Shadow at Evening, Rising to Meet You
by Lucy Gillam 

Eddie came to him first, and the gunslinger was only mildly surprised by this. He had heard their whispered arguments, Susannah's insistence that Eddie knew him better (which had caused Eddie to laugh), and Eddie's equally firm insistence that Roland wouldn't take the question seriously coming from him, that Roland didn't really take anything seriously coming from him. He had not heard the argument's conclusion, but he had somewhat expected that Susannah would speak to him first.

The sun had nearly set when Eddie found him in the small clearing. It was not unusual for Roland to be absent from the small camp at dusk; he remembered the first flush of new love, and although neither Eddie nor Susannah would have expected it of him, he did try to give them time for that love. That he did so in part because he knew their love would make them stronger on the quest for the Tower, they might have believed.

That he sometimes left because the turmoil in his mind was growing harder to hide was something he chose not to reflect upon.

I stopped at the way station, filled my bags, and moved on.

There was a boy. His name was Jake.

There was no one else there.

It was no wonder his companions felt the need to speak to him. 

Eddie sat beside him on the forest floor, and for a moment, the voices quieted. The younger man was clearly nervous, his hands dancing in a way they hadn't since the drug washed out of him. Cuthbert had had the same habit of plucking at his clothes when he was nervous.

"How're you feeling?" Eddie asked clumsily. "I mean, no more, uh, digestive issues?"

"Not for a week."

"Ah. Good, then. Infection seems gone, anyway."

Roland did not point out that it had, in fact, been gone for several weeks.

After a moment of silence which was awkward primarily because Eddie was clearly about to crawl out of his skin (his discomfort with silence was another trait he shared with Cuthbert), he spoke. "So, I don't suppose that jaw thing has had anything to say yet?"

"Not yet. It will."

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, all in its time. Ka."

Roland wondered idly when, if ever, Eddie would bring up what he had come here to say. When he finally did, it was far from what the gunslinger expected.

"You don't always have to leave, you know."

Roland turned to look at Eddie, his brow furrowing. Eddie sighed.

"When you leave. At night. You don't always have to. You could," he gestured vaguely, "you could, you know, stay."

"Is my absence a problem in some way?"

Eddie smiled at that. "Well, I wouldn't say a problem, exactly, no." Eddie sighed again. "But I thought, I mean we thought, and... Ah, shit. I told her I sucked at this sort of thing. Just..." Eddie flashed a wicked grin, and then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Roland's.

For a moment, the gunslinger froze. It should not have surprised him; had he not been thinking how much Eddie reminded him of Cuthbert? Half in memory, half in present, his mouth opened under Eddie's (Cuthbert's), and this was something he'd not had in so long, not with the woman in Tull, or for how many years before?

Eddie pulled back and rested his forehead against Roland's. "You don't always have to leave. To be alone."

"--shouldn't be alone. Not now." Bert was behind him, hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard. "It should probably be Alain saying this, and I tried to tell him that, but he said we should leave you alone to let you work it out, whatever that means, and since I never can keep my mouth shut anyway... Roland? Will you look at me, at least?"

With more effort than it should have taken, Roland turned to look at his friend. Pure misery painted Cuthbert's face. He once again clasped Roland's shoulder.

"Roland, I'm sorry. I liked her, really I did, and I know you loved her, and she loved you. All the stupid things I said, and all she did for us. I'm just so sorry." Slowly, looking like he expected to be rebuffed, Cuthbert moved forward to take Roland in his arms. "And we do love you, both of us."

Roland felt his arms go around his friend. He could feel Cuthbert's tears hot on his neck, and the little part of him that had hated Cuthbert for showing him his own folly hated him again for crying so easily when his own tears refused to come. It was only a small part, though.

Years later, he would not remember which of them had changed the embrace, who first drew back enough for their lips to meet, who tugged at a shirt first, or fumbled with a belt. He would remember the smell of the grass under them, and Cuthbert's clumsy attempts to apologize after. He would remember realizing with a pang that it was the first time Cuthbert had done more than childish fumblings, and wondering if they were all of them doomed in love, or perhaps only him.

His pangs were not enough to turn Cuthbert away later when he approached Roland's bedroll at night, Alain sleeping like the dead only feet away. There was no mention of it between them when they reached Gilead. Gunslingers understood the place of such things.

(Cuthbert's) Eddie's mouth was on his again, just a brush. "You don't have to answer now, or anything. Just so you know."

Roland swallowed. It was not the first time Eddie had surprised him, although in truth, that this had come from both of them surprised him even more. 

And it would not be such a bad thing. Perhaps it might even strength their growing ka-tet.

"I have known for two years," and the mark on his mother's neck, the mark of another man on his father's wife, on his mother.

Surely this would be different. Eddie and Susannah had clearly spoken of it together; there would be no skulking or secrecy or betrayal.

But for how long? How long before one began comparing, or another began to covet? Before the fractures began? Jealousy had nearly destroyed his last ka-tet. Could he chance it happening again?

Eddie had pulled away and was looking at him with the same twisted smile he sometimes wore when talking of his brother. "You're trying to decide if this would help or hurt our grand quest, aren't you?" When Roland did not answer, he shrugged. "Can't answer that one for you, my man. I can only tell you that I love you. And so does she."

"Either way, I still love you."

"ROLAND, I LOVE THEE."

"I loved you, Jake."

Cuthbert charging up Jericho Hill, blowing the Horn of Deschain.*

Susan's lovely hair aflame, not with sunlight, but with fire.

Jake (there was no boy, there was a boy) falling. Go, then. There are other worlds than these.

And the voices began to crowd into his head again.

Eddie was standing now, clearly intending to leave, and Roland pushed the voices aside to look up at him. "Thank you, Eddie. I will...think on your words."

Eddie smiled again, this time with more sadness than cynicism. "Yeah... Somehow I doubt that. Anyway, don't stay here too long. You should get some sleep."

Eddie Dean left to return to his wife, and the gunslinger was left alone with the growing voices.