Six Crimson Seeds (A VegasPete Persephone AU)

Chapter 19: The Fields

Vegas jolted awoke, horrified, to a world of gray.

    The last thing he remembered was the man about to hurt Pete. Vegas hadn't even thought about it before he killed him. There was nothing to think about. He would die before he let someone hurt Pete.

    Vegas sat up in his bed. Well, his other bed. He liked to refer to this place as 'The Fields'. The landscape seemed endless, and over time different familiar places were added. In close proximity, there was Elysium (minus his father's rooms), Olympus, the playground his mother used to take him to when he was little, and the place he had met Pete. Pete's house had been empty before, since Vegas had never been inside, and he wondered briefly if there would be more detail now.

    There was no mistaking the Fields for the real world, because there was never a drop of color. Here, Vegas didn't need to eat, which was lucky because nothing looked or tasted appetizing. He didn't even need to sleep, although he often still did to combat the boredom and the depression that coated everything like a layer of dust.

    Vegas rubbed his eyes, frustrated that he had to wait six whole months to even find out if his family was okay. If Pete was okay. Vegas rubbed his birthmark, oddly feeling like he would sense if something was wrong with Pete.

    Vegas's chest itched, and he got up to check it in the mirror. He unbuttoned his shirt quickly, pulling aside the fabric to see the crimson crack had bled further into his skull. It now covered almost a quarter of his entire mark. That would have been alarming enough, but Vegas could see the color, standing out even more in the monochromatic world.

    He rubbed his skin again, and then his eyes, but the color remained. "What the..."

    There was no use in dwelling over his mark, however, when he would not be able to solve the riddle alone. Vegas decided the best thing for him to do instead was to settle into his routine for the Fields. He showered and slipped into a soft shirt and dark sweatpants. With his feet bare, Vegas left the compound to do his duty for the dead.

    Most souls just passed, quietly slipping into the nothingness that awaits us all. Some, however, had a slight detour. Those with grudges wandered as wraiths, occasionally slipping into the human realm to torment the living. Vegas pulled them back and rehabilitated them before sending them on their way. Most of his days were spent listening to the complaints of those with unfinished business. Some needed a gentle reminder that they were no longer alive, and it was okay for them to move on. Then there were the ones that Vegas dreaded the most, the ones there because of him.

    Although he had the power, it was not meant to be used so callously by whoever bore the mark of Hades. That alone was worthy of punishment, according to tradition.

    Hades was only meant to be their caretaker, not the reason they met an early death.

    Every night while he was in the Fields, Vegas spent the hour after midnight in a room with those he had wronged. They wailed and screamed at him. They pushed and shoved and grabbed at him. When Vegas was very small, the room had been empty. It still scared him, though. It was too cold and, even though it looked empty, he could hear the echo of screams from time to time.

    He still remembered the first man he killed. His father had called him into his office and sat him down. Vegas remembered he was still clutching the stuffed hedgehog his mother had made for him. At first, he wasn't sure what his father was asking him to do. Then, Kan shot the man. It wasn't fatal, but the man screamed and screamed while Kan screamed at Vegas.

    Vegas only wanted the screaming to stop. He wanted the man to not hurt anymore. He hadn't meant to kill him.

    When Vegas entered the Fields that year, the man was waiting for him. He looked monstrous, with his skin peeling. Once more, the man was screaming. Vegas had nightmares for weeks whenever he could fall asleep, until he learned to dissociate to numb himself. It only helped a little, but it was something.