Title: Nothing in the World (Edge of the World Remix)
Author: ren
Email: humbleren@hotmail.com
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Rating: PG for some language
Remixed for: Nothing in the World, by Charles
Notes: I'll admit, this was quite hastily written, but it's short and not too painful. Give it a chance!
Summary: 'Silent Bob looked down at Jay. He had fallen asleep again.' This is the other side of the story.

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There was nothing in the world.

Except that wasn't quite right, because he was in the world, after all, and so were his pockets, and his pockets were full of all kinds of things.

So, he thought. There was him in the world, along with half a pack of cigarettes, a yellow lighter, a squashed chocolate bar, three paperclips, and enough quality weed to fly a man to the moon.

That was almost enough, he thought, but there was something missing. Something very important that hovered just outside the edges of his memory, silent and accusing and

(Silent?)

yet oddly patient, as if it knew that if it just waited long enough, he would remember.

He'd seen movies like this, where a guy found himself in a strange place with no people. Usually the guy wandered around until he found the sexy lady and the store full of guns, and then when the zombies showed up he blew their heads off, and then he had a lot of sex, with a soundtrack.

Well, not sex *with* the soundtrack, sex with the lady, and there was a soundtrack there too, along with the zombies, but the guy never had sex with the zombies.

His brain stalled, and he frowned. Usually he didn't have time to get himself this confused. Usually something happened to stop it, only he couldn't quite remember what.

The side of his face felt warm, as if cradled in some large, strong hand.

He thought for a moment he could hear his heart beating, but the sound was slower than the rabbit pulse he could feel in his neck, and oddly distant, like he was hearing it through water, or through earth.

And it seemed only natural that he could hear a heartbeat coming from the earth, because when he looked at the ground he could see that the world was breathing.

Breathing? Hell, *moving*, and as the ground shifted in a long, slow swell beneath him he felt the passing towards and over his head of some large unstoppable *thing*, intent on its direction, which was... what? He was the only thing in the world - him and his pockets, and all he had in his pockets was -

He braced himself against the world and howled in massive, righteous indignation. "Goddamn cocksmokin' sons of bitches! Try 'n' take my weed, fuckin' monsters."

As if in response to his fury, a calming weight smoothed over his head, leaving behind it a persistent warmth that settled around his shoulders and infusing with a serenity that was both strange and strangely familiar. He *had* felt this before, somewhere

(With someone?)

And he was suddenly, entirely sure that whoever or whatever this calming thing was, it was something that loved him.

He smiled, and hugged himself, and felt happy and safe and protected and loved and -

What the fuck was that fucking annoying sound? Like music, only. tinklier. And was that a dog he was hearing?

Whatever it was, it was destroying his peace, and he scowled. Maybe he *wasn't* the only thing in the world after all, but when he got done with this irritating tinkly-assed motherfucker, he goddamn would be.

End.