Chapter Text
Finley Armando Blake dies in 1982 from asphyxiation on a frozen lake while trying to save his sister and boys that were killed long before he was even born.
Gwendolyn Irene Blake is the first one to notice her brothers missing presence, her heart nearly stops in her chest when she sees him laying on the ice just meters away.
When Finn open his eyes he's standing next to his own corpse and he watches as his little sister catches sight of his still form and begins to sprint to him.
The others follow and Finn can see the horror and realization on their faces when Gwen crumples next to him, begging him to come back to her.
It is too late, CPR would be useless and they all know it.
Finn continues to stare at what was his lifeline, what got him through the day, why he didn't take the gun that their father kept locked up in the garage and drive somewhere far away from the house —he wouldn't, didn't, want Gwen to be the one to find his body.
"Finn," someone calls from behind him, the teenager in question stiffens, it may have been years since he heard it and it may sound lightly different than last time he heard it, but he would recognize his voice anywhere.
He doesn't turn at first, as much as he wants to, scared that he won't be there when he turns, scared that The Grabber is fooling with him —despite the man being dead, completely, that is.
Robin is smiling at him when Finn turns his back to his sobbing sister.
He looks different, like he aged with Finney rather than staying thirteen; although he is still covered in the blood and wounds he died with.
"Hey Robin," Finn whispers, and he stands there because he doesn't know what else to do.
Robin walks the few feet between them and pulls the boy he was been following and watching over since he died into his arms, Finn melts in his hold —although his grip on the back on Robin's shirt it tight.
"It's okay," Robin whispers, "Ernesto will take care on her." Finn knows that's true, he does, but it still hurts —Robin knows what he's going to say as he pulls away.
"That's my job," Finn looks back, turning to look at the living people that have made a half circle around him and his sister.
Ernesto is kneeling beside them, not saying anything to Gwen as he knows she won't listen, so he just observes her as she clutches at Finn's chest, trying to feel the heartbeat that's not there, trying to cling to the warmth seeping out of him and into the ice below.
"I'm suppose to protect her, I promised her I wouldn't leave," there are tears in his eyes, "I promised that we would get out, and go to Chicago or New York. Anywhere but Denver."
They had talked about it, just the two of them leaving, despite the fact that their father was 'better' now, Finn still worried that it wasn't going to last.
Gwen had said New York City was overrated and when Finn pointed out that many would say the same about Chicago she whacked him with the folded paper map she was holding —"Chicago is on a Great Lake, I want to see one, and the museum and aquarium."
Robin sighs from behind him, he grabs Finn's arm and pulls him back around to face him, "She will live, she will reach Chicago or New York, for you." He jabs a finger into his chest but Finn just shakes his head at those words, "We were suppose to go together."
They stand for a moment, the only sound the slightly muted, static-like sound of Gwen crying.
"Robin is right, your sister will live on, Ernie will take care of her." They both turn and Finn seems to lose the breath he doesn't have anymore.
"Mom?" She looks the same as she did when she tucked him in the night she died.
Her embrace is warm like he remembers, death not taking that warmth from her. She holds his face in her palms, smiling sadly at him, "You are as gifted as your sister, even if you never realized."
Her words are quite and Finney furrows his brows, "No I'm not, I don't dream like her, like you, I'm just haunted by the ringing of a telephone."
"You can see the dead, see and talk to them, not just through a phone, although it is easier that way." Hope murmurers and Finney frowns at her words, "What? No I can't, I don't see the dead."
"You did. When you were younger, Terrence just thought you had imaginary friends, but I knew. You are gifted like your sister is, just through a different lens."
Her words bring the memories back, he had pushed them out of his head after she had died, but now there are blurbs of speaking to people no one else could see.
Is that why he had hated blood? Seeing the sticky, red covered bodies whose only hope of talking to someone real staining his memory, he remembers they could be very… eccentric —the chance of words passing to their loved ones enough to make them scare a young boy who didn't know death yet.
His mother smiles at him, "You won't remember this but know I love you, your instincts will guide you."
He blink at her words, "What…?" He trails off as the world around him fades, turning black and it scares him, Finney hadn't been scare of the dark for years but this dark scares him.
He didn't have the chance to say goodbye to his mother —or Robin.
"Finn!" Robin's voice is echoy, he turns just in time as Robin crashes into him. Their arms wrap around each other.
"Don't forget me, okay? Remember me enough so he can be friends again," Finney pulls back to look at him, "Not friends, not quite."
Robin is surprised at Finns words, he is even more surprised when Finn presses their lips together.
Neither of them really know how to kiss but it doesn't matter, their lips don't separate and Robin cups Finn's face in his hands while Finn's hands stay clutching his shirt.
They separate, pressing foreheads together, "I'll find you." Finney promises as the world around them fades.