TFS: Burnt Earth

Connor

Fifteen years ago I was on one of the most challenging missions of my life—Strike Three. The mark was a Water Solathair named Oliver Knight. What he was doing wrong was loving someone so much he couldn’t let them go. No, not a single someone. Two halves making up his whole heart. A wife and daughter. The daughter was barely a year old. Olivia.

I’ve kept up with Olivia over the years, my watchful waiting stemming from both guilt and curiosity. I wanted to see how she made out, you know? Did she have a good life? Or, did we fuck her up so severely even a perfectly imperfect human life was out of the question for her. I’ve been slacking off. Mostly not my fault, what with our girl Sheyla’s drama eating up the majority of our time. Problem is, when I tried to look into her once everything settled the fuck down, Olivia seemed to have vanished.

That’s how I find myself here, in bumfuck Georgia, trying to get a visual confirmation of the girl in the provided dossier. Get this, I had to hire a private investigator. Can you imagine? Me? With all the resources previously at my disposal in terms of information, I’m stuck resorting to essentially human means of creeping on people.

I knock on the door. No answer. I knock harder. Still no answer. I draw my foot back to give it a boot when I hear movement on the other side. “Olivia,” I begin. “My name’s Connor Doran. I’m not here to hurt you, but I need to talk to you…about your father, Oliver.”

I hear three deadbolts turning, followed by three chains being disengaged. Good on her for taking security seriously. When the door cracks open, I know it’s her. She’s the spitting image of her father.

“You can come in. Just don’t—” She sucks in a nervous breath. “Don’t touch me.”

I hold up my hands in front of me so she can see where they’re aimed. “I’m not here to hurt you. I won’t hurt you. I want to make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

She snorts derisively, opening the door fully and waving me inside. “I’m not worried about you hurting me.”

Hmm. Maybe I overestimated her self-preservation capabilities. I sense the water energy inside her. It’s there. On tap. She’s definitely who I’m looking for.

I reach my hand out to shake hers, and she draws back quickly. “I said no touching,” she chastises me.

“Sorry.”

“You look the same,” she offers.

I lift a brow. “You remember me?”

“Video recordings,” she admits. “Where’s your sister?”

I swallow hard. “Not here this time. It’s just me.”

“Brave,” she acknowledges. “Or reckless.”

“Sorry,” I repeat. “I’m here because I’m so fucking sorry, Olivia.”

She straightens her shoulders. Guess I’m about to get an ear full. Deserve it.

“The people responsible are dead.” It’s not a question.

“They are,” I confirm, “but that doesn’t assuage my guilt.”

“What’ll assuage your guilt?”

My brow hits the ceiling. I have no idea. Maybe I need her to yell at me, beat me to a bloody pulp, curse me to eternity, or something more creative.

“Whatever you want,” I offer. “Whatever you need. You have it. I promise.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

I tilt my head to the side.

“You have a hearing problem?”

“No.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Still feel sorry,” I clip, “and I want to make it right. Whatever you need. However long you need. It’s a standing offer.”

She frowns. “You’re not going away, are you?”

“Nope.” I grin. “Connor Black Mould Doran, at your service.”

“Holy hell.” She groans. “You’re really not giving me much of a choice here.”

“Nope.”

“Guess you’re getting a time out to cool your jets then,” she states impassively.

I scoff. “A time out?”

She sniffs hard, stepping forward. Before I have a chance to even react, everything fades to black.

Oh fuck, am I dead? Is this what death is? A black nothingness forever? Only my dark thoughts to keep me company in this eternally dark place? Figures, doesn’t it? Everyone gets their happy ending. Sheyla wakes her mom up. Her mom and dad get each other...and her. She has her friends. She has her cake. She gets to eat it too. Look, I’m happy for her. I truly am, but come the fuck on. I’ve spent the last fifty years of my life catering to this hopeless optimism, thinking shit is going to turn out alright. This is what I get for it? A pit of despair that’d make even Molly’s dark heart swoon.

Molly. Fuck, Molly. How will she take this? Epically bad, no doubt. Talk about burnt earth on the horizon. She’ll come up with some way to steal Sheyla’s fire and fry everyone to a crisp. Well, at least she has Sheelin. Did not see that one coming.

I suppose I’m grateful. You know, all my friends got what they wanted in the end. I’ll just ride this out for however long forever is. Not like I have much choice to do anything but. Wait? Is that a light? Fuck, what kind of light is it? The one that takes me to the other side? Sunshine at the end of my tunnel? Our girl Sheyla? No, it’s probably a fucking train with my luck.

“Just give him a minute,” Olivia orders. “It’s been five years.”

Who’s she talking to? The light expands, forcing my eyes into focus. Strange room. Smells bad, like antiseptic and bleach. Strange room but not filled with strangers. Hell, everyone’s here. To my left, Molly’s right on the bed alongside me with arm draped over my chest.

“Fuck, are you dead too?” My voice sounds different, deeper. Probably just dry as fuck from how long I was out. Five years? Seriously? How’s that even possible?

“Not dead,” she whispers, a tear sliding down her cheek.

“Then why the fuck are you crying?” I counter.

“Happy.” She sniffs dramatically, sucking the snot back in. “Happy tears.”

“I have to feed him,” Olivia points out. I flinch when she reaches for me. She looks…different. Older. Sexier. Fuck, she’s straight up hot if I’m being entirely honest.

“You look good,” I note, in the weird voice that doesn’t sound like mine.

She smiles. “You’re not looking bad yourself.”

“You didn’t transition.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t and I won’t.”

“You can stop it?”

She shrugs. “No need to. I’m not a Solathair, Sumair, or human. I’m something different.”

I frown. “So, you’ll age out?”

Her smile expands to encompass her whole face. Fuck, she’s glorious. “No, I put my aging to sleep.”

“Like you put me to sleep,” I reason.

She nods.

“And I’ve been asleep for five years?”

She nods again.

“Did I…” I can’t finish the question. I refuse to give myself that false hope. If I’ve been asleep for five years, is it possible I…could I have…

“Fucking hell,” Molly snaps. “Just show him already.”

Sheyla comes into view, holding a mirror.

“Not you,” Molly grumbles. “Anyone but you, for fuck’s sake. Everything you touch turns to shit.”

“Sorts itself out eventually,” she contends, handing the mirror over to Olivia.

She’s still beaming that beautiful smile as she positions the mirror for me to get a look at myself. Time stops. Well, not literally, but you get my gist. This moment. I’ve waited fifty…no fifty-five years for this moment. I’m grown. A young man. No longer a boy. The face is recognizable, though different. The voice. That is my voice. Fully matured.

My craving takes me by surprise, a rumbling barrelling through me that causes me to shudder.

“You have to eat,” Olivia directs me, reaching out for me again. This time I don’t flinch away. The supplementation is much the way it was with Sheyla. We’re working in sync. Me taking. Her giving. Only, there’s no worry of overreach. As I’m taking from her Solathair half, her human half is filling the empty space I’ve left. It’s a perfect partnership. When she feels I’ve had enough, she stops but leaves her hand resting on my cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” I volley.

“I am now,” she assures me.

She really is, I really am, and you know what? I think we’re going to be really okay. More than okay. We’re going to be fucking great…together. Fuck, I love my life. This is the beginning of the rest of it, the one where I finally get to live.