roommate are a couple?" Duo asked flatly. "Or worse yet--not even gay?"
"Well, Yuy must be. That issue of Hot Studs proved it."
"You don't know for sure. Maybe he's doing some sort of research or something."
"And maybe you're trying to sabotage yourself before you even try getting to know him," Quatre said with a scowl. "How about just keeping an open mind?"
"I'm--afraid to," Duo sighed, looking away. "Every time I've ever gotten my hopes up about anything, it's all gone wrong. I don't dare hope Yuy's gay, or that I'd have a chance with him if he were."
"You're going to have to," Quatre argued patiently. "If you give up hope, there's just no point to anything."
"Now you're catchin' on." Duo pulled a sticky marshmallow off and stuck it between two pieces of graham cracker, and a square of chocolate, before holding it out to his friend. "Can we just change subjects, Quat? Campfires and s'mores are for ghost stories--not deep, meaningful soul searching."
"I beg to differ," came a tart reply. "Being out in the woods helps you think more clearly--or at least, it does for most people."
"Yeah, well--you're hearing things in the dark, and I'm daydreaming about the impossible," Duo reminded him. "So much for that 'clarity of thought' theory." He made himself a s'more and took a bite. "So--let's just talk about meaningless shit for awhile, hm?"
"Fine," Quatre conceded. "Tell me a freaking ghost story then."
Duo smirked evilly. "Excellent. I'll tell you about the time that Ralph, Alex and Nikol spent Halloween night at the old Broad Hill Cemetery..."
He launched into an account he swore was true--at least as it had been told to him by the aforementioned trio--of a sighting of the ghost of Annabelle Barton.
"She was the one married to the Barton guy who went off to fight in the Civil War, I think," Duo mentioned, digging the cocoa powder out of their supplies so they could make their drinks to wash down the snacks. "There's a memorial on the town green with the names of a bunch of locals who died in it. There's a Jacob Barton listed; I checked. Anyhow, the way the legend went, she only married Barton because her true love died in some kind of accident. Supposedly, Barton knew it, too--and that's why he went off to war. Probably didn't like playing second fiddle to a dead man."
"How sad," Quatre mused.
"What Barton didn't know, when he left, was that she was pregnant. And while he was off soldiering, Annabelle gave birth--only she died in the process. Her ghost is supposed to haunt these hills all over the place. Ralph and the others saw her at the cemetery that night--an' you can ask them if you don't believe me!"
"I believe you," Quatre shrugged. "Not sure I believe them. Had they been drinking that night?"
"Well, duh," Duo said with an expressive roll of his eyes. "It was Halloween. They'd probably had tons to drink, and were on a sugar high to top it off. But that doesn't mean they didn't see her."
"It means they might've fed one another's delusions," Quatre suggested.
"Or maybe they actually saw something," Duo countered. "Some folks have seen Annabelle covered in blood, her arms held out as if searching for her baby; and others saw her in a wedding dress, crying her eyes out." He frowned, looking far too serious for the subject matter. "She's a damned unhappy spirit, either way."
"She's a figment of someone's imagination," Quatre chided. "Does anyone even know if there was a woman named Annabelle Barton at all? Or did they make the name up along with the ghost?"
"You'd have to look in the old town archives or cemeteries," Duo shrugged. "Or ask Trowa. He's got a bunch of old journals the original Barton guy wrote."
"He does?"
"Yeah. They were in the trunk I lugged down the stairs for him." Duo looked at Quatre in honest surprise. "Did I forget to mention that?"
"Um, yeah!" came the accusing reply.
"Shit. I'm sorry, Quat. I thought I'd told you. An' then that time at the grocery store, Heero was saying some of them were damaged. I told him to have Trowa look you up--that maybe you could do some restoration."
"I could!" Quatre said firmly, eyes lighting up. "Dang it! I wish you'd mentioned this. I'd have brought up the subject when Trowa was at the post office."
"You'd have begged, you mean," Duo chided.
"I'd have offered to look at the journals and do what I could to restore them."
Duo clapped his hands together in a praying gesture. "'Oh pleeeeease, Mister Barton--won't you let me help with your journals? I'll work day and night--night after night--do anything--!'"
"You are an asshole," Quatre said firmly, looking like he might be considering tossing his cocoa at his friend.
"What? Was I wrong about what you're willing to do for the guy?" Duo teased.
"Um..." Quatre glared at the dancing flames of the campfire. "Right or wrong, Maxwell, you are an asshole."
Duo laughed at his sullen blush. "And you say I'm the one in love? Damn, Quat--you're just as bad."
"Am not."
"Are too."
They both snickered, grabbing more marshmallows and starting to make another round of s'mores.
Quatre eyed Duo over the rim of his mug. "Have you seen Annabelle's ghost?" he asked bluntly.
Duo looked away, shaking his head. "No."
"You don't sound very convincing," Quatre nudged.
Indigo eyes fixed him with a steady glare. "Annabelle Barton is nothing but a legend," he said flatly. "Whatever weird stuff people have seen, it wasn't her."
"So--are you saying you have seen something?"
"No. I'm not saying that at all."
Quatre studied Duo's face, trying to decide if he was being evasive. "Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying--" Duo paused, scowling deeply. "No matter how much odd stuff goes on out in these hills, and no matter what I've seen that I can't explain, I wouldn't claim to have seen a ghost."
"In other words, you saw something you couldn't explain."
Duo sighed heavily. "I keep telling you--Smoky Hills is full of that shit. When I was a little kid, I used to hang around down at the train station, dreaming about hopping a freight car and seeing the world. One time I saw a hobo burying something out beyond the tracks, and I got too close trying to see what it was. The guy caught me and scared the bejesus out of me--told me he'd cut the hand off a guy who tried to steal his pack of cigarettes, and that's what he'd buried. He said I knew too much, and that he'd have to kill me and bury me out there, too." He shook his head. "I kicked him in the shins, got away, and ran all the way back to the orphanage. Took Father Maxwell two hours to get me to come out from under the bed. And when I told him the story, he took me to the police station and made me tell it to Trant's dad, who was the cop on duty that night." He gave a shrug. "He went down and talked to the hobo, who told him he'd just been burying garbage or something. Said he was trying to scare me off 'cause he didn't think kids should hang around train yards like that; it wasn't safe."
"No kidding?" Quatre said with a smirk. "So he was an okay guy?"
Duo shrugged. "I dunno. On the surface, it looked like there was a totally reasonable explanation for the whole incident. But I was nine years old. I told Solo about it, and he and some of the older kids went and looked for whatever the guy might've buried. But they never found anything to prove whether he'd been telling the cop the truth, or me, and no one ever saw that hobo again. He up an' left town in the middle of the night. The point is, at the time, I believed there was a hand buried out there, and no matter what the cops said, I thought the bum was gonna find me an' kill me. I was jumpy as hell for months, because of a perceived threat. It all depends on your mindset, y'know? All the logic in the world can't shelter you from whatever fears your mind conjures up. So, I could tell you about the time I thought I saw someone up at the lookout--someone who couldn't possibly have been there--only when I ran up to them, they were gone. And it might be true, or it might be that I was so drunk at the time, I was seeing what I wanted to see, instead of what was really there."
He threw his hands out to the side in a gesture of resignation. "Then there was the time during a blizzard I nearly went off the road avoiding a guy with a dog in the middle of the road. Only when I stopped, I couldn't find either of them, or any trace they'd ever been there. It might've been a trick of the light--or the swirls of snow, for all I know. But I was positive I saw the guy. Absolutely certain. And I was stone cold sober, too." He shook his head. "I don't even like to start on some of the stuff people have told me, Quat, because you'll think half the folks in town are crazy as loons. And hell; you might be right. I guess I'm just sayin' that maybe there's logical explanations for the strange sightings, and maybe there's not. But you sure as hell can't prove it one way or the other."
"I never knew there were so many stories," Quatre murmured with a frown. "I mean, every now and then there'd be a 'did you hear what old Miz Carlson saw' rumor at the diner. But it always sounded like the people spreading the rumor were making most of it up. I guess I just figured it was a form of entertainment--of gossip. And now you're telling me those silly old wives' tales and stories passed along the rumor mill might've been based on fact?"
"Everything is based on fact, Quat," Duo said bluntly. "Even the best myth out there had some kernel of fact that someone took and ran with. And maybe it's so blown out of proportion now that it's a complete exaggeration. And then there's the shit that gets started based on what was blown out of proportion to begin with, and it just grows and grows." He shook his head. "All I know is--whatever I've seen probably had a perfectly reasonable explanation. But I couldn't find it at the time, so I'm just left with questions." He smiled wanly. "I try not to think about it, Quat. You wonder why screaming birds can scare the crap out of me? It's partly my imagination, and partly those unanswered questions."
"Jesus. Welcome to Smoky Hills," Quatre muttered.
The conversation quickly dwindled to nothing after that, and when they'd finished their cocoa and s'mores, the two men decided to try to get back to sleep, though both were still a bit jumpy. When they found themselves looking sharply out into the darkness around them at the slightest noise, they shared a sheepish laugh and began putting things away. Duo put the food supplies back up in the sling on the tree, while Quatre banked the fire so it wouldn't be a safety hazard, and they both tried valiantly to ignore the tense atmosphere around them.
"Hey, uh, if we move the sleeping bags to the same side of the fire, we'd probably both be warmer," Duo pointed out casually, his back to Quatre.
"Oh. Yes. That makes perfect sense," Quatre agreed readily, gathering up his blanket and bag and moving them right next to Duo's. "Sharing heat, you know," he added with a half-hearted smile, loathe to admit he was spooked by the ghostly tales.
"I promise to keep my hands to myself, too," Duo added, flashing a quick, teasing grin. "Why don't you put your blanket under the sleeping bags, and we can throw mine on top? Make a nice, toasty nest out of them."
"Sounds good." Quatre quickly completed the revised sleeping arrangement, and slipped into his own sleeping bag as Duo walked over to join him.
The braided man climbed in, and helped tuck in the wool blanket over the top of their bags. "Yeah, that's the ticket," he said with a grin. "Much warmer."
"I agree." Quatre could feel the solid presence beside him, and it did wonders to calm his nerves.
"Didn't mean to spook you with crazy stories," Duo said quietly, just as Quatre was relaxing and starting to drift towards sleep.
"I wasn't spooked," came a quick, defensive reply. "Not by that."
"Oh, I know," Duo agreed hastily. "Me neither." He tugged at the blankets. "This is just for warmth--right?"
"Of course." Quatre squirmed to get more comfortable.
After a moment or two of silence, he carefully added, "But that noise before-- It was so eerie."
"Wish I'd been awake enough to really listen to it," Duo sighed. "I'm sure it was something very ordinary and very explainable."
"Yes, it must have been," Quatre said, chewing uneasily on his lip. A dying ember in the fire popped loudly, and both men twitched at the sound.
Of course, then they both studiously ignored the fact that they'd nearly jumped out of their skins.
"In the morning," Duo murmured, wriggling just a bit closer--practically spooning up behind Quatre. "We can get an early start back down the mountain. I want to show you the falls on the way. They're really spectacular this early in the summer, when the water level is high."
Quatre latched onto the soothing sound of his voice. "Tell me about 'em?"
"Well--they come straight out of the side of the rock face, and just spill down into the pools below. I think the runoff up there eroded away a trench, so it got deeper and deeper, until finally the water worked its way down through fissures and out a lower opening. There's a lip above it, that water doesn't flow over. You could possibly walk across that edge--though I wouldn't do it on a dare. It's all mossy and slippery. Probably treacherous."
"Has anyone ever fallen from it?"
"Not that I've ever heard," Duo assured him. "People are too smart to risk it. Even us dumbass kids never went that far."
"'At's good," Quatre mumbled drowsily, the warm nest of blankets and Duo's husky whisper slowly lulling him to sleep.
"We can have a picnic at the base of the falls, if you can stand the noise there. We'll cook up the steaks we didn't use tonight."
"Yum." Quatre drifted off into a peaceful slumber, and Duo shifted around so he could throw an arm across his sleeping companion.
"Sleep tight," he said quietly, before allowing himself to relax and nod off as well.
TBC...
Back to Snowdragonct's Fanfictions Page