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Beachcombing for Iron	By : dweller_of_roots Category: +G through L > Lighthouse: The Dark Being Views: 1025 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lighthouse: The Dark Being, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Waking up to farewells is one of the worst things in the world.
You always tell yourself that you're ready - at least I do - but you never are.
And there's a fantasy, however distant, that if you just keep your eyes closed - maybe, just maybe, this time it won't have to be a farewell. And you can stay close to the person you love without fear of them disappearing.
... Perhaps it was selfishness on my part, and nothing more.
Liryl had already been awake for some time, staring at the ceiling with a practiced ease I was familiar with. She'd been idly flipping through the picturebook from the last night, not truly staring at it, but simply passing the time. She met my morning-bleary eyes with a crooked smile that wasn't entirely as confident as she wished it was.
"Good morning, you. I... Thought I might try to make you some breakfast, but... I just couldn't..."
She shrugged helplessly.
"Breakfast is overrated. I mean, I mostly just drink coffee and get to work most days - "
"You shouldn't do that. Please... Take better care of yourself."
"Don't you think I take decent enough care of myself?"
I grinned, but she didn't reply with a smile.
"No."
Outside, the clouds had thickened, but without the promise of rain; simply vast and ponderous overhead.
Liryl managed to affect a tiny, fragile smile - enough to reassure herself, and me, just a bit.
"But I'm sure you'll be... Fine. Besides... I'd be one to talk."
The two of us were silent as we dressed and I prepared a very simple breakfast. I know I wanted to talk - I think we both did - but the words just wouldn't come, no matter what I tried. I stuttered and kept finding things to send with her; a walkman, several CDs of embarrassingly bad music, an old television and VCR that probably wouldn't even work unless she could figure out some clever method to store and use electricity for it, more books - but somehow the act of preparing ourselves served as a way of pretending that things wouldn't have to happen.
"Wait."
I'd gotten halfway to the keys for my car, without saying a word. I felt a little nauseous, but her voice was enough to bring me back to something approaching reality.
"Please wait. I... Could you..."
She closed her eyes tightly.
"Sign this, please."
It was one of the book she'd gotten from before - not mine, actually, but one of the others from the sale counter. I drew my signature twice - in bad cursive that didn't at all reflect well on my calligraphy, and in a block print similar enough to the font on the book jacket that she could tell what I'd written. She laughed quietly, but refused my attempt to sign my actual work.
"It doesn't matter where it's signed. I just wanted... To have it, is all."
My keys weighed heavily in my pocket. Looking past her for something, anything, I removed the schematic of the lighthouse from the wall and placed it on the table in front of her.
"This is literally the absolute least suitable thing I have, but..." Her smile was painful, and she shook her head - leaving only to return with the collection of Milne stories from earlier.
Her signature was languid and ornate, at least to my eye. I couldn't read it at all, and yet somehow... I clutched the children's book tightly to me, and wondered if keeping it close would prevent us from having to leave - though it wouldn't, of course.
She moved forward tentatively, her wheels getting caught in the ancient and cheap rug on the floor; perhaps accidentally, and perhaps on purpose. She tumbled into me and pinned me to the floor, holding me for what must have been an hour. Neither of us moved, and neither of us said a word.
Finally, she pulled back into her chair, smiling faintly. Whatever happened - she knew, and I did too. That was enough.
"You must... Take care of yourself. And... For me, if you could perhaps... Try to capture all of this, everything that you love..."
"You, too. I mean, I suppose it's my duty, right? To keep the memories of this place; to keep the memories of every place we know."
To keep the memories of each other.
"It is our duty... And I won't... I cannot forget."
Hand in hand, we left. And in that grey and rainless sky, she left. And the world I knew returned to the way it had been, as if nothing in that week had mattered - even though it had in ways only we remembered.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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