Disclaimer: We do not own Unwind or "This is the Future," by Neal Shusterman and Owl City respectively.

Genre: Romance with the tiniest traces of Hurt/Comfort


This is the Future: Connor and Risa

The dreamy twinkle of notes is carried across the silent horizon by a gently cooling breeze, an uncommon phenomenon in the Arizona desert.

Connor looks up from his papers at his desk. The pale yellow moon peeks through a thin veil of stars, each sparkling in time to the rhythm of the notes. The natural light, streaming in through the window, illuminates his work with a soft glow that supplements the lamp's radiance. A sigh, half irritated and half amused, escapes him as pushes the chair back.

Only Risa would be playing at such a late hour. He smiles wanly and stretches backwards, hearing satisfying cracks run down his spine. He forces himself out of his drowsy stupor and finally manages to summon the willpower to get up and stroll out of his battered cargo plane, a far cry from the Admiral's Air Force One.

His dark blue shirt flutters in the wind as he weaves through the Graveyard's assortment of sand-crusted airplanes, getting closer and closer to the source of the music. Finally, he walks up the steps leading to the raised platform, the keyboard illuminating the way with its light-up keys.

Soft brown curls graze the curve of Risa's cheek. Her eyes are shut in a strange mixture of concentration and relaxation as her body, limited as it is, acts as a medium for the whimsical melody, swaying back and forth with the electronic tone of the keyboard. Her lips are pressed together as she hums to the words surely flitting across the darkness behind her eyelids.

Smiling, Connor makes an effort to pad as silently as possible over to her. The cold metal, a harsh reminder of her wheelchair, burns his left hand as his right rests on her shoulder. She doesn't make a sound, but Connor can tell she noticed his presence by the subtle flutter of her eyelashes. He listens silently. The song has a distinctly whimsical feel, each note laced with a shimmering quality. She leans into the keyboard, caressing the last few chords with a tenderness typically reserved for Connor.

Finally, she straightens up in her wheelchair and swivels to face him. Her luminous brown eyes face him, and the corners of her lips tug into the smile she was named for.

He licks his dry lips and clears his throat. "So, why are you up so late tonight? Everyone else is already in bed."

"Just feeling a little restless." Risa's hands, elegant from years of classical piano training, lift awkwardly in a gesture of helplessness. Her eyes follow him, trying to gauge his motives for coming after her tonight. "Why are you here?"

"I think I'm allowed to investigate who's causing all the ruckus."

Her eyebrows rise in mock anger. "Are you insulting my playing? That's low, Connor, even for you."

He laughs, full yet quiet. Leaning over, he manages to give her a quick peck on the cheek. "Anything bothering you?" His warm breath tickles the inner folds of her ear, eliciting a rare giggle from Risa.

"I'm fine. Frankly, I'm more worried about you." The words have barely left her mouth when Connor's face abruptly darkens, shadows suddenly aging his face a decade.

He shrugs wearily, forcing a chuckle. "Nothing new."

Risa frowns and places a comforting yet firm hand on his. "You can tell me anything. You know that."

Connor's mouth opens. "I-" Another weak chuckle, and he tries again. "No, I know. Really, I'm fine."

His expression remains unreadable as she searches him, concerned. When did his face become so drained? "Risa, don't worry. It's late, and we should really be getting to bed."

He turns away, his worn sneakers making a dull thump as he trudges across the platform. Risa grits her teeth in frustration as she watches his receding back. Once upon a time, she would have chased after him and pulled him into a vicious headlock. Those days at the Ohio State Ward 23 guaranteed that. But now, the numbness of her entire lower body dragged her down, music her only escape.

"Connor! Get back here!"

She feels utterly helpless as he looks back at her, angrily perched at the top of the ramp leading up to the platform. A sad, sorry excuse for a smile crosses his face as he shakes his head, and continues to walk away.

"Connor! You idiot, why are you- ergh, Connor!"

This time, he doesn't even pause.

-x-

Hah. As if it's even possible to fall asleep nowadays. Already, he finds himself in front of the plane that serves as his office. Sometimes, when his mind wanders, he wonders how someone as old as the Admiral had managed to run this place without cracking under the pressure, the demands. He can only sigh as he plods up the stairs, already imagining himself flipping halfheartedly through the stacks of papers, piles of bills, job offers, and profiles of the residents of the Graveyard crushing him and his rickety desk.

He rubs his forehead, futilely trying to ward off an inevitable headache, and begins to immerse himself back into his work.

He's not sure just how long he spends working, but at some point, he becomes aware of a familiar melody breaking through the dreary drone of silence in his ears. The mood is hopeful, and eerily so as the moon embarks on its journey back down to the edge of the horizon.

A voice, haunting in its delicacy and beauty, reaches him.

"Wake up, on your own. And look around you, 'cuz you're not alone. Release your high hopes, and they'll survive. 'Cuz this is the future and you are alive. Dive in and swim away, from your loneliness and miserable days."

"And when you wake up, on your own. Look around you, 'cuz you're not alone. Let your hopes go, and they'll survive. 'Cuz this is the future, and you are alive."

"…You're headed home."

"Risa?"

Connor peers out through the window of his plane. A few notes still linger in the air. He waits, carefully, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position. His patience is rewarded as he finally spots a black dot inch across the barren terrain.

He walks out onto the very top ramp, normally crowded with visitors during the day, leading up to the entrance of the battered shell of a plane. Soon enough, Risa nears the plane.

"Hey, Risa," he calls.

She looks up from her feet warily. "What?"

Sheepishly, he scratches his head, ruffling his already messy hair. "Look, I'm sorry about that... before. Really though, nothing to worry about. It's just the usual 'stress' and stuff- these kids all have these expectations which we're not prepared to meet right now."

"Yeah, the Akron AWOL wants to burn down all the Chop Shops across the nation," she responds with a grin. "You can take a break once in a while, you know. I'm not useless, and neither's Hayden. He's hopefully good for something other than eating our Spam."

He smiles. Normal conversation, childish in its content, is a welcome luxury.

The sun is already starting to conquer the darkness, and the cool wind is quickly growing heavy with the familiar humidity of the day. Connor glances back and Risa, and struggles to repress a yawn, originally held back by sheer will and caffeine.

"Yeah... Guess you're right, like usual. I'll get to bed now."

Risa nods approvingly, before deciding to maneuver herself towards the plane as well. "Hayden can live for a day without us Akron AWOLs stealing all the limelight."


Author's Note-

Geez, Connor, you and your stupid martyr complex... D:

...OWL CITY MAKES US (actually, only OwlCityTard, not really ResonatingLight666- she's too dark and deep for me... RAWR) HAPPY ON THE INSIDE. AND OUTSIDE. Actually, so do reviews. So, uh, please review. Heh. Hope Connor and Risa weren't OOC. This is set when they're slightly older, as Connor's about 19 or 20... Also, forgive the lazy authors and correct us if we're wrong about their hair colors... Heh.

Thanks for reading. :)