The sky opened up and let loose a torrent of water upon the already damp
earth. Lightning streaked across the turbulent sky and its accompanying
thunder soon echoed throughout the dark afternoon. But none of this seemed
to stir the lone figure standing vigil over a small patch of freshly turned
earth. In his hand he clutched a single flower, a tiger lily, which somehow
seemed hauntingly appropriate in this occasion.
His heart had been torn out, figuratively speaking anyway, although at that moment he wished for the courage to make it literal as well. But the memory of his heart and the others gathered a few metres behind him, stayed his hand. She would want him to live on, live on without her, move on. But at that moment it seemed almost impossible to see past his immense grief. Memories of her laughter, her smile and the way it lit up her face, the way she seemed to exude a golden warmth which touched all those lucky enough to be around her.
A lone tear slid down his cheek, though with the rain and relative darkness, it went unnoticed. He clutched the flower in his hand tighter until he felt it break in his grip. He laughed, a hollow bitter sound only heard by his own ears.
She was just like this flower. Beautiful, vibrant and bursting with life. That is until her time on this earth was cut brutally short without warning or mercy. Memories of the blood soaked ground haunted both his waking and sleeping mind.
They had been unable to save her.
He had been unable to save her.
All his knowledge, all his skill had, in the end had amounted to nothing but a few seconds of sustained life. Her blood coating his hands as he, with great care, closed her empty unseeing eyes. Eyes that would never again light up a room, or he finally admitted, his heart.
Brennan with all his strength and skill could not save her, he could only stand back and do nothing as the life left her body.
Emma with all her gifts only cried and sobbed with grief and pain until it seemed that the next sob would tear her fragile body into pieces.
Jesse, for all his powers, could only look on with fear and grief in his eyes as, their leader, tried to save their friend, their teammate, their heart.
But he couldn't, he had felt her life slip through his fingers, as real as her blood, which coated his shaking hands.
He had to be strong for them, he was their leader. But what did it all matter now that she was gone? Everything else seemed but a faded memory when compared with his grief.
But they would go on, he knew that. They would live, but they would never forget.
He sent a silent plee to the heavens. Shalimar, please forgive us. Forgive us for not being strong enough, fast enough, skilled enough to save you.
And with that thought.
He broke down and wept.
His heart had been torn out, figuratively speaking anyway, although at that moment he wished for the courage to make it literal as well. But the memory of his heart and the others gathered a few metres behind him, stayed his hand. She would want him to live on, live on without her, move on. But at that moment it seemed almost impossible to see past his immense grief. Memories of her laughter, her smile and the way it lit up her face, the way she seemed to exude a golden warmth which touched all those lucky enough to be around her.
A lone tear slid down his cheek, though with the rain and relative darkness, it went unnoticed. He clutched the flower in his hand tighter until he felt it break in his grip. He laughed, a hollow bitter sound only heard by his own ears.
She was just like this flower. Beautiful, vibrant and bursting with life. That is until her time on this earth was cut brutally short without warning or mercy. Memories of the blood soaked ground haunted both his waking and sleeping mind.
They had been unable to save her.
He had been unable to save her.
All his knowledge, all his skill had, in the end had amounted to nothing but a few seconds of sustained life. Her blood coating his hands as he, with great care, closed her empty unseeing eyes. Eyes that would never again light up a room, or he finally admitted, his heart.
Brennan with all his strength and skill could not save her, he could only stand back and do nothing as the life left her body.
Emma with all her gifts only cried and sobbed with grief and pain until it seemed that the next sob would tear her fragile body into pieces.
Jesse, for all his powers, could only look on with fear and grief in his eyes as, their leader, tried to save their friend, their teammate, their heart.
But he couldn't, he had felt her life slip through his fingers, as real as her blood, which coated his shaking hands.
He had to be strong for them, he was their leader. But what did it all matter now that she was gone? Everything else seemed but a faded memory when compared with his grief.
But they would go on, he knew that. They would live, but they would never forget.
He sent a silent plee to the heavens. Shalimar, please forgive us. Forgive us for not being strong enough, fast enough, skilled enough to save you.
And with that thought.
He broke down and wept.