Summary: The crossroads, between life and death, is where George is waiting, but he doesn't know what he's waiting for or where he is.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to this movie, Tom Ford does.
The floor, he had fallen on the floor, clutching his heart as he did so. Then he saw them, those polished shoes, stepping towards him onto the little rug he and Jim had picked out after the naval officer had become his life; when Jim had moved in. It was almost as if death were moving toward him, he could feel it, the cold that came with dying was moving towards him with those shiny black shoes.
Panic; he had wanted to die and now he was, but he had resigned himself to living. He was holding on, fighting, but then there it was. The shoes stopped, halted in their tracks, and a knee came into view. He tried to roll over, to face the horsemen, but he couldn't bear to; he was too frightened. That's when he felt it, the kiss of the wet soft lips that he knew so well. He tried to speak, tried to turn, wanting to see that face, those eyes, that man, that he'd loved so very much that he'd been willing to die just to glimpse him again, but he couldn't. He tried to shout, tried to grab for him, but as soon as he appeared he was gone and George's last breath left his body in a sigh of regret.
"Jim?" He was awake, alive, in his bed, tucked into it so lovingly he was almost loathe to sit up.
"Jim?" He tried again, pulling himself out of the neatly tucked bed and sat upon the edge, looking for the man while placing his bare feet upon the rug below. He had had a strange dream, a dream that he was dying and that his Jim, the love of his life, had come to take him with him, into the afterlife.
"Jim?" He tried a little louder, deciding to stand up, until a jolt of sensations ran through him. In confusion he looked down, seeing the rug, but feeling it. His heart beat faster, his hand clutched his chest, and he leant back to fall onto the bed, but ended up on the hard floor, right through the bed. A startled cry flew from his throat and tears welled up behind his eyes, his heart beating so painfully in his panicked state he thought he might be truly dying.
"Jim!" He screamed, frightened, hoping that the one person he'd needed to find him would. That's when he heard them, the footsteps, and the scenery around him changed into a completely white room. The bed disappeared from around him and he fell backwards a slight bit more, onto his elbows as he stared up at the dark figure before him.
"George." The whisper of his name, the voice he so longed to hear and the sparkling blue eyes of his lover made his breath catch. Jim moved forward, bending down so that he hovered over him, his thin form easily fitting against his. They were centimeters apart, they were so close, and George could feel Jim's breath against his face.
"Jim?" His voice came out in a whisper as his eyes locked with the cerulean ones above him.
"I said once that I was taken; taken by you, George. Now I'm here. I'm here to take you." Jim's voice was so soft, so loving, George felt his heart clench once more, though this time in a good way.
"I love you so much." He spoke, his eyes welling up with unshed tears as he reached up to touch Jim's face, but was hesitant to do so. He didn't want this to be a dream, he wanted to be with Jim, but oh God, he was so afraid. He couldn't do it, just like he couldn't kill himself, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to. Jim, however, smiled sweetly and leaned forward, his eyes closing as he kissed him gently on the lips before leaning back slightly.
George could barely breathe, unable to fathom the sparks of desire running through him at the touch of Jim, the touch. The urge to hold him, the man that he'd dreamt about since his death, was too great and George pulled his lover over him, his hand running through his silky black locks and pulling his mouth over his. Jim helped him, lowered him to the ground, pinning him against the ground below them with his longer body as their mouths met and they held each other. Seconds passed as they kissed, George's hands pulling Jim as close to him as he could, reluctantly leaning his head back so that they could separate for air. Their eyes met, their breath heavy, their gazes mirroring the want they had for each other.
"Oh George," Jim spoke as he leaned down again quickly, capturing George's mouth with his again, though the kiss was shorter than before he separated them, "I've been waiting to come and get you. I've been watching you, taking care of you, and trying to stop you from killing yourself."
"You have?" Surprise filled George; though it was fleeting as Jim leaned down to kiss him again.
"I've been trying to make you remember the good times we had. Like that night at the bar, when we met, and," Jim paused to kiss him once again, seemingly needing the contact just as much as George did, "the time we were at the beach. The time we were sitting up reading, tucked away, the time we moved in…any memory I could get through. I needed you to think of me, to think that I wouldn't want you to kill yourself for me but, oh my darling, I couldn't stop the nightmares."
George leaned forward, pulling Jim even closer somehow, and holding him as the man was overwhelmed with emotion. Jim nuzzled the crook of his neck lovingly, kissing all the sensitive areas he had memorized before pulling back and away from his lover. Jim's hands pulled George up with him so that they could sit; Jim on his knees in between George's spread legs, though they were still close.
"What's wrong?" George questioned the change in position, though the look of calm on his lover's face had an effect of making him feeling easy.
"It's time for us to go. We've been in the crossroads long enough and it's time for us to go to our place." Jim spoke softly, the look on his face gentle and adoring as he lifted his hand to stroke George's cheek.
"What's it like there?" George questioned, leaning into the soft touches of the beautiful man before him.
"It's beautiful there, but it was lonely. It was missing something, something I've needed since I died." Jim helped him up, lifting him so that they now stood, intimately close.
"What was that? The terriers?" George joked, his eyes practically glued to his lover's.
"No, old man," They shared a smile, their joke of their age difference, "it was you."
And with that, Jim clasped his hands tightly, pulling him backwards as he walked the opposite way, through the doorway, and into the light.
A/N: Just a sweet little ending I thought I should write. My idea of what it was like after George died and when Jim came to get him.
Anyways, please read and review kindly!