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He isn’t a big fan of the news, not these days. Despite the networks trying to put a positive spin on things, it’s sometimes too much to watch. The death, the destruction—even if it keeps others alive, it’s still hard to see.
Especially when he knows some of it is preventable.
But he has his pension, and while it’s barely enough to get by, it’s more than others have. That knowledge doesn’t make him feel better, which is why he still works at the food bank most days.
He’s still one of the luckier ones—when it all went bad, he had already been let go; the staff cutbacks sending him back to the real world.
He hears Martha in the kitchen, working on making dinner. Ever since their daughter got married and moved out a few years ago, it’s been mournfully quiet; giving him too much time to think.
His wife’s not that upset with the silence, or doesn’t show it. They’re only a few blocks away, close enough to run over if she needs help with the new baby. And even grandparents need a little space.
The screen makes a screeching noise—another bulletin.
It’s not the first, and Lord knows it won’t be the last, but he frowns as he stares at the image.
There’s something different about this one.
The anchors are… smiling.
He’d almost forgotten what that looked like.
A picture flashes across the screen, startling him enough to give a joyful shout, bringing Martha out of the kitchen in a rush, leaving the dishes behind.
“What is it?” She tosses the dishtowel aside as she sits by him, forehead furrowed. “Honey, is it your heart? Wha…” She follows his outstretched hand as he points at the screen, unable to find the words.
The words hammer into his ears, canceling out everything else.
“Project Hail Mary…”
She puts her hand over her mouth, gasping as the pictures flash by.
The reporter is yelling; crying as she reads the bulletin. Her partner is openly sobbing on the air, weeping into his hands as the news chyron gives the bare bones of what’s happening.
“I need to get something.” He pushes himself up off the couch with a grunt, Martha’s hand tight on his arm. “I’m good, I’m good—call Grace, and tell her to turn the news on.”
She follows him into the kitchen; reaching for her phone as he pulls open the freezer door.
“It’d be in the back. Right in the back,” he says to no one as he pushes past the frozen vegetables, the ground beef, the ice cubes.
His fingers curl around the small plastic bag, extracting it like a miner plucking out a rare gem.
“Yes, sweetie—we’re okay. Your dad wants you to turn on the set, see the news bulletin.” Martha touches his arm again, her smile as blinding as it was when they first met, thirty years ago. “It’s good news. Call Ben at work, let him know. If you want, get Louise packed up and come on over—I think no one’s going to be sleeping for a bit ‘round here.”
He hugs Martha before going back to the living room where the anchors are still talking; images of the mission flashing on the screen—history for his daughter and her children, but not so much for him.
The plastic bag opens easily; the small packets falling all over the table as he empties it out.
Martha returns to sit beside him, staring at the news as he fumbles with one of the packs; tearing it open to pop one of the multi-colored candies into his mouth.
“Cold. Cold,” he mumbles as the icy pebbles begin to warm up, and dissolve.
She shakes her head, laughing.
“You said you’d save them until we heard.” Martha nods toward the set where Ryland Grace is introducing the world to not only the cure for the Petrova Line, but an alien friend. “And you did.”
The tears start, blurring the images.
But he knows what he’s seeing.
And he has a whole bag of candy to eat now.
***
A few notes: Yes, I am the author with one of the oldest fanfics on ff.net. Yes, I married a man who sent me a fan letter based on my X-Files fanfiction. Yes, I do original work. If you like romance, check out my stuff. If not, well... keep on reading what you love!
Yes, I am that old. Usenet old. So bear with an old crone as she returns to her first love... I love to write drabbles, missing scenes that just fill in the gaps.
So there.
*creaking noises*