Returned
By Concolor44
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Author's Note:
This is just a little drabble that my Muse dumped on me, so I thought I'd jot it down before it scampered. As always, don't shoot the messenger.
(Thanks to gerbilHunter for a pithy observation. Because it made sense, I made a slight change in response.)
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Dawn was still an hour away; even after it arrived, though, the heavy curtains over the east-facing windows would keep everything dark. At present, the only light in the hotel room was the faint glow of the night-light leaking out under the bathroom door. To Shego's enhanced vision, it made objects clear enough. Even through her damp, red-rimmed eyes.
She'd been sitting in one of the two overstuffed chairs for several minutes now, staring at the bed and the lithe female form stretched out there. Luxurious red hair piled up on the pillow where Shego, until recently, had spooned up behind her. Both women were naked. Shego hadn't seen any reason to get dressed yet. The chair's upholstery was a soft cotton blend, and felt good against her skin.
Well. It would have, had she been paying attention.
They had unplugged the bedside clock-radio when they retired. The only sounds were the redhead's even breaths, and the muffled lapping of the surf on the beach where the hotel sat.
Shego toyed with an object in her right hand, slowly spinning it over her palm: a slim, iridescent dagger some twenty-five centimeters long, double-edged and lethal, narrowing to a keen point. The rainbow cast to the surface was due to an ion-sputter coating of ultra-hard titanium-cobalt-niobium glass. She knew this dagger, knew that with proper care, it would never need sharpening. Yes, it was quite familiar. After all, she'd bought it for Kim for their third anniversary.
Her focus shifted to the object in her left hand. She choked back another sob.
The elegant platinum-tungsten band was no more than two millimeters thick, but had been cunningly worked nonetheless. A subtle pattern of loops and whorls traced around its perimeter. If one knew how to angle it in the light just so, the word 'Always' could be read. It was the twin of the one in Shego's purse.
She sniffed. Sniffed again. Hiccupped. The tears were back, tracking her cheeks. A low moan of pain escaped her lips.
The redhead on the bed sighed, stretched a little, turned over. Soft, brown eyes opened to gaze quizzically at the brunette. After a moment, she asked, her thick brogue lilting the words, "Are ye feelin' well, love? What's wrong?"
Shego couldn't speak. Not yet. Her gaze fell to the scrap of paper in her lap. It had been roughly torn from a yellow legal pad.
Maeve raised herself up on one elbow, frowning in worry. "Sharon? Love? What's t'e matter?"
Her crying resumed in earnest. The paper, and the ring, Shego had discovered impaled on the dagger and stabbed into the bed's headboard when she'd awakened less than half an hour ago. In a rapid scrawl, thick black letters spelled out:
I HOPE SHE WAS WORTH IT
DON'T BOTHER COMING BACK
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End Note:
No, I'm not real happy with her, either.
All comments welcome