Seeing
By Immicolia
immicolia@hotmail.com
http://www.geocities.com/immicolia

PAIRING: Dante/Randal

RATING: PG-13 (I guess)

SPOILERS: The alternate ending of Clerks, if ye wish not to be spoiled then ye best not 
proceed.

SUMMARY: Something happens that forces Randal to look at his relationship with Dante 
differently.

STATEMENT MADE TO COVER ONE'S ASS: The boys belong to Kevin Smith, I'm just having a little fun 
with them.... Okay, a lot of fun.

FEEDBACK: It is that by which I live... or at least my Ego does.

I got Clerks on DVD, yay!! Now I just have to wait for Mallrats to show up.... I digress. I 
watched the alternate ending. It kinda made me go, 'huh'. And then my slashy little brain got 
working because it's a perfect lead in for some Dante/Randal angst.

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SEEING
By: Immicolia

Blood.

Never in his life has Randal seen so much blood. Well, real blood anyway. He's seen movie gore 
splattered across the screen so many times he doesn't even blink anymore. But this is real blood.

This is Dante's blood.

Dante.

On the floor.

Bleeding.

Dying.

And suddenly Randal's gasping for breath. Unaware that he'd even stopped. Gasping, struggling to 
breathe and stumbling away from his friend's unmoving body. Backwards, unable to look away. 
Wanting so badly to but just... incapable of it. Only stopping when he hits the wall and the pay 
phone.

Pay phone.

Phone.

911.

Yes. Phone 911. Dante might not be....

He can't bring himself to finish that thought. He doesn't want to consider it in any way shape 
or form. Even the possibility that it might not be true is painful because there's an equal 
chance that it could be true.

Dante.

Dead.

No.

Nonononononono.

No.

"911, please state your emergency."

"He's been shot. I don't know.... I got here and I found him...."

"Where are you?"

"The Quick Stop. Please... you've gotta...."

"Calm down, sir....."

But he can't calm down. He doesn't want to calm down. He wants to reverse time. Play Superman, 
reverse the Earth on its axis. Make up for every asinine thing he ever did. Say he was sorry.

Say 'I love you.'

And he crumples and the phone receiver falls from his hand and he can vaguely hear the 911 
operator's voice. Tinny and distant. But he can't bring himself to grab the dangling receiver 
again. To listen to whatever she's telling him. He's far too busy for that. Busy sitting in a 
trembling heap on the linoleum. Staring at the blood leaking from Dante's body, stark and slick 
and red under the harsh fluorescent light. Sitting and staring and thinking over and over again, 
'God, Dante. Don't die. Don't be dead. I need you. I need you more than you know. I need you and 
I love you and I need you....'

And the more he thinks it the less shocking it feels. Less shock, more like truth, because it is 
truth. Because he's always loved Dante and he's always needed Dante to ground him and if Dante's 
dead then....

God, Dante, don't be dead.

The wailing of sirens up the street. God that was fast. Or maybe it wasn't. He's not sure how 
long he's been sitting here anymore. Doesn't have a clue. But the paramedics rush in the door 
and it's all Randal can do to croak, "Over here." Then they're swarming towards Dante. Not 
hesitating in the least at the sight of all that blood. And one of them is at his side. Asking 
questions and Randal can only shake his head dumbly. Nothing they're saying is registering.

"He's in shock."

A blanket wraps around his shoulders but even that he notices only vaguely. All he can see is 
Dante being loaded onto a stretcher, paramedics bustling around. Speaking in incomprehensible 
medical jargon, mingled with the odd comment.

"Wasn't there a call from here earlier today? Dead guy in the bathroom?"

And they're taking him away. Outside to the ambulance. And one of the medics is at his side. 
Asking him quiet questions again. Are you all right? But Randal can't answer. Can't speak. Can 
barely think. His mind is still stuck in that rut.

Please, Dante, don't be dead.

end