Population Two (Kirk/Spock)

In This Broken City

The air was thick with death and hopelessness. The stark chill of it cut through clothing, seeping into bodies and corroding souls. Street-lights stuttered, as if shivering in the sickening cold of the night. Under these dieing lights the dew covered garbage of the city streets sparkled like diamonds. The world lay still, only stray pieces of trash coming alive as they danced in the October breeze.

A single teenage boy was the only living thing to cast a shadow under the light; a boy who was scarcely clothed in his threadbare black jacket, white t-shirt and worn pair of jeans that hid dirty sneakers. His face was concealed with a hood, but it was clear from his gait that he walked in defiance. He walked without fear or woe. Down the city sidewalk he strode in silence, he paused for nothing and no one. Death had taken all that he loved or cared about. His only company now was that sparkling street garbage and the sickening winter air.

And yet, he was alive, a fact he was assured of as he walked amongst the torched city shops which held broken dreams and the broken dead bodies who those dreams had belonged to. As the Alive Boy walked he made a vow. He would not become a broken dream, he would never let his body break and rot like those he had seen on the street every day and night. He would never be like the broken neon signs he saw from time to time, bleeding their luminescent light away into the filth. He would survive in this fragmented post-apocalyptic world.

With his vow, the Alive Boy looked to the dark night sky, which hovered over the shivering city lights, which was his only form of comfort. Stars brighter than anything in the broken city shimmered back at the Alive Boy, illuminating his soul. And as he whispered his vow to the universe his hood fell to reveal his face as he soaked in the far away light that fragmented the otherwise impenetrable blackness of space. With eyes closed, tears silently slipped down his face, leaving streaks through the blood and dirt that had accumulated over the weeks.

Alive Boy stood like that for a long time, his slovenly blond hair becoming a halo in the cold incessant wind. Finally, his long lashes matted with tears rose as he opened his eyes. And from that point on there was something brighter than the stars in the night sky in the broken city. Glazed with tears his gold speckled hazel eyes shimmered. While they held great sadness, happiness lived within them as well.

With his auroral eyes locked onto the stars Alive boy smiled, because he knew he was going to make it.

----

Miles away another teenage boy was looking at the same stars, his black hair and sharp features hardly visible in the night. But Far Away Boy was looking to the stars because he knew he was going to die and he wanted to look upon the last beautiful thing this forsaken planet had to offer.

He had bled through every rag he had been able to peel from the dead and put on in an attempt to hold the blood in his body, giving up early on that he would be able to find anything remotely sanitary to use. He had become aware of the stench of his rotting flesh as soon as it had started decaying, the infection quickly taking hold. The wound that pulsed on his side was far too great for him to survive.

However, Far Away Boy did not know that he was not alone in this fragmented city and that a boy only months younger than him, who was brighter than every star in the sky, was going to be his shimmering salvation.

But neither Far Away Boy Or Alive Boy knew this as one of them walked on through the city and one collapsed from blood loss. Only the universe watching over them knew of how their fates intertwined.