A Sky Full of Stars

Simon

I miss having the convertible. I liked the wind in my hair, the unobstructed view of the land around us.

And I liked driving it.

I like driving period. I thought I'd be pants at it but it turns out I'm not. Baz says I'm a natural. I think he actually means it. He had a smile on his face when he was teaching me to drive. Not one I've seen before. Like he was proud of me.

Baz proud of me. That's a bit of a laugh.

But still. I'd like to see that smile again.

He's a good teacher. He'd probably scoff if I told him that. I think Baz scoffs when things mean too much, when something is too important to him. A defense mechanism, I suppose, to protect himself from wanting it so much.

We hit a bump and I have to clutch the side of the truck to keep from falling over.

This truck is almost as good as the Mustang, even if I don't get to drive. I like sitting back here where I can see the sky and the road and the mountains. And my wings aren't squashed.

It's better for Baz this way too. I didn't like that sunburn of his. It worried me, if I'm going to be honest, the way his nose and cheeks got black and ashy.

The sun isn't anywhere near this hot or bright back home.

So I'm relieved he's got a roof over his head now, a way to protect himself from it. I know he's said that sunshine alone won't light him up, but I'm not sure that's true in America. Penny says there are places in the desert, even places in California, where you can fry an egg on the pavement, it gets so hot.

I don't intend to let Baz get fried. Or charred or whatever it is the sun does to him here.

It's cooler now that the sun's going down, the stars just starting to glimmer overhead. It's all pink and purple and orange up ahead, darkening to a deep, velvety blue behind me. Sunsets here are glorious. I've never seen a sky so wide. It just surrounds us on all sides.

It makes it seem like we're the only people on earth.

I lie on my back once the sun's gone down, resting my head on Shepard's sleeping bag. He said we were getting close, last time we stopped. Close to where we're going to meet his friend, the one he thinks can help us.

The stars come out little by little at first and then all of a sudden the sky is full of them. Like I'm under a dome made up of stars. I've never seen anything like it.

Except I have.

I've been surrounded by stars, closer even than this—above me, around me, beneath me. I floated in their midst, holding hands with Baz, listening to him cast "twinkle, twinkle, little star."

It was breathtaking.

It was everything.

The memory of that night still haunts me. I'd never shared anything like that before, with anyone. It was intimate, in a way that transcends the physical. It was our minds, our bodies, our magic, that were linked together.

A connection. A soul-deep communion.

It was more than something conjured up by magic. It was magic. Deeper and more real than I'd ever felt it.

It makes my chest hurt to think about it. To think I'll never have that again.

I close my eyes for a minute, the aching want overwhelming me.

There's no moon tonight so when I open my eyes again the stars look close enough to touch. I reach my hand up, fingers spread.

I wish. . . I wish I could share this with Baz again.

Baz

It's a short walk back to Shepard's truck but my mind is reeling.

I don't know if that was a naiad or a water goddess or the personification of the river. But she's old magic, I know that.

And she recognized Simon. Even without his magic she knew him, knew the feel of him.

I don't know what that means.

I don't know what anything means. I don't know what she was trying to tell us about the New Blood. I don't know what she meant about Simon putting back more magic than he took.

I don't know if Simon meant it when he said I should ride in the back with him when we leave.

We're leaving now and I don't know if I should say anything to him or let it go.

Penny gets to the truck before we do. She's got the passenger door open and she's tapping her foot. She's visibly irritated with Shepard. She hates how much he knows about us. Hates how comfortable he is with magic. How comfortable he is with us.

I'm surprised she hasn't sent a strictly worded email to the Coven about him yet. Probably because we're individuals one, two and three on the Coven's most wanted list right about now and Penny's taking no chances on revealing our exact whereabouts to them.

I wouldn't put it past Headmistress Bunce to find a way to teleport here for the express purpose of verbally flaying us herself, before putting us in shackles and dragging us before a tribunal upon our arrival home.

"Come on, Baz." Penny motions with her hand but Simon takes my elbow before I reach the truck.

"Ride with me," he says. His fingers are warm on my skin but he keeps his gaze down. He gives my arm a quick squeeze. "There are stars."

His hair is dripping from the water woman's touch, hanging in thick, heavy ringlets. "Yeah," I say. His touch on me makes me bold. I bump my forehead to his, like I used to, like I've wanted to. "Okay."

I think he's smiling. I can't be sure.

But I think he is.

Simon

I climb into the back of the truck and Baz follows me. I want him close to me, as close as I can get him right now. I lay out the sleeping bag and lie down on the far side of it, leaving space for Baz next to me.

He hesitates, eyebrows drawing together questioningly. I want to tell him it's alright, that I want this. That I want him that close.

Shepard starts the truck and Baz tips over, scrambling to regain his balance.

"Come here," I say.

He kneels down, holding the side of the truck for balance. He's frowning. "This is dangerous, Simon. What happens if we hit a bump?"

"We already hit a bump and you're fine."

"But . . . " His voice trails off and I can see his fingers clench the metal side just a bit harder as he sways again.

"Baz, come here." I reach out my hand.

Please, I think.

Let me have this with you, Baz.

Let us have this.

He lies down next to me, not touching, leaving space between us. The space I've made him so aware of. I don't want it tonight though. I don't want to be separated from him.

I slide my arm under his waist. The night is cool now and Baz feels cooler still against my skin. The truck goes over another bump and I take the chance to pull him closer to me.

I can feel the tension in his back, can feel Baz holding himself, hands braced on the truck bed to keep him from rolling into me.

How did it get to this? To this place where the touches that came so naturally to us months ago have turned so tentative, so uncertain, so rare.

It's me. I know it's me.

When you get too close all you can see is the other person. They fill your vision, your senses.

And all there is to see in me is something diminished. Less. Lacking.

I didn't want to see that reflected in Baz's eyes.

But here, in the vastness of this land, under the enormity of this sky—it doesn't feel like I'm diminished. It's just the world that's gotten bigger.

And somehow that makes it easier.

America has been hard on Baz. It's chewed him up, gnawed on his edges, rubbed him raw.

The Baz I knew at Watford wouldn't have tolerated it.

This Baz lets it pound him into the dust and he endures it. He's suffered the most of all of us so far, but he's not so much as complained.

And Baz is an expert at complaining.

It reminds me again how much of that was the persona Baz was projecting at Watford—the carefully cultivated arrogant swagger that hid the self-doubt underneath. The biting words, the challenging attitude. All perfected as a way to shield the soft heart inside.

I didn't know it was there before.

I do now.

He doesn't hide that tenderness anymore. It's there for me whenever I need it.

If I let him give it to me.

He gives it anyway.

He's enduring all of this for me. That should make me feel guilty. It should make me feel unworthy. It does, a bit, I suppose. But there's a light in his eyes when he looks at me here, a brightness I haven't seen for a long time.

It looks like hope.

And if Baz can hold on to hope for us when he looks at me, then maybe I can convince myself that I can too.

I want Baz with me tonight. I want him to see what I see. To know that I remember that connection. It's not that I don't want it.

I just don't know how to find it again.

The brilliant constellations above us take me back to that night. I may not be the same person I was then. But the stars are the same. The night sky is the same.

Let me have this tonight.

Let me see the stars with Baz again. Out here they feel close enough to touch.

I reach my hand up, pointing into the sky.

I hope that's enough. I hope he understands.

I bring my arm down and rest it across his chest.

It takes a moment but then I feel his hands on me, sliding up under my shirt.

It's such a familiar sensation, the cool touch of his fingertips. It's gentle, reverent. As if I'm a piece of glass that could shatter if he presses any harder.

This isn't how he used to touch me. I used to feel the weight of his fingers indenting my skin, as if he needed the assurance that I was real, that I wouldn't turn to mist in his hands.

I want him to touch me like that again.

There have been so many times, when the pressure built up inside me, that I did feel as if I could shatter at a word, a thought, a touch. Moments when I wanted him close but couldn't bear to be so exposed, to be seen.

I don't want to feel that fragile right now. I want his hands firm on me, pressing into my flesh to make me feel that I'm real. That I'm here. That he can reach me.

There was a time Baz's touch made me feel whole. Complete. Like a last puzzle piece that had clicked into place, a circuit that had been completed.

There was a time his touch made me forget, took my mind away, when his fingers would thread through mine and ground me. When I'd look into his grey eyes and the rest of the world would fade to black.

There was a time Baz's touch made me remember. Reminded me of what it had been like to be whole, to be able to lock things away in my mind and not think of them.

It made me remember who I had been. What I had been.

And what I would never be again.

That's when it all started to fall apart. That's the part of me I couldn't bear to let him see.

What was left behind, when all the rest was gone. All that had defined me, had made me who I was. Who I thought I should be.

But here we're just Simon and Baz again. None of the other shit that's been piled on us year after year, time after time, by everyone else. None of the wearying expectations, the overwhelming burden of never getting to be who really were. None of the memories that weigh me down so heavily exist here.

The night we shared magic was the first time I saw the person behind the mask. First realized that Baz was someone I might actually like. That I might be able to trust. Someone who could make me forget, for just a few moments, all the rest of it.

I don't want to think tonight. I just want to be with him.

Baz's fingers trail a cool path down my back, still feather-light.

My wings flutter and curve around us. It's just Baz and me and the stars.

How long has it been since I held him like this? Since he's held me? Since I've pressed against him, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip.

No. I'm not going to think about the last time.

I think too much.

Tonight, I just want to feel.

Right now, I know I want to touch him. I want to feel the slide of my fingers through his hair. The touch of his chilled skin against mine. To heat his lips up with my own.

I bring my face to his, hover over him.

It's darker now but I can see the reflection of the stars in his eyes.

I lean down, my lips a breath away from his own.

This is where I usually hesitate. This is the time when my mind goes into overdrive, when the thoughts crowd in my head and I can't push through the static.

The wind is rushing past us, the road rumbles beneath us, the roar of the engine rising as the truck accelerates.

It makes the static fade away.

Can he still hear me when I ask?

"You don't have to ask," Baz says, his voice rising over the wind.

His mouth is cold when it meets mine but as I press against him I can feel my heat radiate into his skin. He's already warming up beneath my lips, beneath my roaming hands that press into his flesh, reminding myself that he is here, that he is real, that he might want this too.

Baz gives and gives and gives. He doesn't ask for anything. He doesn't put expectations on me.

He takes anything I'm willing to give.

I don't have much to offer.

But I'd give him all that I am.

I'd give him all that I was.

I'd open up a vein.

I'd tie our hearts together, chamber by chamber.*

Every heartbeat shared.

I can give him this. This night. This time.

I can give it to myself as well. Let myself have this.

Let us have this.

There's still an us, somewhere. I want there to be.

Baz's hands are firmer on me now, gripping my hips, twisting into my hair. He pushes his mouth against mine and I push back, pressing him into the truck bed, pinning him against it. His shirt is hiked up, shifted out of place by my hands.

I rub my fingers against the soft skin above his waistband and his breath catches.

I don't stop, even when I feel his hands grip my shoulders.

He pulls his mouth away. "Simon." The wind whips the sound away but I know the shape of his lips when he says my name.

Baz hears me. Even here, with all the sounds overpowering my words. It doesn't matter how softly I speak. It's part of who he is, what he's become, the enhanced senses that come with being Turned.

That's the logical explanation.

But I know better. Baz hears me because he chooses to. Because to him, everything I say matters.

So I don't have to shout. I lean in closer, bring my mouth to his ear, feel the shiver that goes through him as my lips brush against his earlobe. "I want this."

Baz's eyes close and he bites his lip. His hands tighten their grip on my shoulders but he doesn't move.

I run my fingers along his stomach again, tracing patterns into his skin.

"I want you." It's another breath against his ear and I know he hears me, from the way his breathing hitches again, harder this time.

His eyes stay closed, his breaths ragged now. He's shaking.

I don't think it's from the cold.

I'm shaking too.

His hand slides under my shirt, traveling up my chest until it rests over my heart. It's as light a touch as before but different somehow. As if I'm not something breakable, but something precious instead.

I move my hand to the same spot on his chest and press it there, hard, harder than Baz presses his to mine.

His eyes open and I can see the glitter of tears.

I kiss them away.

And that's when I feel it. Faint beneath my fingertips, slow but steady, one beat for every two of mine.

But it's there.

I press my lips to the spot, follow the planes of his chest up to his collarbone, his neck, the soft spot behind his ear. He reaches up to find my mouth with his own and I can't help but smile into the kiss.

It's good. It's so good.

I kiss him until my lips are sore. I kiss him until he's trembling under my hands.

I kiss him until I don't know where I stop and where he begins.

Baz

I close my eyes. I'm afraid to open them.

I'm afraid this will all have been a dream. A desperate vision conjured by my over-heated brain.

It's not.

Simon's here, above me, every time I dare to look. Framed by his wings and the star-filled sky.

A sky full of stars.

He doesn't need magic to make magic happen.

I didn't want to hope, when he asked me to come back here.

I didn't want to push, when he put his arm around me.

I didn't want to think is this the last time when he kissed me.

I didn't dare to dream it might be the start.

The start of us again.

We haven't ever stopped being us in my head, in my heart, in the deepest part of me that used to have a soul.

I've given him my heart. I'll never take it back.

The wind rushes over us, the truck rattles around us, the engine drowns out my voice.

All I see are stars. And Simon's eyes gazing into mine.

His arms around me again. His touch searing against my skin. His body pressed to mine, so achingly familiar.

Every breath shared.

His lips form the shape of my name against my own.

I can say all the words right now. I can speak my love to the wind.

He's given me this night.

I'd give him everything, if he'd take it.

All of me.

* I lifted this text directly because it is beyond doubt the most perfect set of lines I've ever read. I couldn't leave it out. There are a few other places where the words correlate.

This was probably the easiest title of a fic ever. Because this song says it all for me as far as this scene.

'Cause you're a sky, 'cause you're a sky full of stars
I'm gonna give you my heart
'Cause you're a sky, 'cause you're a sky full of stars
'Cause you light up the path
I don't care, go on and tear me apart
I don't care if you do ooh ooh
'Cause in a sky, 'cause in a sky full of stars
I think I saw you
'Cause you're a sky, you're a sky full of stars
Such a heavenly view
You're such a heavenly view

A Sky Full of Stars by Coldplay.