Title: Another Time, Another Place
Genre: Romance
Rating: K+
Pairing: Xena x Gabrielle
Spoilers: End of series
Summary: We are all on a journey…
Word Count: 715
Warnings: Only the fact that I'm writing about a 20-year old show.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Just a thing.
She awakens in a cold sweat – snippets of her dream still dancing behind her eyelids. She sees her dream in flashes, like snapshots, a flipbook, or a movie set on fast forward.
- a village on fire –
- a dark haired man smiles at her, he is handsome, roguish, sure of his appeal, she is annoyed by him –
- swords, blood, screaming, pain –
- a girl, halo of hair, bright eyes, shy smile, but so strong, so brave, so good, so wonderful, her heart clenches –
- there are creatures she knows from fairytales, school, movies; there are creatures she has no name for; there are men wielding swords of flames and women with eyes of crazed bloodlust, their teeth bared like wolves –
- then there is cold, freezing, mind-numbing, life-altering cold and she is alone inside her mind and she is screaming, screaming, screaming but there is nothing but the cold –
It is then that she jerks upright in bed, taking in great gulping gasps of air, trying to hold onto the dream memories even as they slide from her mind like water from cupped hands. Reaching up with a shaking hand, she rubs her face, forcing away the last vestiges of sleep, and with it, the remainder of the memories.
She ponders a moment at the word – memories – but they don't feel like dreams. Dreams seem real while you are dreaming, but once you waken, they seem flawed and fantastical. But this… though there were things that she knew were not real – centaurs, monsters, Amazons – but they felt like truth. She could remember the heat of the flames, feel the pull of her muscles as she swung her sword, see blinding sun, smell the thick, cloying smell of horses, taste the salt of tears and the pale, softness of ice on the back of her throat. She remembered those things like she remembered her mother's smile, the feel of leather car seats in the summer heat, the affection of her childhood dog – things as familiar to her as her own face.
But she could no longer remember the girl from her dream – she remembers her presence, the feeling that clenches low and deep in her stomach at the sight of her, but she cannot recall the color of that spread of hair or the shade of her sparkling eyes. The feeling though – it as familiar to her as breathing.
"Hm?" A sleepy murmur broke through the quiet of the room, and a questing hand inched across the blanket, reaching blinding in the dark.
She grabbed the hand, held it tight, pressed the skin to her lips – because this feeling, the feeling of happiness and want, joy and bliss, that was the feeling from the dream.
"It's just me," she said, smiling softly as a face appeared from under the comforter. A crown of golden hair, hazy blue eyes, rumpled and sexy, warm and home.
She settles down next to the girl beside her, drawing her near, revealing in the closeness, the feel of her, the scent of her. Even as she drifts off the sleep again, the memories continue.
- a child, hers, but given away –
- a man, strong, brave, good, she'd loved him once, a part of her still did –
- an arena –
- she is blind, she is lost, she is a man, she is dead, she is a mother, she is evil, she is good –
- but at every moment, in every scene, there is always a girl, sometimes changed (naïve, wise, warrior, peacekeeper, mother, wife), but always there, smiling, smiling, smiling –
- she loves this girl, now, then, forever, always, loves her sweet innocence, her steadfastness, her strength, she can't get enough of the feel of her silken hair, her soft lips, her breathy sighs, love, love, love –
Dream or memory – it didn't really matter, did it? Were they memories of a past life, were they just dreams projected from her subconscious? It was all the same – here and now, there and then – the connection between the two was the same.
She loved this girl. And any lifetime, not matter what, nothing would change that.