hell of a life

[literaryimmortality]

The heat should be overwhelming but I can't feel anything. Jim's gone, shot out into space and I've just pulled the trigger. I shouldn't feel guilt, I know, given that he'd all but sealed my fate when he woke me up. I should hold onto the anger that's been inside me for months, let it stop the sadness that's sure to come.

But I can't.

Maybe that makes me weak. Maybe that's all I've ever been and I'll ever be. But the one person I held dear for over a year has disappeared into the darkness of the sky, and I don't know how to get to him.

I say his name over and over, and he doesn't respond. I don't even know if he's alive. All I know is that I was the one that did this, that I should have searched for another solution. I close my eyes, grit my teeth. I shouldn't have opened the vent. I shouldn't have—

"Aurora?"

My eyes open and widen, and I search for the source of the voice. He's out there, somewhere, he's still alive. I can fix this, I—

I have no idea where I am. There's no metal beneath my feet. It's ground. Earth. Grass. I gasp. I haven't felt grass in over a year. Longer, maybe. I think of the rose Jim brought me and that's what makes me try to stand up, start looking for him.

But I forget for a moment about the wound in my arm and when I try to push myself up with it, I scream. The pain's so intense that for a moment my vision goes dark again and I can feel hot tears filling my eyes under their lids.

I inhale sharply and realize it's cold, here. I think for the second time in my life I'm waking up where I can't possibly be.

Comments

[cpthawk]

The thing about this city is that it's so quiet. For two years he'd dreamed about quiet, but now that he has it it's almost unsettling. There's no shelling, no choppers, no loudspeaker announcing new wounded every time he dares to try and shut his eyes. There's not even the sound of Charles's turntable, or BJ's snoring. It's not so bad out in the city, where he can hear the sound of traffic and people going about their lives, but the nights leave him practically climbing the walls.

He never thought he'd miss the noise. Ridiculous, the things he can't shake.

The evening is settling in, the air getting colder, the sound of the city starting to quiet again. There's no reason for him to be outside except that he thinks he'll go mad if he sits in his apartment alone any longer. Instead he walks through the park, hands in the pockets of the new jacket he's bought. It's nothing outlandish, plain navy, but just the fact that it's not olive green means it's his favourite thing in the world.

Underneath, resting against his chest are his dog tags still, because for some reason he can't stomach the idea of taking them off.

He's lost in his own head when the scream pierces the quiet, and Hawkeye snaps to attention. He follows the sound, walking quickly through the park until he spots her on the ground. The fact that she can scream at all is a good sign, but she's bleeding and she looks both confused and like she's in a lot of pain. He drops to his knees beside her, leans over to check her pulse more from habit than anything.

"Hey, hey," he says, calling her back when he sees her eyes flicker shut. "Can you hear me?" He's come here without his medical bag but at least her wounds look superficial. He's already pulling his jacket off, pressing it firmly against her arm to stop the bleeding.