Untethered by Lbilover

This is based on Sean's character Art in the web series 'Christine'. I loved his part in the series and what his character had to say. Foolish Christine for thinking she could do better. (If you haven't seen the episode, it's here: http://youtu.be/UqnHhG_fB9s) Yadda yadda added Elijah yadda yadda... you know the drill.

Art thought about her sometimes when he went hang gliding up in Santa Barbara, although he never once bumped into her. Christine. A name with unfortunate connotations for him, but definitely one that stuck in his mind.

It had been clear from the get-go that this Christine wasn't interested in him, any more than his ex Christine was, and he was pretty sure she'd been lying about her folks owning Culver Corner. Her sudden backing off when he claimed familiarity with it had been odd, but even more, he'd met the owners, and if that couple, both blue-eyed, fair-skinned Irish, had produced the dark-haired, dark-eyed Christine, then he'd forgotten everything he ever learned about genetics in school.

He hadn't called her on it, though. He supposed lying was par for the course for speed daters, or at least exaggerating. As he wasn't the type to do either, he'd failed abysmally at his one and only attempt and instead proved his expertise at self-sabotage. He was too talkative, too honest and too forthcoming. Turned out it wasn't smart to go into speed dating with every bit of baggage you owned bumping and dragging behind you. As a consequence, he hadn't ended up going out with any of the women he met, although there were a few he'd found attractive and appealing.

Christine had been less subtle about her disinterest than some, but she was the one who lingered in his mind afterward, and not only because of her unfortunate name. He'd thought she actually got what he meant when he described hang gliding for her: the lightness, the freedom, the sense that you could disappear forever and become someone entirely new and different. For a moment a real connection had existed between them, even if it was short-lived.

There was a final reason she'd lingered in his mind. It was what happened right at the end, when he got up to leave. He'd said to her, "Men should be knocking down your door," and she'd replied, "You, too," then awkwardly added, "I mean, not men."

He'd frozen for a split second then given her a wry smile, acknowledging the hit. She was no dummy, this Christine. But then, his accomplished ex the detective had been no dummy either.


"You ready?"

Art gave one last tug to the strap of his helmet. "Ready," he said. He started running down the hill, faster and faster, until the wind caught the hang glider's orange sails, his feet left the ground and they were aloft.

"This is unfuckingbelievable," said the young man flying tandem with him. He reached over and took Art's hand as they soared across the folded mountainside, with golden fields and blue seas shimmering in the distance. It was everything Art had told Christine it was: lightness, freedom, endless possibility.

But Art had shed the baggage weighing him down with his feet firmly fixed on the ground, the day he met Elijah. He no longer fantasized about disappearing forever and becoming somebody new. He flew simply for the joy of it and for the reflection of that joy in his lover's eyes as they soared. Two people and intimacy; he needed nothing more.

He thought fleetingly of Christine, with her eyebrows that formed question marks and her unexpected smile. If shehad made it to Santa Barbara, maybe she'd followed his advice to take a moment and just fly, and in the doing found whatever it was she'd been seeking. He hoped so.

And then Art forgot about her as the sails caught a thermal and they rose, untethered, to the clouds.