Last One Standing

by imloco2

Aeryn sat on the ground, unmoving, looking at the round slab of stone that perched on top of her son's grave. Her age began to tell, muscles aching, joints growing stiff, but she ignored the pain. She rarely bothered with a braid anymore and her hair was long and loose, the wind whipping the gray strands around her head until the world became brief pictures seen through a cloud of white. The sky overhead threatened to unleash another torrent of rain, but it had held off this long and she wasn't going to worry about it.

She had never expected to outlive all of her sons. Rhys and Callum, both gone in an instant, just like John, though this time there was no senseless accident, no lingering illness. Old age had taken both of them barely a year apart and she was left to mourn their passing as a mother should never have to do with her children.

No one knew why she had lived this long, or how much longer she had. She’d buried Cerric years ago and now all three of her sons, and still she lived on. Her neighbors thought it unusual, but shrugged it off as her being from the outside. Secretly, she suspected that what was keeping her alive was that bit of Pilot's DNA which lingered in her, but she had never told anyone that and never would. Bad enough to come from the outside without announcing she had alien DNA. She let a small cackle escape her. That would really set the tongues to wagging.

She moved her position at last, ignoring the pain in her back, and brushed a hand lovingly over the carvings in the stone. It was one cycle today that Callum had died and she wanted to be alone with him as long as she could. Callum. She thought the name lovingly. He held a special place in her heart that one. He had been the youngest of her sons, the reason she had made it through his older brother John's death. Funny to think of John as the older brother when he had died so young. Even after all these cycles the thought of John brought a particular pang of sorrow. If she hadn't been carrying Callum at the time, she wasn't certain what she would have done. She had kept going for his sake and one day, when she least expected it, she had looked down at Callum and he had smiled and life had become better.

But that was Callum, always making things better for her. By his very existence he made life bearable after little John had died, and as he grew, she found she could talk to him like she couldn't always talk to Rhys. He'd given her her only grandchild, and then taken care of her as she had gotten older, less able to take care of herself. Not that she would admit to anyone else she needed taking care of. It was a constant source of aggravation that she could no longer do all she had before. Frell old age anyway.

It was easier to move in with Callum and Ennixx than she had thought it would be. She had enjoyed the companionship they offered, especially Ennixx, who had always been her pride and joy. Rhys would have had her with him if she’d agreed, but he was a bit of a loner, her Rhys and she didn’t want to intrude.

Three cycles gone, and he had been alone to the end, never finding that special person to share his life with that he had searched for, for so long. He'd even given up council leader to his brother when the time came rather than take a wife he didn't love. He was so much like Cerric in some ways, with his love of growing things, always steady and patient, but unlike his father, he had waited to find the grand passion, the mutual obsession with another that he knew could exist, and when it hadn't come he made the decision to be alone. Had been unwilling to settle for a marriage of comfort and peace.

She'd always felt guilty for that. She knew it was because of her that he had searched, because of her that he knew there was something more than what she and Cerric had. They had talked once, about life and love and what was possible between a man and a woman. Not a pleasant conversation to be sure, but she had wanted him to know, tried to tell him. Oh how she had tried to explain what it meant to love someone beyond hope. But looking back, she thought she had done her job too well. He had been angry at first, knowing that the kind of love she was telling him about, that he saw etched in her face, didn't belong to his father. But then he had always known that. As happy and contented as his parents seemed to be, he had instinctively known there was something missing.

He had never quite believed her when she said she had given all that up long ago. He hadn't wanted to hear from her how hard it was to be alone, that when all hope had faded sometimes it was better to settle for what you had. He had seen too far into her soul that day and had decided he could not do what she had done, no matter that she had no regrets.

And he never had.

He had died alone a few cycles back, still working in the fields like a young man until his heart just gave out. She would make this same pilgrimage in a few monens, to talk with Rhys when the anniversary of his death came. For now, it was Callum's turn. She sat there on the cold ground and talked to him of Ennixx and how he would like the boy she was seeing. It was a lie of course, Callum never liked any of the boys that Ennixx showed an interest in, but she wasn't adverse to lying to him. It was for his own good. She told him of the harvest and of the creek that had run dry, and a hundred other ordinary things that he would have been interested in if he had been there.

She ran out of words eventually and the sudden thought occurred to her that Crichton would have been surprised to hear her talk so much. She hadn't talked much on Moya, always choosing her words carefully, making sure that she didn't give John more words than she was ready to. How foolish she had been then. If she could do it over, she would have talked to him until her voice was raw. Talked to him of her old life and her new dreams, but mostly she would have talked about love. She knew he had been ready to talk, even needed to talk about those things, but she had not. Foolish.

She didn't think Callum would mind her thinking of John as she sat here with him. He had known and understood as well as anyone how her life had been. She had never kept secrets from him, and while he had never been sure if the stories she told, of Moya and her crew, were true, he had loved her enough to at least pretend that he did.

She watched the leaves dance as they blew across the graves of all the others that had died and were buried here. Cerric was nearby, as well as Rhys and little John. All her family, save one, was here now, buried under the cold ground. She had come to accept that this was the way of these people to keep their loved ones close by, even after death. John had told her of similar customs on his planet and she had scoffed at the absurdity of leaving bodies in the ground beneath you when they died. She understood better now, the comfort of being close, having a place to come and remember and talk. No floating into the cold darkness of space for them. But for all that she understood, inside she knew it was not her way.

She had been born in space, grown up among the stars, and that was where she must be when she died. She felt that need in places she could not explain. She had never expected anything else, wanted anything else. And the chances of that happening seemed as remote as returning to Moya. While she’d taught Rhys to fly the pod, of all her family, her John had been the only one to show a real interest in it, and in the end the fates had denied her even that. She was left with no one to share her excitement as she raced along the sky, no one to understand her longing for space, for the stars.

She thought of the transport pod in the field nearby their house, sitting there useless, cycle after cycle. As old and overgrown as it was, she kept it in working order. She still had one more run to make. No one but her to know now, but next cycle it would be time for the mist to part, and this time she would not fail. It would be her last chance to save them, save him, and she prayed to the Goddess that she was not already too late.

The rustling behind her caused her to smile. Once she would have turned and shot the unsuspecting soul who had snuck up behind her. But here, now, there was only one person it would be and shooting was the last thing on her mind.

“Hello, Ennixx. Come then, help your Nan up.” A hand gripped her arm and pulled with a strength that was disguised by her slender frame.

“You shouldn’t be here alone Nan. Come back to the house with me.” The worry on Ennixx’s face made Aeryn’s voice soften and she tried to reassure her. No need to worry the girl with her aches and pains.

“Yes, yes. I’m coming. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine, fine. Never been better.”

Aeryn consented to an arm around her waist simply because it was Ennixx. She loved her granddaughter with a fierceness that she’d felt for a very few. And she knew Ennixx mourned her Da’s passing as much as she. The support was for the both of them. Aeryn knew she would have to tell Ennixx soon about her planned trip. But not yet. There was still time before she had to explain why she had to go. As they began the long walk home she felt the war within herself begin again, as the memories of those long gone fought with the knowledge that soon, she might see Moya again. Soon, she might see him.

********

imloco2

Author's Afterword, Last One Standing

Return to Aeryn Years Index