Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m dying, aren’t I?”

The doctor fidgeted and stammered and mumbled. There was no denying it. The headaches, the nosebleeds, and the sudden passing out? There was no disease that he knew of that caused these symptoms that didn’t end well.

“Y-Yes, I’m afraid so,” the doctor finally admitted.

A small stream of curses left Wilden’s mouth. Dying! Of all things he had to do right now, it was dying. He had a family, he had a another kid on the way, he had a life to live! He couldn’t be dying! Not now! “How much time do I have?”

He could stop this. He could be cured. He could do so much more than just die. Wilden Lightfoot was a planner and when he made a plan, he always succeeded. Mingling with new people? He had a plan for that. Asking Laurel out? He had a plan for that. Surely, he could come up with a plan for not dying, right? Right. He could come up with a plan in a couple of mon–

“You have roughly six months to live,” the doctor spoke.

Days. He could come up with a plan in a couple of days.

“This disease Mr. Lightfoot, it is aggressive and rare. There are maybe ten people in the past fifty years who have had this disease. It strikes hard and it strikes fast. People can go from running marathons one day to being on their deathbeds the next.”

Oh dear, that was not good. “Is it genetic?” Wilden asked, his chest constricting with fear. “I have a son. We’re expecting another soon. Really soon. Is it-“

“It’s not genetic. It’s….” the doctor was momentarily lost in thought. “It’s a perfect storm of bad medical luck.”

There was something incredibly cruel about that statement. Other people got to die when they were on their absolute last legs or in some tragic accident. But him? Bad luck. Simply stupid bad luck.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Lightfoot. Truly I am.”

Wilden stood, a brief moment of nauseous overcame him, and answered, “Not as sorry as I am. Goodbye.”

Steadfast, he strode to his car feeling otherworldly calm. He climbed in and started to drive. It was bizarre this feeling of calm. He’d never been one for not showing his feelings. If he was feeling something, he wore it out on his sleeve but no? Nothing. Nothing at all.

This is grief, he thought. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

He was suddenly in his front yard. The drive had gone by in the blink of an eye….just like his life was going to be. Laurel…Barley…his new kid…He was not going to be around to see them. Despair sank in. He was actually going to die. Wilden nearly cried. Tears stung his eyes, he was going to die. Ah, he didn’t need a plan, he needed a miracle!

Magic!

He needed magic.

Magic could do what technology and science hadn’t caught up to yet. If there wasn’t hope for him in modern medicine then maybe…maybe magic could…maybe not save him, but buy him some time.
Wilden Lightfoot started to plan.

Chapter Text

To say that Wilden was a desperate elf was an underwhelming statement. He was an incredibly and pathetically desperate elf. With the diagnosis of death and the realization that his disease would inevitably leave him on his deathbed in, roughly, six months, Wilden started to look into anything and everything that would let him stay with his family longer.

Laurel was not impressed.

The books, the late night research binges, the constant stress brought on by his attempt to stick around had the opposite desired effect in her eyes. Wilden was getting weaker and sicker each and every day.
“You need to stop killing yourself,” she said, commanded really.

“Honey, I –“ he would have had a brilliant rebuttal but Wilden was soon wracking with yet another coughing spell. It was one of the worst spells he had since receiving his diagnosis. He nearly collapsed from his desk, but with Laurel, she was able to carry him to the sofa. As soon as the coughing fit faded and his vision cleared, Wilden saw the love of his life staring down at him with concern clear upon her face.

“I know,” she kissed his hand, “that you want to stick around with us, but all this –“ Laurel gestured to the stacks of magical history books and spells and incantations. “-This isn’t the answer. This is taking time away from us.”

“I want to stay with you and the kids. Magic is the answer.”

“It’s not honey, the time that we have right now is the answer. Let’s spend it together. Barley is scared and I’m scared and I don’t…I don’t want him to have his last memories of his father being shut away in the study.”

“I don’t mean to…” Wilden mumbled. “I…” He started to cry. “I’m scared too. I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna leave! I-I-I-“ Another coughing it ensued. It made the other one look weak. Wilden wasn’t able to breathe and thus began the first of many trips to the hospital.

As he laid in the E.R., Wilden came to terms that he would be seeing a great deal of the stark and sterile interior. It wasn’t a pleasant thought but it was true. The hospital would be the best place for him to recover and to try and hold on to whatever life he had left. And yet, thoughts of magic held onto him.

Magic was not like science. Magic came from the heart. All the spells in the world came from the heart’s fire and the sheer power to will to make it happen. Well who had more desire to stay than a dying man who wanted to stay with his family? He could make magic happen. He had the fire burning brightly in his heart to make it happen and as for the will power? There was nothing in this world or the next that would stop him from seeing his family.

Chapter Text

Dying was, in Wilden’s opinion, painful and awful.

His illness tore through his body, stole his air from his lungs, and poisoned his blood against him. Everything that made him a fully functional person in life was ripped away from him. He was dying. Those six months that the doctor gave him were really more like two months, three days, and four hours.

Wilden was desperately holding onto those last few hours. He fought hard, he fought against every debilitating symptom, and held on as long as he could until it was the end. He had to say goodbye. Laurel was understanding. She knew how much he wanted to stay. They cried for hours and held each other and cried some more. Saying goodbye to Barley was much harder.

They had talks or attempted to have talks about what was happening. None of it seemed very effective at preparing Barley for the inevitable. The best it seemed to do was scaring him. The worst scare came in the form of saying goodbye which didn’t happen at all.

Barley took one look at him and screamed. Honestly, Wilden didn’t blame him. Hooked up to as many machines as he was, he didn’t look even remotely like an elf anymore. He had transformed into a creature of tubes and monitors. How could anyone let alone a four-year-old recognize him? Barley was calmed by Laurel hugging and reassuring him. She mouthed, “I’m sorry” to Wilden, though he understood perfectly. He wasn’t the father that Barley knew.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she placed a kiss on his forehead. “Say goodbye to Daddy, okay? Wave bye-bye. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Wilden didn’t have tomorrow. Close to midnight, Wilden could feel it coming. It was as soft as a summer’s breeze. A strange calm came over him as his body started to finally die and yet, despite the calm, Wilden fought on. He swore that when the day came, he would not go gently into that dark night. He had his family to think about. His children whom he would never get to see grow up...unless the spell worked.

Hidden in the attic, there was a staff and a spell. He would see his family again if not for one brief day.

With that thought, Wilden was able to rest. He passed on, not surrounded by his loved ones but the knowledge that he would see his family again.

Chapter Text

On the list of everything that Wilden wanted to experience, Death did not make the top ten. What did make the list was seeing his children grow up, spending time with Laurel, and just living. He had hoped that with the spell, he would get all that.

And in a way, he did…Sort of.

The last thing that he remembered was being in his hospital bed and, well, dying. He knew that he died. He remembered the pain, but now…no pain! Nothing at all! Mainly because he was missing his top part. But he was back! He knew he was back. Once more Wilden was walking among the living, but where he was he hadn’t a clue. Not being able to see truly dampened the whole “living again” experience. He knew that he was lying down and struggling to get up (How he missed his hands!) he was able to at least feel his way around the new place he was at. And then, something touched his foot. It was a hand. He was sure that it was a hand and where the hell was he -

Bum, bum, ba-bum bum.

Shave and a haircut. It was shave and a haircut. He tapped lightly two bits. The hand, large but gentle, tapped the side of his shoe. It was his son. His baby boy Barley. If he had hands, he would have hugged his kid. If he had tears, he would have cried. And then…if Barley was here, that must have meant that Ian was nearby. Carefully, he stepped forward. There was a small shoe in front of him. He tapped on it and he knew that it was son.

Oh, he wondered how he looked. Did he have his eyes? His nose? Personally, he hoped that Ian had his hair. He really hoped that Ian had his hair. He couldn’t help but wonder what his boys were like now. What were his boys up to? If only he had his hands or eyes or anything! He would have given the world to have his torso.

And then between fatherly pride and amazement that he was back, the thought occurred to him that maybe the spell hadn’t worked as intended. He was only halfway here, then again, it was a fairly complicated spell. There was no telling how well either of the boys had studied magic or even looked at a magic book at all. Wilden didn’t want to admit it but a lot of his plan focused on a lot of moving parts. It was if his sons had the magic touch, if they did the spell right, if the Phoenix Gem worked as intended…

If, if, if, if, if, if, if….That was a lot of if’s to base his afterlife on. It was a fifty-fifty shot that either Barley or Ian would be capable of magic and – why was he in a van? He was sure he was in a van. Where were they going? Where- Oh…oh, no. The Phoenix Gem for the spell. It was good for one shot and one shot only.

Surely, his boys weren’t going to…

It was too dangerous! No! No! He was putting his foot down. It was too dangerous for his boys to go on. There was no telling what could happen! Hell, he was lucky to have found one when he was young and stupid and highly adventurous. Only a skilled adventurer would be able to –The van lurched forward. They were going on an adventure whether Wilden wanted to go or not.

Chapter Text

Wilden liked to think that he was in good shape. In pretty good decent good “Yeah, I could go for a five mile run” no sweat. This entire road trip with his boys proved him wrong. There was so much walking. So much walking and walking and walking and he swore that he felt like wherever they were the place was on fire? And then the water? What was going on with his boys and where exactly where they were going he didn’t really know. But for magic’s sake there was so much walking and so much time passing them by. Wilden didn’t know how much but it felt like a full day. He wanted to see his boys, Laurel, and catch up. Not go on a walking tour of the world. His legs were killing him with all the walking that they were doing.

And then suddenly, they weren’t.

He knew that he was standing somewhere tall and near the sea. He could feel the sea-breeze splashing upwards and then, the rest of his body started to materialize. His arms came into existence! And then the rest of his was brought back. He could breathe again. He could smell again. He could see again. And the first thing that he saw was a young elf who was the picture of nerves and apprehension. But Wilden knew who he was the second he saw him.

“Barley?” he gasped.

“…hi dad…” his son said, barely above a whisper.

“Oh wow. So, it worked, I guess?”

“Yeah,” Barley smiled. “It worked. I can’t believe you were a wizard.”

“Yeah, me either,” Wilden laughed. “You know, I always thought, if there was a time, my wizard name would be Wilden the Whimsical. What’s your wizard name?”

“I don’t have one. It was Ian who brought you back.”

“He did? Where is he?”

“He couldn’t…Dad, he wanted to more than anything but….”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I understand. Can you tell him that I’m proud of him? For everything?”

Barley nodded, “Sure thing, pop.”

“The sun’s getting low,” Wilden observed. “My time’s almost up.”

“I know,” sighed Barley

“Barley, can you give him a hug for me? Since I can’t…?”

“You don’t have to ask twice.”

Wilden held onto his son and hugged him as tight as he could. He missed this. He missed all of this. With that final thought, Wilden faded away into nothing. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay and meet Ian and see Laurel and have more than a minute conversation with Barley. Ultimately, Wilden came to the conclusion that life was not fair. It was never fair and more important although his life had ended, his afterlife had just begun.

He knew he was dead again. He could feel it and yet, although he disappeared into the wind, he felt something keeping him grounded. Like a tether, Wilden followed his way back to the world that he knew.