AN: Entry no. 5. Revengeance for your Morn/Light thing, Shim? Or a desperate attempt to reach Either Or? Who knows?

(If it is revenge, it's very poor, because it's more of a reflective piece than anything.)

34. Brief

She could swear she sees him sometimes in the mornings, when she's drifting in that place between consciousness and sleeping. It's not much, just the faintest golden flicker in the weak dawn light, but it's enough to give her comfort. She hears him sometimes too, on the edges of her dreams, whispering sweet nothings in her ears just as he had in life.

She knows it's stupid, and false, and way too good to be true. She knows he's in StarClan now, probably surrounded by a dozen other she-cats – she never could understand why no one else had ever given him a second glance – and enjoying himself. Or, at least, that was what she hoped, when she was not grappling with jealousy. If there was any cat in the world that she could think of who deserved to be happy, it was him. And she knew that no one could ever truly, honestly, simply be happy with her.

It was easy to pretend otherwise, of course. Easy to disregard the fact that no other tom besides him had ever given her the time of day. Easy to forget the stares she received as soon as she opened her mouth. Easy to pretend that she had truly felt loved before he had taken to curling around her, as if she was some precious trinket. She did so every day. She put on that I-don't-give-a-rat's-ass mask, the look-how-fabulous-I-am facade, but that's all it was. An act. An illusion. A hoax.

No one had ever talked to her like he had – so gently, so kindly. No one had ever acted like she belonged on a pedestal, like she was worth looking up to instead of away from. No one had ever been so pleased just to spend time with her, so eager to listen as she prattled on and on about silly, meaningless things. No one had ever loved her like that, and she had taken it all for granted until it was too late.

She had waited all her life for a love that came and went in an instant.

Some part of her wanted to believe that was alright. That's how it happened in the great love stories, after all. A whirlwind romance, a tragic death, eternal mourning. But theirs had not been a torrid affair; it had been placid, as still as an untouched pool, but so deep she felt it to her very bones. And while his death had been tragic, it had hardly been that extraordinary; he had not died fighting any great foe, nor had he thrown himself into harm's way for his love. No, his death had been quiet and unassuming, just like he had always been. And the Clan had forgotten and moved on while she was still clutching at the pieces.

So it was not okay. No, it was more than that. Just the thought of StarClan sitting up in the sky, watching her on their high horse, made her furious. It made every hair on her pelt tingle with rage, it made her want to screech and yowl and shout until they brought him back – after all, was Cedarwhisker really so much greater than he? Why did he deserve to come back, while the tom that had captured her heart with the quietest of words remained cold and in the ground? – and admitted their mistake. It made her want to run off into the forest, to be swallowed up by the roots and mud, so that she could claw her way up into the sky and bring him back herself.

But she couldn't. She had an obligation to the little beings in her belly. It was her duty – that was how he had said it, as if it was a chore to be accomplished! – to stand by her kits, to raise them in her mate's stead, to teach them of his legacy. And she would do so, because raising kits had always been part of her dream, but never had she thought she would do it alone. And she would not so do without complaint.

But how did you explain a cat like Lightningstripe in words? How could you capture that honeyed tone in his eyes, the way his voice had the ability to caress your name and make you feel as though you had swallowed a star? How did you explain that underlying patience, that eternal selflessness? How could you put into mere expressions his very nature, his being, his core? It was an impossible task, and she knew it. Impossible and frustrating and beautiful, but she would do her best anyway, because she would not – would not – let him be forgotten. Her kits would be the best, the very best, even if she was raising them by herself. The entire Clan would know and honor them by the time she was through, and then perhaps she could believe that he was at peace.

Sometimes she caught herself wondering about what he was doing, what he was thinking. He had always been able to sense that in her somehow, but she had never been as good at it. He had always bounced her questions back at her, probed her for what she felt and wanted and treasured, rather than giving up himself, because she had always been the focus. Now she wanted to question him more than anything.

What's your favorite prey? Your favorite time of day? Your favorite names for kits? Would you have done it differently, if you'd known we would be parents? Why did you put up with me? Are you missing me as much as I'm missing you? Why didn't you stay? Did I drive you away? Was it my fault? Could you think of no other way to escape but to slowly waste to nothing? When I go off to StarClan, am I going to find you alone? Or will you have everything you deserve, and have forgotten all about me?

But that was too painful – far, far too painful – to even consider, and so she would try to imagine him as he had been – before the famine, before the possibility of mortality had even entered their minds – and not with stars in his pelt. He'd fit right in with those wise cats, those far-seers, those silent sentinels, but she was afraid that was the problem, that by the time she went on to join him, she would not know who he was.

Dead cats don't change, she would tell herself. It's you that will change. Your going to be a mother, you're going to be all alone, you're going to have to go on without him…you're going to be bitter and angry and cruel and so sour and shrunken that when you do finally claw your way into the stars, if you make it there at all, you'll be nothing but a shell of who he loved.

It had all been too short. Too impossibly, beautifully, breath-takingly short. One moment they hardly knew each other, the next they were mates, and then he was gone. There had never been enough starry evenings, quiet meals, whispered plans of the future. There had never been enough walks in the forest, soothing naps, shared nights. She knew there never could be enough of those things, not for her, but she still felt impossibly cheated when she looked back on what they had, and what could have been. It had seemed like Lightningstripe could have gone on loving her forever and ever, but now they would never know, now she could never see if they would withstand the test of time because it had already failed them. He was gone, he was never coming back, and things would never be the same.

But that was just how it went, or so it seemed. She could not think of any pair not before her time that had succeeded for very long. The famine had torn the Clan apart, ripped it to shreds, and Lightningstripe had been only one of many lost to leafbare's frigid touch. He was just another name on the list, perfectly unremarkable to any cat but her. There was no such thing as perfect love, she knew that now, because if there was then StarClan would take the first opportunity to quash it. They were jealous, she had decided, angry about their own fates and willing to take it out on those that came next. And when it was her time, she would be more than happy to do the same, to make others suffer as she had. That was the only explanation she could think of that made sense, the only thing that could place any semblance of sanity on the callous slaying of cats right and left by their starry ancestors.

All this and more was spinning around her head all the time, a wild tempest born of golden fur and an easy smile. She couldn't stop it, couldn't control it; it was just another part of her ruined fairytale, her shattered dream. Something she would have to learn to live with, until she finally stopped drawing breath. Whether he knew it or not, Lightningstripe would always be on her mind.

She shifted her weight, reaching down to caress her stomach with her tongue, feeling the little lives inside of her move and reach out with tiny paws.

Lightningkit, she thought, remembering that excursion to the forest, that bright bubble of excitement and joy that she had never thought would burst. She had suggested that name, she was pretty sure – Lightningkit junior. It had seemed silly at the time, more a joke born out of incredulity than anything, but now….

He wouldn't be Lightningkit junior now, she reminded herself, just Lightningkit. Plain old heartbreaking Lightningkit.

She glanced towards the den as the thoughts spun through her mind, and thought she saw the faintest flicker of gold in the entrance to the nursery, the ghost of a smile and gentle eyes.

AN: Rubbish, but y'know. Need to get my butt movin on this thing. :3