Series: Oban: Star-Racers
Fanfiction: Blue Skies
Chapter One: The Aftermath
Disclaimer: I wish I owned OSR. But, if I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction.
Summary: It's been a year. Friends and enemies, some new and some old. Is she really up for another run- or does she even have a choice?
---------
The race ended, she had won, but such a win would feel so empty after she had denied Satis from crowning her Avatar, feeling lost without Aikka, believing him to be dead only to have him return with the news that -she had no choice- but to become the Avatar and leave them all, climb the stairs to the Temple of the Heart, watch as O died to save the three of them, the entire Kanaletto ordeal, and -Jordan had loved her-.
No, more then that. Jordan had loved her enough to give his life for her, to save her from Kanaletto, to let her live on, to continue living, to be protected by his watchful eye and steady hand and Aikka's magical bow, because sometimes, giving up your opprotunity to save your loved ones would later kill you inside.
The Creators had never had a Human Avatar to teach, little lone one so much in love. Even Jordan was suprised by how well he had taken the transistion. but saving Molly, protecting Molly, keeping her happy was the only thing Jordan could ask for- he was otherwise entirely selfless. But his entity revolved around his precious Molly- even the floating temple had modified itself to bring about his memories of her.
He could wish it didn't remind him so much of Earth when he looked out onto the Oban landscape.
While the Creators did not understand his feeling of love, they understood that everything led back to the human girl Molly...Eva...whatever her name was, and he was determined to protect what she dearly loved, be that the Earth and that Nourasian prince...
But even if it had been the Crog Empire, for Molly, Jordan would save it. For Molly, anything was possible...except the one thing she had wanted the most.
Her mother.
Now that he was the Avatar, Jordan knew things. Things no living man should ever know...but..he was no longer a man. He was some sort of divine being climbing the ladder closer to being God.
But the Avatar wasn't God. God could have brought back Maya for Molly...but, not being God, and not knowing God personally, but knowing him well enough to know that he certantly wouldn't bring back a superficial human racer simply because fate had been undone...
There was little Jordan could do for her on that march.
He couldn't call her Eva, either. To him, that just wasn't her name...
It was perminately Molly, impressed onto his tounge and his mind and every string of magic he wove through his fingers, fate dancing before him like composing a waltz, and he loved it.
The Creators had told him he could not undue the past. Jordan wouldn't have wanted to if he could- if he undid the past, if he saved Maya, Molly would not have exsisted, Don Wei would never have been in the Great Race of Oban, and he would never have been here.
He would have never met the greatest pilot he'd ever seen, he would have never had the chance to hold or, or woke with his arms wrapped around her body, or tease her Prince Charming, or run the turrets in the Wizzing Arrow, all of them.
It had never occered to Jordan until after they had all left that he had been the only one who had ridden in all three racers, three times with Rick, twice on the track and one 'designing' the unusual lightningbolt pattern the Avatar sensed would become his signiture.
Rick couldn't race again, thanks to the accident caused by Kanaletto. As soon as he had become Avatar, he had wanted to help him, but the Creators said no...
Jordan had felt like screaming, he didn't deserve it, he didn't, he deserved peace!
They all did, Jordan concluded...but he would never have it. Fate decided he could never have Molly... she would die long before he stopped being Avatar, the closer he grew to her in such a relationship would only hurt him further.
He was having a hard enough time convincing himself that even dear Prince Aikka would make her happy. He didn't want to believe anyone could have her but himself...but that option no longer exsisted.
Molly didn't belong to him, he determined, he could love her and protect her from Oban, but he could not have her, he could not touch her or calm her when Don Wei went ballistic, or save her from falling to her doom in the Housing Modules, and he could. Not. Have. Her.
But he never managed to stop wanting to.
The aftermath of the Great Race left him getting one of those poofy blue -cute- things. He could barely pronounce the name of the race, but assured himself that after about fifty million years he would understand enough of his changes to fall into sync with the rest of the universe.
But, of course, he only had ten thousand, and he prayed he would learn his place far sooner then that. Of course, it felt odd to be thanking the Avatar, now that he was the man in question.
He decided to retain his thanks from any higher power, and instead often directed them to the still-worn dogtags of himself and his grandfather. Mostly, they were directed to his Grandfather, asking for strength and Guidance if he didn't already have it.
The Creators only helped so much before they got annoyed by the far off look in his eyes and the stark changes to their precious world.
Rick couldn't race, Jordan mused, instead, he had begun teaching Molly and others, winged under the grand cash reserve of Don Wei. Perhaps the world was not so bad.
Stan and Koji went back to work, everyone seemed to slip back into a routine as if none of this had ever happenned. The thought had saddenned Jordan...there would never be the red carpet treatment, and to the entire world, Jordan C. Wilder was dead.
What was ironic was that Jordan attended his own funeral.
His precious Molly, the dear mechanics Stan and Koji, the ace Rick, and the glue that held them all together, Don, did not.
He remembered trying to comfort friends and family, his mother most of all, but none could see him, and his words were whispers among the wind, and his touch that of a ghost.
The Creators informed him that only those who believed in the Avatar would see him. Unfortunately, his mother still believed in Buddah.
Among the collection of things around his temple, a set of prayer beads sat. His mothers, a spare set she had always kept, that she had consequently gone looking for on news of his 'death'.
The only good thing about his entire funeral was that he had gotten full military honors and a entity of salutations. Even the president had popped up, if abit briefly.
The truth would never be known on Earth. There had been a cleaver cover up, the Crog's had lain down their weaponry peacefully according to claim.
It had been the transfer that had demolished control systems in the ships between Crog and Earth. The ships nearby Nourasia had also gone haywire, and eventually everyone had retreated. Jordan would have been contented to blow up all the Crog's in the world, but that wasn't a Avatar's job, and it really had nothing to do with Molly.
Jordan needed to stop thinking so much, he was making himself sadder with every passing moment.
I hope you relise the gift I've given you, Aikka. Take care of her... Jordan had thought, watching the egg-shaped ships take off to deliver them to their homes. His skin had been tingling since the change, but he knew well that he was crying for her.
Fate had been changed. The Creators had gotten Jordan as opposed to their promised Eva, they had been angry indeed, but Jordan had only been saddenned, what ifs flooding his mind at the time.
If Molly had of become the Avatar, Jordan and Aikka probably would have never left Oban. They'd have stayed there, watching her. Eventually the pair would have grown older, and eventually they would have died, and Molly would have lived on.
Jordan let out a string of curses that apparently needed to be the same word to instill any fluency in the art of insulting a wall, a human fist punching hard stone.
It did real little to either portion of the arrangement. Jordan's skin still tingled...
He seriously hoped Aikka appriciated Molly. He hoped he loved her as much as Jordan wished he could, and he hoped that, in time, Molly would move on.
Somehow, blantedly telling Molly he loved her while falling to the end of his life as a human had never been in the intended plans.
"Molly..."
The thoughts that come to you, when the aftermath of what you've done settles and real life begins again.
Jordan hoped he wouldn't hate his entire ten thousand years.
To think, it hadn't even been more than a single short Earth year.