Close Enough To Touch

Chapter One - Life After Death, and Vodka

      When I woke up on the cold, hard, badly poured concrete floor of my mom's garage I don't think I have ever felt more alive in my life. And I used to shoot a whole lot of cocaine and heroin. So that was definitely an interesting experience.

I imagine this has more to do with the large amount of adrenaline pumping through my veins, and I don't mean from natural endorphins or some such nonsense. The intravenous injections were the more likely cause. But then, when I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was him, my heart stopped. Literally.
He gave me another shot and I could have sworn there was a bit of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation involved but he'll never admit to it. He's too much of a "gentleman" apparently. The cocky little prick. Even after all this time, eight years later, he still maintains that it was his pure skill as a practiced necromancer that brought me back the second time but I have my doubts.

Now that Wolfgang doesn't live entirely in my head I can think stuff and he won't get offended because he's not in there himself. Well, he is a little, either way, he's still pretty good at telling when I'm up to something as sinister as doubting his infinite wisdom. Fucking douchebag. 

When I opened my eyes the second time, his reaction looked a little like startled disbelief and he almost fell back on his ass. My immediate reaction was to grab his bloody shirt collar and pull him closer but the slippery little creep moved too fast. I think he might have had doubts somewhere deep down inside his calloused heart that he might not succeed. I sat up, leaning back on my arms. They were numb, but not to the point where I couldn't feel the grit of the ground under my palms, hard pressed against the cold floor beneath me.

We just sat there, staring at each other for a moment. If you have ever heard the piano piece Epyllion by Richard Pouw, well, this is what it was like. That song is just, I have no words for it. And that was exactly what this was like. I was overwhelmed, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, and I just sat there staring at him with him staring back. Mirrored as we were sitting on the cold, hard concrete in my mom's garage. So much passed between us in those first few seconds that no matter what happened after, nothing could ever come between us.
After all, we were sort of one, but we are not the same person, not at all.

     "Wolf?" I asked, the one word barely escaping my mouth audibly, once I finally remembered how to talk. I don't know why I even asked, I knew it was him, but it was all I could say. I saw him swallow and narrow his eyes as if trying to determine if he was really himself, or if this was all just another part of my imagination of him. He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands, eyes narrowed, then back up at me. He leaned forward, looking concerned, confused, or both.     
     "Can you see me?" He asked in a whisper.
I nodded.

I could certainly see him, but my vision was a little blurry and everything seemed to have a bit of a red tint to it. I went to rub my eyes in an attempt to fix my sight but as I lifted my hands to my face he leaned forward and grabbed them. His hands were so cold. And my hands were numb. I looked at his hands on mine for a moment before looking up at him again. His face was so close to mine.   
      "Don't!" He said quickly, startling me a little. Wide-eyed, he was still holding my hands then he relaxed a little and let go. "Don't rub them, it'll go away. It's just a few broken blood vessels, don't worry." He said calmly, "You're okay." Still staring at me as if I might disappear. Not realizing that I was probably more afraid of that happening to him than anything else.
Here in front of me, sat the man who got me through getting off heroin. Right there. Only feet apart, he sat. Both of us were in shock.

I fucking had him, right fucking there. This was the reason I made it out of that hell I had dug for myself. This man, this fiction, that now sat very much alive and staring into my eyes.
     "I can see you," I replied finally, "Wolfgang...I can see you!" I repeated excitedly, a smile breaking onto my face, lighting up everything around me as held back an astonished laugh. Not yet, just in case. I was so scared to get too far ahead of myself. I still couldn't believe it was real.
But then, of course, I was quickly reminded of exactly who I was sitting with. He rolled his eyes and then gave me a disapproving look,
      "Well that's bloody obvious then isn't it?"

The way he said it sounded just like he would have said it in my head. Then, I laughed, and it hurt...a lot.
     "Calm down woman, here," He pushed an open water bottle into my hand, "Drink this." I took the bottle without question and took a big gulp. His face didn't change expression at all when I realized that what I had just drank was not water. I spat out the burning fluid everywhere, including all over him. Then his expression changed, to one of complete disgust, insult, and disappointment. "Oh well, that's not very ladylike at all. Jesus...you might have at least turned your head a bit, no?" He inquired, agitation clear in his voice as he shook vodka from his hands and wiped his tie on my jeans.

     "Did you just give me fucking vodka?! Like...without telling me? After you brought me back to life after I just kill-" I started to exclaim, in shock and also completely entertained by the ridiculousness that had already taken place in the 2 minutes of being with him, alive and real, finally. How could I be pissed? It was absurd.
      "Oh come on now, you drink like a bloody Sailor, why should you have an issue with it now then?" He had me there. He started to stand up and brush himself off, still watching me skeptically like I was the one up to something. Like I was the one who just gave a recently dead person straight fucking vodka in an unassuming water bottle.

I stuttered and rummaged for an answer that would properly defend the point I was trying to make. I was gonna blame my drinking on him in the first place, but I knew that wouldn't go anywhere so I just stopped and let my shoulders slump.
      "Dammit...is there any coke in here?" I asked.
Even more offended than having vodka spat all over him by a recently deceased and revived person, was the look of disgust from the question I had just posed.
     "What?" He asked tentatively, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes at me. Knowing he was thinking I was asking for cocaine, I immediately countered the look by adding to my question,     
     "COCA-COLA. Pop, soda, I don't know what you Brits call it over there! Coke, tabarnak!" I couldn't help but smile as I watched the expression change on his face from one of disappointment to one of recognition.
     "Ahhh...no." He responded.

I looked at him, with a raised eyebrow, and then quickly scanned the room for anything drinkable that might not have bugs in it or be potentially harmful to human ingestion. There was a can of beer, dented from a drop most likely caused by my mother's drunken roommate. It was within reaching distance. I looked back at Wolf who had been tracking my focus and knew what I was thinking, he also wasn't a massive beer fan, but would drink it without complaint. Most of the time... But Canadian beer, which I think I still find slightly offensive, all things considered, he had a general hatred for. Something he learned to get over eventually.
     "No." He ordered as I lunged for the beer, accidentally ripping out the IV in my hand and sending blood across the floor.      
     "Whoops!" I joked as I grabbed the can and cracked it open with one hand, and wrapped my other bloody hand around the deceptive water bottle.

I took a shot and chased it with the beer, and then I vomited a little in my mouth and swallowed it.
      "Oh well, that was just the most refined thing I have ever seen," Wolf murmured as he slapped his hand on his forehead and rubbed his face, still staring intently at me all the while. Before coming back to where I sat on the floor and fixed my IV.
     "Ugh...that was bad...really bad." Promptly regretting my choice, I tossed the open beer under the Corvette parked in the garage. "Why the vodka anyway?" I asked once I was convinced I wasn't going to barf everywhere.
     "Blood thinner...just in case. You should keep drinking that by the way." He answered very earnestly. I, however, was very much elated by my current situation and felt humor would be an excellent way to test my limits with the living, breathing, incredibly attractive, manifested version of the fictional character I had created to be the evilest of villains I had ever written. I knew him well enough, and I knew his sense of humor...or lack thereof, and why not right? I tilted my head and batted my big eyelashes at him and put on a seductive voice.
     "Hey Mr. Shanks, are you trying to get me drunk?" I asked all kinds of adorably. He stood up and looked down at me with a somber look on his face.
     "You are unmanageable." He said.

I took him in, standing there, really there! He looked like a funeral director, or perhaps a mortician as there was a substantial amount of blood on his perfectly pressed, white dress shirt, his black tie flung over his shoulder to avoid any further bloodying it. And his classic black leather trench coat. His short messy, dark brown hair, not too short, indeed in need of a cut as it was a little scrappy, but this was his usual style. Pulled back by his glasses that were pushed up on his head. I just looked at him and I felt that feeling in my eyes again. Tears welled up as I stared at this man, this man I was so much in love with, standing there scowling down at me. I smiled and a tiny laugh escaped me as a single tear rolled down my cheek as I sighed.
     "Oh come, don't...please don't do that." He spoke softly, showing his sensitive side. He bridged the gap between us, not breaking eye contact with me, then he held out his hand. Offering to help me up.

I just couldn't take it anymore, I broke down in sobs. Happy sobs as I kept staring at him.
     "You're here," I whispered. "You're here...with me, after everything. After almost dying out west...and then actually dying here...and through everything I fucking went through to just be alive for fuck sakes, you're actually here." I said less softly again.
     "Oh Jesus here we go." He lamented, though a smile which is a very rare thing from Wolf, crept onto his face and his eyes became sincere and beautiful as he offered his hand once more.
      "Take my hand woman. Come here." He sighed.

I didn't hesitate to take it, he helped pull me up and took both my hands in his, then looked me deep in my eyes. "I'm only here, because of you." Nothing but honesty was clear in his voice, still holding my hands, so close to me. And then came the point when I couldn't look at him anymore. It was so overwhelming.
     "Look at me." He whispered. I looked up and he took a step closer to me, we were only inches apart. He lifted his cold hand to my also cold cheek. I didn't want to look into his eyes, I didn't want to hear something that would break my heart. This was all just so much, I couldn't think, I didn't want to think about how wrong I might have been, I didn't want him to see it.
     "I'm sorry..." I mumbled in a hushed tone, trying to hold back pathetic sobs. I lifted the water bottle up and went to take a swig when he grabbed my hand again and stepped closer to me and told me to wait, very softly he said it.

     "Wait..." he repeated, even softer this time. The hand that was on my cheek slid down my neck and around to the back of my head. I looked up at him to see a very tender and caring look in his eyes as he stared into mine. Then he leaned in towards me and I thought for sure he was going to kiss me, my heart skipped a beat (which most likely had nothing to do with actually being excited at all and more to do with the fact that I had been dead moments before.)
I saw his gaze shift to something behind me as he leaned and his hand reached out for something. "Here...This is actually water."
Son of a bitch.

He moved back and handed me the bottle he had been reaching for. My expression must have changed drastically from hopeful to thoroughly unimpressed.
     "I don't need you showering me with Vodka again thank you."
     "Really?" I asked sarcastically as I took the bottle, not looking at it and maintaining a firm stare at Wolf. I held out both water bottles at my side as I said it.
     "What did you expect?" He asked curiously, proving the already known fact that Wolfgang was a genius, an absolute mastermind in most aspects of life. But when it came to social interaction and catching a hint that a woman might be attracted to him, he was completely hopeless. It was adorable and frustrating, but I wasn't about to open that can of worms right after being necromanced back to life by a man who had no right to be alive at all. Take what you can get kind of scenario, so I was bluntly honest with him.
     "I thought you were going to kiss me," I admitted, unenthusiastically.

He looked at me like I had just bitten a bat's head off, his face had the word 'Ugh' written all over it.
     "And what in the name of Lucifer's left testicle would have given you that idea!?" He asked with an air of being highly offended but also slightly curious as to the feelings of human beings.        "Never mind," I answered with a roll of my eyes.
      "Good. There's no time to get all mushy, we have work to do." Knowing a lost cause when I see one, I stood there and looked around.
     "Work to do? Like what?" I asked interestedly.
     "Well, perhaps it might be a good idea to clean up this mess, turn this place back into a garage instead of a makeshift hospital ward. Not to mention you bled out 9 pints of blood all over the place, we should probably hose that down." He explained.
     "Ahhh...that mess." I agreed, "Good idea."
     "Yes, I tend to be full of them, as you should very well know by now. Go grab the garden hose." He insisted briskly.

I did as I was told.
And that was the very first time I thought that perhaps by creating him and giving Wolfgang life, I wasn't the one in control anymore. This other evil was now pulling the strings and making the decisions I had so often had trouble making. What with impeding morals and other human crap that most people feel before doing something terrible. Well, no more of that nonsense. Now it was just me and him, and he was very persuading.