Enjoy Sky Blue

enjoy sky blue

I wrote a fic! I've been thinking a lot lately about what happens to statement givers during the eyepocalypse, and for some reason specifically the ones who weren't the person actually affected? Like people who gave statements regarding someone they lost.

I started with Moira Kelly, from Episode 21 (Freefall).

Ao3 link here: "enjoy sky blue" (463 words)

but if you want to read it here instead it's under the readmore

The moon was at its zenith, round, surrounded by billions, trillions of stars, and Moira Kelly could not tear her eyes from it. She lay flat at the top of the hill - his hill - and gazed up at the sky, waiting for it to shift again, to twist around and swallow her.And then it opened. And then it blinked.

The moon, the eye, grew and grew until it was the only thing Moira could see, and she bit back a hysterical giggle. Surely this was another nightmare; surely she'd awaken soon.The eye blinked again and the whole world went dark.

Moira Kelly awoke, then, in an airplane.

The door was open, and the rushing wind was deafening. In the corner, hugging a parachute pack to his chest and rocking silently back and forth, was her son.

"Robert!" she cried, and his eyes met hers.

If you could call them eyes.

Her son's eyes had been blue in life, the blue you see when you look straight up at dusk. A quiet blue. A comforting blue.

Now, Robert's eyes were a stark sky blue. No whites, no pupils, and Moira's scream was drowned out by the rushing of the wind.

He stood, still holding the parachute. He opened his mouth and no sound came out, and inside was the blue. He approached, parachute clutched close to his body.

Moira was frozen in place, still screaming, still unable to hear her own screams. He embraced her.

When he released her the parachute had been placed over her shoulders and she was turned to face the open door.

Moira had never skydived, had never wanted to skydive, even when Robert had been enamored with the subject before the sky had eaten him. He'd tried, of course, to get her in the air, but Moira was a grounded woman.

That is, she liked her feet on the ground.

Robert was still talking; she could hear the sound of his voice underneath the rushing wind, but she couldn't make out anything he was saying. He took her by the hand. He pulled her from the plane.

Robert had been right. The sky was blindingly bright, with no sun, no clouds, no ground in sight. He squeezed her hand once, twice, then released her into the air.

She fell, as he had so many years ago, her stomach never settling anywhere but her throat, the gnawing hunger in its pit. She was certain that at some point she had vomited, though there was no evidence of this beyond the burning in her throat.

She reached for the ripcord, as he had described so many times, but when she finally felt it in her grasp and pulled, her world went black.

Moira Kelly awoke, then, in an airplane.

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