A Night in the Spire, Part 3

Former Detective Lance Blaire was shot in the stomach by his former coworker and escaped prison convict Clark Morgan. His body was bleeding out on the ground, staining the white snow and gray slush underneath him red with his blood.

Morgan's body was only some thirty feet away from his, filled with three bullets from a Walther P99, and bleeding out faster than Blaire's. It belonged to Luna Carter, an art thief interested in Blaire. She was yelling his name and trying to do CPR on him. Bystanders in the street were calling for an ambulance or doctor. But no one came for a while.

The only thing Blaire saw was pitch black. Perfect darkness. That was because his eyes were closed. So he opened them. He was in the hospital. But he felt small. Blaire's hands were tiny and chubby, and he was wrapped up in a white blanket with his disfigured right foot sticking out, held in someone's arms. He tried to speak, but only let out a high-pitched whine. Blaire was a baby.

He knew everything else up to that moment in time, and that Morgan was shot. But he didn't know whether Luna's voice was real or not. He wasn't worried about that at the moment. Blaire realized he must be reliving his life from square one. He was nervous, because he might relive everything that was about to come next.

The muffled voice of the person holding him was a woman. She was saying something about his foot. It was his mother, Cassandra Blaire. A different man's voice, calm spoke up, saying there was nothing that could be done about it. Another man's voice, gruff and sounding like a twenty-year smoker, started complaining to the calm man. It was his father, Lucas Blaire.

Blaire blinked, and he was suddenly in a baby seat in the back of a car. A black 1970 Cadillac Fleetwood. Blaire never liked that car. It smelled like cigar smoke and stale alcohol. His parents sat in the front seats, his father smoking a cigar behind the wheel, going around ten miles above the speed limit on the way home.

Blaire didn't like his parents at all growing up. He blinked again, now finding himself in a somewhat larger body. He was four years old, and this night was ingrained into his brain. It was the night his father nearly beat him half to death in a drunken stupor, while his mother watched and did nothing. Not out of fear, but out of indifference. It was the worst night of his life.

He felt every punch from his father all over again. To the face, the gut, anywhere that could be punched was beaten bloody. Three of Blaire's teeth were on the floor. During each punch, his father yelled about how God had given him a worthless son, nothing more than dead weight, and how he'd try again with his mother soon. Blaire was stunned in fear, reliving the painful memories he had tried to suppress for more than twenty years.

He blinked and blinked in between each punch, hoping to be brought to a different point in time. But he wasn't. Blaire was forced to endure the beating again. Blaire lied on the wooden floor for thirty minutes, clutching his stomach with his bruised and bloody arms. Eventually, he closed his eyes. And when he opened them, he was five years old. This was the happiest night of his life.

Blaire's father was passed out drunk on the sofa that night, his mother lying asleep on top of his chest. Blaire's father was loosely holding a half-drunken bottle of beer, spilling onto the floor. Many other bottles were beside the pool on the floor. His mother had a cigarette in her mouth, about to fall out at any time. The television was playing a football game. Blaire wasn't allowed to watch TV, so he didn't know any of the teams. The crowd was going wild from behind the screen.

Blaire was sneaking out of his room to use the toilet late at night, hoping his father wouldn't hear and beat him again. Halfway there, the cigarette in his mother's mouth fell out onto the puddle of beer, and it quickly caught fire. Blaire had never seen fire before, except from quick glances on the TV when it played the news. He knew just what fire could do.

So five-year-old Blaire limped towards the door of his house, and stopped right before the front door, his right foot in intense pain. He thought for a moment about calling to his parents so they could avoid the fire. But then he thought about what they had done to him over the years. So he opened the door, locked it, and closed it on them.

Blaire calmly limped down to the grass in his lawn. It was nighttime. The stars were only half-visible thanks to the emerging light pollution from the street lamps. But the ones that could be seen were beautiful. The entire caught fire within a few minutes, and Blaire just sat on the lawn. And he stared at the burning house. His parents screamed in panic, then pain. When the house was completely aflame and started to slowly break down, the screaming stopped. Blaire still stared at the burning house, silent.

Within fifteen minutes, the firemen came to hose down. He heard one say that the kid was the only survivor. One of the firemen asked if Blaire was okay. He said yes. The next day, Blaire was taken to an orphanage. Then he blinked, and spent the next seven years under the care of his uncle, Grayson Blaire.

Blaire's Uncle Gray showed him kindness for those seven years. Blaire forgot where he was entirely in between these nearly endless happy memories, enjoying every second. The pain all across his body was gone, and he felt warm like he was on the Sun. Everything was silent, and the only thing that could be heard in the montage-like view of Blaire's childhood was the riff of a violin.

Meanwhile, Luna Carter was in the ambulance with Blaire and Morgan, a black body bag over the latter, and the former hooked up to an IV. He had lost a lot of blood waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Morgan succumbed to his wounds already, courtesy of Luna. One of the paramedics in the ambulance asked if Blaire had any family. Grasping Blaire's hand, Luna replied, "Only me."

The paramedic knew to pry no further, and left the two to keep the equipment in order. The ride was very bumpy, and the hospital was ten minutes away. Luna only cried, praying for Blaire to be okay.

Twelve-year-old Blaire's happy memories ended abruptly when he came home from school, expecting his uncle's car to show up, a dark green 1985 BMW E30. He waited a minute. Then two. Then five. Then ten. Then fifteen. Then half an hour. Then an hour.

After an hour and a half, one of Uncle Gray's friends pulled up. He had a sad look on his face, and Blaire knew immediately that something was up. Uncle Gray's friend told him that Gray was shot by a mugger, and he died in the ambulance from his wounds. Blaire's world was crushed again, and after that, he didn't speak for a month.

Blaire quickly sped through other moments in his life, like graduating high school with no friends, majoring in criminology at Spire Community College, working off his student loans through the police station, and spending a lot of his life working for the police station. Then he relived one memory. To him, the moment that would change his life from there yet again.

Blaire was on a rare day off, at the Spire Museum of History. He stood next to a woman clad in black, with beautiful silvery ash blonde hair. It was Luna Carter. Back then, she went by a different name. He didn't notice her immediately, but the two were staring at a painting. One of the Water Lilies, by Claude Monet. With the museum's limited budget, it was a popular attraction. But Luna and Blaire were the only two admiring it at the moment.

At that moment in time, Blaire was 26 and Luna was 23. The two just stood and stared at the painting, the vibrant blues contrasting with the different shades of green. Blaire just took it in for a moment. Then Luna spoke.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Blaire hadn't expected her to talk. "Uh, yeah, I suppose. I don't get out from my job much, so it's nice to appreciate the little things." Luna chuckled. "Back then, this painting wasn't a little thing. It was one of two hundred and fifty-some bigger things. Each and every painting of this era left its mark on history, same with the ones before the Impressionist period. Monet, like many others, was simply embracing the style that Impressionism brought, and that's why these paintings were made. They're all works of art, all beautiful in their own right."

There was a pause between the two for a moment. Blaire was slightly surprised about how much she knew about this simple painting. Luna beamed and broke the silence. "I'd love to have this painting at my house some day. But I think it's time I get going." She gave Blaire a glance, her expression changing from a smile to flirtatious interest. Blaire returned the glance a short moment later, with an insightful stare, trying to read her. She seemed interested in him.

"I didn't catch your name, Sinatra." She was referring to his fedora and his detective uniform, wearing it even on his day off. 'Force of habit,' Blaire thought. Blaire slightly chuckled at the quip, and held out his hand for a handshake. "Lance Blaire. And you?" Luna smiled. She shook his hand, firmly yet formally, and replied, "Rose Sharpe. I'll be seeing you, Lancey." After shaking his hand, Luna walked off, her high heels clacking on the concrete floor. Blaire limped towards the town park to relax a little more before heading home. The museum would close in twenty minutes.

It was sunset in the spring. A sight to Blaire that was almost as beautiful as winter. Blaire made his way home a few minutes after the sun had set. Passing the museum, Blaire stopped for a moment and thought about Luna. Then he heard something inside the museum. There wasn't any recent construction going on, so Blaire decided to investigate.

Slowly but stealthily making his way inside, Blaire drew his Glock-19, and traced the source of the noise. It was wood moving. Right near the Water Lilies painting he was at with Luna. 'What an odd coincidence. But that doesn't matter right now,' he thought.

Blaire turned the corner near the painting, and shouted, "FREEZE!" Some thirty feet away from him, was Luna holding the painting, a Walther P99 in her other hand. Blaire was shocked a little, but his aim didn't falter. Luna spoke. "Well, this is an interesting turn of events. But as you can see, Lancey, I have the upper hand. If you fire, you could ruin this beautiful piece of art, and neither of us get anything out of it. Just leave me be, and let me on my way. Things don't need to get... hairy just yet, we'll save that for later." Rose chuckled a bit during the last sentence.

Blaire knew he was playing a losing hand, and lowered his firearm slightly. Luna, taking notice, began to walk away, her gun still trained on Blaire. "Can't cuff me now, detective. I'll see you again later, cutie." Luna disappeared behind the corner, and Blaire tried to pursue her. But their guns were still trained on the other, and Luna managed to leave the museum with the painting. Blaire couldn't follow her further, but on the way noticed that the cameras were offline. It was a good thing they were, because he had investigated without a warrant. So he went home, with Luna on his mind for a bit of the night.

More encounters with Luna stealing valuables and flirting with Blaire played in his mind, Blaire enjoying every memory. Every time, Luna managed to escape. The two were like arch-enemies at those points, but held little animosity towards the other. Blaire felt his interest in her growing all over again.

Blaire closed his eyes again, then woke up on a bench in the middle of winter. This memory was a little more than a month and a half ago, the night where Luna appeared at his apartment. It replayed over again, not changing, but Blaire wanted so desperately to tell her yes.

Everything else up to the point where he had been shot felt like it happened in an instant. Visiting Uncle Gray's headstone, talking with his ghost, collecting evidence against his coworkers, and the final day he was alive.

Blaire suddenly remembered Luna's voice echoing before he lost consciousness. He now knew it was real, but he just had to wake up. But all around him was pitch black again. Perfect darkness. So Blaire just sat in the dark, waiting, and closing his eyes.

It felt like forever when he waited. But when he opened his eyes again, he was in his detective wear, in a field of tall grass up to his ankles, stretching as far as his eyes could see, blowing with a slight breeze. Above him was a partly cloudy blue sky, and also around him were flowers of all kinds.

Blaire's cane was gone, and his right foot oddly felt exactly like his left. He could walk like everyone else around him. So he did. Blaire walked for a while, then began to run. It felt even better than he imagined. But then the fatigue set in after a minute, and he leaned forward to catch his breath. When he looked back up, Uncle Gray was standing right in front of him.

"Hey there, Lance. Today has been a long time coming."

Blaire was happy at first to see his uncle, but then realized something. "Am I dead?"

Uncle Gray's expression didn't change. "Yeah, Lance. You died. But you're not in Heaven yet. I'm here to take you there. Follow me to the rest of your life after life." Uncle Gray began to walk forward in the eternal field of flowers, and Blaire followed him.

Luna Carter was at the hospital with Blaire. She was worried sick about him. It had been around a month since he was shot, and he was just laying there in the hospital bed. Only the sound of a steady heartbeat filled the room. Luna pulled up a chair and clenched Blaire's open left hand beside his bead, as she had for weeks before.

"I don't know if you can hear me in that smart head of yours, but I need you back here with me. You're taking an awful long time up there, Lance. But I'd love if you can come back down to the waking world where you belong. You're not leaving me before you tell me yes or no. And you haven't called me in a month and a half, you bastard. Now wake the fuck up." Luna was holding back tears on the last sentence, and buried her face into his hand, sobbing. This wasn't the first time she broke down.

Blaire followed Uncle Gray through the eternal field of flowers. He hadn't read the Bible much due to his limited exposure to everything as a child, but where he was felt like Eden, in a way. But there was no Adam and Eve, no garden, no apple tree, and no snake.

Before long, the two stood in front of a giant golden gate. Ornately decorated with depictions of angels playing harps and praising, there was no visible other side of the gate. Just pure radiance. "This, this right here, is Heaven. All you need to do is step in. You'll be with me forever, Blaire. Free from sadness, free from the injustice of Spire, and free from crime. So, what are you waiting for. Will you come with me...?"

Lance began to walk forward towards the golden, radiant gate. But then he stopped. The last sentence that Uncle Gray said reminded him of something. He couldn't quite grasp his head around it, and then it hit him. "Luna," he muttered. Those were the exact same words she had said to him all that time ago.

"What about Luna?" Uncle Gray asked. "She's just a criminal. She's stolen object after object for her own selfish gains, and has done nothing for you except fill your head with delusions of love. Leave her behind, and come with me to the forever and beyond you've been fighting for."

Luna Carter was still clutching Blaire's hand. A doctor came into the room, but Luna paid no attention. Then the doctor spoke. "Ms. Carter, Detective Blaire has been on support for a long time, and we think it's time for you to pull the plug. I'm sorry."

Luna shot up to look at him, her eyes filled with tears and slight rage. Before she yelled at the doctor, she realized that wouldn't be fair to him. The doctor had other patients to care for, and Blaire had been taking up space for a while now. Pleading was the only way to keep Blaire alive at this point.

"Please, doctor, just... can you keep him here for one more day...?"

The doctor looked at her, and nodded. "One more day. I suggest you make your peace in the event he doesn't wake up." The doctor left the room, and Luna turned around, staring at Blaire's comatose face. "Please, Lance... wake up."

Blaire froze again in the eternal field of flowers. This wasn't Uncle Gray. The Uncle Gray he knew would encourage him to do what he wanted, not forsake the memories he had. Blaire was wrong. If this was Eden, then the snake was right behind him.

Blaire turned around and walked towards Uncle Gray. "You're wrong, 'Uncle.' I'm taking the leap. Like you said, 'Happiness should be fought for. I've earned my joy.'" Blaire pushed his uncle back, and drew his Glock-19. He began to shoot the radiant golden gate, as Uncle Gray shouted at him. "No, no, NO!" Blaire paid no attention, instead emptying his gun into the sides of the gate.

The radiant golden gate buckled and warped, collapsing in on itself, and the light went out, revealing nothing but a gateway to scarlet fire and brimstone. The gate then fell on the ground, rapidly tarnishing and corroding, the dust being carried away with the wind. Blaire still had one shot left. Uncle Gray was behind him, his back to the floor, on the ground.

Blaire blinked, and the flowers and grass disappeared, leaving nothing but scorched earth. The sky was red and barely revealed through the gray, stormy clouds. The sound of fire crackling and rain pouring filled his ears, as the ground around him and Uncle Gray was ablaze in scarlet fire, yet sizzling from the monsoon above him.

Uncle Gray was gone. There was only the Devil in front of Blaire, staring daggers at him. Blaire pointed his gun directly at him, aiming at his heart. "'Happiness should be fought for,'" he said one final time. Then he squeezed the trigger. The moment after that, all was pitch black. Perfect darkness.

Blaire woke up again, in a hospital bed. Luna was asleep beside him, her head on the blanket covering Blaire. His fedora and cane were by the door to the room. Blaire pinched his arm, groaning subtly at the slight sting. This was real.

He smiled, and began to pat Luna's head. Her beautiful, silvery ash blonde hair was unkempt and messy, and she was wearing wrinkled black clothing under Blaire's coat. "Lance..." she mumbled, still asleep. Blaire was somehow tired, despite sleeping for a month, and let out a yawn.

Luna groaned and did the same, stretching her arms. When she opened her eyes to see Blaire sitting upright in bed, she just stared in shock, tears rolling down her face. Blaire just smiled.

Luna shot herself forward and hugged Blaire, crying. Blaire's heart rate monitor began to speed up drastically, and he embraced her in a hug too. "Before you ask... it's yes." Luna pulled out of the hug and asked, "What?"

Blaire looked back at her and said, "I will come with you." Luna just stared, and swiftly leaned in for a kiss. The two fell back on the bed, just as a doctor came in. "Detective Blaire's heart rate just went up, something could be- wrong... oh." Blaire broke the kiss, blushing, and Luna looked at the doctor too, embarrassed. The doctor simply adjusted his glasses and said, "Pardon me, but let's get you out of here, detective. Ms. Carter has already paid for the bill in advance, so we'll get you well on your way." Blaire paid no attention to him, and just stared at Luna the entire time. She did the same.

Blaire was up on his feet in no time, and Luna bribed the doctors to pronounce him dead. After all, the twenty-seven other former officers would be out for revenge if they found out Blaire was alive.

Blaire and Carter began their new life together, moving out of Spire to anywhere they felt like, as Luna had all the money the two needed. And from there, the long winter came gave way to a new spring.