Fishhook
He tries to move his arms and he realizes that it's a stupid thing to do. Come on, he tells no one in his head, how more stupid can he get? The whole floating-over-the-earth-in-space-in- nothing-but-a-spacesuit is going to get old soon, but until then he knows flapping his arms isn't going to do him any good.
("You will look stupid." The Pseudo Harvey snarls, barely hanging onto John's foot)
"Shut up." John tells no one since Harvey isn't really there. He used to be, but not anymore, not after John killed him (like Gilina, like Aeryn, like Zhaan). And anyway, Pseudo Harvey didn't even wear the funny shirts.
Pseudo Harvey is instantly outfitted with a smashing Copacabana number, complete with the fruit hat and the snug skirt. John wants to laugh, but can't quite sum up the energy. He's seen worse.
"Nice tits."
Pseudo-Harv glares at him and tugs disdainfully at the bikini top.
("You have the most fascinating imagination," He says, managing to mean the exact opposite at the same time.)
"Shut up," John says again, over the whole funny costume thing a long time ago (two point five seconds to be exact). When Pseudo-Harv begins to open his mouth, John manages to pre-empt him with a "Shut your pie-hole."
("I will not shut up." Pseudo Harvey tugs at John's leg, "You cannot let us remain here.")
"No shit Nancy Drew." John propels his body so he can take in his surroundings. Nothing has changed since the last time he had been here. The moon was...there: still gray, still boring, still in desperate need of acne medication. Earth spun in its trademarked lazy gait, little satellites barely twinkling as they whizzed around. The sky was black. It had stars and he could see the sun (how could he miss it.); it was bright; real bright in fact.
("We will burn up in the atmosphere if you do not do something John!" Pseudo Harvey is tugging harder on John's leg, but the mariachis in Harv's other hand distracts him.)
But maybe he will try and do something, because he realizes (as realizations come, this one didn't hurt as much) that there isn't much else he can do. He can float (mental check), he can spin in circles (mental check two), he can think really, really, really hard (check, check, check).
("John!" Pseudo-Harvey shouts again, pulling himself up John's leg, his gloved hands grasping at John's thigh, "You must do something John, you have to-")
"Shut up Harv-Harv, you're not real." He flicks his leg and Pseudo Harvey still hangs on. John looks down at him, "This is really pathetic, you know." John waggles a finger, then shakes his leg harder. Pseudo-Harvey doesn't let go, and John resists the urge to cross his arms and sigh. "You're gonna have to let go sometime Harv."
("-We will both die out here John.")
John gives a final kick, and Pseudo Harvey loses his grip; he is sent out somewhere towards the moon, and when he lands, John imagines the dust-cloud just so that he can pretend that he sees it.
"Newsflash Harv," He spins himself back towards Earth and Australia and the funny looking continent that always reminds him of a dick, "You're already dead."
Earth is all blue and green and clichˇd and John doesn't remember seeing anything that beautiful before. He's lying to himself of course, Naked-Aeryn beats Everything-He's-Ever-Worked-For-Earth any day.
("You cannot get rid of me that easily John.")
And he's struck with fact that Scorpy/Harvey/Pseudo Harvey always calls him John. John this. John that. That is not a good idea John. Or: This is an idiotic plan John. Even better: What ever did she see in you John?
Frell.
(Fuck. He's floating above Earth now, he's gotta get himself acclimated.)
Pseudo-Harvey ain't even real; figment of his imagination and all that dren.
(Shit. Shit, goddamnit, Earth, remember?)
Pseudo Harvey comes back of course (always does, always will), dressed in a fisherman's vest and tackle hat. He sinks his hooks into John; long sharp fishhooks with the rubber bait still attached, digging them deeper into John's thighs.
("Do not do that again John.")
"I know my own goddamn name, dumbass, so you can stop repeating it."
("Whatever you say John.")
"Frell you, numbnuts."
("Fuck you, remember where you are John," It's Pseudo-Harv's turn to waggle his finger, "Must keep your manners.")
John rolls his eyes.
He recognizes he's running out of oxygen, that a lot of his conversations take place in his head, and that whenever he is about to die he pictures Scorpius in funny clothes.
Something, and at this John giggles manically because it's funny (so fucking funny, he said it right so there), is seriously wrong with him.
Pseudo-Harv rolls his eyes, and begins to gut a fish that he had managed to catch in one of Saturn's rings.
John wants to be having imaginary sex right now, with a loving Aeryn and a really big bed and a mirror on the ceiling, but Earth is below him and he swears he can see Kansas, and maybe if he gets closer he could see his house. Harvey is whistling a tune as he pulls out the fish's spine, and John wonders how long he'll have to wait before something happens.