spoilerficlet for The Dark Tower beneath.

They still had precious seconds before they had to push on, and Roland found himself sitting on the steps of what he now thought of Eddie Dean’s resting place, while the Breakers – not Breakers anymore, say thank ya, say thank ya big-big, say o Discordia – were somewhere behind, discussing the move into Keyworld Maine they had to perform with Sheemie’s help.

Roland sat on the stairs staring into the gloomy darkness of the Siento Algul and quietly smoked one of his last cigarettes. He had no idea where Jake was at the moment but he thought Oy would keep an eye on his master while they were all grieving in their own ways.

He still could hear Susannah sing for her dead husband; songs from the Calla and from New York alike.

Roland pulled deeply and closed his eyes – those blue Bombadier’s eyes that Eddie had always found unnerving – and allowed himself to think of his lost brother-in-arms.

He thought of meeting this human disaster in one of the other world’s flying machines, trying to smuggle drugs taped to his armpits, the monkey of addiction on his back, riding him like a hell steed.

He remembered Eddie, wrecked from what he’d called Cold Turkey, looking like a walking dead, threatening to kill Roland himself if he didn’t bring him back into his own world.

He remembered every single instance Eddie had driven him to the brink of insanity with his vacuous babbling, reminding him so much of Cuthbert it sometimes made it hard to breathe.

Roland blew out the smoke in his lungs in a harsh whoosh and stared down to the ground between his battered boots.

Eddie had become a fine gunslinger and husband, and Roland wondered whether at least in the end he’d been free of the ghost that was his ever present big brother.

Thank you for the second chance…. Father.

“Nay, gunslinger,” Roland whispered, “Thank yee.”