A/N: I now present…a random story, inspired by boredom!
Murtagh stopped on the street corner in front of a clean-looking little blue house with the sign "Robinson's Bakery and Inn" out in front. He looked at the street sign, then down at the paper in his hand.
At the corner of Sherwood and Mill
This was it then. The place he had been hunting down for the past few weeks. And now he was here.
It was strange, knowing what was inside, waiting for him. He had not seen her for nearly four years now, though he had thought of her everyday. He wondered briefly if she had thought of him, then shook his head. She had most likely forgotten him by now, and he didn't blame her. He didn't even know why he was here.
But he did know that, didn't he? He was here because he loved her. And he missed her. Every touch, every kiss, everything. He missed her voice, her beautiful, high, carefree laugh, her personality, the way she would hold him, calm him, on particularly difficult days, the way she felt in his arms. He just couldn't let her go.
The past years had been the absolute worst years of his life. Every night he lay awake for hours, his thought and memories tormenting him. Thorn had politely asked one night, "Could you get that foolish little girl out of your head for two seconds? Some of us would actually like to get some sleep!" Well, he had said it much more…colorfully.
Murtagh sighed, and dismounted. He tied Tornac up in front, then, slowly, made his way up the creaky front steps and entered.
It was very different than what he had expected. It was bright, spotless, and crowded. He gulped. He hadn't expected much of an audience, that's for sure. To his right was a long counter. Behind it, stacked on shelves on the wall, were pies, cakes, and breads, of all shapes and sizes. To his left was an area full of people and tables. He went and sat at one in the corner, eyes quietly scanning the room for her.
He was stupid to have left her. It was a horrible thing to do; she was only 15 at the time. He was 17, and stupid, he now realized. He had made his daring escape then, losing Tornac in the process, and leaving her behind.
He had been stupid to do so. But he was also convinced (for a little while, at least) that he had done the right thing. If she had run off with him, he would've ruined her life. Her parents would've disowned her; she'd be on her own, in the streets, living off what little food and money she had. And he'd be the one to blame.
Then he met up with Eragon, and was able to forget her, at least during the day. But at night…he didn't even want to think about those horrible nights.
Then the twins had kidnapped him. He'd been forced to do Galbatorix's desire, he'd been forced to hatch Thorn, he'd been forced to do many things. He'd been in his service for the better part of three years. And he absolutely hated it.
But lately, for some strange reason, he'd been finding himself with more and more free time. After all, he wouldn't have much to do until Galbatorix actually began to move the troops into position. And he would do that soon. Murtagh wouldn't have much time to see her, perhaps this would be the last time he would see her ever again.
"Becca, I'll take over for now, you've done enough." Murtagh's head jerked up at the sound of her nickname. He looked around toward the source of the sound, and saw her. His heart skipped a beat.
It amazed him how different, yet how much the same she was. The same rosy cheeks, the same long, curly dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. The same heart-breaking smile. He couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched her, her lips moving (although he didn't hear what she said) and her graceful movements as she stepped out from behind the counter and went to go sit at a table across the room. But she was different as well, he could see that. She was older, obviously, and paler. Her hair was long now; she had always kept it shorter when he knew her. And she looked happy, but not the same carefree happiness as when they had been together. A wiser, almost sadder, happiness.
He couldn't take it anymore, having her so close. He slowly stood, and took a deep breath. But before he could take a step closer, he heard another sound echoing over all the others.
"Mommy! Mommy!" He turned and saw a little girl running across the floor. She looked about three years old. The little girl ran up to his beloved, who laughed and scooped her up, placing her on her lap. "What is it sweetie?"
"Mommy, will you read this to me?" asked the little girl, holding up a picture book. "I asked Billy, but he had to feed the horses, and I asked Carli, but she's busy sewing up the tear in her dress. I asked Tyler too, but he said he's too old for that kind of stuff." She stuck out her tongue in distaste. "Mommy, Tyler's not even as old as Billy, or Carli yet, and they read to me when they have time."
Rebecca laughed. "Of course, darling," she said as she opened the book.
Murtagh sat back down, his eyes staring at the little girl. She was pale, with black curly hair. Her tiny feet were bare, dangling high off the ground as she sat in her mother's lap, her head resting under her mother's chin as she stared at the pictures in the book. Her bright blue eyes looked strangely familiar, though he couldn't quite…of course. They were his eyes. That was his child, sitting on the lap of his Rebecca. His jaw dropped. He couldn't do much but stare.
Shut your mouth, you look like an idiot, said a little voice in his head. Murtagh did what he was told, but glared.
For a second there I thought you had decided to shut up for good. Silence has never been so golden.
Aw, is that any way to treat your best friend.
I'm serious Thorn. Please, just a few more moments of silence. This is difficult enough without you constantly in my head.
Fine. I just wanted to warn you that you haven't got much time left. He'll be needing you soon.
Thanks. Murtagh silently went back to staring at the girl and her mother. He waited patiently until the story was over before standing up again, and walking slowly across the room.
"Mommy, do you like this story?" asked the little girl, his little girl.
"Of course. Do you?"
"I think it's my favorite."
"Really? What's your favorite part?"
"I like when the little duckling finds his mommy and daddy again, and they get to be a family." Rebecca was silent. "Mommy," the little girl pressed. "When do we get to be a family?"
She leaned down and kissed her daughter on the top of her head. "We are a family, Anna."
"But Patricia said that for us to be a family, daddy would have to be here too. Patricia has a mommy and a daddy and a little brother. Why don't I have that?"
"Families come in all shapes and sizes, dear. Some are like Patricia's, and some are like ours. I think our family is perfect the way it is. And sweetheart, I'm sorry, but I highly doubt you'll ever see you're father-"
Murtagh stopped in front of the table. "Hello Rebecca," he whispered. Her eyes bugged.
"Anna," she said quietly. "Run along and play for a moment dear. Maybe Katlyn's back." The little girl clambered out of her mother's lap and ran across the floor, and up the stairs.
"May I?" Murtagh continued as he gestured toward a chair.
Rebecca stood up. "No, I think…follow me." She led him around the counter and through a door behind it, then down a narrow hallway into a little room with a table in the center. "Have a seat," she said.
Murtagh sat, and she sat across from him. He didn't know how to begin. "Er Rebecca, I-"
"Why are you here?" she suddenly demanded. "Why? I've only just been getting used to the fact that you were gone, I had to for Anna's sake. Do you know what it's like to grow up without a father?"
He glared. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said stiffly.
Rebecca glared back, and the room was silent for a moment.
"I'm here," he said slowly, "because I missed you, Becca. Not a day goes by when I don't think of you. Not a night passes when I don't shed at least one tear for you. I made a mistake, and I came to correct it."
"Oh really? Well, there's not much you can do about it now, is there! You can't go back and take me with you. You can't go back and help me while I was pregnant with Anna, you can't go back and hold my hand while I gave birth to her. You can't go back and help me fight tooth and nail to keep her! You can't go back and undo what you did to me Murtagh." She stood and began pacing across the room.
"It's been difficult," she said slowly. "Seeing what you were becoming, hearing the report's about the King's new Rider. It's been even more difficult not even being able to tell Anna her father's name. Or what he looked like, what he acted like. I didn't have any stories for her."
Murtagh stood as well, and began walking toward her. "What I did," he said finally, "was inexcusable. I can't undo anything I've done, but perhaps, I could make it up to you." She stopped pacing and looked at him, fire in her eyes.
"There is nothing you could do to make that up to me," she said bitterly, her face inches from his.
Murtagh remained quiet, calm. He gently cupped her chin in one had and began to lean down. She slapped his hand away and took a step backwards.
"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Do you think that after everything you did you can fix it with a simple kiss?"
"No," he said quietly. "I thought perhaps it could be a start, though."
"In what way?"
"I'm going to be here for you from now on, Becca," he said slowly. "I'm going to be a part of your life, and of Anna's." He took another step toward her, closing the distance between them.
"Murtagh, you can't," she whispered. "Galbatorix will make sure of that. It's dangerous. Please, please, don't let him know about Anna. Please."
"He can read my every thought," he said unhappily. "There's not much I can do to stop it."
"Then you see my point. You know that this would be different if it weren't for her. But she's my daughter, Murtagh, I can't let anything happen to her." There were tears in her eyes. "Please," she begged.
Murtagh sighed. "You're right, of course," he said. "As usual. It was stupid of me to have come."
"When you're free," she said. "We'll be together again. When we don't have to worry about her safety as much."
He laughed, bitterly. "I will never be free."
"Then this is goodbye." Her words were soft, gentle, but still hurt more than he ever imagined they could. "At least this time it's a proper goodbye, not you running off in the middle of the night."
He nodded, slowly. "Goodbye." He leaned down and gently placed a kiss on her cheek. It was wet.
"Goodbye." She wrapped her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe and pulling him into a tight embrace. He hugged her back, not wanting to let go, though, finally, he did. He looked down into her beautiful face.
"I love you," he said quietly. "I never stopped." Then he slowly leaned back down captured her mouth with his own.
Suddenly, everything felt right. This was where he belonged, wasn't it? Here with the woman he loved. But thanks to Galbatorix, this was the one place he could never be. This may be the last kiss he ever shared with her.
So he made it the best kiss they ever shared. He deepened the kiss, wrapping one arm around her waist and running the other one through her soft curly brown hair. He felt her instinctively wrap both arms around his neck. Then, slowly, almost guiltily, he pulled away. "Goodbye," he said one more time. He turned and walked toward the door. She stood there.
"Murtagh," she said suddenly just as he grasped the handle. He turned to face her. Tears were flowing freely down her face. "I love you too."
He smiled, then left the room, fighting back tears of his own. He left the little blue house, and climbed onto Tornac, riding out of the little village and toward the palace.
Could you perhaps hurry up? He heard Thorn ask. He's not exactly happy with you.
That makes two of us.
So…how was it?
If anything, now I've got another reason to fight him, even better than the ones I already had.
What?
Anna.
A/N: Sorry about the ending, I just wanted to wrap it up. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. And review! Please? Reviewers get cookies! And…um…world domination! And…a dragon, the color of their choice.
