[ WP ] Two people discover a fountain of youth . The problem is that upon drinking the water you turn back into an infant . The two decide to take turns raising each other in order to live forever until one day one of them decides to break this agreement .

In the Amazon lives a tribe of men with no concept of time. They have no history, oral, written, or drawn -- no stories of the past or hopes for the future. They call themselves the Hi'aiti'ihi: `` the straight ones.'' And they hide a great secret. 
 
 The sun burned high in the sky, as brilliantly as it had the last time John and Fiona had coasted down the river, fifty years ago. It glared at them imperiously, its eye a smoldering blister in the clear blue day. It did n't care. For the sun, this day was as plain as the last and as uncertain as the next. It blazed without worry, that it might live forever. 
 
 Fiona wiped a slick of sweat from her brow, leaving her forearm uncomfortably damp and sticky. As inescapable as the heat was, the humidity was such that she was forever covered in a miserable, sweaty dew -- even during the night, when some of the day's feverish warmth had receded. She peered over the side of the canoe, wondering for a moment whether she'd be drier if she were in the water. 
 
 `` Are you okay, love?'' John's voice sounded hoarse and phlegmy. The heat never treated him well. He cleared the catarrh from his throat and placed a pallid hand upon her shoulder. `` We're nearly there.'' 
 
 Fiona laid her hand atop John's and massaged it. How quickly his skin had changed. What once was the soft fragility of infancy had eventually become this, had given way to leathery senility. The idea was revolting, though John was not. 
 
 `` I wish you had n't made a habit of smoking,'' Fiona said, catching John out the corner of her eye. `` Then we would n't be here so soon.'' 
 
 `` Sorry.'' John's body shook as he fought to hold in a cough. `` It seemed like it might be fun: smoking without the consequences.'' He grinned, and it was the same shit-eating grin that Fiona had fallen in love with. A smile that could stir the heart of a stone. `` And it is n't as though we would n't have had to come soon, anyway. I'm sixty-five. Hell, you're fifty!'' 
 
 `` Let's just make sure we do n't go through this scare again.'' Fiona squeezed John's hand and let go. 
 
 `` Okay, I promise.'' 
 
 `` Mister John,'' the man at the paddle said, `` Is that the place, over there?'' 
 
 `` Yes,'' John called back. `` There should be a man waiting.'' He scanned the shore for a few moments, searching. `` Ah, there he is!'' 
 
 There was always a man waiting, watching, keeping guard. His treasure was well-hidden, but even still, it was more precious than any other thing on earth. Fiona wondered whether the Hi'aiti'ihi knew this. Perhaps their desire to guard the fountain was an atavistic instinct from long ago. It was even possible that the little man at the shore was n't a guard at all. Maybe he was just there. He was always there. 
 
 The guide brought the canoe to the shore with no fuss, using the current to gently guide the small boat and bring it parallel to the bank. The vertebrae in the small of Fiona's back cracked pleasantly as she rose. She held her hand out for John, who took it with a shaky grip. The little guard waved at them enthusiastically. 
 
 `` I'll be back soon,'' Fiona told the guide. The spry man hopped from the the canoe and began to make it fast to the trunk of a leaning tree. 
 
 `` Fiona,'' the guard pointed. Fiona nodded and smiled. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been an infant. The guard grinned ear to ear, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. `` John?'' 
 
 `` Yup,'' John wheezed. He had just risen from the canoe, and he was already out of breath. Fiona that she saw a frown hiding behind his murky green eyes. 
 
 `` Come, come!'' The guard gestured. It was a miracle that he had remembered the few English words they had taught him all of those years ago. But the little guard was an amazing man; he was the man who had saved Fiona's life. And for him, perhaps miracles were but the foundation of his every day. Should it have been strange that he looked younger today than he had fifty years ago, when a fifteen year-old John had cradled Fiona's frail frame in his spindly arms? 
 
 `` Fountain?'' he asked. 
 
 `` Yes,'' Fiona said. She pressed John's rough hand tightly between her own. 
 
 `` Come, come,'' the man repeated. 
 
 `` Fiona,'' John began. There was a catch in his voice, so he began again. `` Fiona, I do n't know.'' 
 
 She looked back at him. What was it? The furrow of his brow spoke of more pain than his pride would allow him to express. Had it really taken him this far, the cancer? `` What do n't you know, John?'' 
 
 `` I love you,'' John said. `` I've loved you longer than any man has ever loved a woman. Six hundred years ago, Fiona. Six hundred years ago, I came here with you. To save you.'' 
 
 `` John, stop.'' Fiona wanted to shout, but it was only a whisper. The guard watched, curious. Whether the man could make out what John was saying mattered little to Fiona. `` Please, let's get you to the fountain.'' 
 
 `` I've wondered this entire time,'' John said. `` Was I really saving you, or was I saving myself?'' 
 
 `` You were saving both of us.'' There were tears in her eyes, then. Hot tears. God damn the heat. God damn it. She pulled at his arm, but the sixty-five year-old John was strong for his age, as he had been at fifteen. He would n't budge. She clawed at his chest, grabbed his shoulders, his neck. 
 
 `` Fiona, I only ever wanted to save you. I want you to be able to live for yourself. Remember Etienne? What about Herrara? I ca n't make you stay with me forever. You should n't have to.'' 
 
 `` John, you were a child when I met both of them. That is n't fair!'' 
 
 `` It is n't? You know what is n't fair? We've cheated death for nearly six hundred years! Everything we are is unfair to everyone, everywhere else. And I'm dying, Fiona. I'm dying, and I've never felt this close to the end. It's stupid, saying this, but there's something about it that feels right.'' 
 
 John shook his hand free, stood straight as a soldier. He was a soldier, after all, was n't he? Fiona's favorite soldier. A great conqueror. He smiled: that shit-eating grin. There was a sad confidence there, behind his watering eyes. 
 
 `` Why now?'' Fiona wondered. `` When we're so far, John. Why?'' 
 
 `` I'm sorry,'' John shrugged. `` It's hard to see the truth before you come to face it. I've thought about this for years, and I knew the moment you pulled me from that canoe, that I would not be carried back.'' 
 
 `` Stay with me,'' Fiona plead, her own voice sounded as if it came from other end of a very long tunnel. 
 
 `` I'll always stay with you,'' John said. 
 
 And he turned and sprang from the forest with the stride of a vivacious young man. One last time. Then Fiona's world was all water: the sweat on her forehead, the tears trailing down her face, the lump in her throat, and the sound -- loud as thunder -- of her husband diving into the river, plunging beneath. A tremor coursed through her body. She wanted to shout, but the air. It was too goddamn muggy, too hot. She collapsed to her knees, looked up, at the sun gaping through the forest canopy. Through her tears, it appeared brighter. 
 
 The guard placed a hand on the small of her neck. He'd never known death, had he? Had he known love? 
 
 `` Okay,'' the guard spoke warmly. He placed a soft finger beneath Fiona's chin and turned her head to look him in the eyes. `` Fountain?'' 
 
 
 
 

