Fic: A Far Distant Future - Volume Two

[vespaer]

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Confessions and Constellations (Part One)
Characters: Sylar/Claire
Summary: It's amazing what absence will do to the heart...
Rating: "R" for some violence, some blood & guts, and eventually some sexual imagery
Spoilers: Up through season 3 I guess, but this got started before season 4.

A/N: 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 (split in 2 parts due to size)
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes or anything remotely related and I bow humbly before the television gods, please have mercy on me. And if I've massively screwed something up, I'd like to know.

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, clothes! 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 l 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…”