One Step Closer

Sometimes, you hold someone's hand simply because you have no other choice in the matter.

Because you need some way of proving to yourself that, against all the odds, you're still alive, still flesh and bone and beating heart. That another human being is there beside you and able to testify to that fact.

There was more to it, of course. Wasn't there always? But when Dylan's fingers brushed against Evan's palm - intentional, yet negligible enough to wear the mask of an accident if necessary - and she felt the touch develop into something else, a grip, a reassurance, all her thoughts were centered around how wonderful it was that they had made it there at all. That it was still possible to feel, even after so long. Thunderstorms were clouding her mind, nervous tingles clinging like static to her skin, and it was dark, so dark, she was barely able to see...and cold, too...

...but that was alright. It was alright.

That didn't stop her from glancing over towards Evan. Seeking something nameless, an unquantifiable relief. Something - anything - to relieve the irrational surge of fear, tell her that she wasn't coming across to him as emotional, needy, clingy; that was a side of her that she never wanted him to see, for worry of scaring him away altogether. She wasn't nothing without him. He didn't complete her. Those were storybook cliches, the fabric of legend. But it was true that she couldn't bring herself to like what she became.

It was with equal measures of surprise and anxiety that she saw her own questions staring back at her, tiny, broken echoes. When she forced a smile, his lips quirked back in return. It wasn't okay, but it was alright because it had to be, it had to be alright. They were alive, and they were together, and for as long as they were anchored in the crushing darkness of the present, what more could they were expect? She was lucky enough to have survived this far, and to have Evan with her now was nothing short of miraculous.

Why ask for more if it would only lead to disappointment? She had learnt long ago of the fleeting qualities of happiness.

"So..." Evan said suddenly, his voice trailing off into the abyss that surrounded them. Embraced by the silence, they stood there, awkward, waiting for an answer from a ghost that couldn't talk. They weren't alone here. Both were too haunted by the mysteries of the anomalies to ever be truly alone. Evan's ghosts spoke to him; he'd admitted that to her once, and sworn her to secrecy immediately afterwards. He heard the ghosts, liquid demons, the waking breath of nightmares whispering across each and every one of his senses. Dylan's never talked to her, but she felt them, small, angry twinges, painfully close to her heart, or sometimes just vague pulses within the mindless throb of her thoughts.

Today, it seemed, the ghosts didn't want to play. And so it was left up to Dylan to fill the empty spaces in Evan's lungs. "What happened?"

"I don't know. I don't think I want to know," he accompanied the words with a nervous chuckle, biting down on his lip, an action that exposed a sudden flash of vulnerability, stripping layers from the walls around his eyes...around his heart. His hand was still secure around hers, gentle but tremulous; it was hard to ignore the way it shook against her skin, the strange shudder of intimacy she felt from it. "I guess...I guess we changed something. But how the hell could we have done all this?"

There was nothing. Literally nothing but empty air and shallow, shivering wind.

How could they have erased everything, all at once?

"It's the butterfly effect. Just like you and Toby always said," she sighed and bowed her head, allowing the helplessness to flood over her, simultaneously hating and cherishing the honesty; there was nothing she could do, and she might as well admit it, to herself if nobody else. "Who knows the true extent of the space-time continuum's power? What if this is just the tip of the iceberg? There are infinite possibilities...for better, for worse...maybe this was how it was supposed to be, all along..."

"Maybe this is infinity," Evan said, more serious than she'd ever seen him.

"Maybe it is. Maybe it's the end of the universe,"

"Or the birth of a new one. Maybe we came through the wrong anomaly, and we're in another reality altogether," he tightened his grip on her hand with another humourless laugh; the words were pointless, a waste of language, he was clutching at straws and they both knew it. She could see it, clearer than both terror and pain, in everything about him. His eyes. His trembling breath. The lines across his face. There was no way they'd chosen the wrong anomaly. No way. It was impossible, and even desperation couldn't change that.

Once you've eliminated the impossible, whatever's left, however improbable, must then be the truth.

They'd done this.

They'd erased everything.

"So this is our world now," Dylan said quietly. Her voice was weak and despairing. Pitiful. "I guess we only have ourselves to blame,"

"Don't think like that. It's not your fault, or mine," Evan turned to look at her, taking her other hand in his so that she couldn't look away. "It's just the way things are. We can make this work. As long as we're together, we're...we're untouchable. We'll get through this. You know we will. And one way or another, we'll find a way to make things right,"

His cheeks were burning red, a startling reminder that even in this damp, lightless world of shadows, fire still held its place, blazing on in minds and souls when it ran out of fuel to feed upon.

"I sure hope you're right,"

"I am," he spoke with an enviable confidence, one she knew he didn't feel. "Trust me, Dylan. Just trust me. Much as I want to put things right...my home is wherever you are. We've made it this far already. It's just one step closer to hap...well, to peace. We'll survive this. We can survive anything. God knows we've earned our happy ending, right?"

There was silence. It seemed to stretch on into eternity - into infinity - before she finally replied.

But when she did, nobody could doubt her sincerity. Still holding onto Evan's hands, both of them now. Flesh and bone and beating heart. Alive, and not alone, and one step closer to...a happy ending? Maybe not.

One step closer to whatever came next. One step closer to the dawn.

"Right,"

So, guess who's back! Remember me?

It's TerraChasma - I changed my username, in case you were wondering. And wow, I'm so sorry for my lack of updates! But I am going to be writing more regularly now, I swear! I've been really busy, and I've been struggling a lot, which led to a complete lack of motivation. Now things are starting to get better. Slowly, but they're on the move. Which means I'll probably start writing again - and my love for Dyvan hasn't diminished in the slightest!

I have more fics on the go, don't worry, and rewrites planned for everything I've written, or at least touch-ups. I apologise if this sucks; it's eleven o'clock at night, and this has been written and edited in the space of a few hours. What can I say, I was inspired! And besides, I've abandoned my fandom for too long! So, I really hope you enjoy this!

More to come soon, I hope!

- Disaster's Playfield.

NOTE: I'll make a cover for this tomorrow, don't worry! I just find it hard to use Pixlr, the image editing website I use, on my laptop.