When Mortality Crumbles

It was a warm morning in the mountains. The sunlight splayed across her lap, illuminating the pages of a worn book as her eyes carefully deciphered the text. She was resting against a pillow at the head of her bed, a mass of silky yellow sheets that brightened her room. They reminded her of the dawn, of a hidden valley of dragons, and of the Golden One. The memory of the last one both calmed her and made her shudder.

This was how he found her when he appeared at the window, wrapped in the fluttering shades that matched the color of her sheets. She closed her book and removed the glasses from the bridge of her nose, then turned her ruby eyes towards him.

Her eyes smiled warmly at him. "I almost thought you wouldn't come."

"I almost didn't," he admitted, and walked from the window to the side of her bed. There was a chair next to it, so his hand wrapped around the back of the chair, pulled it over, and he sat down, eyes averted. Then he raised them and stared at her hard, and she stared back at him.

"Gee, Xelloss. I haven't seen you in over a decade, and you have nothing to say?"

The cheerfulness in her voice made him smile slightly. "What are you expecting?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. With you, I've learned that nothing can be expected—well, except how unreliable you are. See, look, you're being unreliable again."

He chuckled into the back of her hand, which rested lightly on top of his, then kissed her fingers. Then he pressed her hand to his cheek and said, "I love you."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I was expecting that one. Try again."

He chuckled again, and she felt his warm breath across her knuckles. Then he lowered her hand gently, resting it beside her. She watched him as he stared down at it. Then he asked, "How long did I have?"

She leaned her head back and sighed. "You made it just in time. Today's my last day." Her eyes fell on his weak shape. "Not really. But it could be any day now."

"So it's true, then? You're really--"

"Dying. Yes, Xelloss. And there's nothing you or anyone else can do to stop it."

She saw his shoulders shake a little as he chuckled quietly. "You know, Lina-san, I sometimes thought you'd never die."

Her eyes narrowed at him. "I am not immortal, Xelloss. You are."

"Yes, you are right." He chuckled, and her eyes suddenly softened. "But that doesn't change anything."

"Then you are a fool."

He frowned at her, and she frowned right back at him. "Why say this now, Xelloss? Like you said, it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the fact that I'm human. It doesn't change the fact that I haven't seen—or even heard from you in over ten years. I know that may not seem like a long time to you, but it certainly is to those of us with limited lifespans." She saw him wince at the words 'human' and 'limited lifespans.' It empowered her, just a little.

"You never minded the wait before," he noted.

"I wasn't on my deathbed before," she growled at him, and he shrank just a little. There was no reason to ease her aggression towards him, and she knew it. He did it because he loved to test her patience, and he had no one to blame but himself for the time that could have been, but was lost. Then again, that was the nature of their relationship, even from the very beginning, and she knew it, and he knew it. That was part of why it worked out so well—that between them thing.

"What happened in the time I haven't seen you?" he asked.

"Well. My children got married." He raised an eyebrow at her. "No, not to each other, you perverted fruitcake. To their respective spouses."

He put a hand to his cheek and tilted his head against it. "Lala I could see, but Ven, too?"

Lina nodded. "Surprising, isn't it? I had to beat him into doing it. I wanted to see my grandchildren before I passed."

"And?"

"They're beautiful." Her voice was sweet as she said those words, and Xelloss was suddenly seized by the desire to touch her lips. She must have caught the look in his eye, since she suddenly put her hand to the hand on his cheek. He wrapped his fingers around it and felt their chilliness against his skin. He opened his eyes and gazed upon her fully.

He lowered her hand and ran his up the length of her arm, feeling her bristle at his touch as he shifted himself over to her bed. He reached around the back of her neck and loosened the knot that held her hair together, and her locks fell across her back and down the front of her delicate shoulder. Time hadn't stolen the brilliant hue of her hair, and it still looked as lively and bright as he had remembered. He ran his fingers through her hair, starting from the roots and down the length of it. Then he pressed his hand to her lips and watched as her eyes closed, and she kissed his fingers.

He swallowed and noted how his throat had gone dry. Then he removed his fingers and leaned forward, replacing them with his lips. After he had kissed her, she stared at him.

"It took you thirteen years to muster up enough courage to do that again?"

His eyes lit up. "No. Only six. You were asleep the last time."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yeah, you left the windows open that time—yes I did know." Then she reached out and tugged at his hair, and he leaned in to kiss her again a second time. Then a third. And a fourth. And then she sighed contentedly, and he pulled away. Her eyes were laughing at him. "You couldn't have resisted me for that long, after all," she jeered at him.

He pouted. But it was true. He had spent the last decade sneaking visits when he could, watching her from afar, staying just out of reach. He was too afraid to get close. He was afraid of how the fire would burn him if he tried to touch it, so he contented himself by just watching her—that is, until it was clear she wouldn't be part of this world for much longer. Then he couldn't wait anymore.

He leaned in and rested his head against her chest, and her arms rose to wrap around him. He closed his eyes and listened closely. He heard the sound of her breathing, shallow and gentle. He heard the pulsing of her blood, coursing through her veins, filling her with the red liquor of life. He inhaled and held his breath, and he heard her heart beat faster, filling his ears with the song of mortality. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at her, took in the sight of her remaining life—saw the age in her eyes. It hurt him. It was the reason he'd stopped seeing her so often; why he'd remained far from her for years at a time. Because every time he saw her, he was reminded of the little remaining time she had, and the eternity he'd have to spend without her after she was gone. It was almost unbearable.

She ran her hand through his hair, petting him gently. He didn't want to move, so he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist, and she clutched him close to her heart. "I'm sorry, Xelloss," she whispered gently in his ear. He closed his eyes. The feel of her breath on his ear reminded him of the times they had spent nestled in bed together, rain pelting softly against the window, filling their room with tiny thuds and breaths and her and him. To him, that memory seemed so recent—so unfair. Their time was so different, his and hers. It wasn't fair.

"I'd ask if you were crying," she began, and ran a finger lightly across his brow. "But you can't." It was the truth, and that was unfair, too. "Just like the fact that you can't love. We aren't in love, Xelloss. But I was, once. Maybe."

He sat up properly then, and they switched places. She looked up at him as he cradled her in his arms, ran his hand across her eyelids and through her hair, then supported the back of her neck as he lowered his face and kissed her. Then he kissed her eyes, the side of her mouth, and her lips again. She trembled in his arms, and he wondered if it was a sign that he was losing her, but she was simply sinking into him. She sighed.

"You never change," she murmured, and traced a finger across the length of his chest. "Not even the kisses. Although, I remember they used to be more aggressive at one point in time. That was shortly after Zelgadiss passed away."

"You kept thinking about him," Xelloss explained as he helped her lie down and fell upon an elbow beside her. His other hand rested lightly across her stomach. "I was trying to help you forget."

She laughed at him, and he felt something inside him melt at the brief sight of her youthful eyes. Then she turned her head toward him and lifted her large, sweet eyes. "Guess who I'm thinking about now."

He blinked at her. "Is this a trick question? Am I starting to rub off on you finally, after sixty years?"

She pouted at him. "Humor me. I'm a dying woman."

He sighed. "Who?"

"That's a secret!" she answered, then burst out into giggles. He was torn between wanting to tickle her—his hand was already in the right place, after all—and wanting to kiss her—thus silencing her at the same time. He settled for the latter, and was pleased by the sugary 'Mm' that escaped her lips. He felt the muscles in his arm weaken.

He pulled her closer. "When you're like this, it's hard for me to believe you're dying."

"That's how I'd want you to remember me."

He groaned and buried his nose into her hair. She smelled like fresh air, and of memories. It would be hard to tear himself away. That was another reason he didn't visit. He became easily addicted.

"Is there anything you want, before I go?" he asked as he lifted himself from the bed. He thought he saw disappointment in her eyes for a brief second, but the look was gone as soon as it had appeared. She shook her head and gazed up at him expectantly. He laughed a little, then bent over to kiss her forehead. She felt his lips curl into a smile there as he lingered, then he kissed her eyelashes and her lips. He lingered there, too, and she thought she could easily fall into the eternal dream right then and there.

"Then this is goodbye," he said, almost asking.

"Wait. Let me see your eyes."

He obliged, looking into her eyes with his own. She studied them for a while as he did the same with hers, allowing the fire to brand itself within him. Then a tiny smile appeared on her lips. "Now I'll know what color flowers to ask for."

He frowned. "I hope you don't mean the ones for your funeral."

"I do," she answered. "I want them to be the first thing I see if I wake up. Just in case—don't look at me like that. You never know. And what if you're not around anymore?"

"You are ridiculous. Did you know that?"

"I am Lina Inverse. And yes I did."

He paused. Then he laughed—genuinely laughed, and she nearly dropped her jaw as he wiped a tear from his eyes. "Alright, I've had enough. You have my respect, Lina-san." He bowed his head.

Her lips pressed together. "I have a request now."

He blinked. "What is it?"

"Call me Lina."

The look on his face was blank for a moment, but then he smiled at her, and it was more like his usual grin. He considered briefly how cute she looked with that blush on her cheeks (though, she always looked cute with a blush on her cheeks), and then leaned in so that his lips were just inches from her ear.

Lina.

He'd mouthed her name so quietly that she almost thought he hadn't said it at all. But Xelloss wasn't one to lie, and if he would grant her one last request, he must have. She turned her head to face him, but he was already gone. A soft laugh escaped her lips. "You really do never change," she murmured. Then she closed her eyes.

Death couldn't be more peaceful.

Author's Note: Urgh, so sad :(. Comments are very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

There's also a new poll up on my profile, so take a bit of time to vote in that, too. It asks what you prefer to see from me, which will help me think of what to write next :).