Leon Orcot (under_arrest) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-01-21 21:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, leon orcot |
Who: Leon, and Bart the Butterfly
What: Bart's time has come
When: Tonight
Where: Leon's apartment
Warning/Rating: A vague reference to suicide, pet death.
Status: Complete
Leon knew that the end was coming near. He’d watched Bart age, practically before his eyes. When he’d first appeared out of Leon’s dreams, he’d looked like Harry, young and vibrant and full of life. It had been slightly disconcerting, given that he’d just witnessed that same friend kill his partner before turning the gun on himself, but he’d grown used it it. And it had been strangely comforting, like his friend had come back to him. Like he’d been reborn, and had the death and violence wiped from him.
He’d watched his features, which had looked so much like Harry’s, grow wrinkled, his hair turn grey, his eyes dull, far faster than any human would have aged. This would be Leon’s only chance to see his old childhood friend grow old, though he thought he might be better off without the experience. Leon hadn’t wanted to believe that that time was ever going to come. Bart had been a constant companion for over a year. And while he’d tried to guard against his colleagues at the precinct from learning about him - they would never, ever let him live it down if the found out he scoffed at the idea of a pet dog but had a pet butterfly - but he had never really been ashamed of the fluttering thing. A little embarrassed sometimes, but he’d loved him in his own way.
Since Gatolotto’s death in August, Bart was the last living momento that he’d received from his dreams. He had the leather jacket he’d picked up in his world travels, the cane that he kept tucked away in the back of his closet, where he didn’t need to see it, and his newspaper clippings. But aside from the family picture a six-year-old Chris had drawn of D, Leon, and himself, none of them really seemed to bring the nostalgic feeling that Gatolotto and Bart had brought him. And when Bart took his final breath, then that would be taken from him.
But the time was now. Bart knew it, and as loathe as Leon was to admit it, he knew it too. He kneeled next to the couch, where his companion was lying in relative comfort. Leon held Bart’s withered hand in his own, the butterfly’s large wings lying still underneath him. Leon held a small bowl of sugar water to his lips, and poured the liquid down his throat.
“It’s been a pleasure,” Bart said, smiling at him. “You’ve given me many delicious dreams.”
Leon frowned deeply at that. “I thought I told you to stay out of my head,” he growled, though his tone was gentle.
Bart laughed then, and smiled at him. “Good-bye, my friend,” he said.
“Good-bye,” Leon said, wishing his voice hadn’t cracked like it had. The tears wouldn’t fall, Leon wouldn’t let him, but listening to him it would sound like he was weeping like a baby.
Bart closed his eyes, and his breath stilled. Leon squeezed his own eyes shut, fighting back the tears. When he opened them again, the Bart who’d looked like Harry was gone. All that was left was a small, blue butterfly, lying still in his hands.