word count: 684
Getting to Bergen felt like a hallucination. The layover in London was short, but already on little sleep. Getting to BGO, 15 minute wait for the Flybussen, the 45 minute ride in too small bus space to get downtown, then from there more travel to an edge of Nygårdsparken to picnic and wait for Håkon and Eirik to show sometime around 6pm. At least there were no bans on being on the grass. The troubles of 2007 with the drug element was either vanished, hiding in warmer locales, or didn't see fit to bother him. Maybe he just didn't notice them.
Probably just not noticing them. No one has bothered me in years and years, though. Why should today be any different. It isn't a long wait. Cars passed. People pointedly didn't look at his duffle or single rollcase, not that many were out. The hour passed in a hazzy, forgetful blink, and his cousins were stuffing him into the backseat of their Kia Soul, chattering amiably and making worried glances to each other. Eirik hugged him tight, then patted his waist gingerly "
All the usual questions for catching up, usually enthusiastically answered and some offered back. It had been forever since he'd gotten to see or talk to any of his family overseas. His mother and he had used to come every year before being sent to Hillworth. Barely anything came out in reply now. Björn found himself staring out the window, his forehead leaned against it as more and more buildings passed. Then fewer. Then countryside. He wanted to know how they had been, their families, their kids if they had them. Words felt impossible, and keeping attention enough on one thing insurmountable. The hum of the road noise and air current, the faint vibrations through the vehicle from the engine, and the sense of motion without moving made him dizzy and more sleepy. Björn closed his eyes.
A festival of tents, lean-tos, shanties and bedrolls sprawled out on the cleared floor of a forest beneath the canopy. Someone stood by his shoulder and spoke, "There's a lot of work that could be done. I know you haven't even picked a name yet, but every pair of hands is a help. "
His heart ached. His head still swam. He could see so many people, more than he'd expected before in the Negaverse. There were whole families, children, Kitten Mauvians all running around with the chores of the day. All of them wore patched and repaired clothes in layers, like clothing put together by pixies trying to imitate human fashion. "I don't need a name to protect people. I was trying to protect people. Protect the Earth. How do I protect all of this?"
"The defense of the camps is managed by the Guard. There's not many, so its long hours powered up on patrols. "
"I'll be a part of the Guard."
"It will be sad to lose your strength in any offense of the fight, you know. That's mostly handled by the Mainstay."
"I'll help them when they need me. I'll work harder. Anything people need that I can do, I'll do it. Anything at all. Someone just needs to ask. "
The car stopped, and sounds of people moving and talking softly sent the words and images scattered like burnt paper for eyelids. He woke and sat up in time to allow Håkon to open the door and help him out. The smaller man stayed by his shoulder, arm around his waist, like he was worried Björn was going to faint or something. Eirik grabbed the bags cheerfully, trotting before them backwards and forwards. It was still early in the season, but the night was clear and a strong wind from the coast hard by kept the sky clear and dry. As the door to the cabin was opened, he spied the starts of serpent greens flickering and whipping through the pallor of stars.
