joegoda | BP&G - The Mad Wizard

Fletcher showed genuine surprise. "Why would I want to stop it?"

"Look at him!" Bags spat out as he pointed to where Pockets sat.

Pocket's face was contorted, in obvious pain. Tears leaked from his eyes, ran down his face, and flowed to the right side. The tears left his face and flew horizontally through the air to crash against the bottle that held the captive speck, where they flattened and smeared across the bottle to form a salty, wet film.

"He's in pain!" Bags shouted. "He comes back from here, night after night, worn out. He has nightmares, he cries, he's in constant pain. He tries not to show it, but I know it. I've known him longer than you, bub, and he's in pain."

"Then let's ask him, shall we?" Fletcher casually pin-wheeled Bags' hand away from his robe and strode purposely toward where Pockets sat. "The connection you two have is the only thing that keeps you here, my dear mule. I don't know why Pockets' has such a strong connection to you, but there's no helping it."

Bags followed, started to cross to the other side of the chair. Fletcher stopped him. "Stay on this side." he warned.

"Oh? What's on the other side?" Bags asked.

"Death, fool." Fletcher pointed to the bottle. "You can't understand this, but that bottle holds a small bit of star-stuff. It's very strong and if you were to stand between Pockets and it, you would be drawn to it and crushed to it, just like Pockets' tears." He waved at the walls with their blinking lights. "These machines that you see here are the only thing that is controlling it. Pockets is on a journey that you cannot imagine, that you cannot even dream about with your dull imagination."

He leaned down and looked at Pockets fondly. "Dear Pockets is traveling faster than you can even begin to dream about."

"Traveling?" asked Bags. "He's not even moving!"

"Not physically, you dolt." Fletcher snapped. "His mind, his... consciousness... is moving through time, not space. Physically, he's sitting here, but his mind, moving through dimensions that you cannot see; you cannot experience. Time and distance mean nothing to him right now. He is beyond all that."

"Riiiight." Bags said. "Look, Fletcher, he's in obvious pain. See? He's crying. I want this stopped now, because if he's hurt, in anyway, you're not long for this..."

"Please spare me your chest beating." Fletcher interrupted. He bent down to Pockets ear and said, quite clearly, "Pockets... Are you all right?"

"Piss off", Pockets said, his words slurring a bit.

"Pockets," Fletcher continued, "You know I can't very well 'piss off'. Your... um... friend is here. Bags is here, and he wants to know if you're all right."

"Don' believe you." Pockets said, strain showing in his voice.

Bags leaned forward, "No Pockets. I'm here, really. You okay?"

Pockets head twitched to the left, slightly, and his eyes seemed to try to open, but gave up the fight. "Bags? How'd you....? Oh. Never mind, I can see it." Silence, then slurring, "I'm fine Bags. Just very busy. Talk later, okay?"

"There!" Fletcher said, triumphantly. "He's fine." He patted Bags on the shoulder. "Now, I suggest you do as he asked. Piss off. Go somewhere else. Go to that pub in Newton, get drunk, go play with some woman or other. Whatever you do."

Bags threw off Fletcher's hand with a jerk. "All right. I'll leave. I can see that he says he's fine." Bags bent down to Pockets one more time. "Hey, bud. I'm sorry about... you know." He looked back at Fletcher. "Before."

Pockets might have smiled, but it was ghostly and wan. "Me too. Talk later. Love you, chum."

"Yeah. Whatever. Me too." Bags touched Pockets arm before Fletcher could stop him. He felt what seemed like a hundred tiny shocks on his skin and jerked his hand away. "Um, yeah." he said. "See you later."

Bags looked around the room, and not seeing a door other than the one he crashed through, asked, "How do I get out of here?"

Fletcher raised an eyebrow and replied, "How did you get into here?" He shrugged toward the broken door. "Go out the way you came in."

Bags sighed. "Bastard", he said.

As he was leaving, he heard Pockets' voice, far away, distorted, but urgent. He said, "At the pub."