The End is Never Final
folder
S through Z › SeaQuest
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
37
Views:
1,891
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › SeaQuest
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
37
Views:
1,891
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own SeaQuest DSV, and I do not make any money from this writing.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The funerals are lovely. Flowers cover every exposed surface of the Engine Room. A fitting end, Jonathan Ford thinks. His arm is slung around Lonnie Henderson; she snuggles into him, the heavy bandaging scratches against the inside of his dress shirt and she can feel their outlines against her cheek.
“It’s over.” She looks up at him for reassurance, her face still bruised from the ordeal, “It’s all over.”
He looks down on her, false smile wide and feeling slightly plastic. Without even thinking he gives her hip a small squeeze. “Yeah…it is.”
“I’m glad, but I feel bad for him all the same.” She looks at him, reading the expression on his face, seeking an ‘okay’ before finishing. “I mean, he thought he was avenging a son.”
She doesn’t get a verbal answer. One more gentle squeeze and the conversation drops off. Without even thinking about it, the hand that was so recently touched the memorial plaque bearing Lieutenant Tim O’Neil’s name, wipes against the restrictive material of his dress pants. No marks are left behind; however, the pads of his fingers suddenly feel dirty. As Captain Hudson walks in to give the eulogy, Ford makes a mental note to wash his hands at the first opportunity to present itself.
“It’s over.” She looks up at him for reassurance, her face still bruised from the ordeal, “It’s all over.”
He looks down on her, false smile wide and feeling slightly plastic. Without even thinking he gives her hip a small squeeze. “Yeah…it is.”
“I’m glad, but I feel bad for him all the same.” She looks at him, reading the expression on his face, seeking an ‘okay’ before finishing. “I mean, he thought he was avenging a son.”
She doesn’t get a verbal answer. One more gentle squeeze and the conversation drops off. Without even thinking about it, the hand that was so recently touched the memorial plaque bearing Lieutenant Tim O’Neil’s name, wipes against the restrictive material of his dress pants. No marks are left behind; however, the pads of his fingers suddenly feel dirty. As Captain Hudson walks in to give the eulogy, Ford makes a mental note to wash his hands at the first opportunity to present itself.