Disclaimer: Basic disclaimer. I'm jusy doing this for fun. I'm not getting rich or any money what

so ever. Do you really read these things? I don't own 'em, don't know who does and don't care.

Note: This is my first song fic, based on a song by Harry Chapin. It's an old song, that I heard
on one of my mom's cd's. Harry Chapin died in 1981, I think. Enjoy.

Shooting Star

I stood at his bedside, looking down at his fragile and delicate figure.

He hadn't always been that way. There had been a time when he had been strong

and would take on anything in his path. There had been a time when his eyes

had been pure orbs of emotion of hate or love. But now, even when I, his wife,

said his name, "Davis." he didn't even blink.

He was crazy, of course,

From the first she must have known it.

But still, she went on with him,

And she never once had shown it.

And she took him off the street,

And she dried his tears of grieving.

She listened to his visions.

She believed in his believing.

The world is hard place, I know this, full a skepticism and hate. It isn't

the place for a poor man whose mind is not straight. I remember coming upon

him, as I walked home. It was a busy street. It had been winter and colder

than usual. The street kids and the homeless were wrapped as tightly as

possible is torn blankets. They were pan handling, with begging eyes. I'd

given out all my spare change. I remember him. He had looked especially

vulnerable. His hair was long and tangled, his face was rough and bruised,

and a faint stench wafted off of him. Yet somehow I felt I knew this

homeless man. I took him out to lunch and we talked. He tried to explain to

me then but he was so mixed up none of it came out properly. So, I just took

him home and then I married him. Crazy that's what it was.

He was the sun, burning bright and brilliant

And she was the moon, shinning back his light a little

He was a shooting star,

She was something else and more slowly

He could not make things possible,

But she could make them holy.

The doctor, one Jyou Kido, had tried to explain to me. Davis had a condition,

something that happened to him when he was young. Something the do with a

place called Digi World and transporting in and out too many times. I wasn't

exactly sure what it meant but what it boiled down to was that Davis was

crazy and there was nothing that could be done about it.

He was dancing to some music,

No one else had ever heard.

He would speak in unknown languages,

She'd translate every word.

And then when the world was laughing,

At his castles in the sky,

She'd hold him in her body,

'Til he once again could fly.

Truthfully, for the first few years, I didn't really realized anything was

wrong. He was a bit odd but once was he was cleaned up and got a job, he

became the perfect husband. Then something happened to change that all

around. While I was hanging the clothes outside to dry (I've always

liked the smell of air dried cloth), Davis began dancing around the yard. I

just thought he was up to his usual foolish pranks, until he began to start

screaming words that didn't make sense for any reason at all. He feel down and

began seizing up, screaming all the while. I saw three neighborhood kids

pecking over the fence while I rushed inside to call for help. It took less

than two days for everyone on the block to learn Davis was crazy. We moved

away not long after that.

He was the sun, burning bright and brilliant

And she was the moon, shinning back his light a little

He was a shooting star,

She was something else and more slowly

He could not make things possible,

But she could make them holy.

I know I can't stay long. Outside the door is our teenage daughter, watching

our younger son. I have to take them home, make sure they get supper and then

I'll come back. Thinking of the kids makes me sad. Sometimes I wonder if

Davis even knows they are there.

Well, she gave him a daughter.

And she gave him a son.

She was a mother and a wife and a lover,

When the day was done.

He was too far-gone for giving love,

What he offered instead,

Was the knowledge she was the only thing,

That was not in his head.

It had been one of the bad days. There had been a lot more lately. Before it

had been a couple a year, then once a month, now two or three times a week.

It was so hard, having him thrashing around in bed. I can't let him up or

he'll hurt himself again. I'm reminded of when he had almost stabbed himself

with the pair of scissors. Thank Goodness he'd been wearing those stupid

goggles. Oh, but this was bad. He was fighting me and wouldn't take his

medicine and I had to stuff it down his throat but he wouldn't let me. Then

our son walked in to remind me that he had soccer practice. The word soccer

started Davis off again, like it always did. I was so mad at our son. He

knows soccer, just the word, will set Davis off. I found myself yelling at

him and he ran out. Our son never did get to soccer practice and that night I

started looking at institutes. I had to look at the brochures in the bedroom

because Davis can't be left alone. I thought he was too far gone to

understand what they meant. But somehow, he must have known. He took my hand

and told me, in a clear, awake voice, "I know you're real. I don't want to

loss you."

But that doesn't matter now, because now he was dying and I can't help but

think this was my fault.

He took his leave one morning,

Towards the rising sun's red glow.

She knew he was going no where,

But, of course, she let him go.

The morning after that horrible night, Davis left. I must have fallen asleep

in the chair. He managed to sneak down stairs and out the front door. I don't

know how. I found Davis gone but this isn't the first time he's gone out. I

didn't notify anyone. I know the whole 'he's not really a missing person for

so many hours routine' and been through it too many times.

Meanwhile, Davis is wandering around in his pajamas. He was getting laughed

at by people but he doesn't care. He doesn't listen. He doesn't acknowledge.

He doesn't know what street lights are or cars or roads. If you don't watch

him carefully, he'd walk right into the middle of the street. So, he's just

wandering around, not heading the various warnings of the people from the

sidewalks, and walks right in front of a truck.

And as she stood and watched him dwindle,

Much too empty to be sad,

Yes, he was dying and I can't leave him just know. What if it happened

while I'm was gone? A lot doesn't make in this crazy, messed up world but I

know I have to be with Davis when he leaves it.

I felt someone walk up beside me. At first I thought it was one of the kids

and I was going to snap but caught myself. What good would that do and

besides, he is their father, after all.

I turned my head, to talk to the visitor, and there he was.

He reappeared beside her,

Saying. "You're all I ever had."

He was even better looking than when I'd first meet him, not a hint of crazy

ness inside that skull. He took my hand and kissed it. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I didn't know what else to say.

"Good-bye." He began to fade away.


Warning beeps broke me away from my vision and monitions began flashing in

the room. I was hustled out

and a crash cart replaced my space by the bed. I knew, before the doctors and

nurses were finished, that he was gone. I took my children in my arms and

cried. And I'm not sure, but I think, from somewhere down the hall, maybe

from one of the rooms, came the remnants of a tune.

He was the sun, burning bright and brilliant

And she was the moon, shinning back his light a little

He was a shooting star,

She was something else and more slowly

He could not make things possible,

But she could make them holy.

The End