Fading

Leaves whisper in the forest and wind rustles through her hair and she longs to lose herself deep in her mind, piling layers of cotton wool and shattered memories over herself. It's so crowded here now, she has no room for her own thoughts. (Not that she had room before).

Simon clings to her, thinking her a raft in a tossing sea, and cannot see that she is no longer made of wood but of foam, slipping through his fingers and joining the wind and the rain and the storm.

She presses herself against the wall; hair a sheath of copper wire, skin smooth metal plates welded together and locking the damage deep inside. But she cannot fade and she cannot die and she mourns the loss of her mortality.

A man comes, and he brings with him the coldness of space, carrying it deep within his mind. He is not right, not righteous, and he threatens her crew. But he is here for her, and it is her presence that has put them in danger. (For this she is sorrier than she has ever been before).

But he will take her and she will fade, out of their homes and hearts and heads. Her memory will collect dust in a corner and then everyone will be happy, be able to be with the people they want. She will be but an old photograph, a footprint on a dusty road to be washed away with the rain.

She slides through the Black in his ship, the cold filling her mind and turning her blood to ice in her veins. There is no sunlight in the Black, no warmth where she is going. But she will go, back to the cold and the lights and the labs.

And she will just fade away.