"Then God said, 'Let there be an expanse in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters.' God made the expanse, and separated the waters which were below the expanse from the waters which were above the expanse; and it was so. God called the expanse heaven. And there was evening and there was morning, a second day."
Genesis 1:6-8 (NASB)
Throughout the history of time, one simple fact has been made more than evident. Cavemen, drawing on the walls with charcoal and animal feces, knew it as well as some of the world's most brilliant minds - Albert Einstein, Steven Hawking, Galileo Galilei, and Copernicus, to name but a few. It is simple in premise yet ultimately beyond broad in scope. It whispers in our ear every day, regardless of whether or not we choose to acknowledge it.
That fact, stated as simply and as complexly as possible is this: "The sky is big."
This fact is one that Icarus Sidewinder had not only embraced, but had based his entire young adult career on.
Based.
Past tense.
...and that is this young man's tragedy.
Just ten hours (or one year, depending on how you look at it) ago, he was an experimental test pilot flying missions on his custom-built jetpack for a private European consulting firm called Vanguard. He was is Spain and, despite the prerequisite amount of young angst, was fairly content, all told...
...that is, until, he awoke, quite literally, in the void, permanently entangled with all manner of wires, chips, servos, lights, and various other mechanical gadgetry that he had never before seen, much less heard of.
Vanguard was no longer together. Hell, Vanguard had probably never even existed. Time had gone screwy... and everything he knew had been rewritten. His life was forever changed. Everything he'd ever known was no wrong: black was white, up was down, and short was long.
The Counting Crows had it right, Sidewinder thought, lying on his back as he gazed into the starry night sky stretched out above him. 'You don't know what you got 'til it's gone...'
Momentarily, almost as an afterthought, he glanced down at his new high-tech self. How had he gotten this way? Had he signed up as an experimental guinea pig? Had his father even bothered to try to talk him out of it? Was his father even a scientist-slash-inventor in this 'brave new world'?
...so many questions...
...all of which seemed to disappear once he looked up into that lofty parchment stretched high above. He sighed. Having no family, no team, no past, and - quite possibly - no future was one thing... but not to have the skies?
Perhaps that was what was hardest for Icarus Sidewinder.
"You miss it, don't you?"
Icarus craned his head back to see the form of Lykopis, dressed in a simple sundress, standing at the door to the roof that he himself had entered by. Her eyes seemed... softer in the moonlight. She almost seemed less primal and more (dare he think it?) feminine.
"Yeah," Icarus said, looking back into the sky. "Yeah, I do."
Footsteps slowly made their way over to where Icarus lay. Sliding down beside him, the She-Wolf pulled her knees to her chest, looking out over the wooded forest surrounding the back half of the castle.
A long silent pause drifted over the two of them like the passing breeze, which gently blew the Amazon's hair, haloing her face in its tresses.
"A penny for your thoughts?" the Amazon asked.
Icarus smiled and held out a hand. "Let's see the money first..."
Lykopis rolled her eyes. "It's an expression, Icarus," he sighed. "And I thought Adem was bad..." she muttered under her breath, though just loud enough for Icarus to hear.
"Hey!" the pilot retorted, leaning up on his right elbow, so they were facing each other. "I resent that!"
"I'm sure Adem would too," Lykopis countered with a grin.
Slowly, she began to laugh. Then, after a few moments, Icarus sniggered... and the two teammates shared a few minutes of genuine laughter for the first time since having been brought into this world.
After the laughter subsided, another pause. And then:
"Seriously," Lykopis said, looking down at Icarus, "what are you doing here by yourself? The only time you were ever by yourself or away from a mirror, you were locked in the bathroom, yelling at anyone who might have thought about disturbing you..."
"Well," Icarus said, "firstly, in all fairness, sometimes I would use a mirror during that too. Let your imagination go where it will..."
Lykopis let out an audible groan as Icarus continued.
"Secondly," he said, "it's like you said. I miss it. The sky. As shaky and hot-headed as I undoubtedly always am... was... whatever... I always felt at home in the sky. It was my refuge, y'know? And I come here to find myself... grounded."
"Not to mention all the new hardware," Lykopis said.
Icarus furrowed his brow in thought. "Well, honestly, as bad as all that is, it would be almost... bearable if I had that solace, y'know? Instead, I've been reduced to a fact checker and you know as well as I do that Spock was always better at that stuff than I was..."
"True," Lykopis nodded, "but it is hard to take on status as a 'fact checker' if one is unable to communicate effectively with the world around him."
"I guess," Icky sighed, rolling onto his back again and gazing into the stars. "It's just not a role I'd ever thought I'd find myself in."
"Well, do you honestly think that I would ever have seen myself as a counselor?" Lykopis countered. "Do you honestly think that I would ever before now have been up here talking with anyone - especially you - about their... feelings?"
Icarus' eyes rolled over towards Lykopis as his eyebrow arched in thought. "Now that you mention it, that is kind of odd..."
"This world... this 'Mxy' has changed us all, Icarus," she said, "and not necessarily for the better. It is as Ozzy told me earlier: we are not alone so long as we have each other."
Icarus smiled. Reaching over, he took the Amazon's hand in his own and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks, Lyly."
Releasing her hand, he turned back to gaze at the stars, a twinkle in his eye.
And, slowly, the Amazon, too, reclined, laying beside her teammate as the two watched the stars go by in silence...