A/N: 1) I apologize for the delay, folks! My hubby had a medical procedure that ended up being way more complicated than it needed to be and I discovered I missed my calling as a nursemaid, 2) I don't know what this recent fascination with longwindedness is... yet another rambling long chapter, and 3) Sylaire fans I have ONE word for you: ENJOY. Your day has come. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it =D
I don't own Heroes or anything remotely related and I bow humbly before the television gods, please have mercy on me. Rated "M" for language, some violence, some blood & guts, and eventually some sexual imagery. And please review! If I've massively screwed something up, I'd like to know =D
13) Confessions and Constellations
There it was, that smile. That fickle, vexing thing that toyed with his heart like the finger she twisted through a stray lock of her feathery golden hair. He watched them all, crowded around the viewport, sipping canteens and munching on stocked rations, while he scrubbed himself down in the decontamination unit. A couple jabbed surprised fingers at the plexi-cement, a levee protecting them from the toxic gases that comprised the planet's swirling iridescent clouds, when a large colorful creature swooped through the air, gracefully navigating the thick knot of snaking, palm-like trees that dipped lazily down to the beach. He'd managed to land the transport to where it precariously teetered on a precipice overlooking the rolling azure sea, nestled against the house that contained the dome generator. Adjacent was an ornamental lighthouse that served no real purpose other than to look pretty or beacon ancient civilian yachts. Eyes raking the landscape and pink mouth excitedly working a mile a minute, she freely bestowed upon the surrounding relative strangers the very same warm, sunny, affable smile she'd worn for centuries... for everyone but him. Despite her sweet words and the way her hand had warmed his side while he slept, despite the weight of the years they'd shared together, despite the private knowledge they kept secret for each other, she'd never looked at him with anything other than a mixture of thin patience, skepticism, and hesitance, more recently mollified with a newer additive of respected friendship. But she would turn her face to him on more than seldom occasion, and she wasn't afraid to touch him. He took what he could get.
Certain he was clean, including the khaki shorts and t-shirt he'd managed to scavenge from inside the house, he re-entered the cabin and padded barefoot across the metal deck in search of a canteen for himself, throat chafed with thirst. The environment inside the shuttle was at least twenty degrees cooler than the ambient temperature outside – he sat, leaned back, and rested the bottle against his forehead, letting it draw the heat away from him, spreading a thin sheen of sweat across his sand-speckled skin. When her lab coat brushed against his bare knee, snaring his attention, he opened his eyes. She cocked her hip in front of him in her little white mini-dress, holding up a foil package with exuberant mock interest.
"Mmm mmm! Meatloaf! Hungry, muscleman?" He loved it when she called him little pet names… ones that weren't 'psycho', 'dickhead', or 'murderous bastard'. "Just add water! Or, if you prefer," she dug in one of the pockets at her waist while he greedily gulped at the jug in his hands, "I have some cashews. I was thinkin' of saving them for later, but you can have them." Anticipating his answer, she pulled the package open and wafted them under his nose enticingly, earning her one of his rare, shy smiles. She had no idea how many things she could offer him that he wanted – some badly – but her nuts weren't exactly on the… oh man, they were dry roasted??? Dude! He snatched them away and popped a few in his mouth, his belly beginning to painfully remind him how long ago he'd last eaten.
"Beware any hand that comes between a starving man and pretty girls bearing gifts," she sang. "So what's the scoop?" Her butt landed hard beside him and she swung her feet. "You want some help in there? You look tired."
"I'd rather make sure you're -"
"Oh my gosh I'm fine. Look - all of my holes are gone, I don't have any more fever, my ability is working. A little toxic air isn't gonna hurt me any more than it hurts you and the faster we get that thing up and running the faster we get off this ship. I'm going crazy!"
"Leave da man alone," the dark woman, Louisa, teased from where she sat perched on her husband's lap. "Let him have a break, he's earned it."
And there it was again, that… look. The grim reminder that he had so much left to earn. Belying her eyes, she took his canteen from between his listless fingers and tipped hers to it, replenishing the amount that he'd drunk. "I could be a good grease monkey," she murmured, not giving up. Instantly he pictured her with big ears and tons of fur… sometimes he hated how his brain worked.
"Alright, alright… gimme a few minutes and you can come."
A short while later, feeling slightly rejuvenated, she followed him out into the open.
"Oh wow…" she immediately gasped, finally able to take in the full panorama beyond what the meager viewport offered. "It tingles," she commented as a poisonous wave of sea breeze tossed her hair about her shoulders. She giggled like a little girl and spun a slow circle as he gained some distance on her, stalking back toward the house with his mind on the task at hand. She jogged to catch up when he held the door open for her. Whispers from the sand she kicked off her feet echoed in the glassy, sunlit foyer and her body stopped, blocking his entrance, as she stood enchanted by the palatial expanse before her.
"Oh my god, this place is huge…"
"I told you… movie stars and surgeons, hot shot lawyers, football players… you name it."
"Wow…" her exhalation reverberated back to her. He pushed her forward by her shoulders, careful not to let her stumble while she craned her neck to stare at a crystalline chandelier glittering miniature rainbows down the hallway. "Ooo stairs!" she cried as she tore off in the direction of the second level, its railings lined the entire length with polished oak (which, contrary to the commonly held belief in the twentieth century, would not grow anywhere). So much for his afternoon help… As he reached the door leading down to the generator control room and beyond into the physical drives themselves he heard her muffled gasp drift down to him from upstairs. "Look at the size of that shower! Gabriel, look! Clothes – girl clothes!!!"
~*~*~
His toe couldn't heal fast enough. He'd been the nucleus in a cloud of telekinetically suspended parts – some of them impressively large and heavy– when she'd finally found her way down to where he was… and they plummeted from the sky upon her arrival to land, unfortunately, wherever they would. His jaw was somewhere down there with them.
"I tried on all kinds of stuff," she reasoned, "but I didn't want to get anything dirty so I figured this was more appropriate."
"Uhh… umm…. Mhmm…?" was all he could manage, smearing a grease-covered hand nervously across the back of his neck. What he'd wanted to say was, 'Bikinis like that are only appropriate for porn, Claire.'
"This thing still probably cost, like, a few thousand smackers, though… but hey, when we're done I'm totally hitting the beach!" she continued as if he weren't even there, fighting to keep from assaulting her with his eyes. "So! What do you want me to do?" Oh no.. she did not just ask that. His mind whirled with all the positions… "I can clean – got any harsh chemicals that'll threaten to rend me skinless?" Nope, just the kind that'll eat off what little cloth is covering you…
"Here," he said instead, still limping while she reveled in his discomfort. He handed her a rag and a pot of emollient, indicating the detritus littered around his feet. "Help me with these."
"So," she began, her breasts swaying hypnotically as she rubbed vigorous circles into the piece of machinery currently smudging stains against her pale thighs, fixed Indian-style as she sat. "These people just left – left everything behind as it was… I mean, there was still fresh wax in the depilatation unit," as proof, she straightened a silky smooth leg, pushing the swell of her calf just a bit too close.
"Yeah, the place got so blighted," he replied, smiling and nodding at the twirling ankle, using two fingertips to push it back into place, "not even bacteria could flourish. There was no warning – these people had to leave immediately or die."
"This whole colony was left… exactly as it was… preserved…"
"Pretty much."
"So… the countryside is just littered with crazy big mansions exactly like this one… waiting for people to live in them…? That's almost too difficult to believe."
"Mhmm. This one's mine though, unless someone else wants to take a stab at maintaining the dome generator."
"I could be your neighbor," she grinned as she used her small fingers to dig into a crease that Gabriel would've missed.
"You could – hey Little Miss Tiny Fingers, can you get down in this hole? Here?"
"Yup." She leaned closer, following his line of sight, letting her freshly showered scent of roses and lilac crawl into his head. Intoxicated, he heard her murmur, "we wouldn't have to say goodbye anymore."
And then the memory of the conversation he'd had with Peter slapped him out of his stupor.
"I could take care of the lighthouse for you. OH! I could be Isis!" she gasped before going on, arching an arm over her head dramatically. "Patron goddess of sailors, Protector of Lost Children, Keeper of the Light…"
Gabriel didn't mention that Isis was the sister Osiris married. He suspected, from the way she suddenly let her recitation drop, that she might've already known. But then she was looking at him… his face had betrayed him.
"What's wrong."
His hands wrung the putrefied shank of cloth he'd been using into tight twists. A tiny spark of anger lit her features reminding him once again exactly who he was speaking to.
"You're not gonna stay, are you."
"I can't, Claire."
Her face clouded over with forced indifference as she shrugged and made herself impassively turn away, but her fingers ground against the metal with a tad more fury. She nodded slowly, silently acknowledging what he'd said. She breathed a heavy sigh.
"Yeah, I'm sure there're better places than even this out there in the cosmos," she ground out sarcastically.
"And since when have you ever really wanted me around?" he slipped, his mouth working faster than his addled brain. It was too late, he couldn't take it back. She didn't answer, setting aside one finished piece and reaching for another, carrying on with their work. "This fight isn't finished," he continued, "and your uncle has a plan… a plan that can end this for a lot of people, and -"
"I barely even got to see him!"
"I know, but -"
"I'm coming with you."
"You can't, Claire – I can't let them get you and Peter would kill me… or at least do his best. And truthfully I'd probably let him. I couldn't live with it if something happened." He knelt before her, pleading for her understanding. "Claire… this has to be done, I have to do it. And not just for them," he pulled his hands into his chest, "I need to do it for me. It means something to me."
Slightly defrosted she returned her gaze, eyeing him closely as he stared her down.
"Where are you going?"
"You won't like -"
"Just tell me."
"Back to Leo. They'll arrest me and take me to Pisces where Peter's gonna get me into the Central Labs."
"Why -"
"Because I'm the only living survivor of the Shanti virus. Because my blood carries the key to freeing people like us across the galaxy. Claire, this is -"
"What if they kill you?" she interjected, emptying her lap and letting its abandoned contents roll haphazardly away as she straightened to her knees, jutting her face toward him in challenge. "This isn't like prison, Gabe – they're not coming after you with handcuffs and a prayer. These people can end you." He took a gamble and reached for her, knowing he wasn't always so good at reading her, but was encouraged when she didn't pull away. He slid his hand against the warmth of her neck, threading his fingers into her downy hair.
"Then, I'll die happy knowing you're safe."
Her soul reached through her eyes and captured him, holding him steadfast as she fumed. Then she ripped herself away, severing the contact and leaving him mildly bereft, and grabbed the metal hunk that she'd lost, resuming her task.
"Once we get this finished," she mumbled darkly, "how long will it take until it's safe for the people to leave the ship?"
"It depends on how far I can get the dome to extend – probably just little at first, there's a lot more to be repaired in here, I mean, it blew up. But if I can get it to cover a few miles, and on down to the beach, probably a few hours. We'll need to clean up inside the house, though… so even if they could breathe the air, they'd probably still be camping out on the beach or sleeping in the transport."
"That's fine, I think they just want to stretch their legs."
They both knew what she was really asking. She wanted to know how much time they had left together.
~*~*~
Louisa thought perhaps this Paradise planet was bigger than the one on which she'd spent most of her life. It felt like days had passed since the dome had finally split the sky with one big pink shimmering wave, and subsequently a sufficient amount of time had been spent afterwards filtering the air, making it safe for human consumption. Despite the lengthy events that had occurred, the massive orange sun was at last finally conceding to lower its thirsty lips to the wet ocean horizon.
"I like dis place," she cooed contentedly.
"Who doesn't," responded Kelly, the older woman who'd escaped with them. She possessed the power of x-ray vision, and had spent her life as a doctor in the camps and out on work release. That didn't keep her from losing her husband, however, three relative years ago.
"No," Louisa continued, raising a rubber-gloved hand to ensure her makeshift mask was still covering an ample portion of her face, the cloth of the handkerchief still stuffed under safety goggles that had been procured from the generator room. "Dis planet know da meaning of siesta. Humans will need to nap wi' dese long days."
"Just keeps getting better and better."
It had been the first time their third companion, the eternally youthful blonde, had spoken since she'd left the transport earlier that day. Obviously an unpleasant exchange had happened somewhere. As Louisa and Kelly worked on detoxifying the countertops and other surfaces in the cavernous kitchen, Claire stood at the sink washing every pot, pan, dish, or utensil they could possibly find. She rested her weight on one leg while the opposite ankle crossed behind, her body language gloomy as she gazed out the window at the object of her dissatisfaction, watching him and the other men drag large pieces of furniture out into the sandy yard to be rid of their contagion in the open air.
"So much work to do," Kelly hummed with happy, useful energy.
Louisa remembered the last time she'd looked at a man like that. Arturo had been a rebel placement in her camp, working as part of a quiet underground network smuggling scavenged supplies in and attempting to move people out. While fundamentally she'd appreciated what he was trying to do, she wholly rejected his affection for her – he was nothing but trouble and was going to get her killed.
He'd come to her one night, serenading the tiny square window of her little uniform shack (one that paled in size compared to the series of glass panes that illuminated the kitchen), sending faintly glowing morning glories creeping up her walls using the same hands that had just come from digging perilous tunnels under the force dome, scoured by huge invasive tubers. In the end, she'd been reluctantly charmed by his exotic ability and his lovely face, for who was he really if he wasn't first a man… a man in love? And she hated him for it, hated how he made her feel against her better judgment… until she married him. While she'd secretly dreamed of a life outside the camp, she'd been at peace where she was, unbothered and risk-free, until he'd uprooted her like the trees and other plants that he bent to his awesome will. Despite the telepathic ability she commanded, that showed her all hidden things, it was plain for anyone to see that the contempt and frustration lining Claire's face was only born from something far more profound. Perhaps she still failed to realize it. Maybe she needed a little nudge.
"You are angry wit' him." She couldn't help herself.
The girl sighed as she sloshed a tiny bit of water on her feet at his mention. Louisa smiled broadly, finding few things as engaging as a woman so obviously eaten alive inside by the mere thought of a man.
"He aims to go somewhere… do something that needs to be done, but I wish…"
"Hmmm, I see," Louisa mothered. "So. You gonna tell him how you feel for him before he leave?"
Claire dropped her washcloth heavily into the water and spun around, her mouth drawn in a menacing line and her eyes flashing dangerously. Louisa had seen her fair share of fierce women since she'd met Arturo, this was just one more. And the girl was only mad at herself. Kelly giggled knowingly off to the side, fascinated by the conversation, having seen a thing or two in her time as well.
"And the plot thickens!"
Slowly Claire's shoulders dropped as she relaxed, feeling more exposed than angry, and uncomfortable having to face a truth she'd been denying for who knew how long. She lifted a wet hand and let it slap against her thigh.
"He's just out of a relationship… he's on a pretty big rebound – he's got a lot going on right now, and so do I. Besides…" she turned to peek at him one more time, "he's my best friend. He's all I've got."
"Hmph," Louisa chuckled, mystified how someone could live for centuries and still manage to be so utterly clueless, "an' dat's exactly why I married mine."
"Me too," Kelly supported, a still-fresh sorrow nailing her eyes to the marble she was scrubbing. "Tell him, girl. Tell him before it's too late. If you're scared for him, hold him to you while you still can."
The room grew quiet as Claire paled, turning back to her sink.
~*~*~
The girl's demeanor improved greatly after she'd been forced to acknowledge the conflict that brewed within her. It had been cathartic, almost. It must've been close to mealtime, she and Kelly had been prattling on excitedly about sandwiches for far too long while agitating the blankets in the soapy water with the table legs they'd procured. The rest of the table was outside with some other furnishings that would never see much use, busted into kindling, a fraction of which was currently roasting in a blazing bonfire. Lines had been drawn through the trees near its functional heat, bowing under the weight of wet bedding making valiant efforts to dry. The attempts came too late for one man, however – one who had been working continuously since before the sun had risen what felt like ages ago, and was face down in the grass-patched sand, fortunately a safe distance from the flickering embers, taking what he'd thought would be just a short respite. In truth, his exhaustion had claimed him nearly an hour ago.
Louisa could understand why someone like Claire would find him attractive. His frame was long and lithe, he had strong shoulders, and his eyes told stories of a quick wit with unparalleled intelligence. On top of that, he was incredibly powerful, and just as immortal as she was.
He jerked awake when she accidentally dragged a few drips of chilly water over his right leg, on her way to drape another quilt over a tautly pulled piece of twine. A blue spark rolled off of his arm to fizzle out in the flames.
"I'm sorry, hun," she hushed, "go back to sleep."
Groaning, he disobeyed and pulled his chest to his knees, twisting his spine to work out the kinks.
"You need your strength," she chastised. "I hope, for her sake, it keeps you safe wherever you be headed off to."
"You've been talking to Claire," he breathed.
"I have. You plague her, d'you know dat?"
His laugh echoed in the stillness, disrupting the steady stream of smoke twirling into the stars.
"You have no idea how much."
"So be careful wit' her. A love like dat don't come along every day."
"Oh god not you too…" His face landed in his palm with a smack.
"What? You bot' live forever. She is female. You are male. You like each other. I don't understand -"
"No, you don't. You don't understand at all. That girl doesn't see me the same way she sees all of you." He rose to his feet, brushing away the clinging sand. He stopped abruptly when a finger was jabbed in his face.
"I am a telepath. You mus' believe when I say you are looking but you do not SEE. She does not look at you de same because," she wiggled the finger, "de face she has for you she shares wit' no one else. She look at you wit' kinship, respect, and pride because you are special to her above all others."
"Look," he warned, his precarious temper flaring, "I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but there's a lot you're not seeing, telepath. There's over four hundred years of memories to pour through up here," he tapped at his temple. "You don't know anything about that girl and you don't know anything about me. You don't know anything about our history – where we've come from, things we did – any of it. Would you believe me if I told you I used to be a really bad guy?" he snarled, taking a step closer. He'd had all he could take. "What if I told you I'd killed people, long ago? What if I told you I've spent centuries in repentance? What if I'd killed people she loved? What if I'd attacked her, tortured her, horrified her?!? What if that girl could never forgive me?!? She should never forgive me! And I'm not asking for it! Alright? I just want to be left alone!!!"
His last shout drifted off across the sea, leaving behind an awkward, apologetic silence.
"I know that this place holds promise, believe me, I felt it the first time I was here," he continued, eager to fill the void, running his fingers through his hair. "I know that you've lived an ugly life and you just want to see something beautiful happen – we all do. But this… this hurts, okay? And I know you think it'd help if I confessed something to her, but I can't." He paused. "I cannot ever love that girl because she cannot ever love me. And that's… just the way it is."
"But you do…" she whispered to the air as she watched him turn and walk away. He headed into the house, presumably in the direction of the generator chamber to put in more tiresome hours of distracting work. She hung her head and shook it.
'You poor fools…'
~*~*~
Gabriel found the generator drives to be moderately complex, but from his frame of reference manageable if he kept a cheat sheet. Apparently for anyone else, however, they were flippin' rocket science. He had been repetitively grinding through the process of showing Arturo and Jesse, the orange strongman (whom he had developed a nasty habit of calling 'Carrots'), how to recalibrate the mechanisms should any disasters occur, and how to perform regular maintenance that would keep them sustained should something happen to him and he never return. He was beginning to clench his teeth in impatient irritation at their lack of comprehension when Louisa's voice rained down upon them from the heavens announcing the blessed arrival of another mealtime. Apparently the ladies had run a large pot of water through the environmental system on board the transport before shoving it into the fire to boil. From there they'd scavenged every packet of dehydrated beef stew they could find. Admittedly, as he followed his fleeing students up the staircase toward the exit that led to the lawn, something did smell awfully good and at this point he wasn't terribly picky. In the morning they would run tests to see if cooking the food left behind in the solar-powered freezer units would mitigate its toxicity, but for now he was just happy to have something in his belly.
Or he would've been if it wasn't upset. And he wouldn't have felt so tired if his shoulders weren't so tight and he didn't have this throbbing headache. And he'd have been in a better mood if he wasn't so…
Tense. He was tense. He had been since he left Leo.
He spooned his dinner blandly, compartmentalizing and cataloguing his racing mind. At the very root of the knot binding the muscles in his back was anxiety. He was scared of facing the Feds. He was scared of saying goodbye to Claire, scared of hurting her. He was afraid she was right, and he was walking blindfolded straight into a hangman's noose like a fatalistic moron. He was afraid of failing. He was afraid that everyone would hate him if he did.
Ostracize him.
And on the heels of that particular revelation buzzed something… else. Having lost his appetite, he set down his bowl , sinking it into the sand, completely disinterested. His breath hitching in his throat, he lifted his eyes, surveying the party encircling the fire, nests made in toasted-dry bedding, winding down for the night smiling and talking and telling stories and laughing. He was supposed to belong here… like he belonged on Cancer… and that had all been a lie. But that wasn't all. These people were all mods.
They all had… abilities.
He tried not to think about it, but it was too late. His skin was already crawling and his hands had already balled into fists at his side. A terrible, familiar itch was already creeping up the back of his throat, spreading a taste to his tongue that he craved desperately. His vision was beginning to blur at the edges as his pupils started to dilate and he knew he was in trouble – everyone was in trouble. Sylar was surrounded by his vice and was rapidly losing control.
"Lifting that whole ship must've been hard," he heard someone at his side. He turned to look – it was Carrots. "You did that with your mind?"
This kid could've lifted it with his hands, could've flung it into space. Distantly, he felt his legs straighten as he stood, unsteadily bearing his weight. A perplexed expression flitted over the boy's face as his shadow fell across him. On the other side of the fire he heard Claire's conversation drop before everything was drowned by the sound of Jesse's deliciously firing synapses. Super-human strength, it was written in code, pulsing down circuitous pathways with every heartbeat, every breath. All he had to do was open it up…
He stumbled backwards, kicking sand into Arturo's lap.
"Hey -"
"Dude, are you… alright? You look a little -"
"Leave him alone," Claire directed. He wasn't sure who she was referring to. He didn't stay to find out. Pale and clammy, shaking with need, he made a hasty escape rushing away down the beach. Before he got too far he heard Claire explain, "not everyone is born with a fun ability – give him some time."
He sat for a long while, worshipping the ghostly glow of the planet's closest moon with his bare toes near enough to the water's edge that they made pits in the moistened sand, consoling Sylar and soothing his hunger. He didn't acknowledge her approach, even as he heard the whispery hush of the silky drape in which she'd chosen to wrap herself, brushing against her thighs with every step. He'd picked up her scent on the breeze before that. She came to a stop beside him, choosing to remain standing . He tilted his eyes up at her, watching her cast her gaze out over the endlessly rolling moonlit sea. A teasing wind tossed a lock of hair into her eyes; her cloak shifted as she reached for it, exposing a small, soft shoulder. It made his mouth water.
"No one's afraid of you," she told him with conviction. "It's okay. Don't let it eat you up, Gabe, it's gonna take time -"
"Fuck, Claire, it's been -"
"A LOT of time. These people still love you. They'll give you what you need."
His mouth dried up just as easily. The only response she received was a heavy, lamenting sigh. She folded herself down to finally sit beside him, wrapping the cloth around her knees. She bumped up against him in an unsuccessful effort to get him to lighten up before she stared at him, making him squirm with disquiet. He rested his forehead on his arms, trying to avoid her meticulous scrutiny. He looked tired. Truly tired, and not in that oh-I-didn't-get-a-good-night's-sleep-last-night kind of way, but in the I've-been-running-for-400-years-looking-for-answers-to-my-questions-only-to-come-to-the-conclusion-that-some-questions-don't-have-answers-and-I-really-wish-I-didn't-know-what-I-know-now kind of way.
"Hmm," her breath captured his attention, "I wonder if anyone's named any of these constellations yet." She had tipped back her head, letting her hair cascade over the length of her spine to sweep gossamer strands across the wet granules beneath her, and lifted her lashes to her brows as she took in the sky.
"Officially? Probably. Unofficially? I'm sure there's millions of 'em."
"See that one?" she pointed, leaning close so he could follow her finger, letting her cherished proximity tickle his skin.
"Looks like a box?"
"Yeah, that's the one! With the really bright star -"
"I think that's another planet -"
"I name thee 'Toaster'."
"… 'Toaster'…?"
"Sure, I mean, it's square, and -"
"Claire, lots of things are square, like some books and… and…"
"Boxes, right. Neither of which make good constellation names. Not like 'Toaster'."
He smiled in spite of himself, feeling a bit more relaxed.
"Ooo, and see that one? Over there – like a small triangle?"
"You're really going for the basic polygons tonight, aren't you -"
"'Ice Cream Cone'."
"Nope – 'Clown Hat'."
"Gabe, clowns are scary. They scare people. Nobody likes clowns."
"They scarier than me…?"
"Tons." She paused, squeaking a bit as she suppressed a mirthful giggle. "Unless you started wearing a red rubber nose."
"Are you still mad at me?"
Her laughter subsided at the inappropriate timing of his question, and air passed through her nose as she kept her eyes in the heavens.
"Of course I am, Gabriel. I'm furious because I think it's not fair and I'm sad because I think I'm never going to see you again, and I don't want our last conversation to be… the one we had earlier."
He rocked a bit on his hipbones before he asked. "So… you'd miss me."
Dropping her eyes and searching her feet, she pinched a clump of sand that she let drop from her fingers. "Badly."
"But… aren't you a widow or something? Again? What happened to whats-his-name, your hubby…"
"Jason."
"Yeah, him."
"Oh that, heh…" she shrugged one shoulder. "Don't misunderstand, he did pass not long ago, he was eighty-six… but I'm not his widow. We, uh…" she waved a dismissive hand, "… we divorced a long time ago."
"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that." No he wasn't. "What happened?"
She inclined her forehead to him in an expression that seethed, 'we're freaks, freaky shit happened, duh…'
"What didn't happen? The same thing that always happens… He wanted babies and someone he could grow old with. He grew up and didn't want to be married to Peter Pan anymore. It wasn't fair to him."
There was something rattling between his ears, something she wasn't saying. She was reserving pieces of the truth. While he understood it happened decades ago, he expected… more. Craig's death had affected her deeply, had torn her inside out, he'd bore witness to it – and it had still arguably been affecting her three hundred years later. And while the situation admittedly wasn't the same, Jason did leave her life… but this time she seemed oddly detached. Disconnected. She was such a passionate person, it wasn't like her, something was wrong here…
"I mean, we did go to counseling for a while," she continued, "but I only brought it up to make him feel better, to give him the effort he deserved, he was a really great man. And, we were still friends, even after he re-married. He got the kids he wanted, too – three of 'em, although one he had real trouble keeping out of the camps. Gave him fits. A son, of course – boys are trouble," she smiled at him wickedly. "No… he lived a long, happy life. It worked out for the best."
"Claire." She turned to him and it was his turn to stare her down. "What else happened?"
Her jaw tightened and she scowled at him, knowing she was being called out on her deception. She tucked her left ear against her shoulder as one idle finger drew pictures in the sand.
"You're gonna think less of me."
"Holy shit, are you serious?" he laughed. "Claire, I killed your parents."
"I know," she smiled reluctantly. Her absentminded exploration turned up something that resembled a small shell or a smoothly polished stone. She held it aloft, bathing it in the wan light, trying to decipher its identity.
"There was someone else," she finally whispered.
"And he knew?"
"He suspected."
"So you cheated on your husband."
"I did NOT cheat," she whipped around, dropping her treasure in favor of thrusting her finger in his face. "I never acted on the impulse -"
"That's why you went to counseling, isn't it."
"- and I never even told the guy. Neither one of them ever knew. I promised myself that while Jason was still alive I would never betray him, whether I was his wife or not. He was a good man who didn't deserve what he got. I felt terrible…"
"It's not that terrible, Claire… so you had feelings for some guy. The story had a happy ending, right?"
"Yeah…"
"Yeah. There you go." He picked up her forgotten piece of detritus intent of giving it an inspection of his own. It was creamy and opaque, although translucent in small, tight bands. It had an unusual texture. "So, what ever happened to the other guy?"
"He's still around."
He knitted his eyebrows in unanticipated interest.
"Wow… that's kinda weird… you're still lusting after some geezer… although, case in point," he gestured toward himself, "men do become more distinguished with age…"
She didn't answer, not even to refute his boastful claim.
"So, what… is he, like, a hundred or something by now?"
She clasped her hands and pressed them against her lips, maintaining her uneasy silence, suddenly reticent and possibly embarrassed.
"I'm sorry, Claire, I shouldn't tease, I've got no room to talk," he sighed, pushing the little object in his hands back into the earth. "My one – singular – relationship wasn't exactly stellar either, was it?"
She mumbled something he couldn't make out.
"Hmmm?"
"I said, the other man…"
"Yeah?"
She dropped her hands away, her eyes resolutely fixed on the horizon, shoulders squared, forthright. She was laid bare. Here it comes.
"He's…" She took just one breath. "He's four hundred and twenty six years old."
"…"
He froze. At first he didn't think he heard her correctly. Her words tumbled through his mind over and over until his body was completely numb and nothing else in the world – not the beach, the moon, the sea, the stars, the whole world – existed except the thinly veiled meaning behind what she'd just said. At last, she graced him with her eyes, haunted and apprehensive. He gaped at her, mouth wide and throat choked, fighting for every shuddering breath, paralyzed by an exhilarating mixture of astonishment, shock, vindication, and fear.
"You… you…" His tongue wouldn't work. He was going to die if he didn't run right now, taking this moment with him before he did something to ruin it.
"I fell in love with you," she breathed with her sweet face.
He squeezed his eyes shut. He was shivering, his teeth chattering, it wasn't happening… it wasn't real… he was locked in complete, bitter denial even though every cell in his body was gilded with glowing hot gold by the truth of her courageously shared secret.
How could he have been such an idiot. His heels dug holes in the sand as he flung himself backwards, his fingers clawing for purchase, and he writhed against his body and cruel gravity, trying to get away.
"I'll.. I'll hurt you… you'll hate me – you'll LEAVE me – and I'll never see you again," he cried, voice soaked with boyish cowardice as he managed to clamber to his feet, sparks flying from his efforts, spinning away into nothingness. "How… how can you… I…" He whirled and tore across the placid silvery beach at high velocity, disappearing into the night.
"Well… that was unexpected…"
~*~*~
The dome generator and the lighthouse sat on a crest overlooking the ocean. It was obvious that the scrubby lawns rolling down to the beach, where they became broken and patched by the invading sand, had once been brutally and irresponsibly terraformed by harmful alien grasses before the feral native varieties got help from a malfunctioning dome. The entire landscape , even at this time of night, was an exotic mix of beauty and chaos.
Feeling ashamed, embarrassed, frightened, and guilty, Gabriel's promenade of self-reflection was interrupted when he reached the base of the crest. The black mass that loomed above him in the dark appeared hollow – within its face yawned an enormous cave mouth. Curiosity and giddy intrigue overriding his emotional unrest, he picked his way up a few stones until he was able to crawl inside. Finding his new surroundings even darker than what he'd been accustomed to, he held out his left palm and allowed a ball of energy to hover there, casting a flickering blue flare against what he discovered were obviously man-made walls. Judging by his proximity, he was willing to bet the giant tunnel led to the dome generator. He had to know what it was for.
His forward progress was obstructed by a monstrous pile of rock and debris, likely having collapsed as a result of the explosion. Unwilling to be deterred, he used a combination of telekinesis and his own muscle power to navigate his passage through the barrier. Depending on what lie on the other side, this was a mess Carrots might have to help him with later. Once through, his lonely footsteps echoing around him, he had initially thought the reddish hue ahead might've been his overactive imagination playing tricks on him in the dark, but after he'd extinguished his spectral lamp he'd been amazed to find it was strong enough to light his path. Contrary to his suspicions about the place, the shaft abruptly widened, opening into an immense, cavernous concrete space. The entire chamber was bathed in the soft scarlet glow of auxiliary lighting that he suspected operated on the same solar circuit as the lighthouse several stories above his head. Lining the truly expansive walls were what appeared to be bays designed for housing shuttle craft, ready with items used in their flight prep procedures, along with crates of the additive used to keep alive what few specimens of the native flora were allowed to flourish under the unlivable conditions of the dome. Unsurprisingly, the shuttles were all gone, having absconded to the safety of open space once the aerial barrier burst like a bubble under the weight of an oppressively poisonous atmosphere – the same one it had waged war with for decades before its controls were violently sabotaged.
But Gabriel was wrong… there was something… all the way at the end… Impatience pulled his feet into a jog. As he approached, the shape coalesced into the form of one lone shuttle. Brilliant! It meant that his little group of refugees wouldn't have to be completely stranded once he made off with the transport – they could still filter water through the environmental system sealed hermetically within her confines, among other things, and they would still have an escape plan should the unthinkable happen.
He rounded her nose and came into contact with a scene that told a grisly, sorrowful tale, preserved despite the passage of time, waiting to be uncovered. On the far side of the craft, previously hidden from view, she'd taken structural damage from the blast, presumably to her engines. Desperate for escape, willing to take the chance that the vehicle could still fly, two bodies still occupied her cockpit, huddled close to each other behind the pilot's controls. From his vantage point, he could only make them out from the shoulders up. They were pressed together in a final embrace.
His feet wouldn't budge. Still reeling from the bewildering confession Claire had made to him, his mind swirled with aching thoughts as he pondered the portrait mummified before him. Their cheeks and eye sockets had sunken and their skin held a strangely yellow-grey leathery pallor, but they still had their hair, their fingernails… their eyelashes, sweeping down over their faces, closed in a heartbreaking expression of loving serenity. At least they had been together.
In all of his life, Gabriel had never faced death – at least not his own… except for maybe that one failed attempt at hanging… and then there was that other time, with the sword… But while he'd spent centuries in prison with not much else to occupy him outside of his regrets, he'd always been positive that, whomever he may become, his only certainty would be that he would have time. As he stared at the ill-begotten star-crossed lovers, he wondered if they'd felt the same way he did, standing on the edge of a deep chasm plunging into the unknown, wishing he'd done… more.
Wishing he'd have told her…
And in the end they'd had something that he'd blindly tossed to the sea like a snake he was afraid would bite him. When their time had come, they'd held onto it… and he ran from it. It was because he had nothing but time. What if they weren't good together? What if they grew to hate each other? What if he forsake her friendship, did something monumentally stupid, broke her heart? He didn't want to face eternity alone, and before now he had her. But now… now he wasn't so sure he had time. All it would take would be one collar… one good shot to the head… and he'd gasp his last breath wishing he still had her in his arms. The way these two did.
He didn't want to die alone.
Ready to move on, he blinked at the pair in farewell but promised to return in the morning to give them a proper burial. He stepped around to inspect the destroyed section of the shuttle's hull. It's motherboard was completely fried – irreparable for someone who didn't possess the ability to map and electrically solder new circuitry. Fortunately, he wasn't just anyone. As he prodded pieces of twisted metal and toasted wires he felt a draft brush across the back of his neck. Turning to face the wall behind him he saw for the first time that a large stretch of it had been obliterated, blown inward in large, jagged chunks, presumably by the blast. Amongst the rubble appeared to be the ruined shapes of a door and some stair railing. As he'd suspected, on the other side lay the generator chamber. Smiling to himself, he recognized that there was more than one lesson to be had in learning how to trust his judgment.
He pulled himself up the pile and climbed inside the familiar room, pleasantly humming with the sound of at least one properly working drive array (for now). Its musical language of clicks, buzzes, and whirs sang to him the vow that it would happily and faithfully carry out its duty, keeping these people alive… safeguarding the woman he loved. He stood before it for a few moments, watching it work, marveling over how it could do so when he'd really only MacGuyvered it back together with not much more than scrap metal, faulty wiring, powers of disintegration and electrical charge, and some chewing gum… But then, out of the corner of his eye, he was distracted by a small object that he hadn't seen before and certainly hadn't left there.
It was a fet. A fucking Hello Kitty pink one. And there was a note beside it. His toes curled and he grimaced. He wasn't sure he wanted to read that note, knowing who it was from, acutely aware of how he'd left their last… encounter. Morosely sorry, he decided he owed her, if nothing more, the integrity to hear her out. He opened the envelope and unfolded the paper concealed within.
'I promised you this a long time ago if you upheld your end of the bargain. It's way overdue. It was falling apart due to age so I had it converted to digital format – I have a copy in the folder called Old_Stuff, I couldn't access the network share. I don't think we have net coverage here. Anyway, you let your remorse run your life Gabriel. It's time to let it go and live. I forgive you, so forgive yourself. If you die tomorrow, die happy.'
He read the note twice before he folded it into his t-shirt pocket. Curiosity once again guiding his body against his brain's wishes, he reached for the fet and turned it on. She'd left it with the file explorer open. He selected the folder she'd mentioned and his eyes were immediately drawn to a file named 'for_gabe'. Certain that 'pictures' and 'nursing_notes' weren't what he was looking for, he opened the file. What loaded to stare back at him caused his knees to buckle. Landing hard on his tailbone in shock, he clamped a hand over his breathless mouth, temporarily blinded by hot, stinging tears. Suddenly delirious with joy, he laughed a bitter sob against his fingers.
It was the photograph Claire had held teasingly between her fingertips in a hotel room, lifetimes ago – the picture of a raven-haired beauty, the one whose featureless face had guided him when things had been unbearably rough, the one whose name had been robbed from him as a child along with her bitterly coveted memory. The one who'd been ruthlessly executed for… wanting to keep him. He settled himself, straightening his legs as he dropped his hand away to stroke the high-definition pixels of her face, and salty liquid trickled into the corner of his mouth as he shakily whispered her name for the first time he could remember.
"Robin Elaine Matthews Gray." He tilted his head as he studied her, finding shades of himself in her elegant dark eyebrows and in the shape of her mouth. "Hello, mom."
He read the text attached – read about her life, her marriage, her son, her death. Her ability. She had been an empath – it was the gift she had given him. She had been a nurse. She had taken ballet lessons as a girl. She had grown up in the rolling hills of western Pennsylvania. She had collected books, most of them biographies – she liked people.
He let the fet fall to his lap between listless hands and rolled his back, allowing his eyes to soak his smile and images to flood his mind. She had an agile tongue and a hearty laugh that would make her snort if she really got going. She would let him play with his toy cars on the counter sometimes, while she cooked. Of obvious Italian descent somewhere, she loved pasta, loved fresh tomatoes… grew them, yes! She grew them! On the patio, along with an herb box containing basil, parsley, rosemary… a few other things. She'd chide him for tormenting june bugs while she worked in her tulip garden. She made the best peanut butter banana sandwiches – with ten slices of banana, doubling the one in the middle to give it a sweet center… just like her sweetheart… her angel… She read him Aesop's Fables before bed every night, threading her fingers through his damp, freshly-bathed hair while her voice lulled him to safe, warm sleep, and he… he still remembered them to this day, knew them by heart. His favorite had always been the Lion and the Mouse…
Claire was so brave. She'd met him eye to eye and ripped the thorn right out of him.
Emotionally spent and becoming sleepy, he thought it might be a good time to redeem himself to her for the evening. Placing her fet in his shorts pocket, he tiredly plodded his way out to the lawn. Of all the shadowy, people-shaped lumps lining the bonfire's smoldering vestiges, hers was the most immediately recognizable with regards to its diminutive size. A tan quilt separated her skin from the sand as she lay curled up in her silken shawl, toasting in the warm molten glow of the ember light. He brought himself down beside her, both knees sinking into the malleable ground, and he boldly let one hand slowly smooth down her side, rippling the material from her waist to her knee. She sniffed a little but remained asleep. Lacking a proper pillow, her neck was bent uncomfortably, and she had her hands drawn tightly across her elbows. Unable to help himself, he lowered his body against hers, gently snaking an arm under her head to give it proper support, and draping his other arm around her waist to pull her into a soft embrace. He pressed his mouth against her neck, hot from the fire, her scent filling his senses and her pulse beating against his lips. Heart still raw with rushing memories, he let the words tumble out of him, having no strength left to stop them.
"Loved you for four hundred years," he murmured against her velvety skin. "Love you so much it hurts. Love you so much it makes me helpless… so much you make me a slave… Love you within an inch of my own life, I swear to god I'll give you anything you want. Anything. I'd go to the ends of the earth, Claire, whatever you want. Love you til the end of time, I swear to god I will… love you so much… I mean it… Love you so much you keep me alive…"
She shifted slightly and reached an arm around to run her searching fingers through his hair. He sniffled wetly and his eyes clamped shut at the contact, drenching her parched shoulder with fresh tears.
"Love you til the end of time… swear to god I will…"
"Shhhh…" she hushed drowsily as she caressed his neck… the shell of his ear… the length of his jaw. And there, under the countless nameless constellations, he bore his soul to her, worshipped her, grateful to be granted the privilege of her tender ministrations, until sleep finally silenced him.
~*~*~
Claire stretched luxuriously, the previous night's exchange still lingering through her dream-clouded mind. She twisted around, sighing contentedly as her spine made several satisfying pops, fully expecting to mash her face into the firm musculature of his chest to avoid assaulting him with her morning breath… only to find he wasn't there at all. She stopped mid-groan and sat bolt upright when an enormous splash startled her to full consciousness.
She was alone, still huddled next to a lightly smoking circle of ash and spent charcoal. She drew her drape around her more securely, warding off the dawn's damp chill, taking a peaceful moment to appreciate the wholly alien panorama. Facing the west, the sun was rising behind her, hidden by the house. The sky shifted colors across its expanse from pale buttery yellow to lime to aqua to something becoming a tad more purple. She assured herself she'd grow accustomed to the sight, but she couldn't take her eyes off of it… until another deafeningly wet crash made her jump yet again. Getting her feet underneath her, she pounded her way down to the beach.
Louisa and Arturo emerged from the transport as she approached, arms full with rations and containers of fresh water. As they nodded good morning to her, she couldn't help but wonder if they were really stocking up while they could… because the ship would be leaving today… with a certain man on it. A certain missing man.
"You slep' well…" Louisa drawled as she sidled up next to her, hoping she could dump some of her burden into Claire's empty arms. It had been a statement, not a question. Claire shrugged noncommittally and accepted a heavy jug of water just in time to see a mammoth boulder fly from the side of the crest to plunge noisily into the ocean.
"Christ on a cracker!"
"Jesse be doin' some cleanin' for your sweetheart." Claire didn't try to refute the term. "Dere be a big cave up 'ere."
Curiosity piqued but arms becoming rubbery, she followed Louisa back to the house where they discovered Kelly working vigorously on thawing several different food items from frozen storage. On the counter, within arm's length, was the first aid kit from the transport which included a sub-kit for poisons and toxins (which predominantly featured the centuries' old tried and true method – Syrup of Ipecac). It didn't take a psychic or a mind-reader to clearly see that Claire was going to be the guinea pig in a series of experiments later on that morning… but she was happy to do so. The sacrifice of a few uncomfortable moments would ultimately save lives.
"Mmmm breakfast!" she called good-naturedly. "Whatcha makin'?"
"Eggs, I hope," Kelly answered, "and there's some really nice looking steaks in here too."
"Well, this little Texan can appreciate a good start like that," Claire returned, aware that someone as relatively young as Kelly (despite her aged appearance) wouldn't understand the reference. Depositing her load, her attention was snared by the sound of engines bearing down on the beach. All three women locked eyes with each other before racing out of the house.
Immediately after the battered shuttle landed Jesse appeared at her aft, gingerly carrying two carefully wrapped bundles. He slowly laid them down as if they were so fragile they'd crumble into dust. He rubbed his hands on his pants and turned to face them, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
"You should've seen this thing earlier – swear, the guy can fix anything!"
"You have no idea…" Claire mumbled, inaudible over the sound of the turbines winding down. "What're those?" she gestured a bit more loudly.
"Bodies. Apparently we're gonna have a funeral."
The grim thought left her mind as quickly as it had entered the instant the shuttle's pilot set foot on the sand. Butterflies bubbled in her belly at the sight of his face – it was the first time she'd seen him clearly in the daylight since they'd told each other… her heart seized when his eyes met hers. She couldn't fight the flush that rose to her cheeks when his expression softened into something a shade more lusty and sensual. She sucked on her lip to keep her drool in her mouth. She stood her ground as he approached, secretly aching for the proximity he granted her freely, stopping to tower over her, his breath tickling her forehead. She wanted to tuck her hands under his shirt and rake them over every inch of his silky soft skin…
"I brought you something," he purred, indicating the cooling hunk of machinery behind him.
"For me? You shouldn't have," she returned with an expression that belied her tone.
"C'mon Jesse, we got a couple holes to dig," Arturo called before both men moved off. Kelly had already retreated to the kitchen leaving Louisa behind, bent down to inspect the mummies. While not under immediate scrutiny, Claire stood on her tiptoes and brought her cheek to his, reaching her lips toward the tender flesh of his earlobe.
"I missed you this morning," she whispered, the feel of his body against hers shooting pangs of pleasure straight into her groin. She sighed against his neck as she backed away and he brought both hands up to cup her face. His eyes dived into hers heavily.
"I'm sorry."
She quickly deciphered what his expression was telling her. Icy cold realization ran down her spine.
"You mean to leave today, don't you."
He hung his head, providing her the answer she'd feared.
"I just want to get it over with," he breathed, "so I can come home." He put a strong emphasis on the word – the meaning was not lost on her. Their shared understanding placated her slightly. She slid both of her hands down his arms and threaded her fingers into his, squeezing them tightly in reluctant acquiescence. It was something that needed to be done… it was something the man had to do… and a part of her wouldn't have been so proud of him if he didn't. Falling prey to a sudden instinctual drive to claim him as her own, she rocked forward on her toes again and smoothed her lips over his cheek, drawing them to the corner of his mouth, noticing how his hands clamped strongly around her own, feeling his chest jerk against her with his quick gasp… he tilted his head toward her…
"Okay, I'm gonna start with the eggs!" Kelly called. "And yes, I'm lookin' at you two! Come tell me if these are any good!"
Claire growled and rolled her eyes while Gabriel scowled in very apparent annoyance. Begrudgingly, they obliged the woman, really shitty timing notwithstanding.
~*~*~
"Seal integrity?"
"One hundred percent, check."
"Check. Emergency oxygen kit?"
"Umm, yes, kit is situated by the port, it appears to be in working order. Check."
"Check."
As if the morning hadn't been uncomfortable enough, having spent 'breakfast' rather green until they discovered that the foods kept in sealed containers remained largely unaffected by the enveloping toxins, and this was then followed by the burial of two rather grisly and shriveled dead husks… now Claire felt like she was assisting Gabriel with his own suicide. She gulped against acid reflux, agitated by anxiety.
"Passenger and cargo area secure?" she read from the long, exhausting list. On the other hand, she was grateful to have these last few moments alone with him, while Jesse and Arturo were busy building a garden to grow fresh, oxygen-loving foodstuffs and the ladies were cycling thawed meat and eggs through the shuttle's scrubbing contamination unit. Gabriel moved to the passenger section of the long craft and cinched up the cots that had been used to accommodate them during their exodus from the Taurus sector.
"I think we're secure now, check."
"Check."
"What've we got left?"
"Environmental then power. What, you chompin' at the bit? Can't wait to get out of here?" she spat, bitterly. She wanted to say she didn't mean it… but she did.
"Yeah… can't wait to jump back into space in another exploding bucket… I don't exactly have a great track record with spaceships, Claire…"
In truth, however, irrational fears aside, they both knew the whole flight check was one big stalling mechanism. The ship had flown just fine the day before – she'd barely had the time to cool off before now, when he was about to reignite her engines. Claire kept her eyes on the clipboard, not wanting to let him see how much they'd filled with sadness, not wishing to make the situation harder than it already was. He slipped the object from between her fingers and tucked it under his arm. She looked up to gaze into his apologetic face and lost her composure, crumpling into her hands, concealing the angry tears that were ripped from her by fate and its cosmic unfairness. Without hesitating he gripped her shoulders and pulled her shaking frame against his own, steadying her and attempting to calm her.
"Why did I scare you?" she sobbed against his shirt, twisting her fists in the fabric. "Why would I leave you? What were you thinking you were gonna do that was so much worse than what you've done to me already?" She wondered if she meant to include her current state of torment.
"You didn't scare me, Claire," he murmured against her hair, "I'm just an idiot."
Stepping away, pushing the backs of her hands against her wet, flushed cheeks, she hiccupped, "well, you have to leave that idiot behind – if you're walking back into the fire I want you going smart. I don't wanna spend forever alone any more than you do."
"I know," he promised, "I know. I'm, uh… I'm gonna start 'er up, Claire. Meet me outside, will ya?"
She nodded and stroked his shoulder as she turned toward the exit bay at the aft.
The thundering turbines, spooling energy as they prepared for liftoff, drew a lot of attention. Certainly ready to see one less eyesore on the pristine stretch of beach, the group of refugees assembled to see Gabriel off and wish him luck. Kelly approached him first as he stepped out to say goodbye, handing him a wrapped bundle.
"I wish it was a bunch of sandwiches," she muttered, "but the bread's still questionable. You've got some soup, some veggies, and some canned ham for the road."
"Thank you, that's very kind."
He shook hands with the men, rattling off a quick list of reminders on emergency procedures for the dome generator. The heads between their deaf ears nodded with mock gratitude.
And then he turned to her. He was drowning in uncharted territory – a witty repertoire wasn't going to suffice here. For a split, panicked moment he wasn't sure he'd be able to summon the courage to kiss her. He was so practiced at keeping a respectable distance between them that the idea felt completely… foreign. He didn't know where to start… and there were so many people watching… but he couldn't just leave…
She stepped up to him, her glassy gaze piercing him, tipped just beneath his chin. She was so small yet so formidable – a warrior, a goddess, a petite flame of fiery conviction. How could he beg her to let him put his mouth on hers? How could she possibly find him worthy of such lofty affection? He turned a cheek to her – a cowardly display of timid insecurity. She would have none of it. Warm, tentative fingers pressed against his face, drawing him back around to confront the expression that enchanted him so thoroughly. Enraptured him. She was staring at the lovely divot just beneath his nose, dusted with feathery dark stubble rounding a leisurely path to his chin.
"Leave the idiot behind, Gabe… kiss me," she hissed.
Surprising himself with a sudden lack of hesitation at her command, he tangled his hands in her hair, sucking in a deep invigorating breath, and he diligently obeyed her. He closed his eyes and brushed his trembling lips against hers, encouraged when she opened them to him – opened herself to him. She tasted him with a sweet pink tongue, sucking him greedily into her, mewling her consent, tenderly raking her fingernails up his sides, across his back, over his shoulders… his body went totally numb. He felt weightless, everything dropped away as he fervently fulfilled the urgent need to complete himself with her soft, cotton-candy kiss. He pulled away, tilted to the other side, and savored her again more firmly, warming her cheek with a lusty sigh, kneading his fingers down the muscles of her neck and spine, encircling her waist, meeting every inch of her shape with his own, desperate to prolong the spell… even though he knew he couldn't
He severed the contact but brushed his forehead against hers, lovingly combing through her hair.
"I will be right back," he whispered against her nose.
"You better be," she panted, sweeping her hands across the planes of his heaving chest, stopping where she could feel his heart pounding. "And don't wait so long this time."
"I won't."
Her fingers dragged down his front as she fought to let him go, remaining where stood was as he backed away from her. The air between them grew cold and his eyes shone with frantic fearful regret. He made one last weak gesture, waving goodbye, before he swallowed and wheeled an about face, stalking with his chin held high toward the transport, a condemned man traveling his last mile.
Long after the craft lifted to the air and disappeared through the semi-permeable dome into the thick, venomous atmosphere above, and the day succumbed to evening allowing hatefully cheerful constellations to show their faces and mock her sorrow, Claire watched the sky and prayed to a God she wasn't sure she existed.
"Please, Lord… please bring him home."
A/N #2: I've decided writing kissing scenes is hard... cheese louise, that was rough. But hey, I got this posted in time for tonight's episode!!! Appropriate, don't you think?