This is an old piece of fic written about two years ago. I
originally posted it to Suzanne's fanfic page under the name
Lightfoot. Let me also add that Cadet Demming is my new hero for
characterization!
"Forgotten Alliances"
by Brightelf (Lightfoot)
brightelf@juno.com
copyright 2000
DISCLAIMER---Don't own `em, don't know `em, just borrowing
them `cause I can.
NOTE---Definitely consider this an alternate universe, possibly the
one in Worlds Without End.or another one (or not if you like the
idea.) .either way, I hope you enjoy.
Xamot watched as she fought like a banshee. He grinned as she
whipped two knives out of her leg pockets. She always did have an
affinity for sharp objects. Guns, she had always claimed, were
clumsy, ugly, noisy things. No artistry. He gazed as she did a back
flip, slicing at Buzzer with aplomb. He knew he should go out there
and join in the fighting, but today he wanted to watch...and remember.
Remember when those dark eyes had turned on him, laughing and wild.
When thick waves had fallen down that back in chocolate rivers. In
the background of a battle, blazing guns and explosions of blood,
sweat, and tears, Xamot pinched the bridge of his nose, choking back
tears. She had been glorious and beautiful and she had loved him. For
one brief moment, he had been loved by her; and it had been a
wondrous treasure which he had thrown away with arrogance.
When he looked at her, he didn't see the formidable soldier who
fought like an unstoppable machine. He saw the struggling actress
with the slight Gaelic lilt, angry and fascinated by everything about
him and his kindness to her. He saw a small flat in Dublin with
candles and laughter. A scream broke through his thoughts. A laser
seared through her arm as she yelped in pain.
Almost, almost, he ran towards her, wanting to cradle her and beg
forgiveness for everything. He wanted to so very badly, so what the
bloody hell was stopping him?
His lips compressed in a thin line. Flint ran over to her,
pulling his ex-lover out of the line of fire. He turned and walked
away from his battle post. She was no longer his to protect. His
finger ran over the blade of the knife she had given him. His eyes
blinked at the day's brightness. November should never be blue and
perfect. It should be cold and gray, with a frigid breeze from the
Irish sea. It was never meant to be like this.
****
Lady Jaye winced as she sat down. Her arm was killing
her. /Damnable fool nearly killed me./
She scowled as she sat in front of the vanity mirror, trying to
comb out the knots in her freshly washed hair. /I had less trouble
with it when it was hanging down my back./
Wistfully, she twirled a damp lock around her finger. Sometimes
she missed her long locks, thick and dark. She missed---Lady Jaye
threw down the brush, knocking over a perfume bottle. /Shit!/
Quickly, she tried mopping up the fragrant liquid with her towel,
swallowing the lump back into her throat. There was a slight knock on
the door before Scarlett came walking in. "Jaye, I just---are you
alright?"
Shanna M. O'Hara, codename Scarlett, stared at her friend in
concern. Lady Jaye, for her part, turned quickly to hide her red-
rimmed eyes.
"I'm fine," she mumbled. Wiping at her eyes with her hands, she
faced her fellow Joe. "Just a little tired. What's up?"
Scarlett glanced at her oddly. "These came for you. I brought
them up for you."
Lady Jaye stared at the bouquet in Shan's hands. What the hell?
Cautiously, she took the delicate blossoms. Twelve creamy white
Scotch roses, the tips rosy with pink. She wasn't sure whether to
laugh or cry.
Scarlett grinned at her. "Awwww Jaye! Who knew Flint of all
people was such a romantic?" She snickered, half expecting Jaye to
join in with her. Her snickers drifted off into uncomfortable
laughter as she realized Lady Jaye was staring blankly at the roses
in her hands, drinking in the color and texture, seemingly studying
it for some secret message. Her reply was so quiet, Scarlett had to
strain to hear it. "They're not from Flint."
Scarlett hid her surprise admirably for someone just being
knocked on her ass. "Well, who the hell are they from?"
Lady Jaye ignored her question. "Was there a note with them?"
Her curt question snapped Scarlett to attention and she handed
over the small envelope wordlessly. Jaye took it and looked at her
best friend, dark eyes diamond bright and cold as a winter
sky. "Thanks. Could you leave me alone?"
It was more of a command than a question. Scarlett nodded and
silently walked to the door. As she opened it, she turned around.
Jaye was still holding the envelope and bouquet, her gaze turned
toward the window. "Jaye?"
Lady Jaye snapped her head around, startled. She had forgotten
Scarlett was even in the room. "Yes?"
"Look, ah--," Scarlett wasn't quite sure what to say. "If ah, if
you need to talk..."
A small smile greeted her offer. "Thank you, but I just need to
be alone. Thanks."
Nodding silently, Scarlett quietly closed the door behind her,
one question in her mind. /If Flint didn't send her the roses, who
did?/
Lady Jaye placed the roses on the night stand with trembling
hands. Those same shaking appendages somehow managed to pry open the
envelope. Tears burned her eyes as she read the elegant handwriting.
The words were simple, not his usual charismatic flare; but tonight,
on this night, they were the only words she needed. These were the
words to assure her that it hadn't been her fault and that she hadn't
been a fleeting body to warm a bed.
Aislinn:
Would that I could tell you this personally, but because of
our alliances, I cannot. Please know that leaving you was hell to me.
Had I not, you would have hated yourself and eventually, me, because
of my loyalties. Coward that I am, I could not have faced that. It
was nothing you did. I never meant to hurt you. I loved you more than
my own life. For the pain I caused you, I hate myself more than you
ever could if it were in you. I can't ask you to leave your
allegiances, so I only beg your forgiveness for misusing you, my
dearest. I see where your heart leads you. Be happy Aislinn. Marrying
you was my greatest gift. Please forgive me on this night.
Always your faithful servant,
Xamot
Aislinn. He had called her Aislinn. The stage name he had loved
and would say over and over again because he loved the musical sound
of it. She had loved him, but looking back, he had been right. It
would have gone horribly wrong. She read the letter again, her tears
staining the plain paper. She did forgive him, had forgiven him a
long time ago. Lady Jaye cried as she had cried on that night,
heartbrokenly and alone. /Do you know where my heart leads? I wish I
could find a way to make it not lead to you. It always does./
Gone for the moment, was the memory of Flint's face. She gazed
out the window and saw another pair of brown eyes and brown hair.
Touching the icy glass, she sobbed out her absolution. "I forgave you
a long time ago Xamot. I almost wish I still didn't love you."
Xamot sat in his comfortable leather chair of the office suite he
shared with his twin. He contemplated the night through the golden
shine of the brandy and the shadows of the dark. He had been foolish
to send those roses and that note, but he wanted...no, he needed
Aislinn to know he had loved her and still loved her. He knew her
real name was not Aislinn, but Aislinn would always be his name for
her. He needed her to know that it hadn't been her fault he was too
much of a bloody coward to cut his ties to his underworld dealings
and Cobra.
He opened the drawer and pulled out a black velvet box. As he
opened it, a small gold ring in the shape of the Celtic Eternal
Circle fell onto the desk. He clutched tightly in his palm. He had
taken it off her finger the night he had left. Now it was all he
would ever had. He bowed his head and let hot tears come. "Forgive me
for loving you."
originally posted it to Suzanne's fanfic page under the name
Lightfoot. Let me also add that Cadet Demming is my new hero for
characterization!
"Forgotten Alliances"
by Brightelf (Lightfoot)
brightelf@juno.com
copyright 2000
DISCLAIMER---Don't own `em, don't know `em, just borrowing
them `cause I can.
NOTE---Definitely consider this an alternate universe, possibly the
one in Worlds Without End.or another one (or not if you like the
idea.) .either way, I hope you enjoy.
Xamot watched as she fought like a banshee. He grinned as she
whipped two knives out of her leg pockets. She always did have an
affinity for sharp objects. Guns, she had always claimed, were
clumsy, ugly, noisy things. No artistry. He gazed as she did a back
flip, slicing at Buzzer with aplomb. He knew he should go out there
and join in the fighting, but today he wanted to watch...and remember.
Remember when those dark eyes had turned on him, laughing and wild.
When thick waves had fallen down that back in chocolate rivers. In
the background of a battle, blazing guns and explosions of blood,
sweat, and tears, Xamot pinched the bridge of his nose, choking back
tears. She had been glorious and beautiful and she had loved him. For
one brief moment, he had been loved by her; and it had been a
wondrous treasure which he had thrown away with arrogance.
When he looked at her, he didn't see the formidable soldier who
fought like an unstoppable machine. He saw the struggling actress
with the slight Gaelic lilt, angry and fascinated by everything about
him and his kindness to her. He saw a small flat in Dublin with
candles and laughter. A scream broke through his thoughts. A laser
seared through her arm as she yelped in pain.
Almost, almost, he ran towards her, wanting to cradle her and beg
forgiveness for everything. He wanted to so very badly, so what the
bloody hell was stopping him?
His lips compressed in a thin line. Flint ran over to her,
pulling his ex-lover out of the line of fire. He turned and walked
away from his battle post. She was no longer his to protect. His
finger ran over the blade of the knife she had given him. His eyes
blinked at the day's brightness. November should never be blue and
perfect. It should be cold and gray, with a frigid breeze from the
Irish sea. It was never meant to be like this.
****
Lady Jaye winced as she sat down. Her arm was killing
her. /Damnable fool nearly killed me./
She scowled as she sat in front of the vanity mirror, trying to
comb out the knots in her freshly washed hair. /I had less trouble
with it when it was hanging down my back./
Wistfully, she twirled a damp lock around her finger. Sometimes
she missed her long locks, thick and dark. She missed---Lady Jaye
threw down the brush, knocking over a perfume bottle. /Shit!/
Quickly, she tried mopping up the fragrant liquid with her towel,
swallowing the lump back into her throat. There was a slight knock on
the door before Scarlett came walking in. "Jaye, I just---are you
alright?"
Shanna M. O'Hara, codename Scarlett, stared at her friend in
concern. Lady Jaye, for her part, turned quickly to hide her red-
rimmed eyes.
"I'm fine," she mumbled. Wiping at her eyes with her hands, she
faced her fellow Joe. "Just a little tired. What's up?"
Scarlett glanced at her oddly. "These came for you. I brought
them up for you."
Lady Jaye stared at the bouquet in Shan's hands. What the hell?
Cautiously, she took the delicate blossoms. Twelve creamy white
Scotch roses, the tips rosy with pink. She wasn't sure whether to
laugh or cry.
Scarlett grinned at her. "Awwww Jaye! Who knew Flint of all
people was such a romantic?" She snickered, half expecting Jaye to
join in with her. Her snickers drifted off into uncomfortable
laughter as she realized Lady Jaye was staring blankly at the roses
in her hands, drinking in the color and texture, seemingly studying
it for some secret message. Her reply was so quiet, Scarlett had to
strain to hear it. "They're not from Flint."
Scarlett hid her surprise admirably for someone just being
knocked on her ass. "Well, who the hell are they from?"
Lady Jaye ignored her question. "Was there a note with them?"
Her curt question snapped Scarlett to attention and she handed
over the small envelope wordlessly. Jaye took it and looked at her
best friend, dark eyes diamond bright and cold as a winter
sky. "Thanks. Could you leave me alone?"
It was more of a command than a question. Scarlett nodded and
silently walked to the door. As she opened it, she turned around.
Jaye was still holding the envelope and bouquet, her gaze turned
toward the window. "Jaye?"
Lady Jaye snapped her head around, startled. She had forgotten
Scarlett was even in the room. "Yes?"
"Look, ah--," Scarlett wasn't quite sure what to say. "If ah, if
you need to talk..."
A small smile greeted her offer. "Thank you, but I just need to
be alone. Thanks."
Nodding silently, Scarlett quietly closed the door behind her,
one question in her mind. /If Flint didn't send her the roses, who
did?/
Lady Jaye placed the roses on the night stand with trembling
hands. Those same shaking appendages somehow managed to pry open the
envelope. Tears burned her eyes as she read the elegant handwriting.
The words were simple, not his usual charismatic flare; but tonight,
on this night, they were the only words she needed. These were the
words to assure her that it hadn't been her fault and that she hadn't
been a fleeting body to warm a bed.
Aislinn:
Would that I could tell you this personally, but because of
our alliances, I cannot. Please know that leaving you was hell to me.
Had I not, you would have hated yourself and eventually, me, because
of my loyalties. Coward that I am, I could not have faced that. It
was nothing you did. I never meant to hurt you. I loved you more than
my own life. For the pain I caused you, I hate myself more than you
ever could if it were in you. I can't ask you to leave your
allegiances, so I only beg your forgiveness for misusing you, my
dearest. I see where your heart leads you. Be happy Aislinn. Marrying
you was my greatest gift. Please forgive me on this night.
Always your faithful servant,
Xamot
Aislinn. He had called her Aislinn. The stage name he had loved
and would say over and over again because he loved the musical sound
of it. She had loved him, but looking back, he had been right. It
would have gone horribly wrong. She read the letter again, her tears
staining the plain paper. She did forgive him, had forgiven him a
long time ago. Lady Jaye cried as she had cried on that night,
heartbrokenly and alone. /Do you know where my heart leads? I wish I
could find a way to make it not lead to you. It always does./
Gone for the moment, was the memory of Flint's face. She gazed
out the window and saw another pair of brown eyes and brown hair.
Touching the icy glass, she sobbed out her absolution. "I forgave you
a long time ago Xamot. I almost wish I still didn't love you."
Xamot sat in his comfortable leather chair of the office suite he
shared with his twin. He contemplated the night through the golden
shine of the brandy and the shadows of the dark. He had been foolish
to send those roses and that note, but he wanted...no, he needed
Aislinn to know he had loved her and still loved her. He knew her
real name was not Aislinn, but Aislinn would always be his name for
her. He needed her to know that it hadn't been her fault he was too
much of a bloody coward to cut his ties to his underworld dealings
and Cobra.
He opened the drawer and pulled out a black velvet box. As he
opened it, a small gold ring in the shape of the Celtic Eternal
Circle fell onto the desk. He clutched tightly in his palm. He had
taken it off her finger the night he had left. Now it was all he
would ever had. He bowed his head and let hot tears come. "Forgive me
for loving you."
