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“To be Glen is to be full of regrets, to know just what you have caused by existing.”
Leo remembers a voice whispering that, once. Another Glen, perhaps. He doesn’t know, doesn’t remember anymore.
As he holds Elliot’s music sheets, holds his favourite volume of his favourite series, he can’t refute the words.
-x-
“What are you looking at?” Elliot asks, peering in the direction Leo was staring at. His hair could block all but the brightest of lights.
With Elliot, the brightest almost always came out.
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying,” Elliot huffs, still trying to figure it out. “Anyways, spacecase, we have to go.”
-x-
Leo can only see the darkness now.
-x-
When the call comes, he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t think twice about it. He steps back, steps in, and lets the past flood over him.
If he must be trapped, let it be a cage of his own making. Let him be Glen. Let there be some purpose to this all.
Let there be a way to atone, to fix things, to change everything.
-x-
Most of the Glen’s are quiet, a low murmur in the vast plains of his mind. Only Revis and Oswald come out to talk, to explain, to guide.
Revis doesn’t actually guide all that much. “Life is too boring, too short to follow the rules. And we’ve gone a hundred years without doing so, what’s a few more?”
“Isn’t that way we’ve ended up like this?”
Isn’t that why Elliot died? If someone had told Leo, had made Leo a Baskerville, couldn’t he have saved Elliot?
“No, that’s partially my fault.” Revis admits it easily, carelessly. As though he hasn’t given his actions much thought and is ready to move to the next one. “Besides, what’s done is done.”
Leo can’t understand this man, can’t understand how easily he shrugs off his mistakes and faults.
Revis gives an amused smile. “I’d much rather see how you muddle through this on your own.”
-x-
It’s in Oswald Leo can see himself. See what he will be, what Oswald used to be.
It’s so easy to reach out to him, to take his words as fact. To hear Lacie and see Elliot instead.
“To be Glen is to hurt someone else,” Oswald explains, softly, slowly. His gaze is always lost in the past, in a place Leo can’t touch, can’t see. Is he looking at Lacie? At Jack? For all the memories he has access to, Leo can’t touch the feelings from them.
He can only guess.
It’s fine, though. Leo’s almost always looking back as well, back to days spent squabbling by the piano. Lacie’s song plays constantly in the scenery of his mind and he can still see Elliot’s proud smile as he performed it.
“Always, always, two people will be hurt. There may be more, but there is never less.” Oswald looks at him now, his eyes piercing. “There is the sacrifice. Someone must die in order for you to confirm succession.”
“The other?”
The older man’s expression turns brittle, his smile as sharp as jagged glass. “The other is yourself.”
-x-
(Lacie, Lacie, Lacie, Leo dreams of her. Oswald dreams of her. She has a bright smile as she runs to him, no more than ten. “You shouldn’t make me run away like that—apologize faster next time!”
Sometimes he can feel himself merging with the other Glen, feels their pasts tied as though they are one. He replies, “I didn’t do anything,” so bluntly that she laughs and buries her head in his chest.
“You killed me didn’t you?”
He wakes to the taste of ash on his lips, to the sight of red as the sun’s rays die. She had always liked this time of day.)
-x-
“You know, you don’t have to listen to him,” Revis says as he files his nails.
“He’s at least helpful.”
“True. He’s very by the book and helpful.” Revis looks at Leo now, smiling. It’s a dangerous smile, razor sharp. “Maybe too by the book.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means be careful. I’d rather you make the decision than he make it for you.”
-x-
(Elliot, Elliot, Elliot, Leo doesn’t even need to dream to see him. To see the exact curve of his lips as he smirked. He made such a proud, haughty snort whenever he won. “See, Leo, I told you I could do it.”
It will take lifetimes to forget that sound. Even then it might not be enough. Maybe a hundred years from now, he could meet him. Maybe a hundred years from now, but he is a Baskerville. Leo would only kill him.
“You can’t do everything.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try.”
He wakes up to the scent of hyacinths, to the sight of gold as the sun slowly rises. He had always liked this time of day.)
-x-
“I can take over if you need,” Oswald says, observing Leo. His eyes see too much sometimes and Leo swallows.
(He remembers when Elliot said the same of him.)
“It’s fine.” He’s already stepped into this darkness willingly, cut his bangs and changed his clothes. He could see through the rest without any help.
It’s the least he can do for Elliot.
“If you say so.” There’s always something pensive, something broken about this man. It’s like staring at a reflection, at what he’ll be in ten years, in twenty, in a hundred.
He looks away, the cracked mirror shows more truths than he wants to admit.
-x-
It’s easy to let go, to let Oswald take over. To push himself down and let the darkness flood him.
Too easy.
(Elliot always liked light, liked the dawn, liked possibilities)
Leo doesn’t know if he wants to swim or drown.
-x-
To be Glen is to be full of regrets, to know just what you have caused by existing.
The words repeat in his head, in his heart.
To be Glen is to know only sorrow.
“What do you want?” Vincent asks, his hand stretching forward. “I’ll help you. Just tell me.”
It’s something he can’t admit, something he can’t say. Oswald still hovers, still waiting to gain control, and Leo can see the darkness welcoming him back.
Vincent’s hand is in front of him, warm and waiting.
“What do you want?”
Leo so badly wants to believe in that hand and reach back.