Adrian - June 13
They'd told him, of course, but he hadn't truly believed them.
While the snow still fell it had been impossible to believe that it might stop, that the world might eventually be like he'd never seen it before. That there might be grass and trees and warm sun. Now Capa stood on the beach, barefoot and shirtless, his toes in the warm sand, the sun heating his thin shoulders. It felt good; it was amazing to be able to stand outside without needing to wear a sweater or a jacket and his boots. The light was blinding, but that didn't stop Capa from tipping his head back and staring into the sky, his eyes watering with the effort.
Even so, despite how good it felt, the knowledge that the others had died and he'd been given this weighed heavily. It ached, as real a feeling as the tight pull of the skin on his chest where he'd been sliced open and then stitched back together. His shoes and t-shirt lay in an abandoned pile beside him and he kicked them aside lightly, wondering if any of them had known how it would be. Had Searle, with his obsession with the sun, ever really understood how bright and how hot it could be? Had any of them? They deserved to see this as much as he did, if not more. They'd all sacrificed their lives so that their physicist could live long enough to save the world.
It was, as he'd hoped, a particularly beautiful day.
While the snow still fell it had been impossible to believe that it might stop, that the world might eventually be like he'd never seen it before. That there might be grass and trees and warm sun. Now Capa stood on the beach, barefoot and shirtless, his toes in the warm sand, the sun heating his thin shoulders. It felt good; it was amazing to be able to stand outside without needing to wear a sweater or a jacket and his boots. The light was blinding, but that didn't stop Capa from tipping his head back and staring into the sky, his eyes watering with the effort.
Even so, despite how good it felt, the knowledge that the others had died and he'd been given this weighed heavily. It ached, as real a feeling as the tight pull of the skin on his chest where he'd been sliced open and then stitched back together. His shoes and t-shirt lay in an abandoned pile beside him and he kicked them aside lightly, wondering if any of them had known how it would be. Had Searle, with his obsession with the sun, ever really understood how bright and how hot it could be? Had any of them? They deserved to see this as much as he did, if not more. They'd all sacrificed their lives so that their physicist could live long enough to save the world.
It was, as he'd hoped, a particularly beautiful day.