Welcome To The Harem
All Apologies by Vicinity
Summary: Reflections on the passing of heroes. JTS post-ep, Jimmy, Yves.
Title: All Apologies
Summary: Reflections on the passing of heroes.
Spoilers: . . . Jump the Shark
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine.
He puts his arm around me, and I wonder for a moment whether he is trying to comfort me or himself. It doesn't matter, really, because I am content to lean against him, to pretend for a moment that I'm not invincible and infinitely strong. The sun is warm on my body, and I think for the thousandth time that it is not fair. They had escaped so many times, from so many things. It was almost as if the threat of death, the promise of the end, was simply a joke. And then it happened, and so we stand here today.
I have tried to tell myself that at least they died as heroes. They died saving their country, as true patriots, as they longed to. I wonder if it was ever real to them before then. So often they took themselves so lightly, their situations as so unreal. In the end, it was infinitely real, and I watched. I watched as they died, because I had to. I comforted Jimmy then; I held his shaking body against mine, and I stroked his hair as he cried into my shoulder. I watched them go, one by one.
He tightens his grip around me, and I do not want to look up. I do not want to see his face, because I do not want to see him cry. I think that if I had to, this time I might join him, and then there would be no one to be strong for either of us. I remember the numbness when I saw them, when I knew what would happen, and I wish for it again, because it is safer than the unknown.
For all that I have seen, all that I have done, I still cannot believe that this has happened, that this is happening. I knew them, I watched them, and I loved them. Despite their attempts, all of the times they've destroyed my plans, I loved them. I swallow harshly as I wonder if they knew. If I had told them, though, it would have changed it all. I have never believed in a heaven, but today I would like to, if only so that I could know where they are.
I wonder how much of this is my fault. I know that I did not force them to follow me, but I think that I knew they would. And so I lead them into this, and I watched while they fell as heroes. This was my battle, and as usual they got in the way. And now they are dead, and I am left to mourn.
A slight wind starts up, tugging lightly at my hair, and I shiver despite myself. He blinks, drawing himself out of wherever he was, and he glances down at me. I see that whatever tears he may have shed have dried, and I am glad. He does not need to ask me if I am ready, and we pull apart as we turn to go. I am cold where his body was against mine, and for a moment I wish that he was holding me again. I stop myself, though, because we do not need this, now.
I have seen so many good men die, and I know that I have killed some of them myself. But this . . . this isn't right.