Chapter 13

The silence slowly pervades the noise in my head. I don't know that I've ever realized how loud my thoughts tend to be before now. Not words, really, just thoughts. Considerations, negativity and pain form a constant thrumming background that consumes a chunk of my attention.

Now I'm here. Fully in this moment. With him. He holds me tight to his chest with his arms and his tail. His wings block the outside world and create this bubble that is only the two of us. Alone, together, and somehow, for whatever reason, it feels right. As if this is what I've been looking for, on some level, all my life.

My tears are dry, not run out, but done. Another thing that is new. I don't know how much I realized they were always there, ready to burst free without provocation.

I'm not alone.

For the first time since the accident I'm not alone. All this time I've been surrounded by the others. Other survivors, all of us bonded by the shared trauma of the crash, but none of them left like me. None of them scarred as I was and that made me different. An object of pity.

"Provyd," I say, finding my voice at last.

"Yes, treasure?" he asks.

"Why?"

He doesn't ask me to explain. It's as if he knows the truth without me saying anything. Understands the question. He kisses the top of my head several times, squeezes me tighter, then shifts his position.

"Treasure," he says.

"I have heard the others say this, but I do not understand."

He grumbles. It's a low rumble that starts deep in his belly, vibrating my head where it rests against his chest.

"Hmm," he says. "More…"

I wait, letting him figure it out. He may not be fluent in my language but I don't know a word of his. I'm sure it's a problem we can overcome, in time.

In time? What am I thinking?

I thought that without consideration but the idea stops everything. In time. As if there is going to be a future with us. Does he want that? Do I?

Yes. Very much yes.

I do want a future. This warmth tingling in my stomach, the heady feeling in my head, the pattering of my heart, what is this? I might as well ask what is love. Love, that ephemeral thing that we humans strive to find, usually in all the wrong places. But how can I be in love with someone I've literally just met?

Love at first sight, idiot.

Sure, in stories. Love at first sight is a thing but in reality? Lust, sure. Desire, okay. But love? That's a pretty heavy word to throw down on a single glance, isn't it?

"Love, word is love," he says, interjecting himself so smoothly into my thoughts it"s as if he read them. "Fate. Also, fate."

"Fate?" I ask, shifting off of his chest so I can look into his face.

He nods, seriously. The frown on his face is marred by an uptwist at the corners of his mouth as he shrugs.

"Fate," he nods again. "Meant. Tajss provides."

"Tajss provides? The planet? What?"

He chuckles and opens his wings. They close behind him with a snap and we go from an encircling protection to full exposure to the night sky. Above us millions, maybe even trillions of stars twinkle laid out across the midnight blue sky. Provyd makes a sweeping motion with his arm across the sky then pats the sand at his side.

"Tajss," he says, patting the ground again.

"I know this is Tajss," I say, shaking my head. "Planet," I tap the sand too, "not aware. No… mind."

I point at my head. His smile widens.

"No?"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "Planets do not think. They are not aware."

"Sure?" he asks.

It's a simple question asked with such a plaintive naivete that it stops me in my tracks. Planets thinking? Seriously? Like the planet itself is alive?

I've a passing familiarity with most old Earth religions. In school, we had tolerance classes that introduced us to basic concepts of lots of different religions and cultures. There were those who thought the universe itself was, to some degree, sentient. That it could be aligned by the power of thought or some such.

I never really subscribed to any religion. To anything really. Before the accident, if I'm being honest with myself, I was pretty shallow. A pretty face, a nice body, a good roll in the hay pretty much all I wanted to be happy. I never spent time thinking deeper thoughts beyond the moment I was in. Enjoying life as it came.

None of which means I was right. And despite his limited language, the conviction in his words, the deep belief in what he is saying resonates with me. It resonates with something inside of me. That part of me that feels like all of this, him, me, us here together is right on some grander level than two people having a picnic.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "Not sure."

He smiles. "Time tell."

Time will tell, won't it. The way he is looking at me, something in his eyes that I can"t quite put a name to. It's more than kindness. It's something akin to… devotion?

"Yeah," I say, feeling shaken by how fast this is moving.

My heart pounds faster and my breathing is speeding up. Sure there is desire. What sane girl wouldn't feel an urge of that nature with a guy who looks as good as he does? Even if he is an alien, but those muscles call to that primal instinct of a body to make babies. But it's not desire that's affecting me like this. It's more.

"You," he points at me, "me," at himself then he clasps his hands together interlacing his fingers. "Fit. Belong. One."

I frown, sorting through his limited words. Does he know what he is saying? It's pretty clear that he does. He stares intently at me over his clasped hands with an expectant look. I chew on my lip, unsure.

"One?" I ask and my voice trembles.

Slowly I reach across the distance between us which though small suddenly feels vast. When my hand finally arrives I place it over the top of his interlaced ones and let it rest there. I meet his expectant gaze. The world around us shifts. The stars drift across the sky, the moon rises, and the wind blows the loose sand while we sit together. Staring into one another's eyes as this blossoming connection between us takes root and becomes more.

More. This is it. This is the thing we all want, we dream about. The thing that poets wax on about and songwriters wrestle to capture.

"One," he repeats.

"One," I say, breathless. "Treasure. Yours."

His smile is brighter than the suns that will rise in the morning. I throw myself forward and into his arms. Our lips smash together as I tackle him and knock him over, onto his back. He laughs and I do too.