By SallyMn

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A/N: This is my first attempt (and I'm also new at LJ) I hope it fits the rules..?

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"Come on in, man. The water's nice."

Ouch.

Not the best choice of metaphor, my guppy. Not right now.

Not ever.

Hope I didn't wince too hard. You wouldn't understand, and - yet again, damn it - there aren't the words to make you understand. Words are your tools, Chief, not mine, and I don't think even you would have the words for this one.

"Come on in, man. The water's nice."

You don't remember, do you? You don't remember what it was like to be drowned, to be dead. You won't ever know what you sounded - looked - felt - tasted - even smelled - like dead. The silence where your breathing should have been - it hurt. The greyness of every cell of your skin, I nearly zoned on it. The cold wet - slab of flesh that was your face, the taste of stale water and chemicals in your mouth. The smell... I can't think of that, I can't even think of that. But you don't remember it, you don't know it.

And I do.

Oh god, I know death so closely now, Chief, every time we look at it, and that's another thing I can't explain to you. The way every time, every body, my senses seem to focus a little tighter, a little clearer, a little deeper. As if searching for what's been taken... what even a Sentinel can't find. You'd call it a soul... I don't know. Don't know the word.

But I now know your death like it's a part of me. I think that's what I did, I don't know how, I'll never know how. But I found what was taken, brought it back. Would do it again, Chief, would do it again in a heartbeat.

Problem is, I think it took something from me to find it.

"Come on in, man. The water's nice."

Sorry Chief, so very very sorry... but I'll never know how to tell you.

"Come on in, man. The water's nice."

... It's not nice, Blair, it's not nice at all.

And it's not water...

Fin

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