Disclaimer: Not mine. (See full disclaimer on previous page.)
Summary: Late one night on Xenon base, Soolin
and Vila get metaphysical. A/N: Written for a b7friday
challenge to write a ficlet themed on distance.
Approach
by Mistral Amara
Soolin prowled the coridors of Xenon base, checking the level of a
gauge here, the seal of a door there. The familiar late-night routine
was a moving meditation that calmed and comforted her, and she was glad
of the occupation. Anything was better than lying in her bunk trying to
fight off the vague sense of foreboding that had plagued her in recent
weeks.
Well, perhaps not quite anything. As she neared the aft auxiliary
hatch, she became aware of a certain off-key warbling that got louder
as she progressed along her route: "It's the voice of hope, it's the
voice of peace, it's the voice of every man. . . ."
She should have realized that Avon's motive for asking her to do the
final evening rounds had nothing to do with relieving her battle with
insomnia. He was trying to avoid dealing with a drunken Vila. She could
hardly blame him for that, but it was odd; he'd always coped with Vila
better than any of the rest of them. Something had changed between the
two men recently, but she didn't know what, nor did she care to look
into it. Preparing for the visit of their potential allies was causing
her stress enough at the moment.
She rounded the corner and there was Vila, sprawled in one of his
favorite cubbyholes under the rear access stairs, waving a bottle of
wine to and fro in time with his singing: ". . . he is
watching us . . ."
Great. At least the bottle's nearly empty. With any luck, he's too
drunk to be much trouble. "What's that you're singing, Vila?"
"Soolin!" His face lit up briefly, then dimmed again. She saw the worry
lines settle into place as he gazed sadly into the distance, and she
found herself shocked to realize how much he'd changed in the short
time she'd known him. It was as if a premature middle age had crept up
from behind and enveloped him--complete with a crisis of existential
angst, if his current state was any indication.
She'd almost forgotten that she'd asked the question when he finally
answered, "It's an old, old song my Gran used to sing--'God is
watching us, from a distance.' Do you believe that, Soolin? Do you
believe there's a God?"
Dismay tightened the knots in her stomach. She didn't want to have this
foolish conversation with a drunk, no matter how pitiful his puppy-dog
eyes. Perhaps a neutral approach . . . "I don't
know,
Vila, do
you?"
"My Gran did. She believed he was looking out for us, watching us,
loving us no matter how bad things got. She believed it till the day
she died." He frowned. "'S odd, to think somebody you've never met
cares about you. 'S odd to think anybody cares about you, innit?"
She sighed. She couldn't remember what it felt like, to think anybody
really cared. "Yes, it's very odd. Now, let's get you back to your
room." She grabbed his arm and pried him out of his cubbyhole, then
struggled to get her shoulder under his so that she could steer him
back to his cabin.
They hadn't gotten two steps before he stopped and rounded on her with
an accusing look. "Hang on, you didn't answer my question. Do you
believe?"
Don't ask me that now, not when what you really want is reassurance.
Ask me that when you're stone cold sober and I've just woken up with my
mother's screams ringing in my head, when I'm gasping from the phantom
smoke in my lungs. Ask me, did I believe in God when I was standing
over the first man I killed, puking my fifteen-year-old guts out over
his splattered brains. Ask me when Avon's eyes linger on me a fraction
of a second too long, and the rest of me wants him to do more than look
but my hand tries to reach for my gun. Ask me some other time, but
don't ask me today.
"Does it matter?"
"No." Vila shook his head sadly. "Even if he does exist, he's not
watching out for me. I think Avon's scared him away. Still, It'd be
nice, wouldn't it? Somebody taking care of us? And we'd never know. Do
you think we'll ever know? And what'll we do in the meantime?"
She spun him around again and propelled him down the corridor. "In the
meantime, we'll take care of each other. And some day, we'll find out
for sure." And if he does exist I'll have a few choice words to say
to
him, and then I'll get sent straight to hell.
"We'll find out? 'S good. We'll go find him together, shall we?"
The way things are going around here, I wouldn't be a bit surprised.
"We'll do that." She maneuvered him around another corner and through
the door into his room, where she deposited him onto his bunk. He
rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, and she supposed that if she
were a kinder person, she would have covered him up. But knowing Vila,
he might interpret that as a sign of personal interest when he woke up.
Damn. She pulled the blanket over him, anyway.
As she headed for the door she heard him say behind her, "Let's go
soon, Soolin. I want to find him soon."
Hand on the light switch, she paused and looked back. He was propped up
on one elbow, his sleepy eyes watching her anxiously. "Yes, Vila, soon.
Now, sleep." He smiled and settled back, lapsing into gentle snores
before she could punch the button and leave the room.
She was glad for him. One of them should be able to sleep.
-End-
A/N: Being given the topic 'distance'
got the song 'From a Distance' stuck in my head on an infinite loop.
Writing this fic was the only way I could exorcise it. Return
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