2009-11-12: Nathans In The Mist



Date: November 12, 2009


The mist doesn't clear, but something pierces through.

"Nathans in the Mist"


Water crashes against rocks close by, creating a spraying sound that rushes through the crisp cold air. A hint of mist hangs on the edge of everything, fog keeping much of the immediate area out of view, but allowing for a piercing light to sweep across from above. The light illuminates the sky, cutting through the fog and mist, twisting and turning, a beacon in the distance.

A Lighthouse.

Some memories are stronger than others. A barking of a dog comes from one direction, as the girl appears out of the mist, running toward a young man dressed all in black. Hair hangs in his face as he bends down to pet at it. "Izzy…" Their long dead dog, many years now, but somehow living on. Dreams have a way of doing such a thing. Peter stays knelt down, unaware that there may be another person hanging on the outskirts.

There's one person for certain in the outskirts, head tilted, jaw tightened, almost unsure of where he is, but strangely at peace about it, perhaps even enjoying the scenery. The figure whistles for the dog to come, and in a cool raspy voice, calls into the fog, "Come on girl." More whistling can be heard as Nathan steps out of the mist. "Pete," a single dimple chisels on his cheek as his lips curl into a small smile. "Izzy and I were just going for a walk…" He strolls towards the pair and bends down to pet the dog, grinning.

"Nathan," Peter says, surprised, but looking younger for an instant as he looks up to examine his brother's face. "I didn't expect to see you here. Last time…" he trails off, as if unsure what he's saying, then letting his hand drop away from the dog. "It feels like I haven't seen you in a long time," he adds on. The mist thickens in a few places, the light continues to sweep the sky above. That sound of spray and water can still be heard in the distance, but the darkness and mist along the edges make seeing the ocean impossible. "Where are you and Izzy going? I can go with you."

"It has been awhile," Nathan agrees as he stands tall. Izzy strolls in front of the pair. "She knows where she's going," he observes as he continues to stroll. "There's a small log cabin just up the lane." He presses his lips together before adding, "We live there." The we of the sentence hangs, left to Peter's imagination. And then as a sort of afterthought he tacks on almost ironically, "You can visit. You can't stay."

"I didn't know there were any cabins nearby," Peter says, squinting into the fog, but straightening to straightening to move beside his brother, staying close by, within arm's length. "Why can't I stay? Do I need to be somewhere?" There's an unknowing sound to his voice as he continues onward, watching the dog and trying to keep up. The further they go, the quieter the sound of the ocean spray. The light sweeps along, giving a glow to the fog, that starts to spread and gain more shadows as they go. Shadows that appear solid.

"Pete. You don't belong here," Nathan states matter-of-factly as the two stroll down the lane. "You need to save the world," he grins with that same dimpled smile. "Destiny and all that."

The house seems to appear out of nowhere as the mist clears around it. Izzy jumps up the wrap around porch and through a doggy door in the front. The house itself is A-framed containing a loft upstairs, and an open main floor. The entire exterior is made of long oak logs, creating a sort of rustic appearance. The frames are painted a forest green. The lapping of the water against the rocks down the lane echoes to the house soothingly. Beyond the house is nothing but forest. The cabin is essentially an entity onto its own; a kind of prison in paradise.

Curiously, another figure sits on the porch in a rocking chair, rocking back and forth. The rocker creeks against the wood of the porch. With a knife in hand, the figure whittles away at a piece of wood, shaping it into a train whistle. Nathan approaches, "We have company." He motions towards Peter and introduces, "This is Peter, my brother." He motions back to the figure, "Pete, Brayden Calvert."

The figure places his work on the ground, stands to his feet and as the mist clears, it reveals…Nathan? Except not. Unlike Nathan he's wearing a worn leather coat over a plaid shirt paired with blue jeans and hiking boots. He beams at Peter, excitedly thrusting his hand out for a handshake, "Good to meet you." And then he shrugs, "Any friend of Nate's —" He winks.

Any friend of Nate's— who looks just like him. Peter can't help but stare for a moment, that look that he might be having deja vu flowing through him. A moment later something about the whole thing seems accepted. The world shifts, like a drop of water splashed onto the surface of a pond reflecting the area. It ripples and then clears again. Once it's clear, he reaches out and takes the hand, firm shake on his side.

"It's nice to meet you, Brayden. That's a nice whistle yo're working on. Why is it shaped like a train?" Another ripple, smaller. In the distance there's a faint sound of a helicopter, but it doesn't last long. "How long have you lived out here?"

"Thanks! Pick it up every night and try to work away at it…" Brayden beams as he settles back into his rocker with a creak. He hrms as he considers his craft, before his grin broadens further, "Well, I used to get shipments out of trains back in Ireland. Not anymore though. Those days are done." He grins again.

Mysteriously two other wooden patio (non-rocker) chairs appear on the patio out of the mist. "Take a load off," he smirks as he picks up his work again.

"I've been here for some time. Not really sure how long," he shakes his head a bit. "Brayden's the only one who can find his way through the forest. So I stay here. I've stayed here for some time now," Nathan explains as his lips twitch slightly. "But it's not so bad. Except —" he tightens his jaw and glances towards the door absently before commenting, "I'd fly over the forest, but it's so hard to see beyond it —"

"And I tried taking him and Logan with me several times," Brayden says to his train whistle more than Peter. "Seemed to get lost on the way." He shrugs.

"He should just stay locked in there," Nathan comments as he looks to the house before sitting down in one of the chairs and turning back to Peter, "Well, this is where I've been." There's a pause. "What have you been doing, Pete?"

Logan. That name seems to bring up another ripple as Peter sits down in the offered chair. For an instant it looks like he's bleeding from the chest, a wound that isn't actually there, but sticky and smelling of blood. It blends in with the dark shirt, but the pain makes him grimace. Who was Logan again? The memory doesn't surface, and for an instant there's a whisper in the distance. Too soft. It fades away, along with the blood, as he reaches up and rubs his chest.

"I— feel like I've been looking for you," he finally says, looking back over at his brother, the one dressed in Nathan's clothes, as opposed to the Irish lumberjack. "But I think I'm lost. This isn't where I'm supposed to be, and— There's people who need me. I'm sure of it." With everything he's not sure of, that's one thing he is. "Maybe I can help you find the way later…" But something seems to flicker in his eyes that tell him it won't happen today. It won't be now.

"Who's Logan?"

"You need to figure out where you belong, Pete. I'm stuck here, I can't help this time," Nathan leans back in his seat as he massages his temples. The question about Logan is pointedly ignored by Nathan. In fact, imprisonment here wouldn't be bad if it weren't for Logan.

But Brayden opts to answer, "Logan just needs to get laid," Brayden smirks as he whittles away at his whistle. "Like I did after living at the monastery." He looks up from his work at Peter, "Did you know Buddhist monks are completely celibate? AND they don't compete!"

"Logan shouldn't be near any living creature. Not even Izzy," Nathan corrects Brayden. He turns to Peter and studies his brother for a few moments, "He's hell-bent on getting out of here and never lets up. He even tried poisoning us, thinking that would be his ticket out. He's dangerous."

And then, as if on cue, the front door of the house opens. The figure that appears also looks like Nathan, but once again this isn't Nathan. He's dressed in a black suit, a red dress shirt, and a black tie —all highly inappropriate for the wilderness setting in which he finds himself. "You didn't tell me we had company," a wicked smile spreads across Logan's lips. And unlike Brayden, Logan peers at Peter with a sort of recognition, but says nothing else.

"You were a monk?" Peter asks, looking on with a sudden young interest. Even if the conversation started with something crude, and went on to break all young fantasies of learning the fighting arts like Jet Li while living with the monks. There's something wrong with that! "I can see why you'd leave…"

But it's the sudden appearance of a third that draws his eyes, making him suddenly stand up. Recognition doesn't quite flash across his face, but there's pain. First in his chest, then against his head. The room seems to darken for a moment, but then returns toward light. "I— I'm just visiting," he says, reaching up to touch the side of his head. There's blood again, but no wound. On his chest as well. It starts to fade, before he looks from one face to the next. Each one carries something that he sees in his brother, even now, but each one is… different.

Needs to figure out where he belongs… he can't help. "Maybe I can help you this time?"

"Logan! Pull up a chair!" the whittler greets merrily. "Yeah, I was a monk," Brayden answers with a smirk. "Didn't last very long at it though. See, when I leave this place, I forget things. All kinds of things. And I get… confused." He keeps grinning despite the topic. "Thought that joining the monastery would help. Couldn't handle it though," he shrugs a bit. "Not enough to do. And it's all calming and looking for Nirvana. Just not for me."

"You were kicked out," Nathan corrects, still ignoring Logan's presence while raising a hand to forehead.

"All I did was suggest that maybe I could get to higher transcendence faster than some of my fellow monks! That's all," Brayden keeps grinning although his tone is somewhat defensive. "Well… that and Tiffany. She had legs that just wouldn't stop… mmm."

Nathan just shakes his head while raising a hand to his forehead. "I'm not sure how you can help this time, Pete," he smiles weakly. "I don't know if all three of us are even supposed to find our way through the forest."

Logan sniffs as he stands on the porch. He studies Peter intently, angrily even. But then from the mist comes another chair. A very different chair from the others. It's not wooden and most wouldn't leave it on the porch. Most homes would keep it in an office. Most offices would keep it in a board room. Sitting down, Logan glares at Peter. "This is your fault," he hisses through still smiling (wickedly) clenched teeth. "Of course, you know that."

"Leave him alone, Logan," Nathan reprimands with a sigh. "Like he said, he's just visiting…"

For a long moment, Peter's looking from one face to the next. The whittler gets an amazed expression, tugging on something that he almost wants to say outloud, but it doesn't come out the way he expected. This man looks like his brother, and even married, he's aware of his brother's affairs. It still makes him want to say something. The lines of his clothes appear a little straighter— until he looks back at the one with so much of his brother.

"I can try to help. You've always been there for me and— maybe it's my turn."

But a harsher voice says something else. It's his fault. In the fog above, there's a sudden explosion, a ring of light that pushes the fog outward. The stars pierce through the sky, and he can't help but look up.

It's his fault.

"Maybe I can fix it," he says, even as the soft roar of the expanding ring hits the sky above, making the cabin shake slightly.

Or maybe he can't. As it passes, the fog thickens, creeping into the cabin. Solid objects become indistinct.

The fog overtakes the cabin and the three figures seem to be absorbed by it. Logan becomes absorbed by the fog first, fading slowly into nothing but mist. Followed by Brayden. And then Nathan. And while gone, Nathan's voice echoes in the mist, "Take care of yourself Pete." And then. Silence.

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