Counterfeit

-fortyseven--

--fortyseven-

AFTER THE REVELATION, after I came home to him, Charleston began to explain the world to me. So much I missed - so much I had not known about where I was or who I used to be.

"I guess why you're here is a pretty good place to start," additionally, "and where we are."

"The Dormir."

"Yeah, The Dormir. Do you know which country we're in?"

"America." I was sure of it...until now.

"France."

"France?" I exclaimed, believing I hadn't heard him correctly. "We're in France!?"

"Yes." He confirmed. "The Dormir you were sent to was located here, in France. It's the most progressed and the fourteenth Dormir established."

"Fourteenth? How many are there?"

"Seventeen. And counting."

"I never even thought of the possibility of there being another Dormir somewhere, let alone Sixteen others. And to think I'm in France... That's just..."

"Insane?" He pondered.

"You tell me."

"You never picked up on it?" Charleston inquired.

"Why would I have done?"

"Pip," he began, already trying to refrain himself from laughing. "The names - everything's in French."

"Like what?" I probably could have worked that answer out for myself. Still, I wanted him to tell me; that way I wouldn't doubt it.

"The names of the custodians, the camp residents, the name of this place."

"Even my name?"

"Even yours." He stated.

"Then what's mine?"

"It's just your last name. They change everyone's before they arrive. It said to help them with categorizations."

"Tell me."

He considered my request before replying, "...I'm fine."

"Charles..."

"Seriously, I'm good." He smirked. I remembered that look - remembered it - from the daring six year old who stumbled into my young world.

"Charleston, what is my name."

"I want to see how long it takes you to remember." He admitted, adding, "it's gonna be fun!"

"You are going to be the death of me." I rolled my eyes at his antics. Quite suddenly, Charleston seemed to calm down. I think I hurt him.

"What? What's wrong?" His  hesitation sparked a panic in me.

"Just... Your choice of words."

"I'm not dying, am I?" I didn't know if I was serious or not - if the question terrified me, or if it left me curious.

He shook his head, but his failure to further answer my question reminded me that some people were.

"Anyway," I distracted him, "what do all the words mean? What about The 'Dormir'?"

He seemed relieved to give a comfortable answer for once.

"The 'Dormir' is French for The 'Sleep.'"

"That sounds a bit dark, don't you think?"

"It is." He sighed. I could see his heaviness weighing him down, and I wanted to take it all away from him.

"When you're ready, Charleston." I told him. How quickly it had reversed.

He breathed out deeply, then back in again. It seemed to make quite a difference to the suffocating thoughts rattling his mind.

"I'll have to come back to that - it'll make more sense after I tell you about the Hibernation Pods."

I didn't question him as he muttered incoherent words under his breath, mentioned things that sounded absolutely overwhelming to me.

I looked at him, wondered if he could do all this alone, then reminded myself that he had been for the last ten months.

Because of me.
Because I wasn't there.

-fortyseven--

The Dormir.
The Sleep.