Come Grow Old With Me by Jaron

I stood resolutely at the graveside. I couldn't believe this was happening. The handful of dirt in my hand had been compacted into a hard mass by it's presence in my tightly fisted glove. I had to get my stiff fingers working again before I would be able to perform the last ritual of good-bye for my love.

I didn't want to be here, going through the motions of sending someone I loved to that darkness, so far away from me. It wasn't fair! We had fought so long to be together. We had sacrificed so much. Why did sickness, wasting and death have to part us permanently just as we could be together again?

When I heard the soft whirring of the motor and the slight motion of the casket as it started its short journey to its final resting place, I dropped to my knees. I felt the eyes of the gathered mourners on me. I didn't care. My life was being pulled out of me and I had no strength to stay on my feet. I felt warm hands on my shoulders, and a soft voice murmuring in my ear. I chose not to listen to the words intended to comfort me.

My heart was there in front of me, going into the hard, cold ground. I threw back my head, and howled out my grief, my sorrow, my anguish. So much had been taken from me, and I was supposed to face it all stoically, serenely, silently. Not anymore. I would not allow the last of my line to go gently into that darkness alone, to that black hole in the ground.

I had the means to go with the one I loved. It was my choice. This time I could follow, and not be left behind as I had been all those other times. This would be the end of all my pain, all my suffering, all my troubles.

As I slowly drew the Beretta out of the holster that I always wore under my jacket, I smiled gently, knowing that soon the pain would be over. I did not reckon that the soft voice murmuring in my ear would have such a vise-like grip. The hand came out of nowhere and swiftly disarmed me, taking away the means of my following the one I loved beyond hope, beyond reason, beyond redemption.

The voice turned hard, abandoning the soft reassuring tones of a few seconds before. "Adam would hate you for doing this, Michael, and so would I...We didn't love you all these years to watch you end your life, so selfishly. Adam was so sick a few days ago when I went to see him. He knew his time on this earth was short, and he made me promise to take care of you. He remembered what you said to me in the train station. He was so young then. I didn't think he would remember you telling me that he would not always need you." Nikita stopped and tightened her grip on me.

I tried to pull away, but she wouldn't let me....I smiled. I had tried so many times in Section to push her away, to keep her safe from me. She always came back, never allowing me to break our connection. I never tried to justify my actions to her. Somehow she always seemed to know me better than I knew myself.

Somewhere along the way, we traded places. She started doing the pushing and I was the one who always came back to her. Except for that last time. I left with my son, telling her that one day I would find her...that Adam would not always need me. But, my God, I never thought it would be like this. Now, he didn't need me anymore. He would never need anyone ever again. The cancer had taken him so very quickly. One day, he had complained about a sore place in his mid-section and the next day, the doctors were telling me something about pancreatic cancer. In a few months, my son had wasted away. Two days ago, my son had passed from this world of pain, and I wanted to go with him.

Now here was Nikita, my other love, telling me what my son had wanted for me. To live for him and for Nikita. How could I go on? Suddenly, I remembered the soft words that Nikita had whispered into my ear as I had collapsed onto my knees on the ground beside Adam's coffin. "Adam is gone, Michael. He's with Elana now and she will take care of him. The body in this box is no longer Adam. His spirit has flown and he wants you to be happy. He would hate it so to see you now. You have to live for him. To do what would have made him so happy. You have to live, Michael. I won't let you go again. I've done that too many times already. Stay with me, Michael. I need you. I love you."

I forced myself to look at her, the light in the darkness of my grief for my lost son. I took her hand and stood up. She put her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I returned the embrace, finally noticing the hard lump of dirt in my gloved hand. My fingers worked through the clod of earth and I held it over the open grave, crumpled it and let it sift through my fingers. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Silently, tearfully, I said a final good-bye to the son who no longer needed me. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. I looked into Nikita's eyes and smiled. "Come, grow old with me."

Nikita and I turned as one and arm in arm, left my past behind and walked resolutely into the future...together.

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