Flashback When What Was Isn't

[Gomer Caitiff]

The sixth day of fall, 516 AV...

It had been nearly a year since he'd left his childhood home. With his elder brother's careful guidance, they had spent many evenings dedicated to his general wellbeing and overall improvement as an independent individual. While he felt far more confident that he would be able to face the woman who was no longer Estelle, he wasn't certain he could do it without Godric. The thought never dawned on him that his independence was little more than a thinly veiled farce - if anything he'd grown overly dependent on his elder brother.

Hand in hand, they strode down the street, Godric recounting a story about some ghosts, an irate wife, and several cats, but as Gomer watched him, his own face reflecting his brother's easy grin and sunny countenance, it didn't quite reach his eyes. He didn't really hear what it was Godric was saying, more the sound of his voice, the manner in which his lips moved, the way he glanced at him from the corner of his eyes to make sure he was still listening... it all helped calm him.

When he had felt the world crashing down around him, Godric had been there to pick him up. He was not a gentle man, but it didn't matter to Gomer. To him, his brother was his steadfast ally, the only person in the world who would be there for him no matter what. He'd always looked up to him, but over the course of the last year, he had grown much closer, his admiration bordering on adoration.

It was not quite entirely his own fault that he felt so devoted. Over the course of the past year, Godric had made it a point to meet with him on a regular basis. Bruises, cuts, and the occasional astral spar here and there had all been employed in helping Gomer to understand that the woman they were to visit today was not his mother. There had been more, unbeknownst to Gomer, that Godric had schooled into him, subtly, for just as Gomer needed and wanted someone to care about him unconditionally, Godric needed and wanted someone to do the same - it was only in the reasons behind their needs and wants that they differed.

Realizing his brother had asked him a question and was now looking at him with an expectant humor in his eyes, Gomer frowned, looking down at the ground and muttered an apologetic, "I... wasn't listening."

"I know. I didn't ask a question, Go." He squeezed his hand and grinned, pulling him closer and knocking him to the side with his shoulder, "I would appreciate it if one of these days you'd pay attention long enough to hear an entire story."

"I heard! I just... You were on about the cats and... how they..."

Shaking his head, Godric pulled them down a side street, the Manor's face visible in the distance. "Never mind that then. Are you nervous?" His voice quickly changed, as it was so wont to do, from merry to businesslike. In his eyes danced a mix of curiosity and expectancy: there was a right and wrong answer.

"No. No, I'm not. I just may be a tad... worried?" Gomer flinched at his own uncertainty, but Godric laughed it off.

"Understandable. You'll do fine, little brother." For the first time since leaving, Gomer stood again at the base of the crooked path that wove its way through the well maintained front garden of the Craven Manor. Godric gave his hand a final, warm squeeze, before he let go. The resulting cold was more than just due to the chill in the fall air. "After you."

[Gomer Caitiff]

He knew there was no reception awaiting him. If anything, some of the house staff might even prefer he have never returned, but as he stepped through the heavy, dark oaken doors into the wide, open foyer, he felt the last vestiges of his anxiety fade away. It wasn't that he felt at home - in fact it was quite the opposite. Standing there, so small and insignificant in the maw of the Craven family's ancestral home, he neither felt welcome nor shunned. He was just like any other person, any other stranger, to set foot in the Manor, and the thought was surprisingly lightening.

"How do you feel, Go?" Godric put his hands on Gomer's shoulder's whispering quietly into his brother's ear, a smile in his hushed voice.

"Fine. I feel... fine." He didn't try to hide the surprise in his voice, and he nudged his brother's head away with his own, chuckling as he slipped out of his grip.

"Then, shall we?" Godric gestured to a set of doors on the opposite wall, framed by the majestic curve of stairs that led to the first floor's balcony.

Nodding, Gomer led the way, as was expected of him. What he had imagined to be a long and uncertain walk through the doors and down the hall ended up being relatively short and pleasant. The light from the garden filtered through the windows of the hallway, filling the space with a gentle, diffused warmth he had difficulty recalling with any familiarity when the thought back upon his childhood spent running back and forth between the library and the kitchen.

When they arrived at the garden's door, he didn't hesitate in opening it. Stepping out into the fresh autumn air, he drew a deep breath in through his noise, the scents of soil and musty leaves as fertilizer drifting on the breeze. Letting the air slowly out through his mouth, he glanced over at his brother who offered an expectant raise of his brows.

Maneuvering through the hedges wasn't too difficult, and eventually the two of them came upon a rusty haired woman. She was seated quite comfortably on the ground, a pile of dirt in her grubby skirts as she gently sang a wordless song to a healthy looking plant, who's blooms had just begun to fade and make way for fruit.

"Excuse me, madame?" Godric spoke first, his smooth eloquence commanding the woman's attention.

She turned with a confusion in her eyes, but spoke clearly. "Yes, can I help you?"

The clarity caught Gomer by surprise, and he found his words catch at his throat. Seemingly having anticipated the exact scenario, Godric put a reassuring hand on the back of his brother's neck and replied with the same gentle but assertive tone. "Can you?"

"Can I? Can I... can I... help... can I? Can you?" Like a pebble dropped into a still pond, the woman's brief moment of what could have been confused for lucidity rippled, revealing the shattered thing beneath the surface. "Can I, can I, can I..." She began to mutter the words thoughtfully to herself, her eyes clouding.

Finding his voice again, Gomer cleared his throat, once more capturing the woman's attention. "Madame, do you know your name?" His own voice echoed Godric's pragmatic style, "Is it not Estelle?"

"Es...telle? Can I, can I... Estelle. I am Estelle. Am I?" She appeared confused, but only casually so, as she played with a lock of her curly hair.

"That was my question, madame." Even as he spoke, he found himself thinking back to the years before, and it was not without some contempt he wondered how he'd seen his mother in the pathetic creature before him. She was empty, hollow like a rotting tree that refused to fall. "Are you, or are you not, Estelle?"

It felt strange to be able to remain so calm in the face of something that had, only a year ago, paralyzed him with emotion. Instead of sadness or pain or guilt, Gomer felt an odd sort of absence. There was a dull throb in the bridge of his nose, and he unconsciously drew closer to his brother, who had since encouragingly wrapped his arm around Gomer's shoulder; none of the old feelings seemed to resurface, even as the woman frowned with what seemed to be intense concentration.

"I... don't know?"

"Surely you must know your own name, madame." He found it easy to raise his brows in mock doubt, his own arms crossing as he shook his head. "Even a child knows her name."

[Gomer Caitiff]

Without warning, his confidence cracked. The woman before him wore the exact expression his mother had when she knew she was being fooled - the sort of look that always came before a cross tongue lashing. It was something that she had usually reserved for Gomer, and Gomer alone, as Godric had been hardly wont to cause trouble of any kind. Taking a step back, his brother turned with a concerned frown on his lips. "Go?"

"I-"

The woman, in as cross and severe a tone as ever Estelle had used before, waggled her finger at him. "That's no way to speak to your elders, young man."

With a sharp glare, Godric sent the woman into a quiet submission before tightening his grip on Gomer's shoulder. "What did we talk about, Go?"

"She's just a shell...." He whispered it to himself through his grit teeth. Too many emotions swirling around inside of him, scratching at the walls he and his brother had spend the last year constructing. They weren't so weak he was worried they might crumble, but that he had so quickly gone from no feeling at all to so many had thrown him off course.

The next tick, Gomer found the world spinning, the sharp sound of Godric's strike against his unsuspecting cheek seeming to echo across the empty courtyard. Though the pain was more of a shock than anything, he felt warm tears start at the corners of his eyes as he rubbed the quickly reddening side of his face with his hand. "She's just a shell." He said the words with far more conviction, staring through the woman rather than directly at her.

"That's right. There's no one there, not even a ghost." Godric's voice was warm, almost crooning, as he ran a hand through Gomer's hair. "She isn't dead, Go, she's gone. She's neither here nor is she returning."

Having heard the words so often and so steadily stated over the past year, they were comforting. It had been difficult to come to terms with the fact that their mother had not died in the typical sense, but rather been erased from the world, leaving behind nothing more than a shadowed contour of what she had been.

Swallowing the rising uncertainty, Gomer squared himself up with the woman once more, stepping forward and drawing aplomb from his brother's warm hand on his shoulder. "What is your name?" The words fell like stones from his lips, heavy and weighted.

"I... I can't..."

With fists clenched, his voice quivered with a mix of frustration and chagrin. "You can't because you don't have one. You aren't even a person." He spat the last words out, and the woman frowned, confused.

"I'm..."

"Nobody. You're nobody." Though he spoke directly at her, the words were meant more for himself, as he tried to grab at her. He could feel Godric pulling him back, whispering something unintelligible into his hair as the woman shouted nonsense at him. "Petch you!" Wriggling in his brother's arms, Gomer tried to free himself, but he was no match for the firm cage of muscle and bone.

"Calm down, little brother. There. Sshh." As patronizing as it may have been, Godric's quiet voice and gentle rocking helped Gomer find his head again.

Still frustrated, he pushed against the embrace. "Let got of me, Godric, I'm fine-"

"No, you're most certainly not, Gomer." The cold steel of his voice cut through the last of Gomer's resistance. "Now stop flailing about and sit down."

Following the instruction obediently once he was released, Gomer sat down on a familiar stone bench. The same he had cried upon several years ago. His chest felt tight, but not in the same way it had then; instead, it was as if his body was filled to the brim with a burning fire. He couldn't decide if it was anger or rage or fear or frustration, but it welled up within him and made it difficult to breathe. The woman had since fled deeper into the garden.

"Better." Godric joined him, putting a hand on Gomer's back and gently scratching the area between his shoulder blades. "Breathe."

It was difficult the first few attempts, but eventually he found a rhythm and was able to stick with it. Slowly, the fire faded, and he at last was able to arrange his thoughts. "I... I apologize, brother, I thought-"

"Today was a test, Go. A measurement of how far we've come and what more we have left to do." The hand moved up to the back Gomer's neck, giving him a firm, reassuring squeeze. "We'll work on... whatever that was."

With his face downcast and eyes staring at the flagstones of the garden's path, Gomer didn't see the dark glint in Godric's eyes as he stared down at his younger sibling. All he heard was the intended warmth and reassurance. "I merely... believed I might have been better."

"You were better." Godric patted him on his head before leaning back, both hands pressed into the stone's seat. "But 'better' doesn't mean there's no room for improvement."

Sighing, Gomer ran both of his hands through his hair. The fall air, crisp and cool without being cold, gently brushed through the leaves of the hedges, whispering its way across the well kept grass and plants. "But will I ever improve enough?" The words were quiet, almost whispered, but Godric had no issue addressing them.

With an odd, lightless smile, one that was directed out into the vast, empty void of the evening sky, he assured his brother in his honeyed tones, though his eyes gleamed cold in the fading light. "As long as I'm here, I'll see to it that you do, little brother."

[Gomer Caitiff]

Pulling something from his pocket, Godric repositioned himself on the bench, turning so he was mostly facing his younger brother, and nudged Gomer with his offering hand. "I know you used to do this with mother, but..."

With a confused knit of his brows, Gomer turned, glancing down at his brother's hand and back to his expectant expression before holding his own hand out. A small bundle of neatly tied off cloth dropped into his palm. "What's this?" Curiosity picked at the edges of his voice, having since calmed enough to settle on a quiet frustration that now wavered in the face of mystery.

"A shift in tradition."

With a tug of the string, the cloth fell away to reveal a carefully sculpted fox of marzipan. He stared down at it for a time, the little edible figurine's tiny black eyes staring back. "Godric..."

"Father and I are your family now, little brother. And... he doesn't understand. I don't blame him, but you and I? We're the only ones who do. I'm the only one who truly knows what this means to you, and I don't begrudge you your hesitation." A "however" hung in the air, and Gomer looked up from the fox to meet the soft, sad smile that his brother cast his way. "It won't be the same, but I hope you will find it to better. Rather than a singular annual lull in disappointment and expectation, let this instead be a reminder - a promise - of our devotion to one another."

"But I didn't get you one." Gomer looked again at the little fox in his hands, frowning not out of displeasure but a more distant sadness. Godric was always there for him, always helping him, and he had so little to repay him.

Shaking his head, Godric tousled his brother's hair, "Then consider it a friendly debt. If I ever call on you, no matter the reason, will you aide me?" There was a somber severity in the words, a quality of seriousness that seemed to be more than passing agreement between brothers, but Gomer didn't notice it in the mess of his own thoughts and hasty, reflexive reply.

"Of course! That you need even ask-"

Holding up his hand, Godric shook his head, warmth returning to his eyes as immediately as it had left. "There's power in a promise spoken; not that I've doubted your fidelity. It's just... pleasant to hear it aloud." There was something of a genuine relief in his voice, and Gomer lightly shoved his elbow into his brother's side.

"Then I'll say it as many times as need be for you to rest assured." Though his voice hinted at laughter, there was gravity enough to denote that he meant what he said.

With a chuckling sigh, Godric again shook his head. "Once is enough. Eat your gods awful candy."

Eyebrows raising in surprise, the light in Gomer's eyes took on their familiar impishness. "You don't like marzipan?"

"No, not-"

With a swift dart of his hand, the fox's head found its way into Godric's mouth, much to his surprise. With a flick of his thumb, Gomer popped the head off and onto his brother's tongue with a peal of laughter as Godric finally managed to push him off of him. "See, it's good!"

Chewing reluctantly and with a fair amount of disgust on his face, Godric held up his hands in disagreement. "It's..." Swallowing the almond-flavored mass, he grimaced. "No. I wholly disagree."

Tossing the rest of the fox into his own mouth and chewing happily, Gomer grinned, his mood lightened and gratitude for his brother's aide ever deepening, "Then next year, let's buy the sweets together. We'll find something better suited to your refined palate."

[Gomer Caitiff]

As they began to head back towards the Manor's interior, they were intercepted by a red cheeked maid who wordlessly held out a small silver tray upon which was placed a neat envelope. With a raise of his brows, Godric took it, swiftly unsealing the paper and skimming the contents with a perfunctory interest.

The maid, who had been shyly staring at Godric since she'd rounded the corner, chanced a glance at Gomer. Her face was not one that he recognized, but her soft brown eyes widened as she seemed to place the familial resemblance, gaze flicking back and forth between the two. She seemed to want to say something, but Godric interrupted her, eyes still on the letter. "Thank you, Pryah. Please inform Aunt Madara I'll be departing posthaste."

With the instructions given, Pryah mutely nodded. She shot one last curious glance at an equally curious Gomer before she hurried off, the click of her heels on the stone sounding a steady, brisk pace. "You must be off then." Gomer wasn't surprised nor disappointed. It was common for his elder brother to be called away on matters of importance.

"I must." Turning to his brother, Godric placed his hand on either side of Gomer's head and gently pressed their foreheads together. "It may not be the happiest day, but know I am glad to have had you for these years and pray for many more." The words were quiet and tender, and they were finished with a quick kiss on the top of his head. "I will be busy for the next... handful of days." He withdrew, his habitual manner of swiftly switching tone coming as no surprise. "Unfortunately, I won't be able to see you out."

"I believe I still remember where the door is." Gomer's lips turned a cocky crescent and Godric coughed out a grin.

"Very good then." He started off after the maid but paused before he turned the corner, looking back with his brow knit. "I will help you get better, Go." With that, he was gone, the sound of firm leather upon stone quickly retreating and fading into the gentle susurrus of the wind in the hedge leaves.

Alone, Gomer did not head directly back to the Manor. He turned to gaze out over the garden, the hints of almond and lemon still on his tongue. It seemed so peaceful, so nostalgic. The Manor walls wrapped around the subtle greenery. To his right he could just see through the library's windows, his father having drawn back the heavy curtains with the fading of the light. On the peaceful breeze floated a familiar melody, sung with a familiar voice that came from a stranger of a person he once knew.

Sighing, he turned his back on the garden and the woman and the feelings. He was tired, of all of it, but glad that he had someone to aid him, someone who knew exactly what it was he felt and who had moved past it. Though he had been unable to catch up to his brother as a Craven, Godric had never seemed to expect that from him. The difference now was his brother seemed to want him to find peace as badly as he did, and he felt confident that, eventually, it would be done.

Coming to the door, he paused, staring into the cloudy glass, his warped reflection barely discernible. "A shift in tradition..." The whispered words seemed to linger as they slipped from his lips. Pushing the door open, Gomer didn't turn to look at the garden again, and as the latch clicked into place behind him, it felt very much like he had shut the door on something that had long since been a drafty nuisance.

Rolling his shoulders, he headed down the hallway and focused his thoughts on what he was going to have for dinner.