The Restless Fugitive (Closed)

[Duffy]

Part Five

Duffy had been a fool that day. He did not know how to put it any other way. He had acted honourably, but brashly. His deeds severed all ties between the organisations working in the shadows to undo all the many years of ruin and toil the Forgotten Ones had carved into history.

Nalith was dead.

Pete was alive.

Oblivion…was lingering in the shadows clad in a veil of souls and screams.

“I think we made a mistake,” Ruby said. “Not the mistake you’re thinking of.” She shook her head. “We did the right thing saving Peter. What we didn’t do, though, is make sure he was protected.” Ruby looked up at the stage longingly.

Time had frozen as the pair had remembered their struggles atop the blade singer’s tower. The sheer weight of their sorrow had caused life to come to a standstill. She admired the youth’s attractiveness, his smile, and his charisma. She looked at the others with equal admiration. Already, on their debut performance, that had everything she and Duffy had, and so much more.

“What do you think he is going to do, when he founds out?” she looked at Duffy expectantly.

“The same thing he did last time,” he said flatly. “Run away, hide, and disappear.”

She frowned. Peter had left the troupe a century ago, in another life, when they had tried to fight Wainwright’s corruption and break free of his chains. He had rebelled. He had vanished. He had died hungry, alone, and without his friends. It took the duo two decades to find his reincarnation. They had vowed never to let him come to harm again. They had defied all that was good in the world, and all that was good in them, to fulfil that promise.

“I don’t think we’ll find him again…if he does that.” She hung her head. “This is hopeless…” It was not just hopeless. For Ruby, it was her fault, as well as irredeemable.

“It seems that way.” Duffy looked up at Peter. He saw his youth and vigour smile back at him; He curled his lip and ran his tongue over his snakebites. “But…now, forgive me for sounding deranged,” he chuckled. It was the first time he had ever apologised for his outbursts, “but what happens if we don’t tell him?”

“Duffy…we have to let him make up his own mind. To let him go on thinking it’s all over is cruel.” Her eyes sparkled with realisation as much as tears. “What if we let this one last secret wither and die with us? Let us take it to the grave, let us bury it, and let us live our lives knowing that Pettigrew Orison is free to live his through our sacrifice.”

Duffy began to spiral on the spot. He took in the faces of the crowd slowly. There were contorted smiles, anguished belly laughs, and worried expressions. Plaid, leather, and cotton formed a patchwork of poverty and pomp, blending the culture and wealth of the populace into one living, breathing, and united wall of life. He sighed. He sighed too much.

“I cannot even begin to think what that pressure will do to me.”

“Oh, please, we’ve carried darker deeds and devilry for far longer!” she whelped. She was right. Duffy, turning around to smile at her slowly, knew it all too well.

“Some secrets would do more damage in than out…,” he leered.

Ruby puckered her lips. “What's your favourite memory of Pete...and the early days of the troupe, for that matter?" she asked.