Stars on Strings

by Jessie

Author's note: I don't know what this story is exactly. It's possible that it's not even fanfic, but I was picturing John and Aeryn when I wrote it, so I'm putting in this category. A lot is left unexplained. A lot. But maybe- with the right encouragemnet- I'll write a sequel or prequel or something to go along with this and explain everything.

***

Twinkling like the stars overhead, rain caught the light of the streetlamp as it fell. The water came down in cold, stinging droplets. They wondered if there was some sort of God controling those tiny molecules of water; wondered if He or She was inside each drop, staring out at them as though mesmirized by their complexity, by the wonder in their eyes as they stared back.

He wanted to speak, wanted to make the air around him fill with something other than clouds of white breath. But sound would have been inapropriate. Words would have fallen with the rain, hitting their damp shoes to be imediately kicked aside. He shivered at his thoughts, not knowing where they were coming from, but suspecting it wasn't a place he needed to be concerned with at the moment.

Warm breath pushed out, against the cold, and pressed against the back of his neck as his eyes closed in a mixture of misuderstood pleasure and fear. The hairs on his arms stood on end as a gentle heat touched his exposed flesh, making him aware of the body behind him. Like the water streaking down his shoulders, chills ran down his spine and throughout his exhausted form. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that caused his eyes to glaze over, his thoughts to collide, the scene around him seeming to slow down.

For seconds there was silence. Except for the sound of rain, no noise could be heard. Eyes watched the droplets, the winding street, and the occasional flash of headlights, as they wondered who would be the first to break down, make a comment or ask a question.

"You felt it too, didn't you?" He smiled cautiously, not daring to turn his head and view the origin of the voice. Knowing the smile didn't fit with the situation, he felt the ends of his mouth draw into a frown, as he quickly decided what to say.

"Yeah." He opened his mouth and tasted water. Despite the discomfort of crouching behind the various plant life he knew he wouldn't move, and niether would she. Sighing, he felt his voice begin to catch in his throat, but speech came to him anyway. "I'm sorry."

"You always are." She said this with a hint of amusement and he wondered if, perhaps, she had spent too much time with him as she seemed to be mimicking the wit and humor he always used as a defense shield.

"I felt it." He was talking to himself, trying to reassure his crowded mind that it was real.

"I know." They watched a pair of yellow lights pass them, racing off into the darkness.

"I'll go." The idea hung in the air with an incredulity that they were both aware of.

"No. It's my turn, remember?" He nodded absently, not really remembering. The moment was beginning to set in, his bones were finally realizing the truth that wrapped around them just as muscle and skin did. Perhaps he could convince her- convince himself- that he hadn't felt it.

"What if . . ." He began, not sure how to proceed, but knowing he had to try. He had to say something.

She shook her head at him, though he couldn't see the action. "I felt it, you felt it. I'm going and you can't change that."

"I know. But . . ."

A silence fell over them once again, each hoping time would stop its downward spiral and let them hold onto the seconds that slipped through their grasp. He felt the tips of her fingers touch the back of his neck self-conciously. Her hand rested on his shoulder, hesitating as she let a breath out and it bounced off of his bare skin.

Without thinking about the consequences he turned his head, his eyes meeting hers. Rain streamed down their cheeks as he put his hand to her face.

"Don't do this." She closed her eyes and he knew that his pleas would go unanswered. Her decision had been made, and it really was the only option.

As a familiar emotion overtook him, he found that he could think of nothing to do to change the situation. He wanted to provide comfort, but that was something he was lacking. Glancing at the streetlight with rising suspicion, he finnaly let go, not knowing it was possible to do so.

He kissed her gently on the lips, surprised that she let him do so, then pulled her to him, his arms wrapping around her seemingly fragile frame. For what was later thought to be too short a time, they held eachother as the rain fell against their shadowed figures.

"Too late." She murmered, and rose up over him. He watched her walk slowly to the road, wishing life had found another way to tell him that he couldn't go home again, that the life he had found with her and the others had been the right one, the one that he wanted. Too late.

Her foot touched the black street and she paused, waiting for something to happen like it always did. But there was nothing.

Blue eyes squinted in the darkness, scanning the scene with desperate hope. He had felt it. He couldn't deny that, not when the feeling still hovered over him, still made him cringe. But he also couldn't let her do this, not without him. Perhaps . . . perhaps it wasn't too late.

Mirroring the building emotions within him, he stood up and ran to where she had stopped, framed by yellow lamp light. He couldn’t let this happen. Earth didn’t matter anymore, nothing did. He just wanted it all to end.

Reaching her rigid body he felt the tension in her muscles send ripples through the air. She was angry with him for coming, yet oddly comforted.

They stood in the middle of the road, staring at each other, waiting, wishing, praying. The air was cold and wet around them as thoughts stung their hardened skin. Life had been an illusion up until that point, he could sense this. Now, the illusion was ending and reality was sinking its sharp teeth in.

Thoughts of a father, of friends, filled his mind, but he didn’t care. He had seen enough. It was time to go home.

A pair of headlights came at them fast, too fast for instinct or heroics to get in the way. All they saw was each other, and two round, soft balls of light, that did not seem to move, but to hang in the air before them, like stars on strings.

End

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