Ashes to Ashes Pt. 05

I touch my forehead with Ike's and one more pitiful little spark jumps between us with a cautions snap. The sharp is gone, exhausted with its grand attempt at annihilation. One of these days it will work. Maybe. Hopefully. Maybe not. I don't know. I honestly don't. But there are warm eyes with strong hands holding me close, the chest panting with some terrible realization that this is what he loves.

The hands don't leave, however. They say at my hips, the small of my back, clasping and interlocking with formidable strength and gentle care. They fondle and touch the muscles and lines, finding the pockets of sockets and the deposits of hard. He is still inside me, in that halfway state that could mean more, or could mean completion. I'm honestly okay with either. Think I'd like to go again, but I would understand if he wanted to stop.

I look down to his chest, to his scars. The slightly paler flesh has turned ashen white. He bumps the top of my head with his lips once again, before they find my ear.

"We're going again," he whispers. I smile at him, and there is still a hint of fear behind the eyes. One that he likes though.

---

I look to the endless expanse of sand in front of me, rolling dunes of red-gray sand from here to ever after. I push the mask down from my face. The winds have been calm for the past little while. Calm, the endless sand is calm and quiet and still. The goggles have gone back over my eyes. The smoked glass cuts the worst of the sun. Not all of it, there is still that urge to quiet and keep my head down, but most of it. I can still see at least.

My feet kick against the rock who is doing a very, very good job of being of a seat. Not all that soft, but it is good for my spine. I just keep watch over the sand, the dunes, looking for any indication of what might be beyond the grains. Clear skies and hot days, dry winds and burrowing grit. Probably something large with a myriad of teeth out under it all. That's not a big deal.

Fingertree was mixed to see mine and Ike's return. They were quiet when I told them that Bryce wouldn't be an issue anymore. Less so when Ike confirmed it. But no grand feast, no dancing lights and loud music. Certainly, no dancing, although that is fine. I do not care for dancing. Nia was happy though, genuinely happy to have her son back. I slipped out before anything more could happen. Normal conversations are bad enough. I cannot deal with awkward ones.

So here I sit, gazing out at the endless ocean of sand, trying to pick the least worst direction to start the journey once more. All of the options in the world at my disposal and I choose to sit down on a rock that does not provide an adequate amount of shade. With a small amount of surprise, I realize I miss my Soren.

I get footsteps through heavy gravel and rock. They are not heavy enough, not rhythmic and steady and calm. They fumble a bit over the loose rock, kicking stones and rocks and pebbles down through the canyon to my back. It makes good music, in its own way. I kick my feet and let my body fall to the warmed rock. I am a lizard now, taking the heat from the sun for myself.

"Hey Jill," Ike huffs, "You left in a rush. Didn't even say goodbye."

"Because I figured you would turn up here," I say.

I smile. I can't help it. He finally looks good. Good for him. Good for anyone. Just good. Little bit more strength in him. A few days of rest. Everything back in its proper socket. All the pain has fallen away to a bad dream half remembered. He'll be fine. He's strong. And he has the scars to prove it.

He wears long flowing things capped with cuffs and leather, It keeps the wind in and the sand out. He flows through with each step, the full motion of him hidden and suggested with each sway and teeter. Mask and googles and hood as well, with a heavy pack of what looks like all sorts of supplies treasured within.

"Going somewhere?" I ask. I turn onto my stomach, my chest now takin the warmth of rock and the pressure of my body.

"Had some ideas. Heard good things about Littner Pit and Jiha."

"Those are both on the other side of the desert."

"I am aware. Which is why I figured- "

"Oh, if you're going to twist my arm about it. I guess you can tag along."

I swing my feet one more time and let the motion take me back to my feet. I dust the tatters of my coat and clear it of the grit. Futile gesture really. It's going to get tarnished even worse in a matter of moments, but I like the movement. I smile one last time before my mask goes up and my lenses go down.

"Come on," he says, "No point in staying around here. Unless you want to go back on your rock."

He smiles too. I roll to my feet and make a big deal of stretching, making sure that he is looking at me. Of course, he is. Specifically, my chest. I pull my mask up to keep out the dust. There's a storm starting to roll out over the sand and I couldn't be happier.