call_me_chas (call_me_chas) wrote in morningstar_mnr, @ 2009-04-19 22:01:00 |
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Entry tags: | chas, vision |
Roof, early morning.
As was his habit [and it was practical since he kept a supply of tealights in the Mousehole] Charlie had started at the bottom and worked his way up.
There were places in the basement, sub-basement and sub-sub-basements that didn't see light from one year to the next and he wormed his way into the darkest of them, leaving tiny flowers of light behind him. Sometimes he knew he was alone, sometimes he felt a presence and not all of them were pleased at what he was doing, but he ignored them, confident that they would do him no harm.
In the public areas he was careful, only leaving the lights where they would do no harm and be undisturbed by people, pets or children but he hid them in air vents and ducts so faint wafts of garden scents would drift through the building.
He left three candles in the heart of the maze, thinking sadly of Jeannie-Rose and her absent mother and with joy of Nia, then took himself off to the roof and slipped through the tangle of ducts and pipes to the little nook behind the pool house. There he set another substantial candle in a jar on a ledge above his private little garden and knelt amongst his grow bags, plucking dead leaves and murmuring soft endearments to his plants. Before long he felt another presence behind him and smiled as he looked around.
"What good is that going to do, son?" Jon Vision asked.
Charlie didn't pretend to misunderstand. "A light in the darkness," he said, even though by now it was full daylight, "makes us feel a little braver."
Jon snorted, his eyes on the candle and the flame leaped and bobbed, the wax burning with an audible hisssssss. "Brave just don't cut it," he murmured. "Not when you're a long time dead."
"But where there's life there's hope," Charlie pointed out.
Hope - of forgiveness, of redemption, of putting right what has gone wrong, of an apology accepted, of the remaking of lost friendships, of the renewal of lost allegiances, of an end to captivity, of cessation of pain, of well earned rest, of love.
None of those were anything to do with Jon Vision and he bared his teeth at Charlie's bowed head for a moment before leaving as suddenly as he had arrived.
Charlie didn't need to look to know that his candle had gone out - he could feel it like an icy hand on the back of his neck.