Tony's Final Wish
Apr. 11th, 2016 12:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: Tony's Final Wish
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: I Dream of Jeannie
Character/Pairing: Tony/Jeannie
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fan_flashworks #151: Wish
Warning(s): Future Fic, Character Deaths
Word Count: 2,256
Date Written: 4 April, 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
"Jeannie." His voice creaks as he speaks her name, calling her to his side one last time, but there's no need. She's already beside him, stroking his head, checking his heart rate every few seconds. She hasn't left his side in days. She has been his constant companion throughout the years since he first discovered her bottle but never more so than in this last week. They knew the time was coming, and it pains him to think of leaving her.
After all these years, she's still as beautiful as the very first time he saw her. He remembers his best friend, Roger, wanting her and the games he used to play trying to get her. He had his hands full keeping up with the two of them. He used to want them both to grow up, but now he longs for those days. He has ever since they buried Roger. He's quite sure his friend's up there chasing Angels in the sky now, but he's not ready to join him.
He's never going to be ready to join him, and it's not because he doesn't miss him. He thinks of Roger every day. He misses him every day. But he doesn't want to leave Jeannie. He never wants to leave her, but he's known all along this day would come. She is Immortal, after all; he is not.
"Master, please, don't say it," Jeannie begs, tears refilling her eyes. She's been crying over him for hours, and he's not even gone yet.
"Jeannie," he says and reaches for her. Finding her hands, he takes them and squeezes them. Even now, his hands are still so much larger than hers. He tries to pull her to him but has no strength to bring her closer. He has no strength left to do anything.
But she comes willingly. She's always come willingly enough to him, he reflects, even when she's known she's in trouble. Ah, for the days when all he had to worry about was keeping the world from locking him away for being crazy because of her! For the times when it seemed like it was just himself, Jeannie, and Roge against the world! For the times of their youth, his youth, Roger's youth, a time long since passed . . .
"Jeannie," he speaks her name again, and she sobs once more.
"Master, don't say it!" she pleads. "I can not bear it!"
"Shush." His voice is gentle even now, his concern more for her than for himself. "There is . . . one more thing . . . I must do, Jeannie." He's put this off. She's never once asked him to free her, but he has thought of it many times. He's almost afraid for the world in which he is going to be leaving her. He well remembers all the disasters she would have caused that he narrowly stopped her from doing. Now there will be nothing between her and destruction, but his Jeannie has a good and loving heart. She won't cause undue damage to any one intentionally, and she's learned to help fix the messes she causes.
"Jeannie, listen to me." His words come out strong suddenly, but a fit of coughing overtakes him. He rolls over to his side in their bed, his whole body aching. He closes his eyes for a moment against the pain, not seeing the spittle of blood that escapes his mouth. He opens his eyes again as Jeannie is gently dabbing his blood away with one of her silk scarfs.
When he looks at her again, her eyes are as big as ever they have been, but they are no longer filled with the wonder she used to take over the smallest things that he and other mortals spent their lives taking for granted. They're filled with tears. He wishes he could dry her tears, but he knows it can not be this simple this time. His Jeannie, his beloved wife will cry for weeks to come, for months, maybe even for years, but one day, she will learn to go on. One day, she will move on without him.
She's always told him that Genies can not continue without their Masters unless their bottle is given to another. If he had been the first to go, he would have given Roger her bottle with strict promises that he knows his friend would not have kept. He might have tried to at first, but old Roge's ambitions would have always gotten the better of him in the end. But that was not the card fate decided to play for them.
Fate's always been a cruel master. He knew that even before Jeannie made the remark once as though she actually knew Fate and it was a person, not a thing or simply the force that rides over everything and one. He outlived Roger, and now his Jeannie will outlive him. "Jeannie, there's somthing I must say."
"Oh, Master," Jeannie sobs, "do not say it! Do not say it, I plead with you! I beg you!"
"No," he speaks strongly again, reaching out and once more taking her hands. This time, he manages to lift them to his lips and kisses them, not seeing the speck of blood he leaves behind. He could have stayed in the hospital. Perhaps these past few weeks would have been easier spent there, but the doctors would have eventually figured out what Jeannie is. He could not expose her to them, and he can not leave her now to either be destroyed or have her bottle found by another man who would not be nearly as kind and loving as he has been to her or, at least, as he likes to think he's been.
Perhaps there were times, he reflects, that he could have gone easier upon her. Perhaps he could have not been so straight laced back in the day and let her and Roger have more fun than they did. Perhaps he could have loved his wife more often instead of coming home so frequently, too tired and sore from his job to think of much more than rest and sleep. Perhaps he could have allowed her to treat him more often to an easier world. Maybe it would have increased his lifespan or at least brought her more happiness. She's always seemed so joyous to treat him.
"I must say this, Jeannie. I wish . . . " Again, coughing overtakes him. By the time it stops riding his chest and ribs this time, he's almost forgotten that he was talking -- almost except that Jeannie is leaning close to him and listening eagerly.
"Yes?" she asks urgently. "Yes, Master, you wish something? Anything? Anything at all?"
"Yes." He coughs again, and this time, it is his hand that wipes his own blood away. Before he can touch his mouth again, though, her scarf is there once more, gently dabbing away his blood. Little does he know that she plans to keep the scarf forever with his blood on it. It is her beloved Master's blood, after all.
"What? What do you wish, Master? Anything! Anything at all! It will be my pleasure to grant you!"
"Jeannie," he takes her hands again and squeezes them this time, as firmly as he can manage which, at this point, isn't very firmly at all. He feels something swelling within him. He fights to concentrate over the pain that's flaring within him again. He knows it won't be long. He has to get this said, and so he blurts the words quickly, "Jeannie, I wish you free."
The words are said. His love is free. He lets his body fall back down onto the bed in which they have shared so many happy moments. He lets his eyes close, fearing this time may be the last time. Everything is spinning, and when he hears his beloved's squeal, her voice seems to come from a long way away.
His eyes stay closed. He's too tired to open them again, but he can feel her near him. She feels so close, almost on top of him. "Jeannie," he gasps, aching to tell her one last thing, "I love you."
"I love you, too, Master!" she squeals, and he's surprised at the bouncing joy he hears resonating in her voice. She knows what's coming. She knows he won't be long in this world. Perhaps her freedom means that much to her. He should have done it long ago, he thinks, but he was afraid of what she might do with no restraints. Now it will be the world's problem and her choices, not his.
Doctor Bellows is gone. He never learned her secret. He never got to tear apart or rip her down to determine just how her magic works. But there are other Doctor Bellows out there and worse doctors and scientists by far. He can only hope she'll be careful. He can only hope she's learned enough through their time together to understand when it's too dangerous to use her powers and when it's okay.
"Open your eyes, Master!"
"Jeannie, I . . . I'm too tired."
"No, you're not!" Her voice is no longer pleading. She's still happy. It doesn't make sense. "Please open your eyes! Please! For me?"
He didn't think he could open his eyes just a moment ago, and yet, now, at her insistent pleas, he finds his eyes fluttering open again. She is on top of him, almost any way. She's bouncing on her knees on the bed beside him, but yet the bounces are no longer jarring his old bones.
Something feels different, and she's looking at him differently. She hasn't looked at him with so much excitement and . . . and that certain look in her eyes that has always made his blood burn and bubble within him and made him want to throw all caution to the wind and just take her wherever they are. She hasn't looked him in this way in years!
"Jeannie -- " He stops, eyes widening in surprise. His voice is stronger, and it sounds younger, too! His heart beats in his chest, and for the first time in years, it feels strong again. "Jeannie -- " Gingerly, he touches his own faces. He feels no wrinkles, only smooth, young skin.
Still, he doesn't dare believe, but from his wife's mischievous and joyful smile and from the way her long, blonde ponytail is swinging, he knows she's done something. "Jeannie," he demands, "what have you -- "
"Just what I asked you if I could do years ago! You can't stop me any more, Master!" With a squeal of delight, she throws herself down upon him and hugs him tightly. His body sings at her touch. He wants to roll her over beneath him in their bed and make sweet, passionate love to her, something he hasn't been able to do in over two decades, something he hasn't even felt the desire for in over one.
He can feel her wriggling and hear the smile in her voice as she presses her face into his neck. She kisses his Adam's apple, knowing the effect that's always had on him, and triumphantly proclaims, "Now you are going to live forever with me!"
"Jeannie, you . . . "
"I gave you immortality, Master, and I took away all your old aches and bones and human mortality! Now you're not going to die on me! We're going to live forever together!" She leans up and looks down into his face as she continues earnestly, "And I promise I'll be good! I'll do whatever you ask of me!"
She's expecting him to yell or to at least scold her. She offered him this a thousand times in the past, and he always turned her away. Man wasn't meant to live forever. He's buried all his family and friends. He should want to join them. He's lived his life, a full, meaningful life. He's spent his time here on this Earth. He should be ready to go to the beyond.
But he's not. He's not ready to leave her. He'll never be ready to leave her. "Oh, Jeannie!" he cries joyously, and he does throw his arms tightly around his beautiful wife's lithe, little body and rolls her underneath him. Gazing down into her eyes so full of happiness and love with no longer a single tear to be seen, he asks her truthfully, "Jeannie, what would I ever do without you?"
"You'd be lost, Master," she answers immediately without any doubt at all and grinning about the true fact.
"But with you, I'm found," he murmurs, leaning down.
"With me, you'll live forever!"
"With you," he answers, "I want to live forever and love you forever!"
She giggles. "And you will, Master," she breathes against his lips. "You will, and I will love you and live with you and serve you forever not because I have to but because I want to!" Tony kisses her then like he hasn't kissed her since their wedding night, a kiss so full of all the love she awakened in him, of all the passion he's only ever felt for her, and a promise of all the love, passion, and joy they will share throughout all the centuries yet to come. He kisses her breathless for despite all of Jeannie's own years and all her expertise at serving masters, she's never served or loved another like her Major Tony Nelson, and she never will.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: I Dream of Jeannie
Character/Pairing: Tony/Jeannie
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:
fan_flashworks #151: WishWarning(s): Future Fic, Character Deaths
Word Count: 2,256
Date Written: 4 April, 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
"Jeannie." His voice creaks as he speaks her name, calling her to his side one last time, but there's no need. She's already beside him, stroking his head, checking his heart rate every few seconds. She hasn't left his side in days. She has been his constant companion throughout the years since he first discovered her bottle but never more so than in this last week. They knew the time was coming, and it pains him to think of leaving her.
After all these years, she's still as beautiful as the very first time he saw her. He remembers his best friend, Roger, wanting her and the games he used to play trying to get her. He had his hands full keeping up with the two of them. He used to want them both to grow up, but now he longs for those days. He has ever since they buried Roger. He's quite sure his friend's up there chasing Angels in the sky now, but he's not ready to join him.
He's never going to be ready to join him, and it's not because he doesn't miss him. He thinks of Roger every day. He misses him every day. But he doesn't want to leave Jeannie. He never wants to leave her, but he's known all along this day would come. She is Immortal, after all; he is not.
"Master, please, don't say it," Jeannie begs, tears refilling her eyes. She's been crying over him for hours, and he's not even gone yet.
"Jeannie," he says and reaches for her. Finding her hands, he takes them and squeezes them. Even now, his hands are still so much larger than hers. He tries to pull her to him but has no strength to bring her closer. He has no strength left to do anything.
But she comes willingly. She's always come willingly enough to him, he reflects, even when she's known she's in trouble. Ah, for the days when all he had to worry about was keeping the world from locking him away for being crazy because of her! For the times when it seemed like it was just himself, Jeannie, and Roge against the world! For the times of their youth, his youth, Roger's youth, a time long since passed . . .
"Jeannie," he speaks her name again, and she sobs once more.
"Master, don't say it!" she pleads. "I can not bear it!"
"Shush." His voice is gentle even now, his concern more for her than for himself. "There is . . . one more thing . . . I must do, Jeannie." He's put this off. She's never once asked him to free her, but he has thought of it many times. He's almost afraid for the world in which he is going to be leaving her. He well remembers all the disasters she would have caused that he narrowly stopped her from doing. Now there will be nothing between her and destruction, but his Jeannie has a good and loving heart. She won't cause undue damage to any one intentionally, and she's learned to help fix the messes she causes.
"Jeannie, listen to me." His words come out strong suddenly, but a fit of coughing overtakes him. He rolls over to his side in their bed, his whole body aching. He closes his eyes for a moment against the pain, not seeing the spittle of blood that escapes his mouth. He opens his eyes again as Jeannie is gently dabbing his blood away with one of her silk scarfs.
When he looks at her again, her eyes are as big as ever they have been, but they are no longer filled with the wonder she used to take over the smallest things that he and other mortals spent their lives taking for granted. They're filled with tears. He wishes he could dry her tears, but he knows it can not be this simple this time. His Jeannie, his beloved wife will cry for weeks to come, for months, maybe even for years, but one day, she will learn to go on. One day, she will move on without him.
She's always told him that Genies can not continue without their Masters unless their bottle is given to another. If he had been the first to go, he would have given Roger her bottle with strict promises that he knows his friend would not have kept. He might have tried to at first, but old Roge's ambitions would have always gotten the better of him in the end. But that was not the card fate decided to play for them.
Fate's always been a cruel master. He knew that even before Jeannie made the remark once as though she actually knew Fate and it was a person, not a thing or simply the force that rides over everything and one. He outlived Roger, and now his Jeannie will outlive him. "Jeannie, there's somthing I must say."
"Oh, Master," Jeannie sobs, "do not say it! Do not say it, I plead with you! I beg you!"
"No," he speaks strongly again, reaching out and once more taking her hands. This time, he manages to lift them to his lips and kisses them, not seeing the speck of blood he leaves behind. He could have stayed in the hospital. Perhaps these past few weeks would have been easier spent there, but the doctors would have eventually figured out what Jeannie is. He could not expose her to them, and he can not leave her now to either be destroyed or have her bottle found by another man who would not be nearly as kind and loving as he has been to her or, at least, as he likes to think he's been.
Perhaps there were times, he reflects, that he could have gone easier upon her. Perhaps he could have not been so straight laced back in the day and let her and Roger have more fun than they did. Perhaps he could have loved his wife more often instead of coming home so frequently, too tired and sore from his job to think of much more than rest and sleep. Perhaps he could have allowed her to treat him more often to an easier world. Maybe it would have increased his lifespan or at least brought her more happiness. She's always seemed so joyous to treat him.
"I must say this, Jeannie. I wish . . . " Again, coughing overtakes him. By the time it stops riding his chest and ribs this time, he's almost forgotten that he was talking -- almost except that Jeannie is leaning close to him and listening eagerly.
"Yes?" she asks urgently. "Yes, Master, you wish something? Anything? Anything at all?"
"Yes." He coughs again, and this time, it is his hand that wipes his own blood away. Before he can touch his mouth again, though, her scarf is there once more, gently dabbing away his blood. Little does he know that she plans to keep the scarf forever with his blood on it. It is her beloved Master's blood, after all.
"What? What do you wish, Master? Anything! Anything at all! It will be my pleasure to grant you!"
"Jeannie," he takes her hands again and squeezes them this time, as firmly as he can manage which, at this point, isn't very firmly at all. He feels something swelling within him. He fights to concentrate over the pain that's flaring within him again. He knows it won't be long. He has to get this said, and so he blurts the words quickly, "Jeannie, I wish you free."
The words are said. His love is free. He lets his body fall back down onto the bed in which they have shared so many happy moments. He lets his eyes close, fearing this time may be the last time. Everything is spinning, and when he hears his beloved's squeal, her voice seems to come from a long way away.
His eyes stay closed. He's too tired to open them again, but he can feel her near him. She feels so close, almost on top of him. "Jeannie," he gasps, aching to tell her one last thing, "I love you."
"I love you, too, Master!" she squeals, and he's surprised at the bouncing joy he hears resonating in her voice. She knows what's coming. She knows he won't be long in this world. Perhaps her freedom means that much to her. He should have done it long ago, he thinks, but he was afraid of what she might do with no restraints. Now it will be the world's problem and her choices, not his.
Doctor Bellows is gone. He never learned her secret. He never got to tear apart or rip her down to determine just how her magic works. But there are other Doctor Bellows out there and worse doctors and scientists by far. He can only hope she'll be careful. He can only hope she's learned enough through their time together to understand when it's too dangerous to use her powers and when it's okay.
"Open your eyes, Master!"
"Jeannie, I . . . I'm too tired."
"No, you're not!" Her voice is no longer pleading. She's still happy. It doesn't make sense. "Please open your eyes! Please! For me?"
He didn't think he could open his eyes just a moment ago, and yet, now, at her insistent pleas, he finds his eyes fluttering open again. She is on top of him, almost any way. She's bouncing on her knees on the bed beside him, but yet the bounces are no longer jarring his old bones.
Something feels different, and she's looking at him differently. She hasn't looked at him with so much excitement and . . . and that certain look in her eyes that has always made his blood burn and bubble within him and made him want to throw all caution to the wind and just take her wherever they are. She hasn't looked him in this way in years!
"Jeannie -- " He stops, eyes widening in surprise. His voice is stronger, and it sounds younger, too! His heart beats in his chest, and for the first time in years, it feels strong again. "Jeannie -- " Gingerly, he touches his own faces. He feels no wrinkles, only smooth, young skin.
Still, he doesn't dare believe, but from his wife's mischievous and joyful smile and from the way her long, blonde ponytail is swinging, he knows she's done something. "Jeannie," he demands, "what have you -- "
"Just what I asked you if I could do years ago! You can't stop me any more, Master!" With a squeal of delight, she throws herself down upon him and hugs him tightly. His body sings at her touch. He wants to roll her over beneath him in their bed and make sweet, passionate love to her, something he hasn't been able to do in over two decades, something he hasn't even felt the desire for in over one.
He can feel her wriggling and hear the smile in her voice as she presses her face into his neck. She kisses his Adam's apple, knowing the effect that's always had on him, and triumphantly proclaims, "Now you are going to live forever with me!"
"Jeannie, you . . . "
"I gave you immortality, Master, and I took away all your old aches and bones and human mortality! Now you're not going to die on me! We're going to live forever together!" She leans up and looks down into his face as she continues earnestly, "And I promise I'll be good! I'll do whatever you ask of me!"
She's expecting him to yell or to at least scold her. She offered him this a thousand times in the past, and he always turned her away. Man wasn't meant to live forever. He's buried all his family and friends. He should want to join them. He's lived his life, a full, meaningful life. He's spent his time here on this Earth. He should be ready to go to the beyond.
But he's not. He's not ready to leave her. He'll never be ready to leave her. "Oh, Jeannie!" he cries joyously, and he does throw his arms tightly around his beautiful wife's lithe, little body and rolls her underneath him. Gazing down into her eyes so full of happiness and love with no longer a single tear to be seen, he asks her truthfully, "Jeannie, what would I ever do without you?"
"You'd be lost, Master," she answers immediately without any doubt at all and grinning about the true fact.
"But with you, I'm found," he murmurs, leaning down.
"With me, you'll live forever!"
"With you," he answers, "I want to live forever and love you forever!"
She giggles. "And you will, Master," she breathes against his lips. "You will, and I will love you and live with you and serve you forever not because I have to but because I want to!" Tony kisses her then like he hasn't kissed her since their wedding night, a kiss so full of all the love she awakened in him, of all the passion he's only ever felt for her, and a promise of all the love, passion, and joy they will share throughout all the centuries yet to come. He kisses her breathless for despite all of Jeannie's own years and all her expertise at serving masters, she's never served or loved another like her Major Tony Nelson, and she never will.
The End
