[04] A Rat By Any Other Name

By Fahiru

Darkness.

It's cold and heartless; laughing in the faces of evil and innocent alike. It aids wicked deeds before turning to smite those who commit them. It swallows everything without prejudice; love, hate, hope, life. Death. It hides death best of all.

Except the light. Light was the only thing that darkness could never consume. Though it would rage and grovel and connive, the darkness could never touch it, and would cower in its presence.

To Roscuro, a creature who had spent his entire life in the darkness, light was lovely beyond comprehension.

Yes, Chiaroscuro; the villain, the thief, the murderer, the liar, the rat; Roscuro the rat longed for the light.

It was ridiculous, of course. He was a creature of darkness, doomed and privileged to never need anything but a hope to steal and a life to crush; yet he could no longer be satisfied with it. He could not be satisfied with himself.

For the same reasons as his own, the world of light could not accept him either.

He swore he would never forget the look on her face, the lovely face of Princess Pea, when she called him that. She called him a rat. The Pea never just said things; she meant them and lived them and breathed them. And she never took them back.

No. The Pea, the lovely Pea, the untouchable, unforgiving Pea was always right. Roscuro was a...a rat.

And it broke his heart.

Only then, after that dreadful evening in the dining room, only then did he begin to truly hate himself, down to the last whisker and claw and even his name. What a terrible name.

Ha! What a joke, what a lark they had thought it was! Yes, let's name a rat Chiaroscuro; the battle between light and dark! As if a rat could ever live anywhere but the darkness. Light? What was light to a rat? Most never see it, there is no need for it in the poisoned heart of a rat.

Ah, yes, his heart. Never mind that now, old thing. What had it been for anyway? Didn't need it. Didn't want it. A rat has no use for such things.

And yet, when he was all alone in the dark of the dungeon, he could not ignore the pain he felt, nor could he keep himself from the bitter weeping that would eventually lull him to sleep.

What a thing it is, to be betrayed by half your name.

He knew that she hadn't really forgiven him. She held no further grudge, true, but she would never be able to accept him, either. He had done the Pea great wrong through his actions, and from this he could never be redeemed.

They had put on a good show, though. Yes, he was now allowed to wander the upper levels, the world beyond the dungeon, whenever he wished. Yes, they had named him a friend, but how could that really be so? Like a wonderful soup will leave you restless without all the right ingredients, a broken heart, a broken rat is so empty without even the ability to live out his name.

Roscuro could not live in darkness. Not anymore. But neither, he found, could he live in the light, with all these lovely, compassionate, likeable creatures that had been born there, breathed light, it seemed.

He wasn't one of them. He was a rat. And a rat, separate from the darkness, has no home.

Oh, why had they given him such a name? He had naturally found it funny like the rest, but it had become more than unbearably ironic since.

After all, who can laugh when they're lost?

But still, he hoped. He fought the fleas and disease and darkness and hatred and death of his origins with every fiber of his oxymoronic being. It could never be his, he clearly wasn't made for it as they were, but still he hoped for the light, and all it stood for.

One day, Roscuro found it.

He had been scurrying near the ceilings, all too aware that any sighting of him would scare the mice to death. He was careful, but he was also out of sorts. Light did that to him.

Oh, but how delicious it felt to be able to see the brilliance and feel the warmth of the palace! He kept a steady pace, but tried, despite his need for vigilance, to let himself forget what he was, and what he could never have.

But it was no use. He couldn't help that he was a r-

Something caught his eye.

Blue? Was that blue? That was what Despereaux had called the color, wasn't it? But what was it doing over there? What was that?

Roscuro felt that he must be looking through the doorway of the biggest room in the palace; for there, just beyond that oddly high threshold, was a deep blue ceiling so far away he could hardly imagine where it ended. The room itself was too bright to make out the contents, but – goodness – he had never seen so much light.

He could not resist, and soon he was on a ledge, blinking in the light of the morning.

For that is what it was. For the first time in his life, Chiaroscuro was watching the sunrise.

A rat who has spent his entire life pining after artificial light cannot possibly comprehend the world at a glance. The air is fresher outside, the colors more vibrant, and the feeling is so much bigger than those brought about by the trinkets made by man. No, Roscuro had never before known that there was a world outside the castle; one where light belonged to those who would have it, where sometimes birth does not always make all the difference. One where even a small, tailless, heart broken rat can belong.

And the day did pass before anyone thought to look for him. When they did, he was found to be in that same spot; basking in the light of his discovery.

Light. The Light was bigger than his name.

(A/N; This week I combined the main prompt [Betrayal] with the alternate prompt [The Broken Under Bridges]. This one-shot was written for the Twelve Shots of Summer, we would appreciate it if you would please check out the billboard on the forum, or just go to the community under the same name, and read the other stories you can find there. If any of them stand out to you, we appreciate all the feedback you may wish to give. If reviews aren't your thing, that's cool; we understand.

I'm not sure how well this works, especially since die-hard-DiCamillo fans would probably prefer a tragedy. You can write your own, if you'd like.

I could never come to grips with Roscuro's ending. After all was said and done, he was left to mourn the fact that his name fit him perfectly, and he didn't belong to either light or darkness. Well. I'm sure I cried all through out the book, but for Roscuro I cried the hardest.

But I thought, it couldn't be that he doesn't belong with either; darkness is the absence of light and he misses that, he is totally obsessed with filling that void. And if he cannot live in the castle, well, that is a world of artificial light, so that makes sense. If Roscuro truly needs light, it should be natural light. I just really, really, really wanted Roscuro to have a happy ending.

And yes, the Princess is quite often referred to as simply "The Pea".)