A/N: hey, I really want to apologize for being out for so long. See my
white blood cell count went up 5% about three weeks ago, and we got all
excited, thinking I might be off chemo. Except that I stressed myself, and
crashed out. so I was in the hospital until last week, and then I was on
sedatives (lithium) and pain killers (morphine), but I'm feeling
particularly clear headed, so updates for you. All standard disclaimers
apply.
Sweet Misery
By: Rynn Abhorsen
**Spike's POV**
I was vaguely aware of time as we flew. It wasn't important to me, I didn't care. At one point, Jets voice came over the COM link. I can't quite recall what he said, but I remember turning it off. I remember Faye smiling weakly, as her body slackened into a release called sleep. I wonder if in her dreams, she was something else, maybe someone so powerful, controlling time? I know it's what I dreamed of, of keeping her by my side. Some of the passing ships stared, I guess a grown man holding a woman so frail she should be dead isn't an everyday sight. Some obnoxious men gave me the thumbs up sign, as if to say, good job man, she's a hottie. I moved slowly, careful not to jostle her too much, and gave them the finger. We had four days until we would reach earth, so throughout the trip I repeated over and over again, "Faye hold on, please hold on."
**********************3rd Person, 2 days later****************************
Faye coughed, jerking Spike out of his trance. The blue planet loomed powerful in the cockpit window, filling it with light. Over the two days of traveling, Faye's health had dropped off sharply, and drove Spike to pushing the swordfish as hard as he could, getting them to earth two days early. Her clothes barely hung on to her frame, and her once shapely legs were like sticks, folded underneath her. The bones of her face were sharp and once, when she was asleep, Spike ran his hands over her cheekbones, jutting from her face, her eye sockets rimming her emerald gaze. Turning his attention back to Faye, he asked quietly, "Faye, where do we need to go?"
Her pale lids opened, and the pain in her eyes made him feel sick. She extended one hand, ever so slowly, and pointed to a spot on the map. Breathing in wheezes, she sank back against his chest. She clutched his wrists and whispered, "We're going to the ocean. I want you to see it; I want you to remember it for me. Spike-"
She was about to speak, but stopped. He thought to himself, Spike, you need to tell her. Maybe she was about to, but look at her, she's helpless. She's weak, she's fading. She's dying. No! She's not dying. But the sick feeling in his heart didn't let him believe it. She's weak, you're strong. Why do you want her to say it first, so you can't be hurt? Selfish bastard, what about her? His thoughts tortured him and the only solace he had was the beating of Faye's heart, hammering away at her frail body.
**Earth**
The swordfish sank into a clump of trees, seemingly untouched by the meteors that pummeled the earth. The cockpit opened with the smooth hiss of hydraulics, and he breathed in the air. It was unlike anything he had ever smelled, it was as if everything he felt while crammed up on that ship was only a memory. The smell was of wind, trees, water, and a faint hint of something sad. The dark cockpit of the swordfish suddenly took on resemblance to a coffin.
His breath caught in his throat as he looked at Faye. Her skin was pale; it seemed to glow within the confines of the ship. Picking her off the seat she moaned, "Spike, the trees, the wind, the waves, they're calling me. Make it stop. They want me to join them; they want me to leave everything behind. I don't want to.I don't want to!"
He cradled her as if she was a child, one hand under her knees and the other on the small of her back. Trees swirled around them as he walked. There wasn't an apparent path at first, but he noticed a definition in the leaves, a different pattern. Sweeping apart a few of the branches, he whispered to Faye, "Where are we?'
She smiled, but just enough for him to know she had heard him, and answered, "A place from my past. We're near a city, once one of the best in the world. San Francisco."
Spike tried out the word on his tongue, and nearly laughed at the way it sounded. It was unfamiliar to him, and it came out like he was gurgling. Faye laughed and that lifted his spirits. They stayed walking down the path, her head against his chest. She placed one hand over his heart and one over her own. Spike nearly jumped as her pale, cold fingers touched his collarbone, but stayed quiet. After a moment she laughed, but it was sad, and bitter. "Your heart is beating at 68 beats a minute, and mine is 32. Interesting huh?"
He felt his chest grow tight at her self-fulfilling prophecy of death, and shushed her, "Faye, don't, just don't."
She nodded as the trees began to thin, light began to splatter the ground. They were on a cliff, overlooking the sea. The cliff went at a slow slope to a steep drop off, maybe a hundred feet into the ocean. Green grass carpeted it, and small red and blue flowers dotted the hill. The clouds rose high, like kings, looming over the couple. They were white and puffy, like a picture. The sea was a deep blue, with occasional rips of white, as the waves swelled and crashed against the cliffs, only to be pulled back and reformed. Holding Faye, he silently wished, let her be like the waves, let her come back to me.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: ok, reviews muchly appreciated, this story will be over soon anyway.
Sweet Misery
By: Rynn Abhorsen
**Spike's POV**
I was vaguely aware of time as we flew. It wasn't important to me, I didn't care. At one point, Jets voice came over the COM link. I can't quite recall what he said, but I remember turning it off. I remember Faye smiling weakly, as her body slackened into a release called sleep. I wonder if in her dreams, she was something else, maybe someone so powerful, controlling time? I know it's what I dreamed of, of keeping her by my side. Some of the passing ships stared, I guess a grown man holding a woman so frail she should be dead isn't an everyday sight. Some obnoxious men gave me the thumbs up sign, as if to say, good job man, she's a hottie. I moved slowly, careful not to jostle her too much, and gave them the finger. We had four days until we would reach earth, so throughout the trip I repeated over and over again, "Faye hold on, please hold on."
**********************3rd Person, 2 days later****************************
Faye coughed, jerking Spike out of his trance. The blue planet loomed powerful in the cockpit window, filling it with light. Over the two days of traveling, Faye's health had dropped off sharply, and drove Spike to pushing the swordfish as hard as he could, getting them to earth two days early. Her clothes barely hung on to her frame, and her once shapely legs were like sticks, folded underneath her. The bones of her face were sharp and once, when she was asleep, Spike ran his hands over her cheekbones, jutting from her face, her eye sockets rimming her emerald gaze. Turning his attention back to Faye, he asked quietly, "Faye, where do we need to go?"
Her pale lids opened, and the pain in her eyes made him feel sick. She extended one hand, ever so slowly, and pointed to a spot on the map. Breathing in wheezes, she sank back against his chest. She clutched his wrists and whispered, "We're going to the ocean. I want you to see it; I want you to remember it for me. Spike-"
She was about to speak, but stopped. He thought to himself, Spike, you need to tell her. Maybe she was about to, but look at her, she's helpless. She's weak, she's fading. She's dying. No! She's not dying. But the sick feeling in his heart didn't let him believe it. She's weak, you're strong. Why do you want her to say it first, so you can't be hurt? Selfish bastard, what about her? His thoughts tortured him and the only solace he had was the beating of Faye's heart, hammering away at her frail body.
**Earth**
The swordfish sank into a clump of trees, seemingly untouched by the meteors that pummeled the earth. The cockpit opened with the smooth hiss of hydraulics, and he breathed in the air. It was unlike anything he had ever smelled, it was as if everything he felt while crammed up on that ship was only a memory. The smell was of wind, trees, water, and a faint hint of something sad. The dark cockpit of the swordfish suddenly took on resemblance to a coffin.
His breath caught in his throat as he looked at Faye. Her skin was pale; it seemed to glow within the confines of the ship. Picking her off the seat she moaned, "Spike, the trees, the wind, the waves, they're calling me. Make it stop. They want me to join them; they want me to leave everything behind. I don't want to.I don't want to!"
He cradled her as if she was a child, one hand under her knees and the other on the small of her back. Trees swirled around them as he walked. There wasn't an apparent path at first, but he noticed a definition in the leaves, a different pattern. Sweeping apart a few of the branches, he whispered to Faye, "Where are we?'
She smiled, but just enough for him to know she had heard him, and answered, "A place from my past. We're near a city, once one of the best in the world. San Francisco."
Spike tried out the word on his tongue, and nearly laughed at the way it sounded. It was unfamiliar to him, and it came out like he was gurgling. Faye laughed and that lifted his spirits. They stayed walking down the path, her head against his chest. She placed one hand over his heart and one over her own. Spike nearly jumped as her pale, cold fingers touched his collarbone, but stayed quiet. After a moment she laughed, but it was sad, and bitter. "Your heart is beating at 68 beats a minute, and mine is 32. Interesting huh?"
He felt his chest grow tight at her self-fulfilling prophecy of death, and shushed her, "Faye, don't, just don't."
She nodded as the trees began to thin, light began to splatter the ground. They were on a cliff, overlooking the sea. The cliff went at a slow slope to a steep drop off, maybe a hundred feet into the ocean. Green grass carpeted it, and small red and blue flowers dotted the hill. The clouds rose high, like kings, looming over the couple. They were white and puffy, like a picture. The sea was a deep blue, with occasional rips of white, as the waves swelled and crashed against the cliffs, only to be pulled back and reformed. Holding Faye, he silently wished, let her be like the waves, let her come back to me.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N: ok, reviews muchly appreciated, this story will be over soon anyway.