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Bardic Shorts II

by Ressick

Hey - get your mind out of the gutter! I know what you were thinking when you saw the title. Hoping for a "Plot? What plot?" story, weren't 'cha? Sorry to disappoint. This is another small collection of vignettes, not a roll-in-the-hay epic. Um... on second thought, it's both... Great literature this ain't.

Disclaimers:

Not my characters, I will put them back in the box when I'm done.

Though not extremely explicit, these works contain definite f/f scenes, some moderately graphic in nature. If that upsets you, well, it's not my heart getting wasted. If you live in an area where things such as love aren't allowed, move. Most bards put in something along the lines of, "If you're under the age of 18..." but that'd be rather hypocritical of me to do that, so I won't. Basically, I take no responsibility for you reading this story.

The third vignette contains spoilers (sort of) for "Fallen Angel", "Chakrum", and most of the end of season four. And if you don't know who Meridian or Dahok are, don't bother reading it. The last one contains pseudo-spoilers for early season five.

Comments, questions, gushing (ye gods, what a bad pun) direct to ressick@yahoo.com Cyber hate mail will be burnt.

Remember the phrase "All I ever needed to know I learned from alt fanfic" as you read this. I have a good imagination...

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"Untitled 1"

Her head rests on my shoulder, an arm thrown haphazardly around my waist. In her sleep, her mouth quirks into a smile, a low moan the only trace of a pleasant dream. Her hair splays over my chest, and I tighten my grip on her lithe, muscular torso. She doesn't often let me hold her like this, preferring that my head rest on her shoulder, not the other way around. In the faint moonlight, dark hair glistens, and I can feel the beating of her heart against my side.

We made love tonight, slowly, carefully, drawing pleasure from deep inside until we lay limp in the tangle of each other's arms. She doesn't often let people see the side of her that is vulnerable, but every time we make love I catch a glimpse of that. She wants to give me pleasure, to affirm to me her love, but is hesitant to accept such a gift from me. I know that she does not doubt my love, that she needs no proof of my devotion. But it is something I want to give. I want to make her cry my name out at the height of feeling. I want for her to accept my love on the most base yet most pure of levels. And tonight she accepted that. I have never heard a sweeter sound than my name cried out in passion.

She stirs in my arms, the dream ended and she climbs to the brink of wakefulness. A sultry look and a tender kiss against my shoulder is all I need to bend my head down to claim her mouth. Tongues dance against each other and hands roam freely over backs. We are not done affirming our love tonight...

"Untitled 2"

Due to the fact that now I can write much better, I am actually ashamed of how BAD this mini-fic was, so I removed it from the collection... sorry folks...

"Firelight Reflections"

I look at her, and by all the gods, I am thankful. We are alive. We have survived, together. Always together. Now we are sure that, whatever may happen, our love will survive.

But when I look at her, I also marvel. She has changed so these past few years. She has evolved from a naive peasant girl always held at knife-point by the thug of the week to a formidable warrior, courageous and deadly. A part of me is honestly impressed by the skilled fighter my lover is. Yet that awe over her transformation is tinged with grief and regret. She has left behind the innocence of youth- and I wonder how much of that innocence was actually stolen, by me and by the situations that I put us in. How many of her ideals have I shattered unwittingly? She has killed, because of my quest and haste for revenge. She has been raped because I could not protect her. I have put her in the position of having to murder her own child. I, with my own hands, have savaged her body in my grief. There are no excuses. In many ways I have killed the woman she might have become.

She tells me that I have given her direction, that I have given her the most valuable thing in the world, something that makes all the costs worth it. I have given her love. More than that, I have given her my heart, my body, my soul. I have shown her the best, and the worst, of the human condition, within myself. Through it all, we have loved.

Who knows which is more important- the trials or the joys of our life together. She sits across the fire from me, cleaning her weapons- my gods, her blades. The face concentrating intently on a weapon is basically the same still as that of a young tagalong. Yes, the hair is shorter, the face perhaps more lined by age and experience, the eyes filled with a deep wisdom I cannot fathom, but the indefinable element that is my love is still there, still the fiery passion lurks beneath a pool of sea-green. It is tempered by time, taught by mistakes, nurtured by love and friendship. Perhaps that is part of why I love her so- for the more she changes, evolves, grows, the more she clings to that which is her essence.

She looks up from her cleaning, sensing my eyes upon her. A smile appears, lighting up her face with its own inner glow. And I have my answer, to the question I was too afraid to pose. It is worth it. Whatever the cost has been and will be, whatever must happen, it is all nothing in comparison to the quiet unlimited love of her smile.

"Always"

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Note: This is my way of trying to explain the distance between X & G in the show this season so far. The Pack has been dissecting the issue, and articulating a lot of questions I've been mulling over. Obviously, TBTB are fucking things up. Well, except in that outfit Gab was wearing- my gods, that woman has a beautiful back. *cough* Anyway, this piece takes the form of a diary entry of Gabrielle's.

----

The stories don't come anymore. It feels like the bard in me has been conquered by the warrior. She's pregnant and doesn't know how. It hurts. Everything is so confused now. But I can't touch her, not even the slightest gesture of affection. And she can't touch me. Where's the woman I fell in love with? More important, perhaps, where's my best friend? After dying, one would think that we'd never be apart, always touching just to make sure it isn't a dream. Yet we sleep in the same bedroll as always and not once have we just sought out in sleep the form of the other.

Gods, she's pregnant! My lover, pregnant! A seed within her, growing, a child. Where did it come from? Certainly not me; that's impossible, as much as I might wish for it. More nights than not, however, I've found myself staring at her profile lying next to me, my hand not a finger's width away from her stomach, wishing with all my heart that I could somehow be the child's father- if that's even the word for it! I know, it's insane, but oh how I want sometimes to just settle down, raise a family, with her. She'd make such a wonderful mother, I know. And I know whoever the father is, no matter whether or not she betrayed our love in the process, that if she'll let me, I'll love that child as my own, raise it as my own. Like she wanted to, deep down, with Hope. Maybe this is our second chance.

I can't believe I wrote what I did- she'd never cheat on me- never! Would she? How else? Oh, gods, how can I doubt her like this? How can I not, given the circumstances? So much has happened, so much death, destruction, so many dear friends lost, that I don't know what I believe in anymore. I used to think that I believed in love, but now... I should be able to take refuge in her arms like always, but I can't. And she can't apparently take me in her arms either, to calm down. I'm not expecting miracles- we've had too many of those for one lifetime already- but when she said we'd be together forever, I didn't expect this together/apart that we're in now.

Some of the jocularity is back, I think. We can joke, smile, a little. But it is all so awkward, so almost contrived. It just scares me that what was once there between us is so buried that I can't feel it anymore. All in all, I just want to hold her, be held, know that everything will be all right between us again. I want our always to be real. Maybe, given time, it will be.

Finis