Turning Blues to Black
by Now With More Fiber
Chapter 1: Coming Home
"Jet... the girls are gone again."
Spike's words were all it took for his will and energy to leave him. He let
out a deep sigh, and his body slumped as if in defeat.
Somehow, though, he had known it would come to this. When Faye had last returned
to the ship, her eyes had changed; she had looked at him with those new eyes,
a shade of green mixed from sorrow, resignation, and patience. The last time
he'd seen that change in a woman's eyes, it was the look she gave him just before
she was gone.
*****
Faye could feel the hard ground cooling
underneath her skin as dusk gathered. A light wind whispered across the barren
hilltop where her house had once stood, scattering dust and torn leaves. Soft
strands of hair brushed against her face as she stared at the reddening sky.
So this is home. She wanted to laugh - or cry, or both - but lacked the
strength. Her body was weightless and empty. It looks like I'm a gypsy again.
But even gypsies had traveling companions.
She turned onto her side, and let the breeze run its chill fingers over her
back.
*****
Spike sat in silence, absentmindedly
twirling the stem of a pinwheel between his fingers. Children and animals...
they know where they should be, and they simply go there. Why is it taking me
so long to do the same...? Maybe, as people collect more memories, they become
bogged down and lose their sense of direction.
But Faye's just as directionless as me, even without her memory. What on
earth is she trying to find?
His thoughts were interrupted by the metallic ring of Jet's footsteps as he
came down the hall into the livingroom. Even the sound of his boots on the floor
conveyed aim and determination. Thump. Thump. His feet landed heavily on the
short flight of stairs as he descended and strode past Spike to pick up a large
canvas coat.
"I'm going out for a while," he stated flatly as he slipped his metal
arm into one of the sleeves, "...going to go get some fresh air before
it gets too cold."
Spike grunted noncommittally in response, gazing at the pinwheel, spinning it
slowly with one finger. He guided it through one revolution, two, three... Looking
up, he saw that Jet's face was hard and drawn, and he avoided his eyes. Another
turn of the pinwheel; the sound of canvas and paper shifting, and Spike was
alone in the room again.
The ship hummed and creaked as Jet opened the hangar bay doors and readied the
Hammerhead for takeoff.
Jet, when someone finds their wings, you can't stop them from flying, no
matter how hard you try. You know that, right?
He spun the pinwheel around
one last time, then stood.
*****
Jet remembered complaining that nothing
good came from Earth any more. He'd forgotten about the sunsets.
The sky was slashed with blood red and blazing orange as the sun touched the
edge of the hills by the bay. On the eastern horizon, a soft purple haze lay
beneath the first of the evening's stars.
He flew low and slow, trying to believe he was out for pleasure. His eyes kept
falling to the land, scanning it carefully... Had this been Mars, he surely
would have worried about disrupting traffic or bothering the citizenry.
But what sort of people wandered this ghost of a city, while darkness snaked
its cold fingers down the streets? Here and there, he spied deep indentions
in the earth where small meteors had eaten away at the landscape. Most had taken
bites out of streets or parks, but here and there was a house - or group of
houses - that had been more unfortunate.
Shadows grew longer and softer; hollow windows filled with dim purple. The sky
overhead had become a deep magenta, banded in the west with pink and silver
grey. Soon he might find himself trying to navigate by starlight.
His bulky ship turned, hovering over a ruined neighborhood that had once been
quite affluent. He spotted overgrown gardens; rusted luxury cars, caved-in tile
roofs and wide circular driveways. Swinging the Hammerhead around in a wide
arc, he surveyed the ruin in the same manner he might have a destroyed Greek
temple. How soon material wealth vanishes. Human folly destroyed by more
human folly.
There, in the middle of a narrow street, was Faye's Redtail. The last rays of the evening sun slid over the clear surface of the empty monopod. She can't be far...
His ice-blue eyes focused on a desolate
hilltop; across the crumbling skeleton of a mansion; across groaning iron gates;
across a prone form, curled inside a rectangle carefully etched in the dirt.
He hesitated only a moment before deploying his landing gear.
*****
To be continued in Chapter 2
Notes from the whole grain author:
Yay, the beginning of a multi-chapter fic like you guys asked for. The only
reason I didn't make the last 2 multis was because they were so far apart in
theme/feel & time. This one takes place over episodes 24-26 (so you know
what that means ;_;).
NOTES:
* Earth in 2071 would probably have some spectactular sunsets, what with all
the dust being kicked into the lower atmosphere by the meteorites and all. Don't
you think so?
What's that? I'm a detail freak? ...
Well ... Yeah.