A/n: I want to dedicate this story to Nuuoa Eclaire and her awesome writing. I can only hope this comes even close to her awesomeness at writing. I just want to say Happy Birthday too, even though it's kinda late. Hope you enjoyed your day! Luv, Becky :)
He could still feel the soft, soothing feel of her flowered summer dress between his fingers, sliding between the creases. The smell of strawberries encompassed him, lingering in the hazy city air even long after she was gone. Her voice, lilting and kind, tickled his eardrum, warm and summery. She had made him think he could save the world, even though in truth, he was as frail and weak at the sound of her voice as any mortal was.
Yet she had believed in him, and he had drawn from her strength to make it his own. He was nothing alone, but with her by his side, they had made it in the world where love was scorned and manipulated. That summer had been the best in his life; and even though she was gone, he still had the memories…
Gentle laughter resounded through the glade, seeping through the cracks of the rocks that bordered the stream, joining the water to trickle slowly around the bend. On the riverbank two people sat on a picnic blanket, enjoying the quiet nature, but mostly lost in each other's eyes. The woman wore a short summer dress that reached just below her knees, showing off her slender legs. Her fiery hair was swept back in curls that tumbled down her back like ripples in the water. Green eyes that reflected the forest surrounding them shone in delight as her companion presented her with a golden locket.
"It's beautiful," she breathed as he placed it into her cupped hands. Her fingers closed into a fist over it, and she looked up into his chocolate eyes with a tiny smile. "Would you put it on for me?" she asked. He nodded, and reached around to clasp it around her creamy-skinned neck. Inhaling the scent of her perfume, he smelled strawberries and cream, a scent that would dwell in his mind for years after. He leaned back to see it on her. It sparkled next to her creamy neck, and he noticed a wild curl snagged in its golden chain. Sweeping a hand to free it, he caused a smile to tug at the corner of her full rosy lips.
"You're beautiful," he murmured. It was the truth; in the dappled light of the noonday sun, with the shadows casting dappled stripes across her face, she looked like a goddess of the wild. Wind swept across the clearing, caressing her cheek and scattering her curls across her shoulders. Leaning back, hands sprawled out to hold her up, she sighed in contentment.
"Don't you wish this could last forever?" she asked quizzically, grinning at him, flashing pearls in the sunlight. There was something in her smile that bothered him though, perhaps the sad glimmer in her eyes that told him she was intelligent enough to know that it couldn't happen. Or perhaps it was the way her smile didn't last that long, but faded into a mournful line, a clue that she may have had a premonition that that their calm, serene lives would be shattered very soon.
He still wished he had had some type of warning. Anything to help him possibly prevent the following events. He wished he hadn't had to learn vital life lessons the hard way.
"I wish that you could always be happy," he answered. She looked startled, and then pleased. "I am whenever I'm with you," she said. "And that'll never change, no matter what."
They were quiet for a few moments, basking in the enjoyment of each other's company. Theresa's hand crawled over the red chequered blanket towards his, and then discreetly intertwined with his, her soft fingers within his strong calloused ones. Birds trilled sweetly in the surrounding trees, and the brook babbled a love song. Grass swayed in the wind, and his tawny bangs flounced across his chocolate brown eyes.
Suddenly she spoke. "Jay, I want you to know that no matter what, I'll always love you. I just want you to know that."
"I'll always love you too, Resa." The answer was automatic and true; he didn't need to think about his feelings for her. Her smile, her caring, her love of all things full of life and vibrancy; it all made up the woman he knew and loved. Forever was a long time, but he could read it in her eyes, and he knew that it indeed was possible to do adore someone with your whole soul for eternity.
They smiled at one another, one with the painful knowledge of the future, but a desperate hope, and another with the sweet bliss of ignorance, but both very much in love.
All too soon he yawned and stretched, climbing slowly to his feet. "We should be going," he said regretfully. Her eyes dimmed for a moment, but then seemed to shine with a fallacious glimmer. He thought she was happy, simply sad at the prospect of their parting for a while. Crawling slowly to her feet, she accepted his hand and began to stroll along the creek bank with him. Her dress fluttered about her slender legs like the wings of a bird in the wind, and her curls tumbled along her curvaceous back. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her tiny, erudite smile, the green eyes that were as deep and mysterious as the creatures hiding in the trees around them.
"I wish summer could last forever," she said suddenly, and then fell into silence. The feeling of her hand in his and his rapidly pounding heart informed the owner that he agreed very much with her statement, but right then he didn't have the words to say it. He had caught the brooding frown line between her eyes, and he wondered if he must have imagined it. Within a second it had disappeared, and he shook his head. It couldn't have been real.
Looking back now, he knew he should have seen it coming; the clues had been right under his nose. But when they say love is blind, they understand the truth. Love for her had blinded him to the fact that he would one day have to say good-bye. Love for her had disillusioned him about her always being happy, even though she could see glimpses of dark futures within her mind. But he had never contemplated the fact that she knew her own, and it was as dismal as the wilted rose in spring.
Finally, he found the words he had been searching for. "I do to," he managed. She gave him a pitiful smile. "You have no idea."
He wanted to ask what she meant, but then she pulled him closer to her and wrapped her lithe arms around his neck. Surprised by the hasty reaction, he barely had any breath when she kissed him. He had to pull away first to gulp in air. She said nothing, simply buried her head against his chest and inhaled the milder scent of his cologne.
When she looked up at him, he swore he noticed tears glimmering like stars in her large green eyes. Then she spoke. "It's my turn to give you my gift."
"I didn't even know you were giving me…" His voice trailed off as she took out a pair of scissors from the purse she always wore strapped around her waist, full of all the necessities you could need in everyday life. Usually her premonitions let her know what she would need for the day, and it was so in this case.
Snipping off a lock of her long fiery hair, she pressed it into his palm and kissed him, long and sweetly. He tasted strawberries and softness and summer and, amazingly, the wind and the trees. As soon as they parted, he joked, "Did you use that magic lip balm Persephone gave you for Christmas?"
She grinned, nodding. "It's your favourite," she whispered, squeezing his broad calloused hand tightly. "Keep that close," she said softly, indicating the lock of hair she had given him. She opened her purse again and took out a locket, which she then clasped around his neck. Opening it, she took the hair and locked it inside. She patted his chest. "And don't ever forget that no matter what, I'm with you in spirit, and I love you. That will never change, so don't let your guilt and anger control your life. And ...it's okay to cry."
He was still baffled by her actions. They were as strange to him as an exotic tiger pacing her cage, fur rippling over supple muscles.
"Why…"
"You'll understand later, when I'm…" she stopped abruptly, kissing him on the check, her plump lips brushing against his cheek as lightly as a feather.
"Let's go home," she whispered. "But, let's take the highway."
He shook his head irritably, the long day and sunburn getting to his nerves. "It takes too long."
"Jay…"
"Theresa. I'm driving, so I say we're taking the back way."
She didn't answer.
"Resa, let's just get home, okay?"
Jay sighed as he leaned back against the broad trunk of the oak that shaded the cemetery. They had never gotten home.
Brakes squealed as the car swerved to avoid the toddler who had stumbled into the road. A scream shattered the air as it hit the guardrail and she was pitched out of her seat, careening over the cliff. Then everything went black. But before that, he remembered seeing her face; it had been calm and not at all surprised, as though she knew what would happen all along. That's when he realized the scream had been his own.
As soon as he woke up in the white-walled hospital, the memories of the accident came flooding back to him, painful and fresh, like the stab of a knife. Then grief's blanket swathed him, and he wept openly. After so many years of trying to protect her from a god and his monsters, it had been his own stupidity that had been the end of her. His pride, the way he had always had to be right. He should have listened; wasn't she the one with the knowledge of the future? Yet she had accepted her fate, like a lamb to the slaughter. Why? Because she had accepted the things she couldn't change, all because he had been too stubborn to do so. Would taking a different route have been such a difficult thing? No, but it may have saved her life.
Rage filled him; he should have died, not her. He deserved to. Sitting up, a wave of pain engulfed him, and he felt vile crawling up his throat. He dropped back, wincing at the pain that tingled in his back.
A woman bustled into the room, flustered and not kept, her black curls flying wildly around her big brown eyes. "Jay! Oh my gods, Jay!" she shrieked. "My baby boy!"
He groaned and closed his eyes. "Mom, just leave me alone," he growled, his anger at himself seeping through his words to hurt her as well. But she was not going to give in so easily.
"Why, so you can rot in your grief?" Without another word, she handed him a necklace. Fingers trembling, he opened the locket, knowing what he was going to see: A large tendril of fiery hair, shining in the soft light of the hospital room.
"Where did you get this?" he murmured angrily. Nobody deserved to have held such a precious memento but him; after all, she had been his life.
"I found it at the site of the accident," she said softly. "I knew it was either your or hers, and you'd want to have it nonetheless. Then, "They found her body. They say it was a miracle. They didn't even believe she was dead: there wasn't a scratch on her."
The gods blessed her in that at least, he thought bitterly, clenching his fists. Too bad they couldn't think to save her.
Her words came back to him, a soft whisper in the breeze of existence: "And don't ever forget that no matter what, I'm with you in spirit, and I love you. That will never change, so don't let your guilt and anger control your life. And …it's okay to cry." The words made sense now, and he clutched the locket as though it had the strength to help him heal. It wasn't her body that made her Theresa, but the soul that he had often seen revealed in her eyes. It was that same soul that would be with him forever, in his memories of summer love and summer hugs and summer caresses. The part that had made her caring and sly and witty and generous; he had it all in the memoirs of the things she had done ever since he had known her. Suddenly he felt a more at peace, as though the fragments of him that had scattered in the gusts were gradually fitting back together by the recollections of her, and everything she stood for: love, summer, peace, and harmony in a world of hate and war, and intelligence.
Looking up at his concerned mother through sad, tired eyes, he saw the same fire in hers that he had seen in Theresa's. Finally, he opened his arms for a hug, ignoring the pain in his back as she embraced him. Burying his head into her firm shoulder, he began to cry tears of anguish, anger, and most of all… healing.
Even now, at the memory of that moment, an older Jay shook with sadness, but the sadness that replaced anger. Whenever he thought of getting angry and blaming someone, he remembered her words. Because she had known that as soon as he was done shaking his fists at the gods, he would grow weary of it, and slump down into the only mode of mourning he had left: blaming himself.
Shaking his head wryly, he grinned. She knew him too well. Gradually, after months of therapy and recalling Theresa's famous words. They had helped him survive through the last years, when he had given up hope of ever moving on. But the more he remembered her words, the more he cried. And the more he cried, the more strength and peace he experienced.
Grass crinkled as the gray-haired old man shifted his weight. The birds' chirping had grown softer, and the world around him blurry. Seventy-two years had passed since the accident, wonderful years full of nieces and nephews and grand-nieces and nephews and great-grand nephews and nieces. He had experienced the joys of birth and the warmth of friends, strength in his days of need, which had been many. But even more consoling had been her words of pledge: "I'm with you in spirit, and I love you."
Sighing in ease, he shifted again, closing his eyes to nap. Time passed, until he heard a worried voice. "Uncle Jay, wake up. Uncle Jay!" Opening his eyes, he said grumpily, "What, Teresa? I'm awake. Geez, just like your great… grand-mother. Atlanta never could let me sleep."
But the worried young woman didn't hear him. Her vibrant red hair was ruffled, and her hazel eyes were worried. She turned to her best friends, other great-grandchildren of the aged heroes. "He's not waking up!" she cried in a panic. Then there was a flurry of hands and shouting. Cell phones were grabbed from purses and numbers dialled. "Hello, this is Teresa… oh who in Hades cares what my last name is? I'm at the New Olympia Cemetery, with an elderly man who isn't breathing! Get an ambulance here quickly, please!" her voice faded to a choked sob.
Suddenly Jay understood what had happened. He had died, again. He was as translucent as the wind, and he blended into the scenery, watching his family cry over his dead body. Teresa stood with her back to the others, shoulders shaking. Greg, another family member, stood beside her, rubbing her shaking shoulders.
"He loved a good life, and he was really old. You couldn't keep him forever," he said softly, and she sniffled.
"I know, but I remember the summers we spent fishing together and going to the carnival. I wish those summers had lasted forever."
Jay felt a lump form in his throat. He had wanted the same thing for so long; he understood how she felt. Suddenly, as though she had just considered it, she dug into her pocket and brought out a dollar. Making sure no questioning eyes were watching, she slipped it into his mouth, a ritual her Grecian adopted uncle had taught her.
"Jay," a voice murmured. "It is time." It was the voice of Fate, calling him to terms, but he didn't hear the slithering voice like that of a snake. He heard the sweet, innocent whisper of Theresa, calling him home. He nodded, submitting to her whims, and suddenly they were in the Underworld. Fate and her hellhounds surrounded him, but he made no move to escape her control like last time.
A diaphanous green mist swirled across the River Styx, and Charon grudgingly took Jay's dollar in hand. He turned away in disgust, muttering incoherently about not being paid enough, and began to guide the boat along the polluted river. As they descended deeper into the Underworld, the years shed from his shoulders like skin from a snake, unfurling and dropping away to be left behind for good. Gray hair darkened back to a dark chestnut brown, tawny bangs framing clear, alert brown eyes. His stooped back straightened, and he could feel a pleasant tingling sensation as he grew taller. Facial hair dissipated, and he was as clean shaven as a baby once more.
"That feels good," he sighed. Charon harrumphed, Fate said nothing, and Jay had the giddy thought that these two really needed a party. The anticipation of being in Elysian Fields was making him feel extremely cheerful, as though he had discarded his sorrows as well as his age. He stretched and yawned, cracking his knuckles. Fate winced and glared at him, sightless yellow eyes narrowed.
"Would you stop that?" she snapped, before turning away and muttering, "I hate when they always do that."
Jay grinned mischievously. He repeated it, and laughed as the servant of the gods jumped, startled. She leaned forward, placing a pleading hand placed on Charon's arm. "Can this thing go any faster?" she begged. He turned and stared at her monotonously, his hand snaked out to grab anymore money she could provide. She slapped the hand away and sat back, scowling. "You greedy old hag," she spat. "You don't think I'm that desperate, do you?"
Jay cracked his knuckles once again, and she but her lip. "Stupid teenagers," she muttered. "Spiteful brats."
He rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He thought she was going to scream in frustration. Mirth twinkled in his once grief-stricken eyes, and he grinned. "I bet you can't wait to be rid of me."
She stared at him wearily. "Another mind-reader?" He froze. Of course. Theresa had taken this exact route, seventy-two years ago. She hadn't had to be rid of so many years of her life, but he was sure she had been made more youthful, brought back to the best years of her life. He would get to see her soon; the thought of this made him eager to discontinue his merciless teasing of Fate and get to King Minos.
Finally, the boat bumped against shore, and he was so excited that he helped Fate out of the boat. Being a hero, he received special treatment, being permitted to go to the front of the line and be judged instead of waiting for a log time for his fate to be determined. Besides, he knew where he was going.
As he slipped past all the people, some young and happy like him, others terrified and shaking. Podgy King Minos stared at him through large black eyes and banged his gavel. "Eternity in Elysian Fields," he said dully, and Jay could have sworn he was bored of his job already. The last thing he thought before everything faded away was that the while procedure reminded him of an assembly line at the airport.
Suddenly Elysian Fields came into view, and he blinked. Sunlight streamed over the paved pathways of the garden-like place. He sniffed the air and smelled lavender and roses. A pattering of feet resounded off the ground, and he looked up to see a beautiful young woman running towards him, arms outstretched.
"Jay!" she shrieked. "You're finally here!" She bounded into his arms, and he twirled her around, her hair flying around them. Her green eyes shone in joy, and she grabbed his hands and squeezed them, as though to make sure he was really there.
He swept his hand along her fine cheek bones, and then kissed her. Her lips were warm and soft, just like he had remembered them. Everything was once again perfect in his world. She was with him, body and soul, and they would be together forever.
They broke apart, and he smiled at her. "It's just like those summers that we used to spend together," he whispered, kissing her nose, and stroking her cheek tenderly.
She grinned at him, eyes sparkling. "Except this is forever, Jay; our forever summer."