Yowzah Oneshot Collection (3)

154(G)

                       Buying Time

                          JenniferJF

He tugged again, the cold metal cutting still deeper into the already raw flesh at his wrists, but he hardly noticed the pain. It was already far, far too late. The console upon which she'd sat lay empty. She was gone, consumed in the rush of raw energy as she'd channeled the power of all those thousands of living minds.

It should have been him. At least he'd have had a chance...

No. That wasn't true. She was right. Damn it. Even with the power to consume and convert energy built into every molecule of his being... Even with his ability to regenerate – even if he could somehow have managed it in the final moments before the power would have destroyed his own body... He still wouldn't have survived intact. Not any of the parts which were truly him.

And what use would a mindless shell be to anyone?

If only he'd had more time. He might have come up with a real solution.

But there was never enough of that.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The words of the eulogy, amplified and broadcast through speakers placed surreptitiously throughout the cemetery, drifted on the breeze as far as the surrounding fields and hills. For the mourners assembled around the empty grave the words were crystal clear, even to the slightly mismatched looking couple, he in an incongruous maroon-bow tie and her in an antique denim jacket, standing alone together at the very back. As the speech continued, the young man slipped his hand into the younger woman's, bending his head slightly to say a few words into her ear. She nodded and offered him a tight half-smile in response before turning back to look at the speaker. One strand of long orange hair had blown across her face, and she absently tucked it back behind one ear in an all-too familiar gesture as she listened.

Up at the front of the group, a young boy, dressed appropriately in the black which remained expected for mourning despite how far mankind had spread, seemed to be having far more difficulty paying attention. His almost constant fidgeting and glancing around at the crowd stopped suddenly, however, when the older woman standing next to him dropped one hand firmly onto his shoulder. He remained still, but his bright blue eyes continued to scan his surroundings from under his unruly mop of dark brown curls, looking at anything rather than focusing on the speaker and the grave in front of him. The woman, his nanny - even though at nine he believed himself far too old to need such a person - was too busy keeping the toddler in her arms quiet to notice this subtle rebellion.

Finally, though, to the boy's obvious relief, the ceremony concluded. He then waited, more-or-less patiently, while the rest of the crowd departed, many of them stopping as they left to say a few words to him or to pat his baby sister on the head. The last to approach were the man and woman from the back of the crowd. After a few words to his nanny, who only now lost control and began to cry, the young man took the boy's hand while his sister was transferred into the young woman's waiting arms. Then, after kneeling down to give the little boy who had been her charge for so long one last hug and kiss on the cheek, the older woman turned and followed the rest of the mourners away from the grave.

After a few moments spent lingering at the grave site, the young couple and the children headed away from the grave themselves. At the turn-off to the exit, though, the man turned to lead them down a smaller side path and up to the large blue box sitting off to one side.

"Aren't we going home, Daddy?" the boy asked as the man fumbled briefly with the key.

"No, sweetie. We discussed this. You're not going to live there anymore," he explained.