Secret Places and Hidden Things

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jack woke up suddenly. The sky was dim out his window, a wintry twilight. He didn't want to move—the bed was so warm—but there was some lightness in the air that got his attention. It felt as if there was too much space in the room, and his breath didn't want to come into his lungs.

He sat up and the momentum of his body carried him forward further than it should have. He tumbled out of bed and slid over the floor.

After a bit of trial and error he got used to the sensation and made his way over to the sink. The scene outside was different from what he was used to. There were no trees. The rolling mountains in the distance were barren and cold, an icy glacial wasteland. The courtyard was gone and he was at the edge of a cliff.

Jack shivered and grabbed an overlarge red sweater from his wardrobe. When he walked out the door, Michael was sitting on the window seat in front of his room looking out at the mountains. The fox had its head in his lap and he was moving his hand slowly over its neck.

"Elliot's gone," Michael said.

Jack stopped in the doorway.

"He left?" he asked.

Michael didn't say anything. He just looked out the window silently. The fox burbled next to him, the smallest sound.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jack said.

Michael turned to face him. He had a placid half-smile on his face. "I'm not sad," he said. "I was just a bit lonely, so I came to find you. I'll see Elliot again soon enough."

"It's hard to be apart. Even if you know how long it's going to be," Jack said. He sat down next to Michael on the couch. The fox moved over slightly to lean against him, a warm body in the cold. "Will he come back here?" Jack asked. He wondered if he would ever see Elliot again.

"I don't know. This time there's been a shift, so things will be different after whatever needs to happen, happens."

"A shift?" Jack asked. A small curl of snow fell from the eaves and blew across the window, making the landscape look even colder.

"Yes," Michael said. He turned to face Jack. "Sometimes things change and then never go back to how they were."

"Does that mean Elliot is gone forever?" Jack asked.

"No," Michael said, smiling again, "some things never change. Those are the good ones."

Jack looked out at the rocky tundra. Ice was freezing on the window in elaborate jagged trails. A fine mist of ice particles were blowing in the air, visible against the dark landscape.

"This is an old place, isn't it?" Jack asked.

"Yes, Elliot never comes this far in. He took the trees with him and now we're getting closer to the still point."

"The still point?"

"Yes," Michael said simply.

The quiet around them was punctuated by the sound of wind blowing against the window. Small snow devils blew their way across the plain off in the distance like ghosts. There didn't seem to be any gray in the landscape, just bright white snow and the black shadows where ice and rock accumulated.

"Have you been to the still point?" Jack asked.

Michael looked like he was about to say something, then stopped and looked at Jack, blinking quickly. "No. I wonder why not." He tilted his head and scratched at his chin. "Maybe I should."

"But you can't leave too!"

"Oh, I'll never leave," he said turning back to the window. "The helm will come with me."

The fox rolled over onto its back and stretched out its paws.

"Why does everything feel so light now?" Jack asked, watching his sleeve float above his arm.

"Oh that? Elliot has a lot of mass. He leaves a big dent behind him." Without warning, Michael punched the cushion below him and flew up into the air, his red cloak billowing around him. The fox barked, startled, and Michael giggled, resting a hand on the ledge above the window to keep himself in the air.

"Was it like this before Elliot came?" Jack asked, pushing off from the ground. It wasn't a jump, but he drifted high into the vaulted ceiling, brushing against the top of the roof before floating back down to the floor gently.

"No. I'm sure something else will fill the empty space. It always does."

Jack pushed off again, floating up to the molding along the edge of the ceiling and began pulling himself hand over hand along the wall. The sensation was unlike any he'd felt before. Michael Followed, pushing off from one side of the hall to the other. The fox tried to follow them but misjudged, jumping with full force, and it went soaring past Jack like a furry torpedo. Somehow it managed to flip itself around in the air and land on the ceiling. It yelped as it slid along the smooth stonework upside down.

"I'd have thought you'd be used to this by now, little fox," Michael said. "There isn't much to you anyway."

The fox tried again, jumping back towards the floor, and Michael caught it as it went rocketing by. "A little goes a long way," he said, turning the fox around in the air and pushing it forward gently. It curled its legs under its belly, sticking its neck out in an arch, and landed gracefully on the top of a decorative sconce.

"It's too bad Elliot leaving is the cause of this," Jack said. "He'd probably love it."

"I know," Michael said. His smile faded a little. "Maybe something else will leave a dent for him to try out sometime."

Just then Marelle walked through a door, and Jack felt a great heaviness pass over him. He was close to the ground and didn't have far to fall, but Michael had been drifting near the vault of the ceiling. He nearly landed on top of Marelle, but was able to tumble gracefully in mid-air and land beside her on his feet. The sconce the fox was sitting on broke with a crack, and the fox scrabbled down the wall, knocking over a small sculpture on a stand as it crashed to the floor. Jack hurried over and plucked the fox out of the debris, but it looked no worse for wear.

Marelle took one look at all of them, her gaze lingering on the fox for a few moments, then she turned around and walked back the way she came, slamming the door behind her.

Michael scratched the side of his neck. "She must have something on her mind."

"No doubt," Jack said. "It knocked us right out of the air. What do you suppose it is?"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," Michael said. He turned and walked down the hall the other way. Jack wondered if he was trying to get away from Marelle. The fox struggled and jumped out of Jack's arms, trotting quickly to catch up with Michael. It burbled quietly and Michael put his hand on its head.

"I don't think there's anything you can do, little fox. She has to work it out for herself."

Jack watched them go, absentmindedly rubbing his chin.