CHAPTER TEN
The First and The Last

They stumbled through the doorway, mouths moving and arms searching. Aerrow kicked the front door shut behind him, not bothering to set the alarm or lock the door. Green eyes dark with desire, he helped Piper with her jacket let it drop to the floor. With a booted foot, she nudged it to the side carelessly. She clapped twice, and the hallway lights and chandelier came on.

This wasn't a dream. This was reality.

Breathing heavily, he unzipped his own jacket and tossed it beside hers on the floor. Then Piper was kissing him again, her soft lips pressing against his in urgency, nipping and nibbling at skin. The air was dense with the feeling of want, and they were spending too much time standing in the hallway. They needed to be somewhere else, somewhere that didn't matter except for their mouths and their eyes and their hands.

If they were still teenagers, they might have retreated to one of the many sitting rooms, or the library floor, or even the kitchen. But they were adults, past the false immunity of their bones, and spoiled with the luxury of a private audience.

She led him to the one place still hidden, still secret, and Aerrow found himself being led through her bedroom door. He hesitated, suddenly afraid that she was taking him for granted. Maybe she misunderstood his intentions, and pined for a physical relationship.

No, not that. That was not what he wanted.

"Piper... wait..." He let go of her hands and stepped away from her.

She sensed his uncertainty, and looked up at him. "What is it?"

His eyes flickered over to the bed in something akin to fear. He gulped. "I'm not sure about this... I'm – I'm new."

If Aerrow expected laughter, disbelief at his confession, or even a bit of disgust, he was wrong. Instead, Piper blinked slowly, contemplating her thoughts as she paused, and when he faced her, found nothing but kindness and respect in her large eyes.

She spoke sweetly to him. Piper understood.

"It's okay. We don't have to sleep together. Honestly, I'm a little scared too. I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to... Are you alright, Aerrow?"

The man chuckled in relief and awe. She had done it again, managed to surprise him by doing something amazingly perfect. Filled with a sense of joy, he slipped one arm around waist and played with her long ponytail in the other, strands of dark blue hair fell through his fingers.

"I'm good," he admitted. "And I think I want to kiss you some more."

They cuddled in bed, and the clock blinked red in the dark of the room. Midnight.

Piper snuggled closer in his embrace, and sighed. The majority of their clothes were somewhere in the mess of fabric, hidden amongst the contents of half her closet. Piles of shirts and dresses crumpled on the floor.

His green eyes softened at the lovely sight before him. The covers were pulled up to their chests, and the tiniest bit of humming emerged from his companion's throat. They weren't naked under there, but close. Dressed only in their underwear, Aerrow traced the line of one of Piper's eyebrows and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"How do you feel?"

She giggled softly when he touched a finger to her nose before sobering. "I think I'm feeling happy. Is that weird?"

"Why would it be weird?"

"I was happy before."

"It didn't look that way to me."

Piper shied away, pulling the covers to her nose, and sighed. "I don't know. I want this. But a part of me feels like I'd be cheating on him."

"It's not cheating when he's not here."

Pain marked her brown face, and he regretted speaking of her loss so informally. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"No, it's okay. I just keep thinking one day he'll come back to me."

Her eyes filled with sadness, and Aerrow realized belatedly what Finn tried to warn him of. He couldn't predict the future, but he also couldn't change the past. The Dark Ace was Piper's first love, just like she was his, and there was always going to be a place in her heart for him. He could never have her completely to himself, and if there was a future for them, that was the reality he didn't want to face.

He asked her once more. "Do you want me to go?"

"No, please stay. Sleep here, with me."

His arm tightened around her and his voice warmed her belly. Alone no more.

"I'll stay as long as you want."

And somewhere in the depths of the Wastelands, was a man alone. His hands glittered with flecks of copper, a mineral he had been excavation for the past few weeks. The witch, Lenore, spoke to him several months ago and told him he was ready for the last part of his education. All the digging, the grinding, the endless rocks and materials, they were lessons of preparation.

He was going to make a crystal for Piper. The miracle he sought her out for. An artificial gemstone using the low-atmospheric pressure of the Wastelands and the natural resources of the barren earth, he was going to put all his blood and sweat and emotion into forming the perfect fertility crystal, and it was going to work.

Ace, still hating the woman, did not doubt her words. Finally, finally. Once this last task was done, he could go home. He was so tired, and his time under Lenore's tutelage had aged him beyond his thirty-nine years, and the flicker of hope was almost too much to bear.

Piper.

Oh, Piper. He was almost there. His dreams conjured her presence in the empty nights, and in his imagination, he told her to wait just a bit longer. He was coming home soon – very soon. He could feel it in his bones. The crystal, it was going to make her whole again, and she would never feel the pain of another miscarriage again. For the miracle, once worn around the neck of his beloved, would harmonize with her body's internal vibrations, and protect both her and any child born.

Lenore called it goldstone. Made from copper and glass, the alchemists of old passed down the secret of artificial stones only to those had a predisposition for greatness.

Sifting through the muddled rantings of a lost mother, Ace caught snatches of the forgotten past when Lenore spoke of her daughter.

The deposed queen of Cyclonia had inherited the knowledge from her clan, a disgraced family of Cyclonia cast aside for their heathen, non-scientific ways in light of machines and industry. Secrets meant to pass down through daughters, his Master Cyclonis, christened Lark at birth, was murdered before she could learn.

But he, The Dark Ace, had greatness in him. His body oozed with untapped energy, and his wife – Oh, his pretty Piper, had it in her too. Lenore knew about the Storm Hawk, just as she knew the darkest secrets of every Cyclonian royal, and closed her eyes reverently whenever she dared mention Ace's wife.

Piper's burnished skin would accentuate the beauty of the red stone. Her orange eyes would project perfect health, and her blood would flow once more. A stone of protection, it amplified the desire to attain one's goals.

Ace worked hard, applied himself to the task as never before. He poured the glass, tempered the furnace, he bit his tongue and tasted blood when the witch cracked her staff over his head when he made an error. It meant nothing. It was all manual labour. She wanted this crystal as much as he did, and he stopped asking questions of why and how long? Kept them to himself, and stoked the fire of anticipation in his heart and his work.

He burnt his arms. Singed his hair. Stained his arms black mucking through coal and tar. Underneath the perpetual storm of the Wastelands was a bona fide land of wealth, if one knew where to look. Ace wheezed and strained to breathe in the tunnels Lenore made his dig, but obeyed his master, his teacher, and waited for the day he would never have to see her again.