WHO NEEDS CLOSURE?
Song is 'Fly', Celine Dion.
Fly, fly little wing
Fly beyond imagining
The softest cloud, the whitest dove
Upon the wind of heaven's love
Past the planets and the stars
Leave this lonely world of ours
Escape the sorrow and the pain
And fly again
You know when you get an image stuck in your head, usually of something gross, and no matter what you do you can't shake it? That's what's happening now. A picture, and a caption underneath: "She lived in the Hellmouth and died at the hands of man." I know it's never going to fade away. Just keep on repeating itself. She was happy, for God's sake, and she was smiling when she ran towards me. "Xander! I got a raise!" The last thing she ever said. Jesus. God has a weird sense of humour. Only a road separates us, and there are no cars around. She runs out into the road, but there's a shadow in the corner of my eye and I know what it is before I even turn and see it. Before I even yell at her to get out of the way. Everything goes in slo-mo, like God's messing around on his VCR. She's so close to me, but the car is so fast, so fast, and I scream, I run to her, but I'm not moving, I'm not moving at all and I shout at her, but she
doesn't answer, and for God's sake why can't I move -
"Xander!" I awaken with a jerk. She's still lying there, like I knew she would be, and she's got her eyes open, but she doesn't say anything. She can't see me. Then I realise she must have spoken, unless - Willow lays a hand on my shoulder and I jump. "Are you okay?"
"I'm great."
"Oh, it's so awful!" she cries suddenly, and sits down in the chair
beside me. She takes my hand, the one that isn't clutching Anya's. "She
knows you're here, Xander, I can feel it. She knows you love her."
Fly, fly precious one
Your endless journey has begun
Take your gentle happiness
Far too beautiful for this
Cross over to the other shore
There is peace forevermore
But hold this memory bittersweet
Until we meet
"Did they say if she would wake up?"
"Probably not."
"It's just so awful," Willow says again. "I mean, we live on the Hellmouth, demons and vampires abound, and to be killed by a car-"
"I get the irony, Will," I say. I know it's cold and I know it's harsh. But I don't want her sitting there moaning about how awful it was, and explaining how ironic it is because I'm Xander and I'm too dumb to get it. Well, I do get it. And I get that Willow never liked her, that she's a
hypocrite to be here, and that if another Scooby asks me how I'm feeling I may have to throw myself out of the hospital window.
The doctor strolls in and looks at Willow. She takes the hint and leaves. "No improvement," he says stoically. "She may not make it through the night." I guess he doesn't expect me to care, because this is the Hellmouth, as already noted, and people die every day. If it was a demon maybe I could reason that it was an occupational hazard. But a car, that's different. How
do you explain that? The doctor says nothing more and leaves. She's not going to wake up. I can feel it.
Fly, fly do not fear
Don't waste a breath, don't shed a tear
Your heart is pure, your soul is free
Be on your way, don't wait for me
Above the universe you'll climb
On beyond the hands of time
The moon will rise, the sun will set
But I won't forget
It's not goodbye. It's only 'till we meet again'. I don't believe any of that crap. This is goodbye, this is the end, this is where you get buried in the ground, or burned, and I never see you again. There's no higher plane, there's no heaven, no hell, and if there is, how do you know which one
you're eligible for? How do you know we'll end up in the same one? This isn't the Big Sleep, this is death, pure and simple, cold and cruel, and earlier than I'd imagined, but it's still death, it's all cold and cruel and sudden and sad, death, death, death.
The worse thing of all is the eyes. They're dead. Anya's not in there. She was a demon, she wielded the power of the wish for two millennia, and she finally lost it under the wheels of a car. What a crack. I know Willow wants to know how I'm going to cope, and you know what, I think I'll cope just fine. Who needs closure? Who needs funerals? Who needs to cling to the
strand of hope that says 'wait for me in heaven, we'll meet again, you're my angel and I love you'? Who needs goodbye?
Not me.
No tears, no wailing, no beating the wall or asking why. No goodbyes, no see-you-agains, no condolences and 'she was too young's and no flowers or wreaths or beautiful prayers read from leather bound books. Only earth and worms and the roots of trees and my beautiful girl on the flying trapeze. No watching from heaven, cause this is the end. No 'I loved her so much's. There'll be other girls, none of them like Anya. This is the end. No tears. I swear it.
Fly, fly little wing
Fly where only angels sing
Fly away, the time is right
Go now, find the light.
Song is 'Fly', Celine Dion.
Fly, fly little wing
Fly beyond imagining
The softest cloud, the whitest dove
Upon the wind of heaven's love
Past the planets and the stars
Leave this lonely world of ours
Escape the sorrow and the pain
And fly again
You know when you get an image stuck in your head, usually of something gross, and no matter what you do you can't shake it? That's what's happening now. A picture, and a caption underneath: "She lived in the Hellmouth and died at the hands of man." I know it's never going to fade away. Just keep on repeating itself. She was happy, for God's sake, and she was smiling when she ran towards me. "Xander! I got a raise!" The last thing she ever said. Jesus. God has a weird sense of humour. Only a road separates us, and there are no cars around. She runs out into the road, but there's a shadow in the corner of my eye and I know what it is before I even turn and see it. Before I even yell at her to get out of the way. Everything goes in slo-mo, like God's messing around on his VCR. She's so close to me, but the car is so fast, so fast, and I scream, I run to her, but I'm not moving, I'm not moving at all and I shout at her, but she
doesn't answer, and for God's sake why can't I move -
"Xander!" I awaken with a jerk. She's still lying there, like I knew she would be, and she's got her eyes open, but she doesn't say anything. She can't see me. Then I realise she must have spoken, unless - Willow lays a hand on my shoulder and I jump. "Are you okay?"
"I'm great."
"Oh, it's so awful!" she cries suddenly, and sits down in the chair
beside me. She takes my hand, the one that isn't clutching Anya's. "She
knows you're here, Xander, I can feel it. She knows you love her."
Fly, fly precious one
Your endless journey has begun
Take your gentle happiness
Far too beautiful for this
Cross over to the other shore
There is peace forevermore
But hold this memory bittersweet
Until we meet
"Did they say if she would wake up?"
"Probably not."
"It's just so awful," Willow says again. "I mean, we live on the Hellmouth, demons and vampires abound, and to be killed by a car-"
"I get the irony, Will," I say. I know it's cold and I know it's harsh. But I don't want her sitting there moaning about how awful it was, and explaining how ironic it is because I'm Xander and I'm too dumb to get it. Well, I do get it. And I get that Willow never liked her, that she's a
hypocrite to be here, and that if another Scooby asks me how I'm feeling I may have to throw myself out of the hospital window.
The doctor strolls in and looks at Willow. She takes the hint and leaves. "No improvement," he says stoically. "She may not make it through the night." I guess he doesn't expect me to care, because this is the Hellmouth, as already noted, and people die every day. If it was a demon maybe I could reason that it was an occupational hazard. But a car, that's different. How
do you explain that? The doctor says nothing more and leaves. She's not going to wake up. I can feel it.
Fly, fly do not fear
Don't waste a breath, don't shed a tear
Your heart is pure, your soul is free
Be on your way, don't wait for me
Above the universe you'll climb
On beyond the hands of time
The moon will rise, the sun will set
But I won't forget
It's not goodbye. It's only 'till we meet again'. I don't believe any of that crap. This is goodbye, this is the end, this is where you get buried in the ground, or burned, and I never see you again. There's no higher plane, there's no heaven, no hell, and if there is, how do you know which one
you're eligible for? How do you know we'll end up in the same one? This isn't the Big Sleep, this is death, pure and simple, cold and cruel, and earlier than I'd imagined, but it's still death, it's all cold and cruel and sudden and sad, death, death, death.
The worse thing of all is the eyes. They're dead. Anya's not in there. She was a demon, she wielded the power of the wish for two millennia, and she finally lost it under the wheels of a car. What a crack. I know Willow wants to know how I'm going to cope, and you know what, I think I'll cope just fine. Who needs closure? Who needs funerals? Who needs to cling to the
strand of hope that says 'wait for me in heaven, we'll meet again, you're my angel and I love you'? Who needs goodbye?
Not me.
No tears, no wailing, no beating the wall or asking why. No goodbyes, no see-you-agains, no condolences and 'she was too young's and no flowers or wreaths or beautiful prayers read from leather bound books. Only earth and worms and the roots of trees and my beautiful girl on the flying trapeze. No watching from heaven, cause this is the end. No 'I loved her so much's. There'll be other girls, none of them like Anya. This is the end. No tears. I swear it.
Fly, fly little wing
Fly where only angels sing
Fly away, the time is right
Go now, find the light.