Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was cold, as it had been ever since Wirt and Greg were discharged from the hospital.

But the winter air had made this worse, and Wirt was beginning to regret taking his little brother with him on a walk around the block. The small child didn’t speak about the chill that sent him quivering in his little snow boots, and chattering beneath the scarf around his face- in fact, he was leaping in piles of snow, a blithe expression across his round, wan face. He would smile at Wirt behind his scarf, yet the teen could see the exhaustion behind his eyes. He could see his brother was struggling to stay awake in the winter, and Wirt found he was the same. It was almost as if they were in a half-asleep, feverish state- trapped in a dream- yet Wirt knew what was real and what felt fake… did he? He knew the line between sleep and wakefulness... right?

He decided it was best not to think too much about it. But he did know one thing- this was a mistake. Watching Greg running ahead through the snow, sliding across the ice easily, before slipping and falling on his butt- this only encouraged the thought of turning around and going home. Even if Greg was laughing heedlessly and rolling around on the ground, ignoring the cold that engulfed the both of them, the dread merely grew.

Carefully stepping across the ice, his breath catching in his throat, Wirt reached forward and grabbed Greg beneath the armpits, hoisting him to his feet.

“Okay, guy, let’s go home now.”

“Aw, man B-but it’s f… it’s fun in t-the snow,” Greg shivered, and his words slurred, as if the cold was freezing them together.

“Greg, you’re shivering. It’s time to go home, okay?” Wirt found he was beginning to shiver too, and he had to clench his teeth to keep them from chattering.

“Ok! But can w-we make… m-make a snow-frog first?”

“No. You have a real frog at home.”

“O-o-oh, yeah.” Greg lets out a long shiver, and the joy seeped from his expression. “I’m cold.”

Wirt frowned, a bit worried for his brother. He had never been this miserable looking, during the winter. He had never shivered so greatly- well, maybe when he rolled in the snow- but this shivering felt more than constant, and had occurred just as they stepped outside into the frigid air. The teen was quick to try and connect the dots, thinking back to their time in the Unknown, when the Beast had nearly claimed Greg’s soul….

He shook these thoughts from his head, anxiety forming a knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat. He looked to Greg, to find the other had sat down again, and was closing his eyes.

“Greg?!”

Greg’s eyes snapped open. “Huh? O-oh, sorry! I g-got… tired.” He tried to get up, but to no avail. Wirt had to lift him again, and set him on his feet.

“Come on.”

He took Greg’s gloved hand, and they started the journey back home. The whole town was out and about, despite the cold, somber winter. Several teens were having a snowball fight in the park, a man was shoveling snow out of the driveway, little kids were shrieking with laughter as a sled was pulled around… Wirt sensed that Greg wanted to go out and join them, but found it strange when the little boy did not pull away from his brother’s hand. Normally, if he wanted to go somewhere, he was quick to make sure that it happened. But now, he stayed put, and grew quiet- shaking with cold.

Wirt frowned. He grew distracted with his thoughts.

That is until someone called his name. “Wirt!”

He looked over to see a few teens- familiar ones. Sara’s friends. In fact, Sara stood with them, and they waved to Wirt as they crossed the street over to him. Wirt kept his eyes on Sara. She smiled. He couldn’t help but smile back at her, and felt a warm fuzziness settle inside.

“Hey, Wirt,” Sara said, as the teens approached him. A few snickered, and Isabel nudged Sara knowingly. She flushed, and shoved her away, “Do you wanna go sledding with us?”

“We’re going over the wall and on that big hill by the lake,” Jason Funderberker snickered.

Wirt felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. He willed his anxiety away. “W-why are you going over there?” He asked, and turned to look at Sara.

She stumbled over her words. “Well, we were going to that hill in the far countryside, but… Norman’s parents said that was too far away, so….”
Norman flushed. “Sorry.”

“The hill on the other side of the wall was the only good hill we know of.”

“Uhhh… f-fair,” Wirt forced out, and cleared his throat, “Well, um, I can’t go. I was just taking Greg home, and-” His heart pounded. His breath was beginning to come out in shallow gasps.

“Woah, Wirt, you okay?” Sara asked, and her eyes widened with worry, “Hey, it’s fine if you can’t go, we were just-”

“N-no, uh…” He forced himself to breathe, embarrassed, “I-I, um. It’s not that. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later, ‘kay?” He reached forward, awkwardly kissing Sara’s cheek, and then quickly turned and walked away, his hand shaking in Greg’s.

He could hear the teens muttering in confusion, and his heart only picked up, leaping into his throat. He could feel Sara’s eyes on his back. His breathing became even heavier, shorter.

“Wirt?” Greg asked, “W-Wirt, are you okay?”

“Fine.”

They came to their home, and Wirt stopped, his face contorted as he tried to regain his breath. A choked sob had made its way into his throat. Anxiety ripped him apart. Greg held his hand, carefully, confused and scared. Wirt realized that Greg had probably never seen him in this condition before. He quickly stood upright, trying to push the surge of terror away. He led Greg to the door, and they came inside. The house was empty. Their parents were out and about, it seemed.
“Wirt?” Greg asked.

Wirt ignored him, knowing that if he tried to speak, it would make it worse. He took off his coat, and his hat, and peeled off his gloves, dropping them to the floor. He shakily made his way up to his room, leaving Greg standing in his snow-covered clothes. He felt guilty for leaving his brother, but the anxiety overruled that feeling. Sara was going past the train tracks. She was going to be next to the lake that he and Greg almost drowned in that Halloween night. What if they cross the iced over lake? What if they fall in? What if they are submitted to darkness, and never come back? What if the Beast claims their lives?

As soon as Wirt came into his room, thoughts of the snow plagued his mind. Greg ran through it. He had run through it. Greg slipped on the ice. He slipped once, too, and heard voices. Greg? GREG? Ice. The lake. Images of Sara falling into the lake, screaming, being pulled into the darkness. She would do nicely in the lantern.

Wirt collapsed to his knees. Sobs racked through his body. They turned to screams. His breath was short.

You cannot escape the Beast. The Unknown. You have seen it. He will stay with you. Just when you think you have defeated him.
He closed his eyes, but he could see the Beast’s eyes behind his eyelids.

ARE YOU READY TO SEE TRUE DARKNESS?

“WIRT!”

Greg’s scream made Wirt’s eyes shoot open, and he saw the little boy in front of him, eyes wide.

“Greg… G-Greg, you’re still wearing your coat.”

“Wirt, you were screaming! You were screaming, and crouching, and I was-” His lip quivered, and tears broke through his words, preventing him from speaking.
Wirt finally realized that he was back in reality, and the surge of anxiety had gone away for a moment. The small realization, however, also made him realize that he had scared his little brother.

“Woah, hey… hey, it’s okay. I’m okay, see? I just freaked out, it happens sometimes.”

“This has happened before?!”

“W-well, yeah, but- under a different predicament-” Wirt stopped when he saw Greg step back, tears threatening to spill. He scooted forward, and shakily took the other’s hands. “Hey, look, I’m okay. Don’t be upset.”

Greg sobbed anyway. “I-I was scared,” he hiccuped.

“I was too,” Wirt said, then grimaced. Not the best thing to say, “W-well, look… I didn’t mean to scare you, Greg. I-” he swallowed. “-I was just scared, myself. Because- because Sara mentioned going to the lake, and since we almost drowned in the lake, and- I had a panic attack and, well, I couldn’t help the… the screaming and-”

Greg threw his arms around Wirt, cutting him off. They sat in the grey quiet of Wirt’s room, until the teen finally hugged Greg back, who trembled from both tears and cold.

“I’m sorry,” Wirt whispered.

“Don’t be sorry,” Greg sniffed, quietly. “It’ll be okay.”

The way Greg said these words immediately filled him with… warmth, strangely enough. A warmth that somehow felt familiar, and it comforted him greatly. Hearing these words from his half-brother… the voices in his head vanished completely, like blowing out a candle. He felt his arms wrap tighter around his brother, tears filling his own eyes.

“Okay.”

They sat there, for a moment longer… until Greg finally pulled away, and smiled, reassuringly at Wirt. Wirt watched him, until the small child started for the door, disappearing from the room. Wirt swallowed, thickly, and rose to his feet, going back downstairs and towards the kitchen, where he decided to make hot chocolate for the both of them.

And that was when there was a knock at the front door.

He set the kettle down, and went to open it.

Sara stood there, in the snow.

“Wirt! Hey, uh, I know you were busy, or whatever… but I was worried about you. I feel horrible, like it was my fault, and-”
Wirt engulfed her in a hug, stopping her words.

“It’ll be okay.”

He closed his eyes in the embrace, and waited until Sara hugged him back- clearly somewhat surprised. Finally, he pulled away.

“Sorry-”

“It’s okay….”

“It wasn't your fault- and I think I should explain myself-”

“Take your time.”

She smiled warmly at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Shyness took hold of the both of them, as Sara shuffled in the snow, laughing faintly, and he admired her with great gentleness. Then, embarrassed, he quickly ushered inside from the cold, spouting out incoherent apologies. And then, he explained everything.

Chapter Text

Greg had changed into some comfy clothes, and then sat down with Jason Funderburker (the frog), talking about his recent discoveries of Wirt’s panic attacks. “I knew Wirt was one to worry about things and get scared, but I didn’t think he would scream at nothing! Something fishy is going on, Detective,” he explained. The frog stared at him, and blinked eye at-a-time.

Finally, he croaked back.

Greg gasped. “Do you think it’s the Beast?” he whispered, and fear clouded his eyes, “Do you think… the Beast followed us home, as a ghost?!”

Jason grunted.

“Hmm, true… Wirt wouldn’t be scared of a ghost! Then what makes him scream like that? There’s no way it was because of a lake!” His voice quivered. Was it getting colder?

A croak. A shiver. Greg stood to retrieve a blanket from the floor.

“But Wirt says this has happened before… and he looked so scared, and sad…” Greg frowned, “He said not to worry, but what if it happens again? I don’t want to see him scared again.”

The frog quivered.

“Are you cold? Sorry. You can go back under your light, now,” Greg said, and picked Jason Funderburker up, putting him back in the terrarium, beneath the bright yellow light that kept the frog warm. He sighed, watching their frog through the glass, “I guess this is a solo mission, huh, Detective?”

- - - - -

Greg waited until the house was still and not a sound protruded from the empty hallway.

His parents had come in briefly to kiss him goodnight, and Wirt had read to him until he drifted asleep- but little did they know that Greg was pretending. Beneath his pillow, he hid his flashlight, and beneath his mind, he hid his plan. Willing the exhaustion of winter to go away, forcing himself awake, he waited until the house was dark. And, once he was sure that his parents and his half-brother were asleep, he sneakily sat up and peered over the side of his bunk. Jason Funderburker lay dozing in his terrarium, and Greg wondered what his friend was dreaming of. But before he had time to ponder, he forced himself to focus, and retrieve the flashlight from beneath his pillow.

Gingerly, he climbed down from the top bunk and landed sturdily on his small, socked feet. The floor felt cold through the fabric, but the air around him was far more frigid. He slipped on a sweater, then his coat, and went to get his gloves and hat from the floor in the corner. Once he put everything on, he found it wasn’t like how Wirt dressed him for the cold- the sleeves of his sweater rode up to his elbows uncomfortable, leaving his wrists exposed. And the gloves on his hands didn’t feel right; A pinkie lay in the wrong hole, pressed against a finger, and he found it was hard to move his hands around in this state.

But Greg made no time to try and fix these mistakes.

As he tiptoed out of his room, and into the hall, the world was dark. Too dark. Dark and still, and it was like he had stepped into an utterly different house. The familiar, warm light that usually lit this hall was taken away from him, leaving him shaking and confused. He fumbled with the small plastic flashlight in his hand, and flipped it on- though he muffled it with one hand, afraid that Wirt would somehow see the light through the closed door on the other side of the corridor.

Greg began to wonder if this was real life, as he crept towards the stair. Or if he had fallen asleep, and strayed into some strange dream. He felt as if he were floating, and found that his heart was hammering in his chest. But he pushed his doubts away, and made no notice of the voice in his head, the voice that told him to go back to the safety and the comfort of his bedroom, and sleep among the blankets bunched upon the floor.

He was determined.

He did not stop to peer into his parents’ room once he got downstairs, quickly shuffling to the backdoor. He was afraid that the front door would bring attention to him- even if the world was sleeping.

Shoving open the backdoor, he peered back into his dark home. Then, he stepped outside, and closed it quickly. A feeling of exhilaration lifted his heart, as the snow crunched beneath his boots.

Gregory Whelan Petley had officially snuck out of his house!

The cold was first to hit him, however- it stung at his exposed wrists, and pounced on his vulnerable nose, allowing his cheeks to become rosy and numb. He crept around the house, quickly, and came to the road.

“Wowza! It’s covered in ice.”

He warily stepped onto the slippery roads, and then waddled down the street. The streets were empty, and cold, and he felt alone. It somewhat scared the small boy, yet he continued onwards, pushing everyone to the far back of his mind. And around the front, came the realization of the weather. All at once, his teeth chattered uncontrollably, and his eyes began to droop. The flashlight would unintentionally slip from his gloved hands, and he had to stop his small hike to retrieve it, chiding the ghosts that swept it from his cold fingers.

It wasn’t long before he came to the cemetery, and he wondered how he had gotten here so quickly.

He looked up at the sign and read it out loud. “‘Eternal Garden’.” His thoughts were interrupted with a shiver, so he decided to press onwards, listening attentively to the snow crunching and munching beneath his boots. The cold hugged him tightly, and squeezed. He dropped his flashlight again, but did not bother to pick it up; he was so close! And then he could solve this case once and for all. For Wirt.

At last, he came to the wall. The winter wind seemed to be coming from overhead, howling from the far north. He climbed up the tree, mumbling and humming proudly at himself.

He looked at the cemetery from above. “Hello, Eternal Garden!”

The ghosts did not respond.

“Ok, t-time to save… save Wirt! D-d-don’t wo…” he shuddered, “Don’t worry, brother o’ mine, I’ll make sure you won’t be scared again.” He turned to face the train track. Unfortunately, he didn’t realize how slippery the wall was.

He lost his balance quickly, and landed painfully on his side. The train track was cold through his coat, and he scrambled upwards, sniveling as he quickly dragged himself to the other side. He had nearly tumbled down the hill, but stopped himself before he could, gazing downward in fear at the steepness of it. The teenagers were right- it was a perfect sledding hill.

He gulped, gazing upon the snow-covered grounds, and beyond… into the blackness of the winter night, the wind blowing past him and freezing him almost instantly. He looked down the slope, and then very warily crept down it, grasping tightly onto the soft, yet frigid snow. It melted through his gloves and burned at his fingertips, numbing him down to the core. He came to the bottom quite quickly, and stood upward, gazing around. The river wasn’t all that special- nothing terribly spooky about it, except for how dark it was. Greg wished he had picked up his flashlight. The forest was dark on the other side of the river, and even darker around him, over the hills and beyond.

He cleared his throat, and then crouched down, speaking to the verglas that coated over the water.

“Hello? Stop scaring my brother, please.”

The ice did not respond.

“I think it is because you tried to take his soul. But that’s ok. We defeated you, and now you- y-...” He suddenly felt awfully colder than before, and struggled to get the rest of his words out, “He’s afraid.”

Beneath the ice, there was movement. Shadows. Hands? They palmed at the cold surface, dark hands moving and dancing across Greg’s vision. Fear clouded over, and the little boy scrambled away. It seemed that the hands wanted to escape. Or maybe they wanted Greg. Drowsiness had settled almost immediately, but then something else caught his eye. Across the river, standing upon the ice, was a large antlered buck. It stared at him, ears twitching- it’s shadow moving briefly, and almost invisible in Greg’s fuzzy vision. Curious, he took a step forward.

“Hello? Oh, are you a friend?”

He carefully stepped onto the ice, and made his way towards the deer. Shadows danced in his vision. And did it smell like smoke? He could not place the obscurities in the stillness of this winter. He continued forward, until he slipped, and gasped, falling onto the ice with a thump. A yelp escaped his lips.

Just as he did, a train whistle penetrated through the air.

He turned, eyes wide, to look at the large machinery rushing in the distance, upon the tracks, loud where Greg was sitting. Lights flashed through the air, and lit up the ice. The hands had disappeared- but now Greg was in their place, it seemed. The world felt colder. The train screamed. He covered his ears, cowering upon the river.

The buck bounded into the forest, vanishing from sight.

The train roared.

The wind whispered in Greg’s ears.

“Leave Wirt alone!”

It is he who scares himself.

“N-no, m… h-he told me… he’s scared of the river!”

He is weak.

The wind howled harder, and Greg crouched low, covering his head. The train rumbled through the night.

“Then what is he scared of? Why was he screaming earlier?”

His past.

“B-but…”

Now it is your turn to feel the inevitable pull of darkness.

All at once, a single thought came to Greg’s head: he had to get home. The ice cracked beneath him, rumbling deep into the ground and into the water. The hands will escape! He scrambled forward, quickly dragging himself across the ice. It wasn’t long before he came to land, and clawed at the snow, pulling himself upwards. The hill invited him. The train invited him.

The wind howled all around him, and he pulled himself upward, away from the river. He lay in the snow for a moment.

“I’ve already felt it, silly goose!” He shouted into the air, his words slurring together, “You already tried to take me, but Wirt saved me! Wirt saved the both of us!”

Which is why he shouldn’t be scared. This inner thought was his own, he realized. And the other voice that had communicated with him before was gone, and now Greg felt a hint of relief. The train had disappeared, too. Gone. Lost. But not forever.

It was time to go home.

He slipped into unconsciousness.

- - - - - -

Greg woke again due to his uncontrollable shivering. It was still dark, and the drowsiness remained. Snow drifted downwards, into his eyes. Blinded. He wanted to curl up and go back to sleep, but it was far too cold, and he would not stop shaking. So he pulled himself up the snowy slope, instead. Did you fetch the golden comb? Golden comb of honey! His lips quivered violently. He dragged himself across the train track. His side hurt. His chest hurt. The cold wrapped around him, like branches of a tree, pulling tighter and tighter until his breath rattled.

Now I want the sun.

The sun?

He looked up at the wall. It loomed over him, threateningly.

Lower the sun down into this china cup.

Well that seems impossible.

Anything is possible if you set your mind to it, right?

He hoisted himself upwards. How had he gotten over this wall? What was he doing on the train track? He came to the top, and it was slippery.

The world spun with him.

He fell into the garden of graves. The snow caught him, gently, and hugged him even more so. He smiled, feeling its coolness and softness in his fingertips. “Thank you, snow!” He didn’t realize that he had spoken. His mouth was numb.

The world spun with him.

He walked through the cemetery, passed the flashlight he had dropped earlier, the one he had forgotten about. Even now.

The snow fell harder.

He came to the entrance, and looked up at the sign. Eternal Garden Cemetery. His eyes drifted to the garden wall, the vines moving in his vision, the trees seemingly curling around the clouds and the sky. Trying to escape, it seemed. Or maybe they wanted Greg.

The small boy shivered and shook, and his eyes drooped with exhaustion. A growing headache pounded through him, yet it felt like he was floating. He felt as if he wasn’t himself, as if a different soul possessed this body.

He continued onwards, down the road.

Maybe he slipped on the ice, he couldn’t recall.

He came to his home, quite quicker than imagined, though the cold that took hold of his body seemed to distort his mind, and a strange blackness had clouded his vision. He looked to the front door, as he stood on the icy road.

It opened, as if on cue.

A figure stood in the doorway.

“GREG!”

“W-Wirt….” Greg smiled, weakly, but it was quick to falter.

He slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

“Wait, Wirt… you’re telling me that you saw Greg outside in the middle of the night?”

“Don’t forget the part about the road, too.”

Sara had noticed the shakiness in Wirt’s voice as he recalled what had happened last night. She could not help but frown at this, and the response she had gotten on the other end of the phone did not alleviate her unease about the predicament. She could hardly imagine how Wirt felt, finding out his brother was missing- before uncovering his whereabouts in the icy roads of the winter night. It was one thing to be in the cold with someone else, but to be all alone at the age of six….

“Greg claims he doesn’t remember a thing,” Wirt continued on the phone, “I can’t decide if I believe him or if-”

“It would make sense,” Sara interrupted, gently. She felt a small guilt for butting in, but continued without hesitation, “You said he passed out when you saw him in the road? He was probably hypothermic.” She leapt off her bed, and resorted to pacing the floor, taking the phone with her. She twirled the wire tightly around her finger, until it cut off circulation and she was forced to let it untwine and hang at her knees. Wirt took a small breath, and it was muffled through the phone.

“I-I know, it’s just… weird that he would sneak out, on his own.”

“Hey, he could have been sleep-walking. You don’t know what’s going on in that little head of his-”

“-especially during the winter.” Wirt had finished her thought for her.

“Exactly. He might’ve caught a cold, or something.”

She could practically hear the worry of her partner on the other side of the line, as he shuffled around the room or messed with a miscellaneous object. She knew he was one to panic, to overthink- and she couldn’t blame him, as she recalled his explanation from yesterday. He had talked about how they entered a world of obscurity, a world of the inscrutable, when they had almost drowned that Halloween night. Wirt had compared it to an afterlife, twisted by the souls of the damned, yet something lighter than what they would see as hell. But there was something more eerie and cold, he had mentioned, and felt too real to be a dream: a prowling beast that nearly took his life, but was closer to successful at nearly taking Greg’s. These words had sent a strange frigid air about the room. But something more so surprising had struck Sara: she had believed Wirt.

Upon first hearing the tale from Greg in the hospital, it was easy to see the story as something of his imagination- some fairytale that he had hallucinated in his unconscious state- but it seemed he only touched the lighter memories of this strange world. Wirt explained the true horrors that were hidden in this unveiled dream-like afterlife that took hold of them. And she knew that Wirt was telling the truth, for his words quivered and cracked, and he sounded afraid.

Of course, Sara suspected they had encountered something of the sort before. Whatever it had been, she knew one thing was certain: Wirt and Greg were not the same as before. Whether for better or for worse, that is what grew to be puzzling in her mind.

“Sara?”

She blinked, realizing her mind had wandered. She clutched the phone as she turned to look out the window. “Hm? Oh, hey, sorry. I’m still here.”

“You sure you’re on planet earth, though?”

It was nice to hear a smile in his words, as he used their inside joke to tease her. Normally, it was her to pull that card on him, when he lost focus and grew lost in his mind. But now, they had switched the game, it seemed. Sara grinned, and laughed.

“That’s debatable.”

They laughed together for a moment, and it was nice to hear his laugh. She held onto it, close to her heart, remembering how she had admired his laugh before she was even aware Wirt liked her back.

“Um… Sara?” Wirt said, once their gentle moment dissipated and they returned to the situation at hand, “Can… Can you come over? It would be nice to have… another person around.”

Sara was quick to respond. “Of course, Wirt. Are your parents not home?”

“They’re both working. Mom tried to take off, but it didn’t work out.”

“I’m coming over right now.” Sara moved to put on her worn out converse.

“Thanks, Sara.”

“See you soon, bugs!”

They both hung up, and Sara slipped on her coat. Wirt’s house wasn’t that far, so she wasn’t worried about getting terribly bundled up to visit him.
She came to Wirt and Greg's house quickly, and knocked twice, before letting herself in. “Hello?” She instinctively called out into the house. Immediately, she recognized Greg sitting in a pile of blankets on the floor, with a hot bowl of what looked to be chicken noodle soup sitting in front of him. He looked up upon her entrance, and his what used to be a somber expression now looked bright, and excited, like a puppy.

“Hi Sara! Wirt is in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, little man. How do you feel?” She untied her converse, slipped them off, and then walked over to join Greg on the floor.

“I feel tired.”

“Aren’t you going to eat your soup?”

“Wirt wants me to, but I don’t wanna. He knows how I feel about soups…” Greg dipped the spoon into the bowl, and then lifted it to watch as the broth cascaded from the silver utensil. “He always gives me too much soup and not enough noodles!”

Sara couldn’t help but smile. No matter what predicament he was in, Greg was Greg, and she was fond of him.

“He’s always worrying, isn’t he? Tell you what. If I get you more noodles, then will you eat the soup? It’ll warm you up, after all….”

Greg scrunched his face up, as he wrapped a blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Hmm, ok,” he decided, and he reached forward, handing her the bowl. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Sara!”

“That’s Miss Sara, to you.” She took the bowl from his small hands.

“Oops. Sorry,” he said, and flushed guiltily. Sara almost felt guilty herself, and reached forward with a hand to ruffle his hair, offering a smile.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m only messing with you."

A grateful smile spread across Greg's sleepy face, and Sara rose to her feet. She went into the kitchen, to see Wirt at the sink, doing the dishes. He nearly dropped one when

she came into the room.

"Oh! Sara, you're here."

"I said I was coming."

Wirt grimaced, and she could see how on edge he looked, how worried. “O-oh, right. Sorry. My mind has been abysmal with an unruly restlessness, forever far from indulgence and ....”

As she listened to Wirt ramble on, Sara placed the bowl on the countertop. She fixed Greg’s soup, filling it with more noodles. Her actions had caused Wirt to cut off with confusion, moving to stand next to her. He clung onto her arm, and watched her carefully.

“Greg made a deal with you, didn’t he?” he asked.

“He said he’ll eat it if I give him more noodles. I felt like you would fancy that deal,” Sara responded, and couldn’t help but give him a small smile. Wirt had no choice but to smile back at her, and she pulled away gently to go return the bowl to Greg. There was fleeting hesitation behind Wirt’s eyes, a doubt unexplainable… but it felt like that had lingered ever since he and Greg were discharged from the hospital- he was more tired, more cold, and more… unnerved. She had not understood why until he had explained it all to her.

When she came into the room, she found Greg had dozed off in his blankets. She set the bowl on the coffee table, and went to prod the small child awake. A few heartbeats, and his eyes forced themselves open, looking up at her sleepily. “Huh? Are we at the river again?”

“No, Greg. You’re at home. Wirt’s in the kitchen. Are you cold?”

“Just a bit.”

A pause. “Hey, uh, what happened last night? Wirt told me you were outside, and fainted in the road?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Nothing at all, huh?”

“There was a garden.”

Wirt had come into the room now, drying his hands on a dish rag. Sara didn’t pay any attention to him- she felt she had gotten a lead into something.

“A garden? Where was the garden, Greg?”

The little boy shrugged. “I don’t know. Can we stop talking about it now?”

Sara looked up at Wirt, a guilty look crossing her face. She never liked to prod others for information- especially little kids. She was more of a patient person, and did not like to seem overbearing. She turned her head back to Greg. “Sure, Greg. We’re just worried about you.”

“You don’t have to worry, Sara. Jason Funderburker and Robber Raccoon are with me!” As he said this, the little face of the frog poked out from inside the blankets, and croaked loudly in response. Greg laughed. “Sheriff Jason will keep an eye on me, alright. So will Wirt!”

“I believe you.” She said this mainly to both of them: she believed Greg’s words and promise, and their stories about this strange world they spoke about. Yet something else didn’t seem quite right… and she felt she had to investigate it. There was a heartbeat of silence as she thought this, before rising to her feet. Wirt came up to her, and smiled… exhausted.

“You two should take a nap or something. I’ll stick this soup in the microwave.” She picked up the bowl.

“Sounds good to me!” Greg said, and curled up in his blankets.

She didn’t wait for Wirt to answer, but he looked as if he wanted to say something. And once she returned, he did, and spoke hastily, “I’m going to take a nap too, but can… can you lay with me?”

“Sure, Wirt.” She smiled.

Greg was quick to doze upon the floor, so the two teens took the couch. Sara watched as Wirt lay down, and she did not hesitate to squeeze in next to him. Pressed up against him, she felt warm, and they smiled shyly at one another. Wirt lay against her, keeping his gaze on her. It wasn't long before his eyes slowly closed, and he had dozed off against her.

Poor boys, Sara thought. They must not get as much sleep as they think they do.

She lay her head against his, and closed her eyes.

It wasn't long before a series of dreams plagued her mind….

At first, she did not think she was dreaming. A warm hand was placed against her forehead, as if feeling for a fever. But it stayed there for longer than she had thought it would, and she was forced to open her eyes. Both of Wirt's hands, however, were folded against her- nowhere near her head. She looked upward, and saw a woman. Sara wanted to spring upward and scream, but she found that she could not move, as if the woman was forcing her downward with her gentle, delicate hand. She smiled warmly at Sara.

"Do not be afraid, child," the woman said, "I am the Queen of the Clouds. I am here to deliver a message to you."

Sara's lip quivered. She tried to respond. She couldn't.

"The Beast has been defeated by the Woodsman. His lantern ceases to shine, any longer. But his shadow… the shadow of himself remains in the minds of Wirt and Gregory. He has plagued the mind of Wirt for a long time… for hundreds of years."

Hundreds of years? But Wirt is only sixteen… that doesn't make any sense.
It seemed that the Queen of the Clouds had read Sara's mind. She placed both hands upon her now, and cradled her head. "You know what I speak of. Wirt has walked this earth before. And so has Gregory. And so has you. Everyone has died before, they just can't recall it."

Suddenly, Sara's dream had shifted. She was standing at the river, by the train track. A boy was crouching on the riverbed, peering into the dark, swirling currents. He wore no shoes upon the cold earth. It worried Sara. But she said nothing, and continued to watch him.

"I dare you to step into the water, Walter," a voice spoke, and Sara turned to the owner of said voice. A taller teenager, with a mess of ginger curls upon his head. Next to him, a little boy, wearing suspenders and a paperboy hat upon his head. He was quiet, and looked serious, as he held the ginger's hand.
Walter rose, and turned to look at them. He was tall, and lanky, and his pants were too short. He frowned upon the ginger boy, before scoffing. "It's just the river, Liam. I am not afraid of water."

"But you know of the stories," Sara found herself speaking, but she did not recognize her own voice, "'Whoever enters the water does not return.' Please, Walter, don't go in there!"

Walter looked at Sara, and they held each other's gaze. Sara could not help but find warmth filling her cheeks, and yet something inside her chided herself for this.

"Oh, please," Liam spoke, "That's just the adults trying to get us not to poke around down here. Do it, Walter! Or are you really afraid?" A smirk.

Walter hesitated. But then he moved, and stepped back into the icy river, his bare feet submerging themselves and disappearing into the dark water. He looked proud for a moment, but his face grew pale: he was nervous.

"See? Nothing to be afraid of, Liam," he spoke, calmly, but his expression had clearly told them otherwise.

He began to step out, but Sara saw it first- it was a hand, dark as night, reaching out from the opaque black water. It wrapped around his ankle, and tugged down hard. Walter let out a shrill scream, and Liam screamed too. Soon, multiple hands had reached up from the currents, and were dragging Walter further into the lake. Sara rushed forward, grabbing at Walter’s hand. But their fingers slipped past one another, a fleeting touch that Sara knew in her heart she would miss forever.

He was gone in a flash.

The currents were rougher now, and there was nothing but black. The hands were angry.

Something was wrong.

She took a small, worried step away from the water. She focused so much on the hammering of her heart, that the train roared down the tracks, cutting off all miscellaneous sounds, and she jumped.

She gasped, and thrashed awake, waking both Wirt and Greg in the process.

“Sara! Are you okay?” Wirt exclaimed with a wavering voice, and Sara gazed at him for a long moment. Instantly, she recognized Walter in his face, and recalled what the Queen of the Clouds had told her about… what was it, the Beast? Greg had mentioned a Beast. But the Queen did not mention a garden….

She was pulled into reality, her stomach lurching in the process, and she reached a hand up to her mouth. Instinctively, Wirt had reached forward too, and she could see the worry begin to crease his face. She hastily rose to her feet, stepping over Greg. She stared at him for a moment longer, and the dream seemed to be carved into her brain. The hands… the river… the Beast.

“Wirt, I… I think I figured it out,” she said, and her voice wavered. Seeing the incredulous look upon his debilitated face, and Greg matching the look with wide eyes, she took a small breath, “Hey, sorry… I’m fine. I had a dream about- about the river, Wirt. And there was this boy, and he was….”

Her voice trailed off as she recollected the vivid dream, losing fragments of it before reaching out to grab them again, holding on tight. Wirt looked interested now, however, and she moved to sit on the couch again. Greg crawled into her lap, and held her hand comfortingly. The sweetness made her smile gently at the little guy, before ruffling his hair.

“I think I figured it out,” she said again, “The Beast… his lantern is blown out, but he still lives on in your minds. And the river is the source, I think… his shadow leaks out from the– the place where you almost died, and since you didn’t, it created like–” She moved her hand to make several gestures, “--like a rift, of some sort. Think a black hole, I guess?”

“How do you know all this?” Wirt asked, and his voice wavered. He was uneasy of Sara knowing information about the dreaded demon that haunted his mind, she could tell.

“A beautiful Queen told me, Wirt,” she said, “You’ve died to the Beast before. This is the first time that you and Greg have survived it. This threw off the– the universe, I guess, because you made history.”

“What are you talking about?” Wirt asked, his voice lacing with both anger and anxiety.

“I’m saying that there are past lives, Wirt! In my dream, I saw you get dragged into the river. The Beast has been trying to claim your soul for centuries.”

“Sara, please don’t talk about the Beast. I– I want to go back to sleep.”

“Wirt–”

“Sara, shut up! I said I don’t want to talk about this!”

Sara had never heard Wirt yell before. She felt a horrible culpability that seemed to have taken the form of a large rock, and sat deep in the pit of her abdomen. An awkward silence enveloped between the two of them, and her cheeks allowed room for a flush, heat rising to her face. She understood: she was supposed to be his distraction from all that had stirred up in his brain, and she was making it worse.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I-I’m sorry for yelling,” Wirt responded, his voice hoarse, “I didn’t mean to.”

Greg grew silent as they had. He seemed uncomfortable with this sudden tension between them, and then piped up, “But… Wirt, Sara has important information! This could be useful for our next case. Right, Detective?” Their frog squirmed out from beneath the blanket on the floor, and let out a low croak. It seemed to be an agreement.

Sara took a breath, and smiled gently at Greg. “It’s okay, Greg. If Wirt doesn’t want to talk about it, that’s okay.”

“Wait,” Wirt said, and she looked over at him. A strange sadness had settled in his gaze, an inevitable sorrow that mingled with the quiet determination that lay behind his blue eyes. “You said the Beast has been trying to take my soul for years?”

Sara hesitated. Cleared her throat. “Centuries. And yes. The Queen that came to me in my dream told me so.”

Wirt grew quiet. “So… the only way for him to leave me alone is to submit to him.”

A small alarm grew inside of Sara. “Well, we can… we can think of something else.”

Greg seemed to take alarm to this too, and he scooted closer to Wirt. He grabbed his sleeve, and looked at him with wide eyes. “No, you can’t! You can’t go with the Beast… you can… you can change history again by not listening to him! I yelled at him last night, so he has to leave you alone.”

“What? Greg, you went to the river last night?” Wirt gently wrapped his arms around his brother, and stared at him– matching the younger one’s alarm.

“I went over that wall and marched right over to that ol’ river. And I told him, ‘You leave my brother alone!’ And he went away, and so I went home.” Sara could see tears glistening in the small child’s eyes. She looked up and met Wirt’s gaze. They exchanged a surprised glance with one another.

Wirt spoke again. His voice was laced with a strange confidence, and he kept it even and quiet with calm. “I guess there is only one way to find out, then.”

So it came to pass that Sara found herself following Wirt and Greg into the winter air, all bundled up until their faces weren’t visible behind the heavy scarves that Wirt had provided them. The winter was still, but the town seemed to enjoy the snow and ice that blanketed the earth. They traversed down the street, further and further along the winter wonder, until they were upon the cemetery.

Sara continued to follow them, when her converse came in contact with an object on the ground. She looked down, lifting her shoe, to see a plastic flashlight buried beneath the snow. She reached down, and picked it up.

“Oh , there’s my flashlight!” Greg exclaimed, “I was lookin’ all over for that thing.”

They continued through the cemetery, passed the garden of graves that seemed to call them, singing in the winter air. It was a small refrain that drowned out the birdsong in Sara’s mind.

They came to the wall. Wirt stared upon the barrier that seemed to separate himself from death itself. Sara could see the anxiety laced in his face, and she gently placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder.

The tree called to them. Wirt led them over the garden wall.

“Watch out for the train,” he said, apprehensively, “Let’s cross over quickly.”

Sara wanted to point out that this train track hadn’t been active for nearly twenty years, but she suppressed this statement– knowing that such words would only drive his worry further into the dark abyss that seemed to take hold of him so easily. So she followed him and Greg across the track, and they carefully inched their way down the hill.

Greg occasionally slipped, and laughed as snow caught him like a cloud, before running down the hill with joy written across his face. As if all memories of last night seemed to vanish like the breath that left their lips in the winter air. Yet a strange eeriness crept over Sara, as she remembered her dream. Walter’s horrific expression as the hands lugged him deeper into the darkness of the obscure. She watched as Wirt approached the iced over water, and felt ice creep along her spine. She joined him at the riverbed.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Sara… I think I need to go back to the Unknown….” he whispered.

“What?”

She said it to process the words. She had heard Wirt clearly, but the alarm had taken hold of her. She looked over at him, and furrowed his brow.

“Sara, I… I don’t think I belong in reality. I’m afraid of life more than I am of death. I realize that now. If I were to submit to the Beast, I would be free from the anxiety of… of being taken by him. If that makes sense. I just feel like… maybe this anxiety, this darkness… Maybe it is telling me to return. Maybe I’m anxious to return.”

“You were afraid of him.”

“I was afraid of him taking Greg. Because… because I think you were right. He has taken me before. Multiple times… in multiple past lives…. I don’t want Greg to live through that. Maybe if he takes hold of me, he’ll leave Greg alone.”

Sara wanted to protest again, but her words had formed a thick lump in her throat. She understood what he was saying. It was just a matter of saying goodbye, and that’s what she was afraid of. She looked into his blue eyes for a moment, and he placed a comforting hand on her’s.

“Are you angry with me?” he asked.

“Of course not, Wirt. I trust your intuition,” she responded, but her voice cracked, and she swallowed, thickly, “It’s just… I–I don’t….” It was then that Sara was flooded with emotions. She engulfed him into a hug, and began to cry.

Greg, who had been playing in the snow, noticed this immediately. He walked over. “What’s wrong, Sara?”
Wirt pulled away gently from Sara, who could hardly pay attention to what he gently told Greg. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and pulling at the tears that rolled uncontrollably down her cheeks. She was proud of Wirt, for having the bravery for submitting to his fears, for letting himself succumb willingly to death. But knowing that she would never see him again….

“You’re… you’re leaving me?” Greg asked, and his voice immediately cracked with tears. His lip quivered, and Sara looked at him. He looked more upset than she had ever seen him before, “But Wirt w-we’re… we’re a team, remember? What about Sheriff Funderberker? What about… w–what am I going to do without you? Who am I going to…to…”

“Greg… I have to do this.”

“But… but I love you…”

There was a moment of hesitation, in Wirt’s face. He drew in a shaky breath. “I love you too, Greg. It’s why I’m doing this. You sacrificed yourself to the Beast for me, so I’m returning the favor.”

Greg began to cry, and he waddled forward to hug Wirt. The winter never felt more cold, to Sara. But she could feel a small relief. Wirt would be free from the ghosts in his head. He would be free from the inevitable darkness that would rip him apart.
In a way, she felt the Beast was doing him a favor. And the Queen of the Clouds had explained that the Beast had been defeated, with the lantern being blown out. So this one last step for him… and he would be free.

He was answering the call of the trees. The call of the hands.

The ghosts.

They were calling for him.

She watched, tear-stricken, as Wirt gave his brother a big hug. “I promise I’ll visit you in your dreams. Both of you.”
He pulled away, and rose to his feet, gazing sadly at Greg. He tore his eyes away, and seemed to find it hard to return the gaze once more. He looked to Sara for a moment, and the hurt only grew in his eyes. “I hope you’ll think of me, Sara.”

“How could I forget you?” Sara responded, but it was gentle. She reached forward, and gently planted a kiss on his lips.

He smiled, and she could see his eyes widen in small surprise. Then, he turned to Greg again, and hugged his brother once more.

Then, he rose to his feet, and stepped backward, onto the ice. As he walked across it, it was as if he were the sun. The ice melted slowly beneath his boots, and Sara could see the darkness below. He turned to them and gave them one last gentle smile, before submerging himself into the swirling currents beyond. It felt like the stars had aligned perfectly.

The eerie feeling had left, being replaced with a horrible grief.

Wirt was gone.

Sara looked down at Greg, who had continued to cry. But he didn’t go after Wirt, strangely enough. He was being brave, just as brave as Wirt had been when making the decision.

She bent down, and hugged Greg close.

Perhaps the winter wasn’t as horrible as she had made it out to be.