***
Konstantine
***
Two lovers once sat in the heavens, in one of the trees that were so
beloved and so cursed by humanity, and explored the newfound knowledge
of one another
The fact that they were angels did not forbid them from this discovery
of love, for they had once been mortal, and still knew the desire to be
with another, to ward off loneliness with the presence of someone that
was beloved. And God would not deny them that, for if His angels could
not feel love, then how would they treat those who lived on the earth below?
*
"It will be dawn soon," Fin said, turning to face the hints of light,
her face half in shadow. Access thought that he had never seen something
more beautiful, or anything that had more meaning than that single picture.
He drew her close, revelling in the sweet scent of her hair and in the
fact that he could touch her, that he knew she loved him. She placed a
hand on his cheek, fingertips cool, but leaving paths of warmth where
they touched, and the look in her eyes -- love, mingled with sadness
that he only partly understood -- made his heart fill with the wish to
shield her from what would come in such a short time.
Tangling his fingers in her hair, he kissed her, wanting to remember
this night forever, wanting to remember everything about Fin and etch it
in his memory. "I love you," he declared, and the words seemed
inadequate, but they held meaning all the same.
Her smile in return was achingly pure. There was no question of that
now, whether she had been a fallen angel in the past or not, she was
pure-hearted. And then she looked away, back at the pink staining the
perfect bowl of Heaven's sky. "The trial will begin soon," she murmured.
"And Maron's heart and strength will be tested..." She trailed off as
she turned back to him, placing a slim finger upon his lips to stifle
his objections. "As will mine, I fear."
Kissing her fingertip before catching the hand in both of his, Access
shook his head. "You have already been tested, Fin Fish. More than any
of us. And you haven't been found wanting."
"I pray that you are right."
**
There was an almost holy sort of quiet in the perfectly white bedroom.
Two other lovers, their souls having loved for more generations than
could be counted, but their bodies new in the sense of touch and feeling
and sense, were curled together beneath the white covers, hearts beating
in time as they clung to each other in dreams. The dawn brought the
dawning of consciousness for both; soon enough, they opened their eyes
to each other.
Chiaki thought that he had never seen anything more beautiful than the
sight that greeted him upon awakening; Maron's hair was touseled,
framing her face in delicate curls, and her lips were reddened with the
aftereffects of his kisses. But what was most telling for him was in the
way that she was curled trustingly in the circle of his arms, the warmth
of her body melding with his, and in the way that her eyes met his, full
of love and trust. His Maron. And no-one could deny it.
Maron woke to a sense that all had become right. There were no doubts in
her heart, simply confidence and trust that she thought she'd lost long
ago. And she was so warm. The realization of why that was struck her,
and she opened her eyes to find Chiaki studying her with
uncharacteristic solemnity. She smiled tentatively, and was rewarded by
a softening of his blue eyes and a gentle kiss. "Good morning, Maron,"
he said.
"It is morning, isn't it?" she asked, a soft flutter of emotion in her
heart. She would face the Devil today. But not yet, oh, not just yet.
For now, she was with the person she loved, and she had the happiness
she'd been seeking for so long. She ducked her head, resting it against
his chest, and felt him bury his face in her hair. They remained like
that, close to one another, for a long moment.
Memories of the night before seemed to indicate that she should blush,
but somehow she didn't feel that it was necessary; it had been their
choice, and there was no void where her power lay to make her feel that
it had been the wrong choice. If anything, there was more strength
there, born from the purity of their emotions rather than the purity of
their bodies.
"Are you sure that you won't let me take your place?" Chiaki's voice was
a comforting rumble from where Maron rested, giving her strength.
"I am sure," she said, drawing away from him and giving him a resolute
look. "I hold the last power. It's me that the Devil wants, not you, and
this is my fight."
"I'll be there, still." His tone brooked no argument, and Maron didn't
plan to argue, anyway. "I won't let you do this alone."
"I wouldn't have it any other way." She kissed him, sweet and tender,
and full of promises for the future she would make sure happened, then
slid out of his grasp, sitting up with a lack of self-consciousness that
would have surprised here merely the day before. "We should get ready."
She turned at a choking sound, and discovered that Chiaki was staring at
her, his cheeks red and his eyes wide. Clearing her throat seemed to
make it worse for a moment, and then he shook his head a little and nodded.
For some reason, his blush made Maron feel happy. Desired and wanted,
those emotions were new -- and she hoped that they would become
familiar. As she dressed, she stole glances at Chiaki, admiring him with
a frankness that, again, would have seemed scandalous a mere day before.
He was lean, his frame giving hints of more height to follow, and
lightly muscled; she remembered him carrying her during fights with
little effort, and helping her to her feet when they had first met. As
he put on his shirt, she noticed once more the grace of his movements,
no more than was necessary, simple efficiency turned into feline
elegance -- or the grace of a thief. His hands continued that
impression, long-fingered and sensitive, and again, she felt no
embarrassment at the recollection of the night before.
She had, she realized, fallen in love with one of the most handsome men
she'd ever seen. And he loved her. Luck wasn't the word for it - this
was a Godsend. ... literally, in a sense.
Chiaki turned to her, arching an eyebrow quizzically as he ran a hand
through his hair, not bothering with a comb, and Maron merely smiled and
held her hand out to him, just as Riru knocked on their door to summon them.
*
Riru, the highest of the Angels, had known what had happened the moment
she walked in through the door at Maron's welcoming call. After all, it
had been she who had put Maron and Chiaki in one room together with
orders that gawking angels of any ranking would be sent to listen to the
human spirits whose idea of heaven was that they had a captive audience
for their stories and eternity in which to tell them. She figured that
the hundredth repetition of 'The One That Got Away' would be punishment
enough.
It seemed remarkably effective, really. And, well, if putting Chiaki and
Maron (the former of whom Riru suspected was a far older soul than
simply the guise he had adopted, that is to say, Sindbad, and far more
tied to Eve than Jeanne D'Arc) together would cure God of that
never-ending little bit of a problem where Eve was concerned, well, all
the better.
Meddling in people's love lives ran all the way up to the top, if you
asked Riru.
And so, all she did was smile at the lovers as she guided them towards
where the trial was to take place.
Another set of lovers waited at the doors to the as-yet unknown playing
field in which the world's fate would be decided, and these were no less
crucial to the plot that was unfolding. Fin Fish no longer bore the
physical evidence of her banishment, but there was a subtle
understanding to her eyes that she had lacked as a naive juntenshi, and
Riru was glad to see it there -- but she feared the pain that lurked
beneath it all. Access Time bore no traces of that pain, and she
wondered if he understood it, or if he refused to acknowledge it. But
he had done the impossible, and brought Fin Fish back to where she belonged.
And for that, Riru could forgive him the number of forbidden fruit he'd
eaten when younger.
*
"It's time," Maron murmured, her eyes locked on the doors in front of
them. And then, with a flurry of rose petals, Jeanne stood where she
once had. But this wasn't the Jeanne that threw happy smiles to the
policemen and teased Miyako -- there was only a subtle power, overlaid
with love as she turned to Chiaki, resting within his arms for a long
moment.
Heaven within heaven -- that was an inadequate definition for what she
felt when she was close to him today. All the things she'd missed in her
life were all mixed up in something that she could nearly taste in its
utmost sweetness. Safety, concern, love and the desire to protect her
were only some of the things that she could feel, and it only made her
stronger.
As she stepped back from him, the door swung open, revealing an empty
space of black and white marble, and two paintings that, if she were
asked later, described all of the world's beauty, and all of its pain.
God and the Devil, in a form that was familiar to her.
And, standing on a black square was her as she had been, the old outfit
in purple and gold, and a sly smile upon her face. Jeanne D'Arc, under
the Devil's control.
Maron was unprepared for the onslaught of memories that struck her, from
the moment in which she first became Jeanne D'Arc with Fin's help to
when the trust she'd placed in the tiny angel had been betrayed.
Fin was wrapped up in everything, all those memories of loneliness eased
by her presence, the feeling that someone would always love her no
matter how keenly alone she felt...
That was the key. She wasn't alone and never had been.
She pulled the ribbon from her hair, feeling the rush of power fade. "To
tell the truth, I don't want to fight," she said, and with the truth in
those words, she felt her spirit soar over the objections of those who
were watching. "I don't need a sword. I believe in peace."
Her double looked startled, the purple eyes holding emotion that Maron
recognized, for she'd felt it herself so very often. And, as she flung
her arms around Jeanne, she cried, "Here are the words you always
wanted! 'You can cry now! You're not alone anymore!'"
Slowly, tentatively, Jeanne wrapped her arms around Maron, then smiled
at her... and vanished, leaving Maron's first rosary upon the floor. And
that was the final piece she needed to finish this fight, though she
didn't want to. Scooping it up, she hurled it at the dark painting.
"CHECKMATE!"
The howl of pain and outrage that followed the rosary striking the
painting was deafening, but Maron stood her ground. She wasn't afraid
anymore. She wasn't alone anymore. And, when she turned away, she failed
to notice the final blow that was coming until Fin jumped in front of
her, taking the blow, then fading to juntenshi form, bleeding.
*
She'd known, Fin had, that Maou-sama wouldn't be sealed so easily; she'd
half-feared, half-anticipated the moment in which he would strike, and
she could go with him, be sealed away from her pain like her former self
had.
"I will go with you."
"Thank you."
She didn't find it odd, either, that the Devil would thank someone for
going with him into the seal. The cries of those she would leave behind,
though, hurt... but with this action, she could forgive herself forever.
Such was the nature of love -- the desire for another's wellbeing and
happiness over her own. Fin Fish didn't know, however, that it went both
ways, and those that were left behind would be in more pain.
Somehow, she'd remained innocent.
... and thus, she died.
No-one said, though, that those who sacrificed themselves would not be
reborn, but that is another story.
****
For more on that other story, read 'Reflection'.
This started out as another of those late-night fics, mostly to keep
Chiaki from rambling on in my head about how he'd really really love to
hold Maron and why couldn't I write it properly, damnit. And it wound up
being something dealing with the manga ending, albeit an incoherent tale
of it, and somewhat of a precursor to 'Reflection', which was my first
KKJ fic. So forgive me if it's a touch incoherent and jerky at times.
The title is from a Something Corporate song, and is somewhat of a
historical pun as well.
Konstantine
***
Two lovers once sat in the heavens, in one of the trees that were so
beloved and so cursed by humanity, and explored the newfound knowledge
of one another
The fact that they were angels did not forbid them from this discovery
of love, for they had once been mortal, and still knew the desire to be
with another, to ward off loneliness with the presence of someone that
was beloved. And God would not deny them that, for if His angels could
not feel love, then how would they treat those who lived on the earth below?
*
"It will be dawn soon," Fin said, turning to face the hints of light,
her face half in shadow. Access thought that he had never seen something
more beautiful, or anything that had more meaning than that single picture.
He drew her close, revelling in the sweet scent of her hair and in the
fact that he could touch her, that he knew she loved him. She placed a
hand on his cheek, fingertips cool, but leaving paths of warmth where
they touched, and the look in her eyes -- love, mingled with sadness
that he only partly understood -- made his heart fill with the wish to
shield her from what would come in such a short time.
Tangling his fingers in her hair, he kissed her, wanting to remember
this night forever, wanting to remember everything about Fin and etch it
in his memory. "I love you," he declared, and the words seemed
inadequate, but they held meaning all the same.
Her smile in return was achingly pure. There was no question of that
now, whether she had been a fallen angel in the past or not, she was
pure-hearted. And then she looked away, back at the pink staining the
perfect bowl of Heaven's sky. "The trial will begin soon," she murmured.
"And Maron's heart and strength will be tested..." She trailed off as
she turned back to him, placing a slim finger upon his lips to stifle
his objections. "As will mine, I fear."
Kissing her fingertip before catching the hand in both of his, Access
shook his head. "You have already been tested, Fin Fish. More than any
of us. And you haven't been found wanting."
"I pray that you are right."
**
There was an almost holy sort of quiet in the perfectly white bedroom.
Two other lovers, their souls having loved for more generations than
could be counted, but their bodies new in the sense of touch and feeling
and sense, were curled together beneath the white covers, hearts beating
in time as they clung to each other in dreams. The dawn brought the
dawning of consciousness for both; soon enough, they opened their eyes
to each other.
Chiaki thought that he had never seen anything more beautiful than the
sight that greeted him upon awakening; Maron's hair was touseled,
framing her face in delicate curls, and her lips were reddened with the
aftereffects of his kisses. But what was most telling for him was in the
way that she was curled trustingly in the circle of his arms, the warmth
of her body melding with his, and in the way that her eyes met his, full
of love and trust. His Maron. And no-one could deny it.
Maron woke to a sense that all had become right. There were no doubts in
her heart, simply confidence and trust that she thought she'd lost long
ago. And she was so warm. The realization of why that was struck her,
and she opened her eyes to find Chiaki studying her with
uncharacteristic solemnity. She smiled tentatively, and was rewarded by
a softening of his blue eyes and a gentle kiss. "Good morning, Maron,"
he said.
"It is morning, isn't it?" she asked, a soft flutter of emotion in her
heart. She would face the Devil today. But not yet, oh, not just yet.
For now, she was with the person she loved, and she had the happiness
she'd been seeking for so long. She ducked her head, resting it against
his chest, and felt him bury his face in her hair. They remained like
that, close to one another, for a long moment.
Memories of the night before seemed to indicate that she should blush,
but somehow she didn't feel that it was necessary; it had been their
choice, and there was no void where her power lay to make her feel that
it had been the wrong choice. If anything, there was more strength
there, born from the purity of their emotions rather than the purity of
their bodies.
"Are you sure that you won't let me take your place?" Chiaki's voice was
a comforting rumble from where Maron rested, giving her strength.
"I am sure," she said, drawing away from him and giving him a resolute
look. "I hold the last power. It's me that the Devil wants, not you, and
this is my fight."
"I'll be there, still." His tone brooked no argument, and Maron didn't
plan to argue, anyway. "I won't let you do this alone."
"I wouldn't have it any other way." She kissed him, sweet and tender,
and full of promises for the future she would make sure happened, then
slid out of his grasp, sitting up with a lack of self-consciousness that
would have surprised here merely the day before. "We should get ready."
She turned at a choking sound, and discovered that Chiaki was staring at
her, his cheeks red and his eyes wide. Clearing her throat seemed to
make it worse for a moment, and then he shook his head a little and nodded.
For some reason, his blush made Maron feel happy. Desired and wanted,
those emotions were new -- and she hoped that they would become
familiar. As she dressed, she stole glances at Chiaki, admiring him with
a frankness that, again, would have seemed scandalous a mere day before.
He was lean, his frame giving hints of more height to follow, and
lightly muscled; she remembered him carrying her during fights with
little effort, and helping her to her feet when they had first met. As
he put on his shirt, she noticed once more the grace of his movements,
no more than was necessary, simple efficiency turned into feline
elegance -- or the grace of a thief. His hands continued that
impression, long-fingered and sensitive, and again, she felt no
embarrassment at the recollection of the night before.
She had, she realized, fallen in love with one of the most handsome men
she'd ever seen. And he loved her. Luck wasn't the word for it - this
was a Godsend. ... literally, in a sense.
Chiaki turned to her, arching an eyebrow quizzically as he ran a hand
through his hair, not bothering with a comb, and Maron merely smiled and
held her hand out to him, just as Riru knocked on their door to summon them.
*
Riru, the highest of the Angels, had known what had happened the moment
she walked in through the door at Maron's welcoming call. After all, it
had been she who had put Maron and Chiaki in one room together with
orders that gawking angels of any ranking would be sent to listen to the
human spirits whose idea of heaven was that they had a captive audience
for their stories and eternity in which to tell them. She figured that
the hundredth repetition of 'The One That Got Away' would be punishment
enough.
It seemed remarkably effective, really. And, well, if putting Chiaki and
Maron (the former of whom Riru suspected was a far older soul than
simply the guise he had adopted, that is to say, Sindbad, and far more
tied to Eve than Jeanne D'Arc) together would cure God of that
never-ending little bit of a problem where Eve was concerned, well, all
the better.
Meddling in people's love lives ran all the way up to the top, if you
asked Riru.
And so, all she did was smile at the lovers as she guided them towards
where the trial was to take place.
Another set of lovers waited at the doors to the as-yet unknown playing
field in which the world's fate would be decided, and these were no less
crucial to the plot that was unfolding. Fin Fish no longer bore the
physical evidence of her banishment, but there was a subtle
understanding to her eyes that she had lacked as a naive juntenshi, and
Riru was glad to see it there -- but she feared the pain that lurked
beneath it all. Access Time bore no traces of that pain, and she
wondered if he understood it, or if he refused to acknowledge it. But
he had done the impossible, and brought Fin Fish back to where she belonged.
And for that, Riru could forgive him the number of forbidden fruit he'd
eaten when younger.
*
"It's time," Maron murmured, her eyes locked on the doors in front of
them. And then, with a flurry of rose petals, Jeanne stood where she
once had. But this wasn't the Jeanne that threw happy smiles to the
policemen and teased Miyako -- there was only a subtle power, overlaid
with love as she turned to Chiaki, resting within his arms for a long
moment.
Heaven within heaven -- that was an inadequate definition for what she
felt when she was close to him today. All the things she'd missed in her
life were all mixed up in something that she could nearly taste in its
utmost sweetness. Safety, concern, love and the desire to protect her
were only some of the things that she could feel, and it only made her
stronger.
As she stepped back from him, the door swung open, revealing an empty
space of black and white marble, and two paintings that, if she were
asked later, described all of the world's beauty, and all of its pain.
God and the Devil, in a form that was familiar to her.
And, standing on a black square was her as she had been, the old outfit
in purple and gold, and a sly smile upon her face. Jeanne D'Arc, under
the Devil's control.
Maron was unprepared for the onslaught of memories that struck her, from
the moment in which she first became Jeanne D'Arc with Fin's help to
when the trust she'd placed in the tiny angel had been betrayed.
Fin was wrapped up in everything, all those memories of loneliness eased
by her presence, the feeling that someone would always love her no
matter how keenly alone she felt...
That was the key. She wasn't alone and never had been.
She pulled the ribbon from her hair, feeling the rush of power fade. "To
tell the truth, I don't want to fight," she said, and with the truth in
those words, she felt her spirit soar over the objections of those who
were watching. "I don't need a sword. I believe in peace."
Her double looked startled, the purple eyes holding emotion that Maron
recognized, for she'd felt it herself so very often. And, as she flung
her arms around Jeanne, she cried, "Here are the words you always
wanted! 'You can cry now! You're not alone anymore!'"
Slowly, tentatively, Jeanne wrapped her arms around Maron, then smiled
at her... and vanished, leaving Maron's first rosary upon the floor. And
that was the final piece she needed to finish this fight, though she
didn't want to. Scooping it up, she hurled it at the dark painting.
"CHECKMATE!"
The howl of pain and outrage that followed the rosary striking the
painting was deafening, but Maron stood her ground. She wasn't afraid
anymore. She wasn't alone anymore. And, when she turned away, she failed
to notice the final blow that was coming until Fin jumped in front of
her, taking the blow, then fading to juntenshi form, bleeding.
*
She'd known, Fin had, that Maou-sama wouldn't be sealed so easily; she'd
half-feared, half-anticipated the moment in which he would strike, and
she could go with him, be sealed away from her pain like her former self
had.
"I will go with you."
"Thank you."
She didn't find it odd, either, that the Devil would thank someone for
going with him into the seal. The cries of those she would leave behind,
though, hurt... but with this action, she could forgive herself forever.
Such was the nature of love -- the desire for another's wellbeing and
happiness over her own. Fin Fish didn't know, however, that it went both
ways, and those that were left behind would be in more pain.
Somehow, she'd remained innocent.
... and thus, she died.
No-one said, though, that those who sacrificed themselves would not be
reborn, but that is another story.
****
For more on that other story, read 'Reflection'.
This started out as another of those late-night fics, mostly to keep
Chiaki from rambling on in my head about how he'd really really love to
hold Maron and why couldn't I write it properly, damnit. And it wound up
being something dealing with the manga ending, albeit an incoherent tale
of it, and somewhat of a precursor to 'Reflection', which was my first
KKJ fic. So forgive me if it's a touch incoherent and jerky at times.
The title is from a Something Corporate song, and is somewhat of a
historical pun as well.
