Fourteen ~ Flashes of a Future Past (Forward/Back VI)
Forward…
His time among the Eternals was the stuff of nightmares. Their teachings were erratic, seemingly unconnected and outwardly defying every law his limited human understanding held. Sleep would come suddenly and would last for days, yet offered no rest. His stomach ached for food and water, but there was none. His mind muddled under the weight of all he had to learn and his limbs became nothing more than heavy sacks of flesh.
And at the centre of the confusion was Trance…
Or at least the grief she had left behind.
It felt unreal that she was gone, like something he'd dreamed once but wasn't true. Not a moment went by that he didn't expect her to walk in the room with a cheeky grin, her tail curving behind her to pull him into bed until she became his whole world again.
Time passed in motion, but as something to be watched, like the turning a wheel. And then it would almost seem to stop, a breath held, before plunging back into the fury. It was a sickening up and down rollercoaster ride that battered his senses like waves crashing on the shore.
Tossing him, tormenting him, the anguish scraping at his very soul until he wanted to claw at his own skin and rip the Gift from his bones so he wouldn't have to suffer this anymore.
Make it stop… Make it stop… Make it stop… Make it stop…
And it did.
*****
His mind floated in the calm that followed, drifting amid peace. Eventually, he opened his eyes and saw the curving black metal of the Ayn's hull above him. He was back on the shuttle he had stolen from Tyr while possessed by the Eternals.
And he wasn't alone.
Oolanah smiled down at him, but, with a quick intuition, he realised that the Eternal wasn't really there. He was just an image tossed up by Harper's subconscious.
"It is time, Harper." He told him.
He groaned and curled on his side. He wanted to sleep, deeply and peacefully, for a thousand years if nessicary. Anything to keep from this life. There was nothing here, no Trance, no Charlotte…
"Your journey is to serve."
He pressed his hands over his ears, knowing the futility of that. The Eternal was in his thinking, not the shuttle. There was no way to shut out his words.
"Close your eyes, Harper. Listen to your Gift."
He fought the temptation, his knuckles turning white with the effort, but his eyes fluttered shut all the same. And there, just beyond his thoughts, tugging at his consciousness, prodding him forward was a sound, an edict. To seek out those who shaped the future with their hands, and aid them.
"Feel the bracelet in your hand."
"No."
Oolanah smiled. "You will." He touched Harper's forehead and the young man's eyes drooped and fell. "Sleep well, young one."
Six Months Later…
His name was Benoni. A tall, skinny lad of 14, with a mop of pale red hair falling into large watery eyes. There was nothing remarkable about him, just an ordinary boy, but he was the One.
The first…
He wanted to bring peace to his shattered world.
Harper made sure he did…
*****
"I'm sorry." Harper whispered, trying to shield the dying boy from the bitter cold. Warm him with the heat of his own body.
Benoni swallowed his own blood that was bubbling at his mouth, choking him, a line of red trickled out of his lips. "Your not…blame. It was…Ilition."
Guilt and anger consumed him; "I helped. You wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for me."
Benoni gave a cry of pain and gripped Harper's hand tighter. "It was…meant…"
His body relaxed as death took him.
Harper screamed…
But the next day the people stormed the capital and stood in silence, in their millions to grieve the lose of a child who had died for what he believed in. Rain battered them, the winds lashed cruelly, as if the weather itself was reeking vengeance for the boy.
But the millions stayed. The Government could not hide from their might.
Peace came slowly afterwards.
But it came…
Two Years Later…
"In and out the dusty bluebells,
In and out the dusty bluebells,
In and out the dusty bluebells…" The child danced around the younger ones, keeping them entertained, her long ponytail of blonde hair flying behind her.
She had grown. Tall and beautiful like her mother. And smart, like him…
Like her…. father?
Could he call himself that? Did he have the right? He had not been there for the first two years of her life or the last…how many? Three?
But that wasn't the worst. He hadn't tired to find her. The need to serve the Gift he carried was strong, stronger every day and what little there was left of the Harper he had been, too consumed by his own sorrow to think of anything else. And afterwards when healing had begun, it hadn't seemed right to just walk back into their lives again.
You did not come to this place for her. She is not the One, Harper.
A cold shiver ran through him at the Eternals' words. He would never get used to their intrusion into his consciousness, sometimes daily, sometimes years would pass between their contact.
Your path lies upon another Sting.
Screw you, that's my daughter! I've missed too much of her life already!
"Charlotte, bring the kids, its time to go." A woman called.
A shockwave ran through him when he recognised her and he automatically stepped back into the shadows to avoid being seen. Lauren had aged far faster than the years. Her hair was cropped short, but still feminine.
They are merely players, you are more.
He watched the girl round up the youngsters and lead them away. He bit down on his own lip, tasting his own coppery blood.
He couldn't move.
Couldn't call out.
"Are you OK?" A voice at his side broke his revelry.
He turned and saw a woman, no taller than he was, staring at him with concern. She clutched a set of welfare flyers in her hand and he guessed she was one of the Anti-Ilition demonstrators.
"You're bleeding!" She cried in alarm and he wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his hand.
"It's nothing."
"Here, let me." She said softly, digging a tissue out of her pocket. She took his chin in her hand and dabbed at the cut. She paused for a moment; "I'm Lana." She said and continued her ministrations. He returned her smile.
The Strings energised; it felt like static on his skin. And he knew. Her destiny was his, hers to be great, his to steer her to that greatness.
So soon after Benoni? He wondered, but the Eternals were silent again.
A year and a day later, he was burying her…
3 years later…
He looked up, stared across the bar. The haze of smoke and illegal substances obscured his vision, which was already hampered by too much drink and not enough food. But there was no mistaking what he saw.
Who he saw…
Tyr Anasazi.
The Nietzschean's body was tense and alert as he looked around, his eyes slowly scanning the crowd.
Then he stopped and Harper knew he had been spotted.
Long ago, a lifetime it seemed, he had stolen Tyr's shuttle. The one he had crashed on this planet the year before and hadn't the money to salvage, or even get off world
Harper looked down at his meagre meal, picking up the spoon to push the porridge around the bowl, hoping he was wrong and he hadn't been seen.
Tyr approached his face dark with anger.
The Nietzschean stopped at his table, looming over him, staring down at the man he'd once begrudgingly called 'friend.'
"If ya lookin' for the Ayn, she's out on the Briffa Reefs." He looked up, "most of her anyway. Looters got in a coupla months back."
"I know. Krin is recovering her." He said smoothly, "it was you I came to find."
Harper ignored his last words, "Krin, huh? Still haven't figured out he's a little bastard who'll leave you dead in a second if it was good for him."
"He is Nietzschean." Tyr said, not contradicting him. "I would expect nothing more, nothing less." He sat down in the chair opposite Harper. "However, for some reason, I expected more of you."
Harper watched his porridge slide off his spoon and didn't look at him.
"Aren't you even going to ask?" Tyr demanded, "do you care how they are?"
"They…" Harper's heart ached. He had forced himself not to think of them. To do so was too painful. He looked up, his mouth dry. "How are they?" His eyes were not.
The Nietzschean paused, perversely making him wait until he could see Harper's hand begin to shake with the effort not to beat an answer out of him.
"Charlotte's a natural pilot. I have never seen anyone her age so talented, especially in the slipstream." His voice betrayed a wisp of affection. It shocked Harper to hear it; his daughter was a special person if she could draw such admiration from someone like Tyr. "But she wants to follow her mother and become a doctor."
The fingers that gripped the spoon had gone white. "And Laurie?"
"She's…happy."
"It wasn't my choice to leave, Tyr, I never-"
"That is not my story to hear."
"But you can tell her, explain…"
"I am not your messenger." There was an element of danger in his voice.
"I…Tyr, I can't."
"They're here now, on this planet. I did not tell them why we came here or that we had finally located the Ayn's signature. But you owe them this."
"It's not that simple." Eternals? Where are you? Why are you silent? "I can't just walk back into their lives."
"You didn't seem to have any trouble walking out of it."
"You don't understand, I-"
"I do understand. You are a coward!"
His words stung.
"You fear their anger and their rejection so you would rather hide from them than allow them the peace they deserve. You dishonour them and yourself by denying them closure!"
But the Eternals…
You have time now, Harper. The Strings are calm, empty of the Ones. We will call you again.
When will that be? He demanded. Aloud he said, "I have…reasons. I can't stay."
Tyr snorted. "A pathetic argument. Whatever your 'reasons' they have a right to know them."
We cannot say. The Strings are forever changing.
Harper pushed out his chair, sending it flying and stalked out of the bar. Tyr followed with long strides.
"Stop!"
Oddly he did. "I can't see them again, OK? And, be with them, and…and have it all taken away again when those bastards decide I gotta do more 'servin'!"
Tyr did not ask who 'the bastards' were. His silence was more damning than any words he could say.
Harper clenched his fist, fighting the urge to hit out at something, anything. "You can't know what this is like."
"I do." Tyr answered calmly.
Harper's anger fled. Yes, Tyr did know. He had made the same choice when he had found out that his brief union with Freya had produced Rosa. Perhaps that was why he was so passionate here. Harper's shoulders slumped; he was so tired, so empty. "I have…work…it's important…to Trance." He met his friend's eyes. "I lost her…lost everythin'. I just can't go through that again."
"Then you place your feelings above that of your own child's."
"No."
"Then stop thinking only of yourself!"
*****
The marketplace was crowded, full of lifeforms every colour of the rainbow and a few more besides. The Outer Rim territories had become the galaxy's refugee encampments since the Illition had ceased control of Dylan's restored Commonwealth. These townships were dirty, crime ridden, hellholes that the Peace Enforcement army had long ago abandoned.
Lauren had no idea why Tyr had wanted to come out this far. The food stores and water reserves were full; the ship had been surprisingly prosperous these past few years. But the Nietzschean had been insistent and secretive. Not so much out of the ordinary, but he had also been on edge. Uncomfortable at times, even…nervous?
"Mum, look at this!"
Her daughter's voice brought her back to more important matters, namely Charlotte's thirteenth birthday present. Her little 7 pound 2 ounce infant was about to become an official, bona fide teen.
At least in years.
Her emotional maturity had begun years before, impressed on her far too early in her life.
Her father had disappeared and she'd had to grow up fast.
Lauren shook her head to push away the thought and turned to Charlotte. "It's pretty." She told her.
"Is Haal Stone. Very mystic." The stallholder told her in broken Common. "Makes for having nice dreams."
Charlotte nodded, "I've been reading about them." She said to her mother, "they're like Native American Dreamcatchers. You put it beside your bed and it watches over you while you are in the Dreamscape."
Lauren smiled and held up a hand to stop the inevitable lecture. Charlotte absorbed information like a sponge, but had a habit of dropping all that knowledge into her conversations. If you didn't stop her, she would rattle on for hours. She pointed to some stalls further on; "I can see some silks, honey. I'll only be a minute."
The girl waved absently as her mother disappeared. She was to busy checking the smooth round crystal for flaws. There didn't appear to be any. "How much?"
"For you is 300."
"300!" She cried, "I'm not paying that!"
"Is worth it. Haal Stone very rare. Not find another in all planet."
"This is flawed. It's slightly off colour."
"Is in need of wash, yes."
"No, I mean that." She held it up to the light to reveal a faint pink-ish ting. "See?"
The old stallholder squinted into the crystal's depths and frowned. "As I say, is very rare. Even rarer, maybe, this pink."
"There's nothing rare about a flawed Haal Stone." Charlotte replied. "How do I know this one won't give me bad dreams?"
"I own for two solar cycles. I not having bad dreams."
"I'll take it off your hands for 50."
"50! You are making joking." The stallholder snapped. "250."
"75."
"200."
"100!"
"I do for you special price. 150."
Charlotte stared him down, knowing from his body language that was as low as he would go. She checked her purse. And sighed, "125?" she asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
"No, is worth more than what I ask already."
"Look, I only have 125 and I don't even wanna spend all that."
"Then I sell someone else."
Charlotte sighed and was about to go find her mother when Tyr came up to her, with a human at his side. She frowned and briefly considered asking the Nietzschean for the extra. He was often more generous with her than with his own children. But the human man cleared his throat before she could speak.
"Look, I, um…I couldn't help…y'know, over hearin' and I…" he held out two small square coins. A 20 and a 5. "Here."
Charlotte stared open-mouthed; "I don't know you!" Then she glanced at Tyr, "do I?"
Her desire to buy the Stone was overriding the good sense her mother had impressed on her about these situations. And besides, he was with Tyr, who was making no objections. That made it OK, surely.
"Erm, I know you…shouldn't take money from a stranger." The man's face paled and he looked down at his feet, "and…and you shouldn't. But, I…I'm, er, not really a stranger."
She looked at Tyr, "isn't he?"
This was a possible way around the problem. A loan from a friend would be all right, especially if she paid him back. Which she would. And he did sort of look familiar.
"No, he's not." Tyr confirmed.
"So it's OK to…?"
"I do not believe your mother would have any objections."
Smiling at his reassurance, Charlotte took the coins and added them to her own. "I'll pay you back." She told him as she paid the stallholder, who began wrapping the Stone.
She turned back to the man with Tyr. He was young, only a few years older than Rosa, Tyr's eldest daughter. Was he a suitor? He wasn't Nietzschean, but that meant very little. Tyr was not openly favourable to cross-species relationships, but he did not object to them. He couldn't really. One of his lovers had been human; a woman named Beka, of whom her mother spoke of with great respect.
"Who are you?" She asked him.
"Seamus bloody Harper!"
It was Lauren.
Everyone jumped at the doctor's voice and turned to stare at her.
"What!" Charlotte exploded, "you mean that's my dad!"
A hush fell over the market as the crowds stopped to listen.
"HIM!" She pointed at Harper, but her eyes were blazing at her mother. "What did you do, rob the cradle?"
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the watching masses.
Lauren walked over to her daughter, her face betraying her regret that she'd yelled his name like that. A gut reaction she couldn't stop. "Charlotte…"
"Don't touch me!"
Harper spoke up. "It wasn't-"
"Shut up, 'dad!'" She turned her fury on him and he visibly flinched. "What the hell are doing here?"
"I…came to see you."
"How nice!" She snapped sarcastically, "well you've seen me. I won't keep you, I'm sure there's a hundred other places you've gotta be. Thanks for the pocket money, Seamus." Her words came faster and faster, tripping over each other. "25 Rands spread over, what? 8 years? What a cheapskate!"
And she turned on her heals and fled.
*****
She was shaking by the time she got back to the Roark. Arms and legs weak and trembling. She ran to her room and keyed the lock before flinging herself onto her bed.
Her father…
She had just met her father. No, no, she was wrong. There must be another Seamus Harper. It wasn't that unlikely after all. How many Charlotte Longs were there in existence? Hundreds, probably.
But…
But he did look something like the man in the holo's her mother kept. The ones Lauren thought she didn't know about. His hair was longer now, and his face thinner and unshaven, but…it was him.
Her father.
The man she'd dreamed about, a heroic hero who would one day return to reclaim her. Tell her his leaving was just a mistake; a long, long dream they could burst like a bubble.
A knock sounded on her door.
"Charlotte?"
A wave of disappointment surprised her. Some tiny corner somewhere inside her had hoped her father would be the one to follow her. She pulled the bedclothes over her head.
"Charley, I want to talk to you."
The use of her baby name annoyed her; "I don't wanna say anything to you."
"Charley…"
"Don't call me that!" She yelled, "just please go, mum."
"I…"
"I just wanna be left alone, OK?"
*****
Lauren walked into the almost empty mess hall. She got a coffee from the drinks dispenser and took it over to the only other person in the room and slumped down in the chair next to him.
"Gotta give you credit, Seamus, you're good at this."
He looked at her questioningly.
"Messing with peoples lives. You did a great job when you left and an even better one coming back."
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry's what you say when you break a cup, or step on someone's toe." She said, "sorry just doesn't cover this."
"It's all I can say, Laurie."
She met his eyes; "it's her birthday tomorrow."
He felt sick. He hadn't remembered. What kind of monster was he anyway? He was turning into his father, a man who had professed to love his son, and probably had, but had ultimately been unable to show it.
She watched his reaction and found no comfort in them. "Why come back, Seamus?"
His heart sank. He knew this question would be asked, and he knew he would speak the truth. "Tyr found me."
He expected anger, but there was none. That would come later, when the shock had died away.
"And Trance?"
He looked away and when he spoke, his voice was hollow, "she's dead."
Lauren crossed her arms, clutching at her chest as if to hold in the grief. "Didn't expect that of Trance."
"I know."
"How?"
He met her eyes, the truth was complicated, a lie even more so in the long term. A half way truth would have to surfice. "She got sick."
Her hand wavered a moment, then the decision made, took his and held it. He looked at her in surprise and in that moment felt more comfort than he had ever had,
A silence fell and lasted for over an hour. Interrupted only by one of Tyr's sons, who made a quick exit when he realised he wasn't welcome.
"It wasn't my choice," he said, eventually. "Leaving, I mean."
She snorted, "does it matter?"
"Yes!"
"I know, Seamus." She said, "Brull saw you that night. You and Trance; she said you were...possessed or sleepwalking, something like that."
"We were…"
"Tyr accepted that. So I did too." She looked hard into his eyes; "he tried to find you for years afterwards. I thought he'd given up. I was surprised by how much he seemed to care about you."
So was he. But perhaps he shouldn't. They'd been through a lot together, and then there was Beka… Next to Trance she was probably the closest he came to a best friend. Beka would have searched for him, so Tyr would, in her memory.
"Do you want me to go?" He asked.
"It's not up to me."
******
Lauren let him into the quarter's she shared with her daughter, but she didn't stay. Harper was partly glad of that, and the rest of him needed her there. He was afraid of his own child.
He had never hated himself as much as he did at that moment.
After a moment, he gathered his courage and tapped on Charlotte's door. Some piece of his brain recognising that the pretty stencils he and Trance had painted, proclaiming 'Charlotte's Room' had been covered long ago.
"Mum I said I didn't wanna talk!"
"It's…It's not your mother, Charlotte." He murmured, leaning back against the wall. "It's…Seamus. I-I think we need to talk."
Silence came from the room. Whether that meant she didn't mind his talking or if she wasn't talking to him, he couldn't tell.
"I wanna say 'let me make it up to you' but how do you make up all those years? Almost your whole childhood…" He laughed bitterly, "for as long as I live," another laugh, "and that's gonna be a long time, I'm gonna regret that."
Again there was no reply, but there was no angry outburst either. Was that a good thing?
"I know that… you know I didn't just leave." He sank down to the floor and rested his head on his knees; "I was forced."
Still no sound came from the room.
"Your mother knows that and I know her too well to think she'd keep that from you." He sighed, "but you're right to be angry. I didn't come back when I should have. I was a coward…and I...lost someone important to me. I just wanted to be alone. But that doesn't make it right, Baby, and I'm sorry."
Still no answer. Harper felt tears trickle down his cheeks. "I love you, Charlotte. That's never gonna change."
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "I wanna do what right. Not by me, but by you. So I… I'll go if you want."
He stood and looked at the door. Then he turned away.
It opened a crack. "We could try." She said.
He looked around, hopeful. "Try what?"
"To make it up."
*****
The hawthorns had grown strong over the years, and were just coming into bloom. Beka would have loved to see it. It was very late aboard the Roark, the Pride were mostly asleep; there was no one to interrupt them. Harper knew they looked like any other family going for a walk.
Charlotte walked a little ahead, uncomfortable with being at her father's side, staring at her feet as if they held all of her attention. Harper knew she was listening, her head would rise occasionally when she didn't understand something he'd said. He wondered what it was like to hear your father is immortal.
Lauren studied his face, "you never told me."
"I couldn't." He sighed, "I'm sorry."
"We had a right to know!"
"Maybe." He stopped walking and faced her. "But I'm telling you now." He paused. "Laurie, the Eternals will call me again. I can't ignore them."
She started walking again, absorbing all he had told her. Over an hour passed before she spoke again.
"What will you tell the others?"
"That I'm a vain SOB who takes Tettoran supplements to stay young."
Lauren laughed, but she knew by his tone that he was serious. "We'll have to leave if they get suspicious."
"I doubt it. No one questioned Trance, even when she came back from the dead." Then he realised what she had said, "we?" He repeated.
She met his gaze steadily, "for Charlotte." She explained.
He nodded and they left the observation deck and began walking back towards Lauren's quarters. At the door, she bid him good night and disappeared inside. Charlotte lingered a moment longer, her face full of questions he knew he would have to answer over the coming months and…years?
"I'm…I…" She looked down at her feet, embarrassed and nervous. "I'm glad you're gonna stay, Seamus."
He wanted to pull her into his arms and never let go; he wanted her to see smile at him again; he wanted to say how much he loved her and see her belief in her eyes.
He wanted many things, but as always, he knew he couldn't have them. "You used to call me Dad, remember?"
Her lowered head shook for 'no.' It broke his heart that she could not look at him. When she did, it hurt even more. "I can't call you dad."
It felt like a knife going through him. If he had heard malice in her voice, it would have been a comfort. Then he would have known it was just her anger. But all he heard in her tone was apology and embarrassment.
"Not…yet." She added. "I'm sorry."
******
It was awkward at first, full of false steps and nervous falls. Hard work and yet the easiest thing in the world. Being around his beautiful child again made him feel normal. Maybe it was this moment that everything fell into place…
"You're here early, Seamus."
Harper and Lauren chewed nervously on their breakfast and looked at each other, then at her. She frowned, knowing there was something they were leaving unsaid, something she ought to pick up on…
"Oh…" Then the faint embarrassment on their faces registered. The penny dropped. "Ohhhh!" Then a thought, "ewwww!"
But then it might have been this…
Charlotte looked up as her father came out of the room, his face full of elation. She bounced up off of the chair and flew over to him, her face alight with anticipation.
"Well?" She demanded.
He broke into a grin; "it's a girl!"
"YES!"
"She's fine, your mum's fine…"
Charlotte let out a squeal of delight and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back, eyes closed; this was the first time he'd held her since before…
He swallowed the tears that formed in his eyes. Fate had given him one daughter today…
…And given him back another.
10 Years later…
He had not slept in days. Not since he'd stepped on board the Roark.
The One…
He would be the greatest challenge Harper had ever faced. The Gift was asking more than it would ever offer him.
Lauren touched his shoulder and he turned. "What is it?" She asked.
He smiled up at her. "You should be sleeping."
"Your son had other ideas."
"I thought I heard him." Harper smiled, thinking of the tiny newborn that Lauren had borne him just five days ago. It was a thought tinged with sadness. The Eternals would call him soon. His only comfort was that this One would be on the Roark. He wouldn't have to leave his family.
Lauren frowned, worry clearly written in her eyes. "Is it about that boy, Daniel?"
"Yes." He met his wife's eyes, "can't explain it, Laurie. I just know. He needs my help to find his way."
"Whatever it is," she whispered, "whatever these Eternals want you to do, we'll do it. Together. I'm not going to lose you again."
53 Years Have Passed…
John Harper smiled to hide the brief shock he always felt when he saw his grandfather, who appeared to be no older than his own son, JJ, enter the room. He had not seen Seamus for the last four years, and as ever, the man had not aged a day.
Unlike him…
"How is he?" His grandpa asked.
"Mother's with him." He replied, "she thinks he's been waiting for you."
He turned to go into the room.
"Grandpa?" It sounded ludicrous to call this young man that, but unlike his sister and his cousins, he couldn't quite bring himself to call him Seamus now that he was an adult.
"Yeah?"
"Is nana OK?"
His grandfather sighed, eyes weary. "She's ageing."
****
Charlotte was tending to her patient when Harper entered. She glanced up at her father and smiled. The man in the bed squinted at the newcomer, his greying hair falling over his weathered, deeply lined face.
"I thought you were your grandfather."
Charlotte took the old man's hand, "Tyr, that isn't JJ. That's Seamus."
Harper's lips twitched at his daughter's words. In all the long years, she had rarely called him dad, even after he and Lauren had married and the other kids came along.
The Nietzschean stared at him, "I am old not feeble minded."
"Would JJ know that you used to call me the 'Little Professor'?"
"He might."
"OK, would he know that Beka had 4 tiny moles of her butt that looked like a diamond?"
Tyr frowned, "No, the question would be how do you know that?"
"We did a lotta surfin' together. She used to wear those string bikinis. It was hard enough tryin' to keep balanced without her walkin' 'round in those things."
Tyr choked out a small laugh. And then he leaned back on the pillows to study him. "It is true then. You do not age."
Charlotte looked guiltily at her father, "I'm sorry. I can't keep secrets from Tyr."
"It's alright." He told her and looked back at Tyr. "I guess I shoulda told you a long time ago."
The Nietzschean raised his hand and cupped Harper's cheek, marvelling at the smooth skin, untouched by the years. "I envy you."
Bitterness stabbed his heart, "don't."
"Tell me…"
Harper leant back and began.
*****
"And Lauren?"
Harper took a breath. "She's good."
"But old." The Nietzschean murmured, "unlike you."
He looked at his daughter, not wanting her to hear this. "She's…distant now. She thinks her ageing is repulsive to me."
Tyr's eyes were full of understanding, "and is it?"
He shivered, "I don't want her to die." He looked up at his daughter, who was now middle aged. Her hair greying and lines marred her once beautiful features. "She gave me permission to find someone else."
"She's afraid."
"She doesn't have to be."
"Like it or not, your drives are strong. You will want another woman." Tyr whispered, "she is just making it easier on both of you."
"No."
Tyr smiled, his eyes closing. He was exhausted. Charlotte bent over him and touched his forehead. She looked up at her father with sorrow.
Harper understood and took his friends hand again. Tyr opened his eyes and looked up at him.
"Whatever this is…that keeps you young…treasure it."
"I can't."
But Tyr was gone.
3 More Years Have Passed…
Lauren looked up at her husband, who smiled back at her. His face as young and fresh as the day they had met. Beside him stood their four children, all middle aged now, growing older than their father would ever be. Charlotte was a grandmother herself, Claudia about to be, Christian was already a grandfather and finally, Kelly ("I'm not having another child with a 'C' name, Seamus! I'm calling her Kelly, after my sister." Her husband had laughed, "it's still pronounced 'c'.")
Beyond them stood her grandchildren, and some of her great grandchildren.
"Still…serve." She murmured to her husband. Her voice no more than a whisper. "It's…more than any…of us."
Harper nodded; the pull of the Eternals already strong. Another One was coming.
"I will." He promised. His words the last she ever heard.
38 Years Forward…
"JJ!" Harper rushed into the hospital ward, frantically looking around for his great-grandson. "JJ!"
A greying man who was losing the battle against middle aged spread, got up from the chair outside the Intensive Care bay. Harper immediately recognised him as the child…well, man now, he'd helped deliver into the world. "Where's your Nan?"
JJ's eyes brimmed with tears and he shook his head. He turned and indicated through the window of the IC. Harper looked in. The machines had been deactivated, the tubes removed.
Charlotte's body lay cold in the bed.
Harper's legs gave and he fell to the floor, gasping for breath. His lungs heaved and the room spun dizzyingly.
Charlotte…
His Charlotte…
Once again, he had not said goodbye…
Forward Another Six Years…
"Kelly Marie Turner," the priest intoned, "who was born Kelly Marie Harper…Ashes to ashes, dust to dust…"
And Harper wept.
Forward Thirty-Eight Years…
John's mouth twitched into a smile as Harper took his hand. The sight was bitter to them both. The grandfather's skin remained smooth and young, his grandson's withered and wrinkled with age.
The world was upside down.
Harper kissed his forehead, remembering the beautiful blonde headed boy he used to tuck into this bed.
"I can see…mother." John whispered.
Harper kissed him again, his tears falling into John's deeply furrowed brow. He had once seen the Light that awaited on the Other Side. A love and a comfort that would forever be denied him.
"Go to her."
John's head moved just slightly to indicate 'no.' "Can't leave you."
Harper's thoughts were bitter. They all do, in the end.
In the morning, he was dead…
Forward…
But any time is meaningless now.
Harper swigged on the bottle of neat vodka. The harsh drink almost made him gag, but he didn't care. He had given up caring a long time ago.
And as a result, his family, one by one, year by year had given up caring about him.
Accept one.
His nineteen year old great-great-God knows how many times great grandson, Alexander, who was watching him now, drowning in more than just alcohol.
"I think you've had enough, Seamus!" Alexander said.
Harper handed him the bottle, "c'mon, kid, join the party."
"There's no party, its just you." He looked at him worriedly, "Grandpa, this isn't doing you any good."
He roared with laughter, "yeah, 'cause its gonna kill me." He poured the boy a drink, "here."
"I'm not gonna drink with you."
"Your loss." And he took the glass and downed the measure in one gulp.
"I came to take you home."
"Home…" Harper looked up, his eyes glazed with drink, but still thoughtful. "Do you know where my home is? My real home?"
Confused, Alexander shook his head.
"There." He said, pointing to the vodka. "At the bottom of a bottle."
His grandson was silent for a long time, watching his ancestor. Then he stood up. "Goodbye, Grandpa." He murmured.
The finality in his voice told Harper all he needed to know. He had pushed them all away; he had no one left.
He never saw Alexander again.
Forward…
Decades turned to centuries. People entered his life, or were born into it, but Time would take them. Some quickly, others slowly. So much pain…
And the Ones came and went.
The Eternals prediction rang in his mind. "He will know only sorrow."
And he did, closely, intimately. It was his friend, his confidant…and his torturer.
The Strings that coiled outward from him were sickly and tangled. Their birth, under his guidance, was pale and weak, a mere shadow of what they would have been under another.
Atlas held the Universe on his shoulders. Harper was but a man. A man who could not face his endless future, steeped so deeply in sorrow that he began to let his own blood to release it.
And then, amid the darkness that consumed him, came darker still…