It was a long way to the top of the building.

Jenne couldn’t get the thought of the journal out of her head. They held fast to their rappelling rope. Step by step the two astronauts ascended.

Their ascension brought them back on level with the surface of the earth around them. The sun’s radiant beams reflected off the windows, shrouding them with an ephemeral glow.

Once more, Jenne pictured the young man from the journal, cradling himself in a closet as the rays of the sun ended the earth around them.

“Sometimes I wonder if our planet will end up in the same state as Earth,” Jenne said.

“Everyone fears that. This planet is just a big ole ‘Lesson Learned’ to us, now.”

They climbed some more. This time, Andon broke the silence.

“What do you think about that?”

“About what?”

“About the guy's girlfriend leaving him.”

Jenne was surprised at the question. Andon rarely showed interest in these subjects before. Perhaps he was bored.

“Sucks,” Jenne said.

“No kidding.”

A few more meters passed in silence. Their white boots left scuff marks along the side of the building as they climbed.

“I kinda’ get it,” said Jenne.

“Him, or the girlfriend?”

“The girlfriend. They weren’t going to see each other anyways.”

Andon was quiet for a minute. Then he turned his helmet in her direction. “That’s rather callous. Didn’t expect that from you.”

“Callous, how? I think the man understood why she did it. I can see why she did it, too.”

“But there was always the possibility that the world was not going to end. Many of them held out hope, if records were correct.”

“But the reality is, it did end,” said Jenne. “And if I were in her shoes… I think I may have done the same.”

“Of course you would, Jenne.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’d leave for the next guy that came along, that’s what you’re saying, right?”

“No. Not for a more handsome man, if that’s what you’re implying. But if I was in her shoes, I'd consider leaving him to be with someone nearby.”

“Even if the world is going to end, huh?”

“Especially if it’s going to end. Would you rather die alone, or die in someone’s arms?”

“I guess you have a point. Not that it matters.”

Jenne stopped climbing and looked at Andon. She glared, but the sun’s reflection off her darkened visor hid it from Andon. “It’s not a difficult decision, Andon. You either die alone, or you die with someone you love. Maybe you’d be fine with the former, but I wouldn’t.”

“Wow – OK, I get it.”

But then, their conversation drew to an abrupt close.

There was a snap.

Sudden and unwarranted.

Jenne’s mouth was half-way open, getting ready to speak, when Andon’s rope failed.

His rappelling cord broke like an overstretched rubber band. Jenne could only watch as Andon’s boots peeled off the side of the building.

The woman’s gloved hand stretched out towards him, but gravity was faster.

And down he went.

His hands reaching skywards, his visor black. His fingers curled as he attempted to latch for the radiant sun above, as he descended the building.

No rope for safety.

Jenne could only watch as Andon hid the ledges of the building on his way down. A bump here, a crack there. Hit another ledge, and down he went, back below the surface of the dead world, off the building’s wall, and into the dark.

The sound of impact was faint. But gruesome. Andon was so very far away. Jenne could hear the sound of her panicked breathing all around her helmet. All transpired in a matter of seconds. Her eyes locked onto Andon lying on the ground just at the base of the building.

She kicked off the wall once, twice, and a third time. She made her way to the base of the building, never losing sight of Andon who lay crumpled on the ground in the dark.

She rappelled past the broken sign from earlier. As she descended past the surface of the earth, it was like going from day to night in an instant, with nothing but the illumination of her astronaut’s suit providing what minimal aid it could muster.

She reached the bottom. Her boots skidded across the dry ground, followed by the slam of her butt. She twisted around, disconnected the harness, and scampered to her feet, only to fall down at Andon’s side a couple seconds later.

“Andon!”

Her voice was wild. Desperate.

“Andon!”

Her helmet was right in front of his. He didn’t move. It was too dark to see through the visor.

“Andon!”

She reached for his wrist to check for a pulse. How silly. There’d be no way for her to get a read with all that gear on.

His arms and legs were limp. The pack on his back was crushed. Jenne recalled the medical supplies in her own pack, but what could she even do with it? She couldn’t open his suit, or the radiation would kill him regardless. Medical supplies were meant for a patch-up in space transit only, not-planetary.

“Andon, wake up, please!”

Her breath fogged her visor. Tears pooled down her face and settled in the bottom of the helmet as realization set in. She grabbed Andon and shook him.

“Please, wake up!”

Despite her best efforts, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Not a single twitch.

Either the suit kept him firmly pinned to the ground, or Andon was worse off. No, Jenne didn’t want to think about it. That fate would be far too cruel to ponder.

Dying on a dead earth. Andon was the only way the two could make it off this rock and back home alive. Without him, she was consigned to a lonely fate.

Jenne blamed herself. She should have inspected the harness better. She did run the safety check, but perhaps she had grown lazy with it over the years. Perhaps she overlooked something – a costly oversight.

The two of them had done this a few dozen times or more. More than enough for two astronauts to become complacent. She couldn’t fly a shuttle because she always had Andon. All these years, Andon was by her side, providing transportation while she did the scavenging.

They were a dynamic duo.

She wrapped her arms around Andon’s chest. He’s gone, she thought. She’d never make it off this dying world. Andon wouldn’t ever write that journal or have that child. Her story, and his story, would remain untold. Lost. Scattered and bundled together among every other unread tale on this dead planet.

But after the woman had cried for the loss, she felt something under her own suit. Something moved. It startled her.

She heard a gasp. Felt a twitch.

Coughing, groaning and moaning, Andon’s helmet began to broadcast.

Jenne fell back off of him, then crawled to his side. “Andon! Andon!”

There was more coughing. The suit moved its arms, then legs. Finally, the helmet turned towards Jenne.

“Jenne! What happened?!”

“Andon! Y-your harness broke!”

Jenne wrapped her arms around Andon once more. She held tight. Their helmets smacked together in the hug.

“Guess I knocked myself out.”

“Andon, I thought you were–”

“Not on this sad rock.”

Jenne took Andon by the shoulder and helped him sit up. They both looked at each other, and then they laughed. A good, hearty laugh.

After emotions settled in the two, they climbed the building once more. They were careful, going one at a time and sharing Jenne’s rappelling line.

They safely made their way back to the shuttle and launched into the stars, leaving the dead world behind.

The course was set. They were headed home.

On the way back, for the first time, they talked about themselves. About each other, their goals, their cares. They talked about their favorite colors, movies, and their hobbies. For the first time, Jenne and Andon had a conversation that had nothing to do with work.