Title: Epiphany.
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Irvine/Fiona.
Notes: This is were everything starts getting vague: I'll go as much in depth as I possibly can without fully altering the storyline to the actual series, but otherwise.. it's gonna be a bit hazy.
- - - -
She supposed she had dozed off, while wrapped within his arms that night. Though, he was gone when she awoke and she found herself tucked neatly into her bed, shoes removed and carefully placed to the side.
She had washed her face upon slipping out of bed and limped, of all things!, to the closet. She guessed, once more, that she had stepped wrong last night, perhaps while demanding and, maybe even, falling. But, that was of no matter. Picking out the proper attire, she stripped, changed, and then proceeded out of the tent.
She could shower in town, she suddenly remembered. They were going for
supplies, weren't they? If not, she would have to talk Doctor D into going
anyway; she had noted that their food supply was running low the other morning
and, among other things, she needed to buy some extra supplies.
Outside was rather quiet. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and she
knew that most of the men hired to work for them were still sleeping. She
dismissed the thought of coffee, knowing it would take too long, and continued
on toward where a Gustav and several large, metallic boxes on wheels sat.
Doctor D was loading crates of – something into one of those aforementioned
metallic boxes. Carrying appendages; carts, if you will.
"'Morning, Doctor D!" Looks like things were going as she wanted them to, that morning. She tipped to the side to peek around a crate, which had been cradled by the withering Doctor.
"Ah, there you are, Fiona! I was wondering when you'd wake up!" He waved and, immediately, the box within his arms tipped toward and the wood, which made up its exterior, splintered and shattered as it made contact with the ground. He laughed nervously, placing one hand behind his head, "Could you help an old man, hm?"
"Certainly."
Inside the box had been clumps of dirt and rocks, packed away within containers of all sorts. She gathered them into her arms, before stacking them inside the nearest, empty box.
"Is Irvine coming with us?" She queried innocently enough, as she dusted her hands off upon the front of her dress. To emphasize such a question, she sent a look about the campsite, as though looking for
"Mmm, I'm not sure. I haven't seen him."
"That's strange.." She mused aloud, canting her head faintly. However, she soon shook it, dismissing her thoughts with a smile. "Well, that's okay. Let's go?"
"Go on in ahead of me. I'll give the driver the directions."
"Got it!"
He waited, standing silent, as she climbed into one of the back carts. Even still, waiting, he tested the waters: she hadn't left after a good five minutes. He pursed his lips, before hurrying to the front of the Gustav.
The canopy released with a gentle whoosh and, without a word, Doctor D withdrew a paper from amidst the folds of his tunic and handed it to the driver. The driver, a man clad in every day soldier apparel, took the papers, read them over briefly, and nodded.
The old Doctor cast a brief glance up at the sky, perhaps in prayer, before following after Fiona.
- - - -
He stood still, steeling himself against a wave of, perhaps, emotion, which was aiming to crash upon him any given second. His gaze was intent; as he watched Fiona, and then Doctor D, load into the cart; the Gustav slowly veer about the enclosed area, making sure to keep from running into tents, or people, before plodding down a heavily trodden path.
He had to leave. She would have been the first to ask why, he would have bet. Though, with each passing breath that came from her, he found himself falling ever so deeply into – into something.
He couldn't love her. He had lost such an ability long ago when – when she had died and he had relied upon Moonbay* for knitting together broken ribs, torn ligaments, stripped hearts. There was no "love" left – only a strong desire for something to further patch up that slit area, hoping it could seal the hole long enough to ease the dull ache, which resided strongly within his chest.
He sighed. They had turned a corner and were heading off out of sight.
Wobbling slightly, he twisted about and ambled carefully back toward the awaiting Command Wolf. The head automatically lowered and he took his time upon getting in and setting himself right.
With a final, rueful glance toward the campsite, he hurried – anywhere, elsewhere.
- - - -
They had gone not but two hours from the campsite when she felt, rather than seen, stomping footsteps – perhaps a dozen. However, she had ignored it. They were nearing a town – not the one they had aimed to go to – and Zoids were possibly a popular way of transportation, or protection, within that town.
She smiled nervously, nevertheless, and occupied herself with finding things to
set into place about the four-walled cart. The interior was like any tent,
though less.. stable, in a sense. It wobbled and teetered almost dangerously,
though they were both assured that little could truly happen.
"You're limping," The Doctor knocked her out of her thoughts with the light, curious though cautious, tilt of his voice. She glanced from what she had occupied herself with, knitting her fingers amongst themselves as she paced, to him. "You should be sitting, Missy!"
She smiled automatically. "I'm alright."
"No – I'll need you later." This time, more force was in his voice. She had to inwardly chide herself to keep from flinching – it was just parental worry. He motioned to a bed, which had been literally bolted to the floor. "Sit."
She bit her lip to keep from sighing in annoyance. If it wasn't him grumbling and moaning about Irvine, it was about her – true, she enjoyed working with and for him very much, though it got just rather a bit frustrating, with him mulling over her every move.
"I guess I could rest – when are we going to arrive?" She did as he had told and traced her steps back toward the bed, seating herself upon it. He failed to answer her immediately; his gaze darted about the cart and, eventually, to the window just behind him. It was the strangest thing.. "Doctor D..?"
"Hmm? Oh – arrival," He closed his eyes and rubbed idly at his chin, fully in
thought now. Though, not necessarily upon the subject she had intended.
"Shortly, shortly, Fiona, dear. I should think another half an hour, if that."
"Something wrong?" She probed, after a moment of watching him. He simply shook his head.
And that was when a dual set of paws slammed down upon the thick roofing of the cart. With a defiant roar that followed that, a massive slit abruptly formed across the top; Fiona gave a shriek and Doctor D panicked – though certainly didn't feign it.
It didn't stop at simply tearing the metal cart apart. With another roar, it leapt to the second, which carried the crates full of random solidities from the camp site, successfully tipping that onto its side.
Fiona screamed once more, as, following the tipping cart ahead of them, their own began to tip onto two wheels. She was the first to fall, while Doctor D hopelessly clung to one of the many bolted-down pieces of furniture. Vainly, it was: he soon fell and the cart itself fell flat upon its side.
The Gustav was last. Now detached from its cargo, the unnamed Zoid happily attacked, sinking both its fore and front claws into the thick shell and certainly not stopping there. It bit sharply into the cockpit, shattering the canopy, and tipped the Zoid upright. It now stood upon its very back wheels. The Zoid gave a snarl and shook its head about animalisticly.
It seemed that, however, the action would not last very long. From another angle came yet another roar and, slamming head first into the unnamed Zoid was a lion of brilliant blue: it knocked the Zoid to its side, causing the Gustav to be released. The unnamed Zoid didn't stick around for long afterward. Once able to wriggle out from beneath the Liger, it scampered quick and far, avoiding further attacks.
Fiona watched in partial horror and partial happiness, though, in the process, failed to notice the pilot of the Gustav escape to safety, as well as Doctor D's silent mutterings of both annoyance and thanks. The Liger stepped carefully up to the carts and soon lowered its head to the ground, flipping the canopy open. Ban sat inside, without a doubt, and he beamed as he waved.
He shoved himself from the tipped cart, paying no mind to Fiona, and grinned
cheerfully. "Nice timing, Ban!"
- - - -
A/N: * I am not implying that Irvine and Moonbay were ever a couple. Personally, I loathe such a concept – and not because I am more inclined toward non-cannon. Simply because I think Moonbay is the most depthless, pointless character to ever touch the series. Sure, she is a tiny ( and I do indeed mean "tiny" ) bit of the reason Ban goes on his "adventure" – which, mind you, resulted in far more pain than pleasure – but, otherwise..
However, that's not what the asterisk is for. I was thinking.. when Epiphany is over, should I write a side story about that? For those who failed to catch my drift, Irvine was in love, though the woman he was in love with, died. And, shortly after her death, he had stumbled across Moonbay, who became a, um, reliable shoulder, to put it simply.
NO. IT WILL NOT BE I/M.
Anyway, should I? 'Cause Epiphany should be over in 'bout.. five more chapters? Less, if I can make the upcoming ones excessively long. Okay, between five and ten. I intend for this to be as long as I can humanely manage without dragging it out horribly, because I want to fit everything I have in mind for it in.
But, yeah. Back to the original question: say Irvine loved someone else, but not Moonbay, and she died. Pre-Chaotic Century-based. Should I write a story on that?