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."