Title: The Revisionist
By: Sarah granddruidess@hotmail.com
Warnings: Tacky. Very tacky. No redeeming value. And a bad reference.
Apologies: Are necessary. Though Mona shouldn't have asked for revisionist fic. I still can't believe I'm doing this. I'm sorry.


Todd lay on Neil's bed, his face buried in a pillow. Neil's pillow. God, what was he going to do now? Neil was--had been--his link to this place, the one who made it all bearable. Before, he could be included without actively participating, all because he was Neil's roommate. Now, who was he? The shy kid in the corner, no, don't bother inviting him along, he never talks anyway. Maybe Charlie and the rest would make an effort to include him, maybe not. But gone was the assumption of inclusion that brought him so much comfort in this cold place. Gone was his warmth.

Neil was the best friend he'd ever had, not that there were many to choose from. And he'd let himself hope, sometimes...that night on his birthday...but it was best not to think about that.

A knock sounded softly on their door--his door, now. Probably Charlie checking up on him again. "Come in," Todd said, aware and uncaring that the sound was muffled by the pillow.

The knocker must have heard him though, for a moment later the door creaked open and someone entered.


Disbelieving, Todd slowly raised his head. No. It couldn't be--impossible--*Neil*? "Wha...you...you're dead."

Neil shrugged. "It was only a flesh wound."

back to the stories
back to the index