A/N: Well, this is the End of the story. And I have sufficiently depressed
myself with writing it. So the epilogue should be happy, right? Wrong. Ok,
everyone, I haven't been able to see your reviews, but I hope you're saying
all good things. * Hopes *. I guess I'll get them sometime today, if ffn is
right. If not... Anyway, I love seeing 18 reviews, even if I can't read them!
So thanks everyone, and I'd mention you by name, but like I said, I can't
read the reviews. Oh well.
Warnings: Mentions of Shay and Jay getting their groove thing on.
EPILOGUE: DUST AND STONE
She had considered a space burial for her baby, but in the end she had buried her perfect little girl in the earth. There, at least, she could visit, could touch the gravestone, and imagine what might have been. She left flowers sometimes, but most of the times she left feathers plucked from her own wings. Wings her daughter would have had, if the two little naked wing buds on her back where anything to go by.
Her daughter had never opened her eyes, and never drawn a breath. Her dark brown skin had never been kissed by the sun, or chilled by the snow. She would never receive the explanation of her conception. That her parents had both been drunk, and didn't even know whom her father was till she came silently into the world. She would never have to deal with the fact that her parents weren't married, or even a couple.
She would never know how much Jay had cared for her, before she'd even been born, when he didn't even know if she was his.
Shay felt the familiar ache in her chest, and jerked to her feet. Jay had been standing a few feet away, a silent strength, and now he closed the distance between them, hugged her tightly. His hands were still bandaged, the bones she had broken almost mended.
Her body was still sore, her throat still raw, she had only recently gotten her voice back. He was warm, and she sank into the warmth, burying her face against his chest and wishing vainly that the last year had never happened. That she had never gotten drunk, and screwed John during a night that she didn't remember, even now.
Jay pressed a kiss into the crown of her head, and she tilted her face up towards his, meeting his lips in what would be their first kiss of many. He had been her stone for the last year, the one constant that she always had, and it made her realize that he had been that for a long time.
John rarely spoke to her now, perhaps just as upset by the loss of the baby as she was, perhaps just embarrassed. She knew that she would have to find out someday, make things right with him, but she wasn't ready yet. He seemed to be dust, blowing threw her life and stinging her, but gone just as quickly. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if her daughter had been born alive, but she could never contemplate it long.
After a long moment she left her lips slip away from Jay's, her gray eyes slip open. She drew in a deep breath, and before she could exhale he had ducked his head, capturing her lips, tightening his hold around her waist.
When she later thought back on that day she could not remember how they got from the cemetery to Watchtower, but she remembered gentle kisses and his so-warm mouth on her throat, her shoulders, her breast. If she ever told anyone he could be a slow, gentle lover she doubted they would believe her, but he was. And when she woke, after what felt like days of pure restful sleep, in the hot circle of Jay's arms she felt almost as though her life was making sense again.
And she knew, that if she had to choose between dust and stone, she would choose stone every time.
THE END
A/N: This makes three of my stories that end with people boinking. What's up with that?
Warnings: Mentions of Shay and Jay getting their groove thing on.
EPILOGUE: DUST AND STONE
She had considered a space burial for her baby, but in the end she had buried her perfect little girl in the earth. There, at least, she could visit, could touch the gravestone, and imagine what might have been. She left flowers sometimes, but most of the times she left feathers plucked from her own wings. Wings her daughter would have had, if the two little naked wing buds on her back where anything to go by.
Her daughter had never opened her eyes, and never drawn a breath. Her dark brown skin had never been kissed by the sun, or chilled by the snow. She would never receive the explanation of her conception. That her parents had both been drunk, and didn't even know whom her father was till she came silently into the world. She would never have to deal with the fact that her parents weren't married, or even a couple.
She would never know how much Jay had cared for her, before she'd even been born, when he didn't even know if she was his.
Shay felt the familiar ache in her chest, and jerked to her feet. Jay had been standing a few feet away, a silent strength, and now he closed the distance between them, hugged her tightly. His hands were still bandaged, the bones she had broken almost mended.
Her body was still sore, her throat still raw, she had only recently gotten her voice back. He was warm, and she sank into the warmth, burying her face against his chest and wishing vainly that the last year had never happened. That she had never gotten drunk, and screwed John during a night that she didn't remember, even now.
Jay pressed a kiss into the crown of her head, and she tilted her face up towards his, meeting his lips in what would be their first kiss of many. He had been her stone for the last year, the one constant that she always had, and it made her realize that he had been that for a long time.
John rarely spoke to her now, perhaps just as upset by the loss of the baby as she was, perhaps just embarrassed. She knew that she would have to find out someday, make things right with him, but she wasn't ready yet. He seemed to be dust, blowing threw her life and stinging her, but gone just as quickly. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if her daughter had been born alive, but she could never contemplate it long.
After a long moment she left her lips slip away from Jay's, her gray eyes slip open. She drew in a deep breath, and before she could exhale he had ducked his head, capturing her lips, tightening his hold around her waist.
When she later thought back on that day she could not remember how they got from the cemetery to Watchtower, but she remembered gentle kisses and his so-warm mouth on her throat, her shoulders, her breast. If she ever told anyone he could be a slow, gentle lover she doubted they would believe her, but he was. And when she woke, after what felt like days of pure restful sleep, in the hot circle of Jay's arms she felt almost as though her life was making sense again.
And she knew, that if she had to choose between dust and stone, she would choose stone every time.
THE END
A/N: This makes three of my stories that end with people boinking. What's up with that?