Title: Sailing No More

Author: S J Smith

Rating: K+

Summary: You're home.

Disclaimer: Arakawa owns all; I just play in her sandbox. Randy Newman owns the lyrics to "I Will Go Sailing No More", and I'm just borrowing them, too.

Out among the stars I sail,
way beyond the moon,
in my silver ship I sail,
a dream that ended too soon.

You're home.

It's been so long, so damned long, and you're finally home, appearing out of the wreckage of some strange ship, in a city beneath Central City, and I can't help but rush to give you a welcoming hug, even if you don't return it. It's okay, I know you've had to have been through a lot, especially once I see what's passing for auto-mail attached to your body, not to mention how much you must've missed Al. And there are so many things I want to tell you, but I know – I know you need to go after Al, and you can't do that with these ill-equipped prosthetics, not when I've got the real thing for you.

So I install your auto-mail – some of my best work – always my best work for you. I hear Sciezca's breathless whispers, maybe she's praying, I'm not sure, but I'm concentrating on you. On your scent, so familiar, and the way your hair gleams, even under this weird, low light. On the way you're so relaxed when I'm working on you, even though it's been years since the last time I installed your auto-mail. And your skin is still soft and supple; when you stretch your body slightly, I can see your muscles flex and move, and my mouth goes dry.

But I shake it off, because I need to make sure you're ready, that your auto-mail is perfectly attached, so you can go, and do whatever it is that needs doing. Stop this invasion, help Al, and then, then you can come back to me.

I let you go, and Sciezca's at my side. I don't know why, but my heart sinks a little bit as you run off. My hands twist together, almost of their own accord, and I close my eyes. You'll come back to me, I think, or maybe pray, or plea, even if there's no one to hear my thoughts but me.

You'll come back to me, I hope, even when I see the battle, continuing overhead.

But when I see the trail of smoke, I know you won't be coming home to me any more.

…now I know exactly who I am,
and what I'm here for,
and I will go sailing no more.

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