Ticking Down

Syn

R

I do not own these characters.

Summary: She thought they'd have all the time in the world...

Notes: Written for michellek for my Holiday Ficathon Project.

 

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George isn't sure whether to believe him or not when he shows up on her doorstep, his large brown eyes filled with so many things she can't quite comprehend, his hands shaking as he slides them up the doorframe.  She doesn't want to believe him.  But the way he's looking at her, the truth lay bare in his tortured eyes, she knows she has to.  This is reality.  And he's leaving her.

 

"What do you mean, it's your last reap?" she says, gutted.  Her mouth has gone dry and her limbs feel disconnected. She swallows, throat rasping. "It can't be."

 

"It is, Peanut," he says, voice shaking. "Got my orders today."

 

"But..." she says, her head spinning. "You can't go.  It's...you can't!"

 

"I don't think I have a choice," he says, a ghost of his old smile on his lips. "My number's up, my quota is filled."

 

"When?" she says, tears filling her eyes, a sour feeling in her stomach. "When is it?"

 

"In two hours."

 

"What?" she says, looking at the clock.  Only two hours?  Two hours until he left her for good. Thoughts run through her head, spinning, irrational thoughts that hunger to make sense. "Don't go!  Forget the reap.  You can't go if you don't do the reap."

 

He shakes his head sadly, shadows filling his lined face. "You know I have to, George."

 

"You don't have to do anything!" she said hotly, tears spilling down her cheeks in fat, scorching drops. "You have to stay right here, dammit!"

 

"I wish it were that simple, George," says Rube, licking his lips. "You and I both know it's not.  It's my time and the clock is ticking down."

 

"You can't go," George forced out through her grit teeth, trying to make her tears stop falling.  They continue, blinding her, blurring his familiar features as he looks at her sadly. "Everyone has gone."

 

He shakes his head sadly because he knows this is true.  The years have slowly accumulated, speeding the century by in a flash of history, war and death.  Her father died ten years before of a heart attack, her mother in a car accident two years before that.  Reggie now lives somewhere in Arizona, married with children and far away from the old memories of her sister and parents.  The only ones left in her life are her fellow Reapers and now their numbers are dwindling away, replaced by new people who only vaguely know the Toilet Seat Girl legend. 

 

Georgia Lass is a memory that is slowly fading and the one person who makes her remember the girl she had been before destiny took hold of her is leaving. 

 

George stares Rube, crying, suddenly thrust back to those moments after her own death where everything had been confusion and numb terror and disbelief.  Rube had been there then, comforting, brusque, and matter-of-fact.  Now his comfort is being torn away from her. 

 

She looks at the clock again.  One minute has ticked by, the inescapable torment like a hot brand on her soul. 

 

"Peanut, don't cry," Rube says, his voice breaking.  His gaze searches hers. "Please.  I need you to do something for me."

 

"What?" she asks, lower lip trembling as she tries to reign in her sorrow.  It's like trying to push back a flood.

 

"Roxy's taking over for me, but I need you to meet the new Reaper when I go," he says in a calm voice. "Show them the ropes.  Will you do that for me?"

 

She nods her head, captured in the darkness of his tortured eyes. "Yeah...of course."

 

"There's something else, Peanut..."

 

"Anything," George says, shaking like mad.  Her heart feels like it may burst.  He searches her face for something and then seems to come to a decision.

 

Rube invades the doorway, hand cupping her wet, tear-streaked cheek.  She brings her own up, covering his shaking hand.  Their gazes lock, their breathing shallow.  Rube hesitates for a moment and George pleads him with her eyes, giving him permission, wanting the thing she'd never had the nerve to voice before.  She realizes, with a shock, that the things she'd wanted were exactly what he'd wanted too.  The unfairness hits her hard.

 

Rube kisses her, mouth closing over hers, stealing what little breath that is left in her lungs.  George clings to him, giving herself to the soft, insistent feel of his mouth on hers.  He tastes like tobacco and sugar crème pie. 

 

George's heart breaks.  She's always wanted this and now that she has it, it's going away.  She kisses him that much harder as the knowledge hits home.  Rube moans against her mouth as she opens it, inviting him inside with a groan that's half a sob.  His tongue darts into her mouth, taking, breaking her down.

 

The clock continues ticking down, minute by minute.

 

George pulls Rube into her apartment all the way as his hands tangle in her long honey blonde hair, his mouth working against hers, promising her things he has no right to promise.  He lifts her suddenly, pulling her against his body.  George wraps her legs around his waist and clings to him, her mouth never leaving his. 

 

The clock ticks down.

 

She doesn't care how they got into her bedroom, only that he's pushed them both down onto her bed, his hands running the length of her sides, mouth on hers, stealing time, time they should have had more of. 

 

He pulls her clothing off with loving hands, mouth lingering on the places of her body he's never seen before, never touched.  Now they belong to him and he makes sure she knows that he wants them.  He places wet, desire-maddened kisses on her breasts and stomach as his hands work her pants down her hips.

 

George's eyes close, her insides trembling, his name on her lips.  Tears continue to creep out the corners of her eyes. 

 

The clock ticks down.

 

She helps him out of his clothes, her hands everywhere, memorizing the feel of his chest hair against her face as she kisses his skin, fingers running up and down the length of his hard penis.

 

"I love you," he murmurs as he lowers her onto her back on the bed, tangling his fingers with hers. "Always loved you..."

 

Tick-Tick-Tick.

 

"I love you too," she cries as he enters her, sliding home.  Pleasure mingles with sorrow as he sinks against her, the feeling of him inside of her so right that it hurts her in ways she won't comprehend for years to come.  All she knows is that this is right and it should have happened long before this. 

 

Rube moves against her, eyes connected with hers.  She wraps her legs around his hips, urging him on, wanting this to last as long as possible, wanting things she can't have.  Hot tears drip down his nose and land on her lips as he thrusts into the welcoming fist of her body.  She licks her lips, tasting him as thoroughly as she can. 

 

Explosions of pleasure race through her.  Her limbs are numb.  Her head is swimming.  She can't think, doesn't want to think.  She just wants this moment to last forever.  Rube buries his face against her neck.

 

Tick-Tick-Tick.

 

George twists her fingers in his short, thinning hair, meeting his thrusts.  Her hair is wet from his tears.  She kisses his soft shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent, a scent that will fade soon, as time wears on.

 

Tick-Tick-Tick.

 

He thrusts hard on final time, spiraling them both into blissful, torturous oblivion, their limbs tangled, sweat clinging to impermanent skin.  He sinks against her, crushing her ribs, still inside.  He breathes hard against her ear.  She clings to him, her arms around his neck, hips hurting from their frantic union. 

 

She doesn't move, she doesn't want to.  He breathes deeply and lifts his head to stare into her eyes. 

 

The clock keeps ticking down.

 

"Where are you going to go?"

 

Rube smiles slowly, sadly.  She knows he doesn't know.  He kisses her again, slowly, the minutes ticking down until eternity rips them apart. She doesn't know if this is the end or if there's a heaven and that he's going to it in a matter of hours, minutes, seconds.  She doesn't care.

 

Her heart is broken and still, the clock keeps ticking down.

 

(end)

 

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