Fic: Come in Closer
Author: Danielle Anderson
Rating: eventual...M, I think
Pairing: Eventual Jon/OFC, mentions of Jon/Pilot
Disclaimer: If I owned Captain Power, it would've been marketed better
A/N: The title comes from a song of the same name by Blue October. A prequel of sorts to "Jennifer, my Jennifer".
He lies quietly on the uncomfortable bunk bed in a dimly lit room in the Passages. It is St. Stephen's Day– just the day after she died.
Right now, his mind is empty and he is almost too tired to think. His eyes are red from crying; he has cried so much in the past hours that he thinks he can never cry again. His weary eyes are fixed on the soft light on the wall opposite to him. He imagines this light to be some kind of alluring, luminous flame, the kind that moths are attracted to. He numbly relates this dim light to the bright flames of the explosion he saw transmitted to the Jumpship several hours ago.
She had been the moth. And those had been the flames.
He cannot close his eyes and go to sleep, no matter how tired he is. He keeps watching the light with red eyes and somewhere, in the back of his mind, he can still hear her voice telling him that he must stay away and that she loved him.
He is still choked up with the words that he was unable to say before. They still don't come.
He hears murmurs outside and he finds that he doesn't care if the ones who are speaking outside are those who are worried about him or those who want to kill him. There is a good chance that Dread's monsters have tracked them down but he does not care. He does not care if it is Soaron or Blastarr waiting outside to kill or preferably, digitize him, so that Overmind can access his memories and find out all the precious secrets that she died to keep.
He wonders if her death was sudden and painless or scorching and slow. Did she catch fire and roll around screaming as the flames crept into her flesh, making her wish that she hadn't chosen manual destruct? Did she die with her eyes shut or open?
Finally, he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.
And he dreams.
*
So sad, so sad, they all say. How brave she was to have sacrificed herself like that, to have defied the machine with her last breath. Pity that she died so young; her loss would be greatly felt.
He listens to these empty condolences without making any comments. Why are they sorry? he wonders. They never knew her; some of them had met her only once or twice. She was mostly just a face to them, giving them hope about the victory of mankind over the Biodread Empire.
Pilot is dead (this is the first time he has admitted this to himself) and victory is just hard to achieve but when it comes, how many will remember her more than a soldier, a young girl, a martyr? How many of them will remember her long golden hair, the sweetness of her smile, wonder and determination in her blue eyes, and that she loved him? How will history remember her? A martyr among countless who had given their lives for the end of the Lord Dread's rule?
Hawk's voice breaks into his thoughts. He looks up to see the older man looking down at him in concern. He eyes Hawk carefully. He has aged. There are lines on his face and around his eyes. In a few more years, he won't be in shape to keep fighting this losing battle.
The younger man wonders if this is how Hawk had pictured his life. A rebel on the run, so to speak, fighting in a war with man against machine. Hawk's wife , daughter and son are long gone. Does he ever miss them, think about them, wish things were different?
They are so busy these days that they hardly have the time to talk and mostly, they are guarded with their feelings like pirates are with treasure. What good are feelings if you are hunted down like a dog for them?
He absently stares at the older man, until he hears again, or rather, sees the other's lips move to pronounce his name - "Jon."
Jon nods lightly at Hawk. "I'm fine."
What a trivial question to ask somebody at a time like this but what else could one say?
*
They have just moved into their new base in the Arctic Circle, two months after the destruction of their former home. After taking shelter in the Passages, charging their power suits at Dread's stations and acting like guerrillas, they are finally happy to have a stable home.
The soldiers are moving things, both professional and personal, into the place and Jon stands supervising, a hen watching over its chicks.
There isn't much to arrange since they lost most of their belongings in the explosion, Jon notices bitterly.
He wanders into an empty room in the base, the room where she would have stayed if she were still...around. Again, he thinks of how history will remember her. That depends strictly on which side wins, of course. He imagines the page of a history text book (he did so love that subject in school) with a short paragraph on the life of Corporal Jennifer Chase, complete with a picture (if one could be found). What would the photo be like? A young blonde girl, not even twenty-one, hair loose, full of promise but had died before she could fulfil that promise.
And all this time, everything I fought for was in vain.
It is too sad, really.
He falls against the wall suddenly, darting out his hand to brace himself. Heaving, he finds that he can't breathe because of sadness. It's like the walls are closing in on him and for an instant, he will willing to let them, willing to give himself over to the eternal darkness because he is tired, oh so tired, of fighting, fighting, fighting.
He wants to be shut in a comforting, dark grave where he will never ever have to worry about who lives and who dies, or how many people are depending on him.
He thinks again. He finds the strength to push away the walls and stand up like a child who is just learning to use his legs. He breathes the sweet refreshing air but he can't say that he is glad to be alive.
A/N: Please let me know what you think :)