A/N: Okay, next chapter! Thank you, my reviewers, for your reviews. To the many people who PM'd me about my change in tense last chapter for the last paragraph, that was perfectly intentional, I assure you: it was to show the separation/disassociation Sydney feels with the "she" who is herself fulfilling her Alchemist's role and who she really is. For those of you who did not need that explanation, my apologies, I didn't feel like explaining that five different times, I'm rather lazy like that. To Rosel, I do have a Tarzan song planned, not to worry. In any case, here is "Kiss the Girl" from Disney's The Little Mermaid, by our beloved Adrian. On with the program:
Disclaimer: I own nothing, at all.
There were certain things in life that no matter what you do, you were bound to be prepared for handling them, for better or for worse. Formal balls? Check. Black tie events? Since age eight. White tie events? In his sleep, or in any case, spirit drunk. His father had prepared him well for diplomacy, especially if he wasn't all there. About one of the only useful things that he had learned from his father ever, especially with so many repulsed Alchemists. Bow, scrape, smile, force a laugh that doesn't sound fake, say "maybe" in a way that they think means "yes" but really means "no". He caught Jill's eye as she was beset with all the noble boys in existence, a few who weren't "boys" but more like grandfathers. He saw Eddie watching like a hawk, visibly unfazed by all the lecherous old men, he saw Rose and Dmitri doing good impressions of second and third shadows on Lissa, he even saw Trey and Angeline dressed up and clearly less than comfortable. He didn't see Sydney, but figured that she was in the middle of the phalanx of Alchemists. The doors to the dining hall opened, and he straightened his black coat and tails (Mother of Heaven, who advised Lissa on holding these types of functions? Didn't she know how hot velvet was in the middle of June?), and placed his empty champagne flute on a passing waiters tray.
Percussion
Strings
Winds
Words
The opulent room was filled with the sound of a mini orchestra, sweet and peaceful. An usher led him to his seat, directly across the table from Sydney. He swore he saw Jill, dressed like a true princess (tiny crown and all), seated on the right hand side of Lissa, blanch and shoot him warning gazes. Right, don't cause and inter-group scandal. He could do that. Where was a glass of alcohol when you really need it? The head of the Alchemists was seated to Lissa's right, not happy but apparently having taken the same diplomacy course as his father, didn't seem as if either head was going to move past the weather and the strange lack of hurricanes in the Southeast and the raging wildfires in the Southwest. Yes, they were consummate diplomats alright. He took a swig from the glass of wine in front of him, the crisp Sauvignon Blanc not satisfying his need for inebriation to take hold sooner rather than later. Sydney, from the end of the table, directly opposite Lissa, shot him a wide eyed look, clearly a warning. Right, don't mess up her night. Don't make her call you on the sh** you've been hiding, she already knows that something's up. D***, why could she always tell? And how could she do that, non-verbal signaling so well? Did she take a class or something? Her lips pursed in a forced "I'm smiling on the inside, I can barely contain it on the outside" smile, her attention was on the fat noble Moroi on her left, the one with the stained sash although there hadn't been anything to stain it with yet. He could tell, she was doing the partially melted ice-block impression. He was drunk on spirit, he knew, because he really, really, really wanted to cause a massive scandal and kiss her right now. He opted instead of making nice with his "Great-Great Auntie Edith" (he didn't have a Great-Great anything, but he was willing to humor an old lady.)
There you see her
Sitting there across the way
She don't got a lot to say
But there's something about her
And you don't know why
But you're dying to try
You wanna kiss the girl
He wasn't quite sure when the attack hit, somewhere after the soup course but before the fish course. He had just watched the soup bowl get taken away when he suddenly heard screams and crashes and all sorts of other sounds of chaos. Then he felt Jill die. Jill was dead, but when he stood up and vaulted the table to see where she was (oh God, please let him be in time to save her again, please, I'll try to be a better Christian, I'll give up alcohol and cigarettes, please just let me be in time to save Jailbait), he saw a young girl in a maroon velvet dress already healing her. Ah, that Moroi girl, Evelina, the one who was the next spirit user, the one the Queen was teaching, doing a great job of healing the stab wound to Jill's chest, the one that had gone straight through her heart. Adrian sighed, relieved, disaster averted. He turned and saw Eddie beheading someone (most likely whomever had killed Jill) and then saw Angeline and Trey fighting other would-be assassins. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rose and Dmitri surrounding the Queen, and the blur of a thrown blade shwick across Rose's neck in a spray of arterial blood. From his vantage point on top of the table, he saw her go down thump, and for the second time in a night, his heart stopped beating. He ran across the demolished table, praying for the second time in minutes (new record, he hadn't prayed in years), leaping over struggling bodies and forgotten utensils, glasses, and the errant centerpiece.
Yes, you want her
Look at her, you know you do
It's possible she wants you, too
There is one way to ask her
It don't take a word
Not a single word
Go on and kiss the girl
It took an eternity, an eternity from the middle of the table, and Adrian thanked whichever unlucky guardian angel who had drawn the short straw and gotten him for making sure he wasn't drunk tonight. Spirit drunk? Turns out it doesn't slow down the senses, it actually heightened them. He was so going to say a hundred "Hail Mary's" for that, first thing after he was getting directions to the nearest church. He landed in a most ninja-like manner (Dmitri's words, not his), and them set about protecting the Queen in the way Wolf had taught him – in the most badass way possible (his opinion). Saving Rose was moot, the Queen had that covered just fine (Rose sitting up straight, arguing that Lissa shouldn't have risked herself to save a Guardian, some other arguments thrown in as well.)Adrian dodged a blow from a sword, ducking low, smashing an errant pimp cane (who carried those anymore?) into the masked attacker's face (crunch went the nose, crunch crunch). And as Dmitri and a buttload of other Guardfians hussled Lissa and Rose to a secure exit, Adrian's senses opened up again, leaving him with what, to any other person, ought to be sensory overload. And that's why he saw Sydney, undefended, human, unarmed Sydney, take a dagger to the gut, and drop like a broken winged bird.
Sing with me now
Sha-la-la-la-la-la
My, oh, my
Look at the boy too shy
He ain't gonna kiss the girl
Sha-la-la-la-la-la
Ain't that sad
Ain't it shame, too bad
You gonna miss the girl
If he hadn't been watching her aura, he would have thought it just a minor wound, but he saw the way her aura just faltered, like a blink or a power outage, and then slowly begin to dim. And he, he knew he screamed, screamed loud enough that various struggles around him paused, that the group of Guardians and the Queen looked back. It felt like the whole world had paused, the universe stopped a minute to watch my anguish. He took off across the grand dining room, too slow, too slow, too slow. He knew, knew, knew in his heart of hearts that he wouldn't make it in time: the table had been set on fire, his short cut disabled. The long way it was.
Now's your moment
Floating in a blue lagoon
Boy, you better do it soon
No time will be better
She don't say a word
And she won't say a word
Until you kiss the girl
He ran, sprinted, ducking projectiles, dodging stray bullets, pulled a knife out of a dead man's back and stabbed an attacker through the stomach with it, and all of it barely registered. He kept his eyes on the fading yellow aura with the faint purple threads wound through that was slowly puttering out like a lawn mower out of gas. Run, he screamed to his legs, run. He couldn't get there fast enough, his muscles refused to go any faster. He neatly leaped over an assailant that was trying to tackle him, moving like no Moroi ought to move – he swore he felt like a dhamphir, all physical prowess and sleek warrior's moves. He didn't care what got him there, he just needed to get to Sydney's side. He was half way there when her life just petered out, her body went limp and her eyes glassed over. He aura just dissipated, right before his eyes. He punched the next guy in front of him, and then just kept running (running in dress shoes is not something he would recommend). He slid to a halt over her bloody body and prayed to the most famous spirit user known to any Moroi, St. Vladimir, that he could bring her back.
Sha-la-la-la-la-la
Don't be scared
You got the mood prepared
Go on and kiss the girl
Sha-la-la-la-la-la
Don't stop now
Don't try to hide it how
You wanna kiss the girl
Sha-la-la-la-la-la
Float along
Listen to the song
The song say kiss the girl
Sha-la-la-la-la-la
Music play
Do what the music say
You wanna kiss the girl
She looked like Sleeping Beauty, but no mere kiss would bring her back. And she and all her associates (none to be found in the vicinity, he checked and double checked) were going to hate how her saved her. How he brought her back. He concentrated on everything about her, on her very existence, on everything she was, and begged her soul to come back. He couldn't remember how he had done it with Jill, but here he had to try. He closed his eyes, and held one of her hands between his two, and sent spirit scurrying over her, into her, and prayed, hoped, begged it would work. What felt like a decade passed, then a century, then a millennia. Why wasn't she waking up? He didn't remember it taking this long with Jill. Oh, sweet Heaven, why couldn't he remember how he did it last time, he had had to write a bloody report on how he did it, hadn't he? He kept going, pushing at spirit to fix her, fix Sydney Sage so he could see her smile again, see her laugh, and work, and simply be. He wouldn't be complete without her in his world. He probably wouldn't survive, he would probably just keel over dead at the funeral or something equally morbid and ironic. And as he focused, he felt it. He felt the first glimmer of her coming back. He felt rather than saw her gut mend, her felt rather than saw her take first a shallow breath then a slightly deeper one, felt rather than saw her hand clench against his.
You've got to kiss the girl
Why don't you kiss the girl
You gotta kiss the girl
Go on and kiss the girl
He opened his eyes, watching her take in the sights and sounds of battle, a battle drawing to a close, a battle that was mostly over. He spilled silent tears, and watched as comprehension dawned in hers. She slowly sat up against the pillar she had did against, watching him, watching him with wide innocent eyes. He vaguely felt everyone watching out of the corners of their eyes, watching the most unlikely pair ever to be found on this Earth. She leaned her forehead against his, silent, but he knew what she was trying to communicate as they both heaved and huffed heavily. Why would you do something so risky? You chose me over someone important? How much flak are we going to get for this? Does anyone else know I died? I know I died. My God, I died and came back to life. Magically. Lord. I can't believe this. I don't know what's going to happen. This is going to be so bad, I might get sent to Re-Education. Oh, dear lord. He let go of her hands, and instead grabbed her head. He looked deep into her eyes, searching (what was he looking for? Some sign of permanent damage done? That she was whole? He had no idea.) He looked deep into her eyes, and then kissed her. His heart had returned to him from the dead, she was alive, and all political scandal be damned. He kissed her slow and languidly, and he felt everyone watching and whispering (those damn Alchemists had come out of the woodwork, f*** their lives). She pulled back, and whispered to him, across their mingled breaths, as their foreheads fell against each others' once again. "Thank you Adrian."
A/N: So , whatcha thinking? Shocked, surprised, unexpecting this? Yes, I know you are. Not at all what anyone was expecting, don't lie. When ya'll read "Kiss the Girl", you probably thought something a bit more in the mood with the song, and the spirit in which it was sung. Don't worry, that was me being excessively creative. In any case, I hoped you enjoyed my curve ball, I wrote it special, after all. Next up is "Colors of the Wind", Disney's Pocahontas. A always, review if you feel like it, don't if you don't want to. Until next time.
