Fields of Light
The Sequel to The Kiss of The Moon
Prologue
Blood. Its metallic tang fills his nostrils, sweet and at the same time bitter. His muscles burn with unnatural fire, energy pumping through his veins from a source that is out of his control. He does not care.
Voices call out to him, echoing to him from inside his own head, urging him to lose himself in their chorus, in a symphony of blood and violence. Needles and branches whip at his face and arms as he runs. Overhead an alien moon glows, its silver touch scorching his skin. His lips draw back from his teeth as the scent intensifies, blood and fear mixing into a irresistible perfume that pulls him onward. Faster,-
Kal'reegar wakes with a jolt, jerking upright and gasping for breath. His eyes move wildly around the darkened room, his chest heaving as he runs his hands feverishly over his face. Smooth skin meets his touch, not coarse fur. His trembling fingers pass over a familiar nose and mouth, not the jutting muzzle of the Beast. He is still himself.
He feels the sheets stir next to him. "Again?" asks a soft voice just to his right.
Kal nods mutely. He leans forward, resting his arms on folded knees. His breathing gradually begins to return to normal, sweat slowly drying on his skin. It lasted longer this time.
Beside him James Mikaelson pushes himself into a sitting position. Kal can feel the human's eyes on the back of his neck. "Was it the same dream?"
Kal nods again. He draws in a shaky breath, straightening up. "Yeah. It went on for longer though."
James is silent for a while. "I wish I knew what it meant," he says at last. "But I just don't know."
I don't either, thinks Kal. Stress is supposed to fade with time, not get worse. But it's only been a week. "I'm going for a walk," he says, swinging his feet onto the floor. James doesn't insist on coming with him. Kal smiles a little as he pulls on a jacket, pleased that the human knows him well enough to recognize that he wants to be alone.
...
The presidium, the vast park-like area of the Citadel, is dark. Kal leans against the balcony rail. His eyes are barely hindered by the artificial semi-night, but he still doesn't see the trees below him. Before his eyes a different set of trees sways in the wind, on a planet light-years away. He stares out into space for a while, letting the synthesized gentle breeze brush against his cheek. It's hard to believe that seven days have really passed since a human, a turian and a decimated squad of quarian marines escaped from that same planet. Seven days seem like such a thin wall between now and then.
They were not poorly spent days, though, Kal thinks to himself with the hint of a smile. He is still not sure what to call the thing between himself and James. Is it between us, or is it us? he wonders. What are we? He has heard stories of relationships born of intense circumstances, not stories with happy endings. Isn't this the happy ending though?
Kal doesn't answer his question. Men in stories with happy endings don't wake up in the night convinced their fingernails have grown into three-inch claws. They don't live in constant fear of hurting the ones they love because they cannot control themselves, or what they will turn into.
He closes his eyes, the far-away sound of the presidium's waterfalls soothing his mind. Tomorrow he boards a shuttle that will take him back to the Migrant Fleet, where he will complete his tour of duty with the marines. Two months. It seems like forever. James will be gone in a few days too. He has secured a place on a mining ship bound for the Terminus systems. They are going to be thousands of light-years apart.
Soft footsteps sound on the deck behind him. "Couldn't sleep?" he asks, the corner of his mouth rising.
"Not with you out here," replies James. Kal raises his eyelids slightly, glancing at the human. James is leaning on the railing next to Kal, looking out over the presidium. He raises one hand to his face, brushing away a strand of dark hair. "I don't like this," he says suddenly. "After everything, it's not fair. I wish..."
The words fade away into the silence, but Kal feels their meaning perfectly. "Yeah," he says. "Me too."
There has been a space between them over the past week, an almost tentative gap, like the distance between two docked ships. They have both felt a connection but hung back from trying to define it, sharing an unspoken agreement to wait and see. Kal looks down at the stream running through the sparse woods below them. Was it a mistake? He wonders. I suppose we'll never know.
A hand grips his shoulder and he looks up into James's face. The human's expression is visibly pained. His fingers tighten around Kal's shoulder. "I don't want you to go," he says, his voice almost plaintive.
Kal meets James's eyes, laying his own hand over the human's. "I don't want to go," he says. But I will go, he thinks. Two months. I didn't even know you a week ago, and now I can not imagine spending two months without you.