sl_walker: (IP&S - ShadowKnight)
[personal profile] sl_walker posting in [community profile] shadowknight
Title: Summer Rain
Rating: PG
Universe: Alternate
Timeline: September 12th, 2007
Written: September 12th, 2006
Summary: A human named Mike makes his last stand.  Warning: Character death.


He remembered, distantly, the little fair that came around town at the end of summer.  The rides were small, and usually only there for little kids, and the games were all rigged, and the vendors didn't offer all that much, but he remembered it all anyway.

He remembered holding his mother's hand when he was one of those little kids, looking at the bright lights and listening to the sounds.  For the adults, it was a brief distraction; for him, it had been the most exciting thing he'd seen all summer.

He remembered getting older.  He no longer walked holding his mother's hand. He stopped being interested in the rides and wanted to play the games instead.  Remembered trying to beat them, and almost always failing... not that he really wanted to win a stuffed animal, but that wasn't the principle.

He remembered giving up on the games and just enjoying the food, and the camaraderie, and being around people he grew up with.  It had been a great feeling; surrounded by the smell of freshly harvested fields, and late summer flowers, and running to hide under a tent when the rain came down and soaked everyone; laughing people, all wet and clustered together under any shelter, waiting for it to pass.

The fair never came again; the world ended.

Maybe, someday, another fair would come.  They had secured a tentative peace, had given the world a second chance.  Maybe, someday, the kids would get to go and ride the rides for the little kids, and the older kids would play games, and the teenagers would hang out and talk to their friends.  And maybe, someday, a fourteen-year-old farmboy would dash under a tent to escape the late summer rain and marvel at the feeling of family, and community, and home.

He would never see that day.  But he hoped that it would come.

It was the last coordinated attack; rebels from the mutant cities who were unhappy that any peace had been secured, even a tentative one.  The battle could be heard for miles.

He didn't let the others follow; he'd grabbed Josh from the stable and let the other horses go, driving them out so that by the time they came back, the others wouldn't have a chance to get there.  The battle would be over by then.

He rode into the heart of Missoula as fast as Josh could carry him, and felt sick at the sight of buildings on fire, and proud at the same time of the townspeople mounting the good fight.  He pulled out the old .45 that his father had given him, with only one bullet left, and put up the good fight himself.

When the rain started coming down, after the fight was over, it was too late to find shelter.  So he laid his head down on Josh's now-cold neck, and closed his eyes, and remembered the little fair that came around town towards the end of summer.

Maybe, someday, another fair would come.

Mike would never see that day.  But he hoped that it would come.

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