The Second Coming || Guns N Roses, Bon Jovi, David Bowie

The Second Coming- Three

The Jetsons was on the small white television in the corner, which couldn't have been more than twelve inches in length.

The man sitting on the bed across from the television didn't look at me. His white jumpsuit was stainless, it made the streaks of grey growing in the man's sideburns stand out even further against his dark head of curls.

He wore an expression of fixed concentration, watching the little family on the television ride around in their spaceship.

I wondered if he even knew I was standing there. Had years of isolation turned him into a social pariah? Did he recognize me immediately, and hate me for not coming sooner?

"My little girl loved The Jetsons," he said, and his voice nearly threw me into hysterics.

It's like when you hear a certain song, a certain tune, and it takes you back in time to when you used to hear that tune every single day.

His voice was a song my heart yearned for, and to hear it again was bliss.

"And The Flintstones, too. She was a real Hanna-Barbera fan. Every Saturday morning she used to sit down to watch her cartoons with a bowl of Trix cereal. My girl."

There were tears streaming down my cheeks now.

"Jess?"

The man stopped and gazed up at me. His eyes were dark and somewhat clouded, but they were Jess's, I knew that much.

"You must be a new guard," he said curiously, "I've never seen you here before."

"No, Jess," I choked. He just stared at me with minor confusion, so I went to the bed and kneeled in front of him. It was a tiny cot and Jess was a tall man, I wondered if they'd forced him to sleep here for all these years.

"It's me, Jess." I didn't know how to come right out with it.

"You?" He said, somewhat uncomfortably.

"It's me. It's Calliope."

His eyes shut, he wouldn't look at me anymore.

"Well, that's absurd. My little girl barely had seven years of life when she was killed, along with my other children."

"I survived, Jess. I survived, and I'm all grown up now. Cap took care of me."

And then his eyes flew open, and recognition bloomed all throughout his features. I was pretty much sobbing by then, even more so when he pulled me up onto his lap just like he used to and enveloped me in his embrace.

"My girl, all grown up," he was saying, squeezing me so tightly that I could hardly breathe.

"Jess, I'm sorry," I whispered, burying my head in his shoulder.

"Did anyone else survive the attack?"

I shook my head no, and to that he sighed.

"How many years has it been?"

"Eleven. I'm eighteen now, Jess."

"Eighteen," he marveled, and pulled away so that he could look at me. I got onto my feet and so did he, looking me over with warm, paternal eyes.

"My lord, Callie, you're... you're a woman." There were tears in his eyes. I couldn't even begin to put myself in his shoes.

"I missed you, Jess. I missed you so much."

Axl was knocking on the door now, and I realized that it wasn't the first time he had done that.

"Come on, Calliope! We have to split!"