My Beta, Permanent Rose, is fantastic. Period.
Waking up at the start of the end of the world,
But it's feeling just like every other morning before,
Now I wonder what my life is going to mean if it's gone...
Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?
- Matchbox Twenty, How Far We've Come
Before.
Charlie looks up at the man standing before him. Charlie's face is a mask of utter disbelief, too stunned for a moment to form words. His jaw drops open, teeth beating uselessly against each other, his tongue too tied to form words.
"How long?" he finally sputters, staring up into the eyes of his old friend. His eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses, and Charlie is sure that if they weren't part of the uniform, his friend wouldn't wear them. The pollutants in the air had long since blocked out most of the sun's rays.
The two of them had been drinking buddies in college, the bond growing stronger over the years until they had formed a tight pact, a strong bond of equality. They had been best friends ever since, even when Jimmy moved up into the world of high government secrets, and Charlie stayed behind in the tiny town of Forks to start a family.
"You know this has been coming," his friend says gruffly. He leans down, over Charlie's midmorning cup of coffee, and whispers the words he knows Charlie least wants to hear. "The world is dying, my friend, and we're going to die along with it."
The shock of it all still affects Charlie. He feels like his ears are blocked, and that maybe by some mistake, he is mishearing. Sensing this, Jim pulls him to his feet and discreetly steps out the back door. Charlie does all he can to stay upright as he tumbles through the steel metal door.
"We're old," Jim friend says again, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. Charlie would normally put on a face mask to step outside, but since he knows his friend wouldn't lie to him, he doesn't see much point.
Jim leans against the red metal railing, and his eyes dart around at the scenery. There's not much to show for it - a plank of wood rising straight from the ground, small splinters splaying in opposite directions in some crazy dance. Charlie thinks for a moment. The word used to be "tree"; he's almost sure of it. There are a few of them around, but they have all been dead for a long time. His friend's gravelly voice brings him back to the present, wise with age and wisdom. "The world's old too, and tired, it seems. Can't really blame it though, can you?"
Yes. I can, Charlie thinks blankly. I can when my daughter's life is at stake.
"Yes," Charlie says aloud. His lips feel dry forming the words, and his lungs feel heavy. Maybe it's his heart; he can't be sure. His mind flashes back to the years before, when his beautiful baby was just a child. Taking her to movies, playing board games, the time he took her to The Park. The Park he remembers well. It was the only time in his life he'd seen trees and flowers, and his lovely daughter dancing around, her eyes bright and wide, had been more beautiful than all of the color that the indoor plaza possessed.
A single tear rolls down his cheek, and Jim politely pretends not to notice. The skies are darker than normal today, but Charlie can't be sure if it's meant to rain, or if the world is really going to end like his friend predicts.
"We're to blame," Jim says pointedly. Charlie shakes his head, but Jim seems to be speaking more for his own benefit. "We did this to ourselves."
"I didn't do this. I didn't do anything!" Charlie roars suddenly, the thought of his precious daughter filling every part of his being. He can feel her smiling, laughing, crying. He's seen her cry before, and he isn't going to let the last time she cries be in her dying breaths. His eyes dare to glance toward his friend's face, his own features contorted into a pleading cry. "There has to be something I can do for her!"
Charlie sinks to the ground then, the first time in a long time that he's felt the earth beneath him. "My baby." His words are like a low moan, pleading, begging. Bella, his only daughter, simply cannot die. "My baby."
His friend speaks up then, offering him a small piece of hope. "That's why I'm here, Charlie."
The moan is cut short, and Charlie's head snaps up to gaze curiously at his friend. There can't be an answer to his pain, even though he wants one so desperately.
"What?" Charlie whispers. "What can I do?"
Jim looks away as Charlie collects himself, pulling himself up to his feet to gaze at his friend. Jim's tone is professional as he explains the situation.
"There is life on Mars," Jim says carefully. Before Charlie can let out a laugh, Jim gives him a silencing glance. Charlie sobers up immediately; he can't let his daughter, his baby, die.
"There is life on Mars," Jim repeats again. He speaks slowly, as if he is talking to a child. Charlie hangs on every word. "Our life."
The sentence puzzles Charlie, and he waits quietly for Jim to continue.
"They've been working on it for a while, and it's part of my program. A top secret, if you will. Few are invited into it, and only the young, fit, and healthy are invited to go. That is, unless you're a doctor, an engineer, or," he pauses, "a cop."
Charlie breaks into an ecstatic smile. "Does that mean that Bella and I can go? That we'll be safe?"
Jim grimaces and looks away. A shimmer of light shines through the clouds – an echo of what used to be the sun. After a moment of drawn out silence, he shakes his head. "No, Charlie. Neither of you were chosen."
Anger surges through him, racing through his veins. His friend had given him momentary hope after telling him that the world would end, only to sting him with his biting words. He can't fight the anger in his tone as he spits venom at his old friend.
"Was that your idea of a joke?"
Surprisingly, Jim shakes his head. His face is level with Charlie now, and he lifts his chin up in defiance.
"You are going to die, Charlie," he says patiently. "You and I will both die very soon. The question is, do you want to save your daughter?"
The answer is simpler than breathing. Charlie nods fervently.
Jim smiles, a sad smile, and glances to the ghost of the sun. "I thought so. Come with me, and we'll find a way to get her on this damn ship, even if it takes all night."
Charlie scratches his head. He is full of questions, but he holds some back as they make their way toward Charlie's old truck. "When does it leave?"
Jim pauses midstride; the question takes him by surprise for a moment. When he finally answers, it is brief and blunt.
"Tomorrow."
Author Note: Just a start. Let me know - is it worth continuing? There's not much, and more will be revealed later, but review if you like it!