Shrapnel gasped again for air in a hoarse groan of pain. His whole body went rigid for a moment and under her fingers Sandy could feel his pulse, weak and fluttering, skipping a beat more often than not by now. She leaned over his face and pressed a kiss on his lips, as passionate and as hungry as she had ever kissed him at the beginning of their love. When she leaned back a faint smile played around his pale, bluish lips. “Baby... I love you...” He coughed again and gasped in pain. “Oh shit...” “Shrapnel... I love you too”, Sandy placed a small tender kiss on his lips, now moist and salty from her own tears. “I’ll miss you...” “Flak...” Another rasping, painful gasp for air. “Buddy...” Flak leaned closer and squeezed Shrapnel’s hand. “What.” “Flak... Sandy... baby... you... you two are the best that... that ever happened to me...” Closing his eyes with a shudder Flak lowered his head a little more so his forehead touched Shrapnel’s temple. On his other side, Sandy did the same and holding on to their hands, Shrapnel drew another hoarse, rasping breath, exhaling it with a soft, almost relieved groan.
Both Flak and Sandy waited for another painful intake of breath. It didn’t come.
Sandy’s shoulders began to tremble when she realised this and with a tired grunt, Flak sat up again to look down at the face of his friend. “He’s over it, darling”, he said in a voice that was hardly audible before he reached out and closed Shrapnel’s eyes. With a likewise gentle move, he also closed his mouth. “He’s over it.”
Sandy dropped her head onto Shrapnel’s chest with a sob and dug her hands into folds of the blanket. Flak was still holding on to his dead buddy’s hand and now buried the other in Sandy’s hair. After a moment, however, Sandy suddenly threw her head and shoulders back and wailed, a high-pitched, painful ululation of grief that shook the marrow of his bones. Still not letting go of Shrapnel’s hand he now wiped his face with the other and closed his eyes. “Godspeed, buddy.”
Outside the closed doors, Cathy had just stood beside Harkness, still as a stone, wringing her hands and wiping her tears away until after what had seemed like an eternity, Sandy’s wail of grief had torn through them all like a stroke of lightning. With a sob, Cathy had turned to him and fallen against his chest and as he had closed his arm around her Angela had stepped up beside them too and had run a gentle hand down Cathy’s back. She had been crying, too, and even Preston, used to death and dying as he was, being a doctor, had been wiping his eyes.
They had buried him the next day, in the graveyard downriver, on a cold, windy and rainy day that seemed strangely fitting for an occasion as this. Harkness had been one of the last to leave, and had watched from a distance as Flak and Sandy, standing arm in arm, were still watching the grave being filled in, watching the cold earth cover the body of a man they both had loved. Cathy had been standing at their side, and even though Flak had draped his other arm around her, she hadn’t leaned into him like Sandy had done. After a few moments more she had left them and, when she had noticed Harkness, had passed him by with a shake of her head. Harkness had offered her his arm and she had taken it with a grateful nod. “I’m gonna lose them”, she had said, simply, without any feeling in her voice. He hadn’t understood it then.
He had understood the meaning of her words somewhat later, when they had been proven true.
The weapons stall had seemed so strange and empty without Shrapnel that for a time, people hadn’t looked there when they could avoid it. Sandy hadn’t taken up her guard duty again and Harkness hadn’t wanted to press the matter, so she had just sat on the sofa, day by day, staring at nothing while wringing her hands. Occasionally, tears had trickled down her cheeks but she had never emitted any sound. She had just sat there and slowly wasted away. Flak, on the other hand, always a taciturn man, had hardly spoken a word since the burial and had just been smoking, furiously and with a force as if the smokes had been the only thing keeping him alive.
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timeasmymeasure
Stronger than death itself 3d/?
Date: 2012-05-09 07:54 pm (UTC)“Shrapnel... I love you too”, Sandy placed a small tender kiss on his lips, now moist and salty from her own tears. “I’ll miss you...”
“Flak...” Another rasping, painful gasp for air. “Buddy...”
Flak leaned closer and squeezed Shrapnel’s hand. “What.”
“Flak... Sandy... baby... you... you two are the best that... that ever happened to me...”
Closing his eyes with a shudder Flak lowered his head a little more so his forehead touched Shrapnel’s temple. On his other side, Sandy did the same and holding on to their hands, Shrapnel drew another hoarse, rasping breath, exhaling it with a soft, almost relieved groan.
Both Flak and Sandy waited for another painful intake of breath. It didn’t come.
Sandy’s shoulders began to tremble when she realised this and with a tired grunt, Flak sat up again to look down at the face of his friend. “He’s over it, darling”, he said in a voice that was hardly audible before he reached out and closed Shrapnel’s eyes. With a likewise gentle move, he also closed his mouth. “He’s over it.”
Sandy dropped her head onto Shrapnel’s chest with a sob and dug her hands into folds of the blanket.
Flak was still holding on to his dead buddy’s hand and now buried the other in Sandy’s hair. After a moment, however, Sandy suddenly threw her head and shoulders back and wailed, a high-pitched, painful ululation of grief that shook the marrow of his bones. Still not letting go of Shrapnel’s hand he now wiped his face with the other and closed his eyes.
“Godspeed, buddy.”
Outside the closed doors, Cathy had just stood beside Harkness, still as a stone, wringing her hands and wiping her tears away until after what had seemed like an eternity, Sandy’s wail of grief had torn through them all like a stroke of lightning. With a sob, Cathy had turned to him and fallen against his chest and as he had closed his arm around her Angela had stepped up beside them too and had run a gentle hand down Cathy’s back. She had been crying, too, and even Preston, used to death and dying as he was, being a doctor, had been wiping his eyes.
They had buried him the next day, in the graveyard downriver, on a cold, windy and rainy day that seemed strangely fitting for an occasion as this. Harkness had been one of the last to leave, and had watched from a distance as Flak and Sandy, standing arm in arm, were still watching the grave being filled in, watching the cold earth cover the body of a man they both had loved. Cathy had been standing at their side, and even though Flak had draped his other arm around her, she hadn’t leaned into him like Sandy had done. After a few moments more she had left them and, when she had noticed Harkness, had passed him by with a shake of her head. Harkness had offered her his arm and she had taken it with a grateful nod.
“I’m gonna lose them”, she had said, simply, without any feeling in her voice. He hadn’t understood it then.
He had understood the meaning of her words somewhat later, when they had been proven true.
The weapons stall had seemed so strange and empty without Shrapnel that for a time, people hadn’t looked there when they could avoid it. Sandy hadn’t taken up her guard duty again and Harkness hadn’t wanted to press the matter, so she had just sat on the sofa, day by day, staring at nothing while wringing her hands. Occasionally, tears had trickled down her cheeks but she had never emitted any sound. She had just sat there and slowly wasted away.
Flak, on the other hand, always a taciturn man, had hardly spoken a word since the burial and had just been smoking, furiously and with a force as if the smokes had been the only thing keeping him alive.