Rifiuto: Non Miriena
A/N: Written: 2014. - Licia
The smell of smoke, the lingering stench of death, the crushing of bone and the indescribable pain...
He awoke with a start, his heart leaping into his throat. Somehow, someway, he'd made it out of the bed and breakfast, and found his way to the cemetery. He pushed himself up; a throbbing in his head soon made its presence known, and after a moment, he quickly reached up-
His fingers came back free of blood. At least that was one thing he didn't have to worry about.
It took him a moment, before he was able to stumble to his feet, and once he did, he realized that it was probably around eleven or twelve in the evening. Ziva and the rest of the team were back at the bed and breakfast, sound asleep. On shaky legs, he moved to leave the cemetery, only to find a young man blocking his way. He shook his head, but the man didn't go away, instead, he moved closer.
"Don't think you're about to just leave us like this, Thackery."
The young man before him- who he now realized was a boy, of probably no more than fifteen or sixteen- didn't say a word, and slowly, he turned, to find the cat sitting atop the gravestone he himself had been lying against moments before. He shook his head. "Ah... wh... what did you call me?"
"We've waited too long for you to return." The cat replied, as the teenager moved closer. Tim turned back to him; it was then that he saw exactly what the boy was-
Spectral in form, transparent in thickness, dressed in a pair of brown breeches and a white, long-sleeved nightshirt, similar to what was worn in the seventeen hundreds, his hair pulled back in a ponytail at the base of his neck. He was barefoot, and his eyes... his eyes were haunted.
Tim glanced from the cat to the spirit of the boy and back. "No. Hocus Pocus was just a kids movie made by Disney, back in the nineties-"
"It was based on truth." The cat replied, tail flicking in annoyance. "Years before the witch trials of sixteen-hundred-ninety-two stole nineteen lives innocent of witchcraft, the Sanderson sisters were performing witchcraft and stealing the lives of Salem's children."
"When?" There was no way Tim believed any of this, but better to listen than... he shook his head. He didn't know what, to be honest.
"Sixteen-hundred-sixty-seven." The cat replied. "Years before you and Emily were even born." It leapt deftly off the stone, making its way towards him. "Emily was the one who brought about their deaths, and Max Dennison broke the curse back in ninety. Or so he thought."
"Thought?" There was no way any of this was real-
"You truly don't know about the second layer of the curse, do you?" The boy spoke this time, and Tim turned to him. "The second part of my curse, was to tether a piece of my soul to this world for all eternity. Only to be broken by the love of another underneath the light of the full moon on All Hallow's Eve."
"Which is two nights away." The cat replied, and Tim turned back to the animal.
"I don't understand."
"Not all of my soul is free." The boy spoke up again, and Tim let his gaze move back to him. "The last part of my soul... resides in you."
"That's... that's ridiculous." Tim whispered, and the boy stepped closer, into the moonlight. It was then that Tim saw what the boy had been afraid to show. Though he was clearly a spirit, he was only half there, as though he were half a manifestation; not a fully manifested spirit, not fully free.
"That's why you're remembering what you are." The cat replied. "You've finally returned to Salem, your birthplace, your rightful home. In order to break the second half of Winifred Sanderson's curse-"
"Wait... how? What... what happens if the curse is broken?" He must have hit his head harder than he thought, if he was taking this entire conversation as easily as he thought he was.
"The missing piece of my soul returns to me, and I'm finally free. I can finally be with Emily." The boy stopped, thinking. "'twill happen at the hour when the veil is gone, when the dead return and walk among the living. If the love of another breaks the curse under the light of the full moon when the veil disappears-"
"You'll... and you?" He turned to the cat, who cocked its head, as if to shrug. "And me? What happens to me?"
The boy moved closer, reaching out a hand to caress Tim's cheek, as though he could sense the missing half of his soul within the young agent. Tim winced, pulling away. "You will cease to exist."
Tim shook his head. "No... what about my soul? Don't I deserve my own soul?" He stopped, realizing how pathetic he sounded, arguing with the half-manifestation of a boy from Salem's past and a talking cat.
"The legend of two souls becoming stitched together out of love is just that, sadly, a legend." The boy whispered, understanding what the agent was getting at.
She awoke, to the feel of sheets beneath her hand. After several minutes, she sat up, climbing out of bed and slipping into her boots. A quick search told her that Tim was nowhere in the bed and breakfast, and after several minutes, she grabbed her flashlight and slipped out of the building. Maybe he'd gone for a walk because he couldn't sleep.
After several minutes of searching, voices led her to the old cemetery, and she slipped inside, silently searching among the gravestones. She stopped however, when she heard his voice.
"... so... I'm just supposed to... to die... so that... that you can be free from this... this curse?"
She moved closer, ducking behind a gnarled tree, to find Tim talking to... she couldn't tell who, exactly. She listened in silence for several minutes, before finally moving out from behind the tree. "Tim?"