Wow… I haven't posted anything new since January. A whole half of a season has come and gone and I haven't written anything about it. That sucks.

Well, this quarter has been pretty busy. Lots of reading, writing, and testing. I'm in finals week now so, after that, I'll be getting some free time. Finally, I have so much to write about for season 2.5.

And, I don't know about you, but I find it a little unnerving that the first thing I post in two months is a death fic. I mean, this is my first death fic. Ever. I hate killing the main characters. That being said, I hope it's good, being my first time and all.

I'd say "enjoy" but, come on, it's a death fic. So, I hope it's a good one.

._._._._._.

Components of a Picture

Clouds were strewn thinly across the blue sky like an old blanket of faded white, jagged tears running along the middle where the fabric had been cut through to expose the bright blue on the other side and patches of fabric where the strands had simply frayed and worn thin so that that beautiful blue could peek through.

The wind moved at a lackadaisical crawl, sweeping the dust across the ground and then rolling languidly over me without even acknowledging my existence, and then continuing on at its same pace. It barely touched the sky ahead at all. The blanket rippled gently, the white slowly drifting to the left like a leaf sailing unhurried over the calm glass of a lake.

I heard water lapping quietly against an unseen shore to my right but I didn't feel like turning my head to look at it. If I wanted to see it, all I had to do was close my eyes and let the sound of the water paint a portrait of itself in my head.

The water wasn't very clear, more of an opaque brown than a crystalline blue, but I knew that as soon as it broke over the pebbles that marked the line between water and land, the sun would hit the stray drops that escaped the whole of the river. And for less than a second those drops would be illuminated with a shine that they would never have achieved if they hadn't risked leaving the safety of the river. And then they would splash against the pebbles and die with only a dark stain to mark the place of their death. But it had been worth it. It had been worth leaving the confines of the river to be trapped on land and die because those drops had sparkled with a clarity and brightness that was thought impossible to the murky water.

I opened my eyes again in time to see a jet sew a straight thread of white into the blanket overhead like a pointed needle piercing the worn fabric and sailing through in search of the seam. The jet flew out of my vision and I didn't bother to follow it. Instead, I examined the contribution it had added to the clouds.

The thin strand of white was so plumb and fresh against the dull and withered clouds. But slowly, its tail started to deteriorate and come undone. Its end frayed and blurred until it merged with the original clouds and became indistinguishable from the other strands that it had previously contrasted with such resolve. Slowly, the disease spread along the strand as the wind picked apart its body so that the sky could regain its uniformity.

I suddenly wished I had an empty canvas and some paints. I wanted to preserve this sight with my brush. I guess I could wait till I got home to paint. I was an expert at remembering. All I have to do is see something once and I can remember it forever. Well, maybe almost forever. Long enough to get home and paint the snapshot I had taken in my head.

There was a sudden stabbing pain in my chest and a flaring red seared across my vision. I shut my eyes tight and, slowly, the pain receded once more to a dull throb. The red cleared but a few black spots remained, flickering in and out of view. It took a little longer than last time to get my vision to focus but within another minute or two I was able to see the sky once again. Was it my imagination, or did it get a little darker?

Wondering what the cause of the pain was, I willed my hand to slide along the ground towards my chest. For some reason, my hand felt heavy and a little stiff. Maybe I shouldn't have been lying on the ground for so long. Now my back was going to hurt and my neck was probably going to be sore.

At last, my fingers touched the smooth cloth of my shirt. For a moment, I panicked because I didn't know where my jacket was. But then I remembered that I had discarded it a little while earlier before laying down here. It had become a little too hot and the jacket had lost its comfort. Was that the reason? Didn't I leave it on the ground for a different reason? I think I wanted to be found and the jacket marked a trail. Was that it?

Oh well. I can't remember. Either way, I would retrieve it later.

Reassured, I relaxed again and forced my fingers to climb up the shirt and to my chest until I allowed my palm to rest against the source of my discomfort that sent waves of prickling pain throughout my body.

It was warm. And wet.

That was odd. I don't recall getting wet. And the river was too far to have splashed me. So what was it?

I told my hand to rise so that I could see what was on my chest but it took a minute for my order to be relayed to my hand. At last, it rose into the air, quivering.

Oh, so that was why my chest hurt and my body moved so sluggishly. My hand was coated in red blood, glistening in the light. My blood.

That's right. I remember now. I had been shot.

I let my hand drop back to my chest and returned my gaze to the sky. The plumb thread of fresh white had almost completely melted away. I could barely make out the tendril of white that shone just a shade brighter than the clouds surrounding it.

Gazing at that vast sky, I suddenly felt very small and alone.

I guess I wasn't going to paint that picture after all.

._._._._._._.

The inspiration to write this fic came from a moment when I was sitting in my spare room. Taking a break from some homework, I looked out the window and saw a jet pass by and leave the long strand of white behind. I watched as it slowly ebbed away into the thin clouds that are described in the first paragraph. And it was beautiful, and humbling.

Then I thought, "What would Neal think if he saw something like this?" So I made that scenario.

Then I thought, "How would Neal be seeing this?" To which the answer was, he was lying down.

And then came, "Why was he lying down?" My answer: he was dying. And then this fic was born.

I really do like how poetic and descriptive it came out. And it's not done yet.

Until next time my friends. Oh, how I have missed thee.

Safety and Peace. Hobey-Ho