#128 Crossing Over

by Rayness Fahie

“We have to go. Now.” She tugged his tattered sleeve, barely avoiding his chafed wrist. He staggered forward then jerked to a stop. As he dropped on his knees, the fabric shredded in her hand. She caught him before he succumbed to gravity’s pull.

“I can’t.” She winced at the sound of his ravaged voice but swallowed her fear and hugged him tighter.

“Stay with me, Tolly. We’re almost there.” He smiled at the childhood nickname, despite the pain that sliced across his temple. She fitted herself under his arm and they stood up slowly.

“No one’s called me that in a long time.”

“Well, Bartholomew is still a mouthful.” His chuckle reminded her of the playful boy he once was; the boy who protected her secret all these years. She couldn’t fail him this time.

A piercing alarm amid distant voices confirmed the need to keep moving. The sentries were coming. No time to waste, she cupped his face and concentrated. At first, nothing happened. Then pinprick sensations dotted her fingertips and coursed through her body. What she absorbed was only a fraction but it was enough to knock her flat and break the connection.

His agony eased and he looked up at ribbons of light forming a temporary gateway. Scooping her up, he darted across the boundary line. The moment he stepped through, the gateway burst into a swirling, multi-colored mosaic before manifesting into a familiar sight.

“Finally,” he whispered. He was home.