Nov 2002
Disclaimer: It all belongs to George (Lucas, not my Leprechaun) & I just write for fun. The song belongs to a group called "Blackhawk" and I'm just borrowing the lyrics.
Part 2
*It says don't make plans 'cause on your hand Is a promise made to another man*
Kyp opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling of his room, replaying the last time he'd seen her in his mind. It had been three days ago, at dinner. She'd sought him out for the first time in almost a month and her excitement had almost been a tangible thing. She had news, she'd said, important news he'd want to know about. Yet, she hadn't said it right away. She'd sat across from him, saying little, while he ate. She was wearing a clean flightsuit, one that seemed to grab her hips in just the right fashion. Her boots had been polished to a shine, one of those tiny details he picked up about her. He'd taken the time to study her face as she watched him, and his heart had sunk into the heels of his boots.
He'd known what she was going to say before she finally opened her mouth to tell him. He'd known before she'd pulled the chain from underneath her flight suit, before he'd seen the glittering band hanging from it. And he'd still been unable to accept it. His jaw had still locked when she'd said the words; his heart had still stopped. Engaged. To Jagged Fel. He'd been unable to move for ten seconds. He knew, because he'd counted. He'd forced himself to congratulate her and then simply walked away. Away from her and the joy she exuded. His presence tainted that, his thoughts and feelings left unspoken in the face of her excitement.
He frowned, rolling over and forcing his burning arms to lift him in another repetition of sit-ups. It served him right. After everything he'd put her through, all the lies he'd told her. She deserved some happiness after the toll the war had taken on her and her family. But she deserved better. Better than him, and better than Jag. But she'd made her choice and he had to respect that.
Regardless of the way he felt about her, regardless of his growing feelings, he couldn't tell her, not now, not when she'd said yes to Jag. Or could he? He shook his head violently, rolling back to his back and going through yet another set. He couldn't do that to her. Not when she finally seemed at peace with her decisions and actions, not when she was finally starting to move on his her life. But he wanted to. He sorely want to, to make himself feel better, to know what she'd say. But what would he tell her?
He stopped, pushing himself to a sitting position and scooting backwards until his head hit the wall. His muscles were cramping, burning uncomfortably from the over exertion of the last few hours but even that didn't take his focus off her. Nothing did. Nothing ever did. And it was getting worse.
He slammed his hands into the floor beside him, palms open, before pushing himself angrily to his feet. She'd made her decision, why couldn't he just accept that? A small voice began to whisper in the back of his mind as he pulled his muscle shirt over his head and tossed it on his bunk. He ignored it, shedding his pants before walking into the fresher naked and closing the door.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to George (Lucas, not my Leprechaun) & I just write for fun. The song belongs to a group called "Blackhawk" and I'm just borrowing the lyrics.
Part 2
*It says don't make plans 'cause on your hand Is a promise made to another man*
Kyp opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling of his room, replaying the last time he'd seen her in his mind. It had been three days ago, at dinner. She'd sought him out for the first time in almost a month and her excitement had almost been a tangible thing. She had news, she'd said, important news he'd want to know about. Yet, she hadn't said it right away. She'd sat across from him, saying little, while he ate. She was wearing a clean flightsuit, one that seemed to grab her hips in just the right fashion. Her boots had been polished to a shine, one of those tiny details he picked up about her. He'd taken the time to study her face as she watched him, and his heart had sunk into the heels of his boots.
He'd known what she was going to say before she finally opened her mouth to tell him. He'd known before she'd pulled the chain from underneath her flight suit, before he'd seen the glittering band hanging from it. And he'd still been unable to accept it. His jaw had still locked when she'd said the words; his heart had still stopped. Engaged. To Jagged Fel. He'd been unable to move for ten seconds. He knew, because he'd counted. He'd forced himself to congratulate her and then simply walked away. Away from her and the joy she exuded. His presence tainted that, his thoughts and feelings left unspoken in the face of her excitement.
He frowned, rolling over and forcing his burning arms to lift him in another repetition of sit-ups. It served him right. After everything he'd put her through, all the lies he'd told her. She deserved some happiness after the toll the war had taken on her and her family. But she deserved better. Better than him, and better than Jag. But she'd made her choice and he had to respect that.
Regardless of the way he felt about her, regardless of his growing feelings, he couldn't tell her, not now, not when she'd said yes to Jag. Or could he? He shook his head violently, rolling back to his back and going through yet another set. He couldn't do that to her. Not when she finally seemed at peace with her decisions and actions, not when she was finally starting to move on his her life. But he wanted to. He sorely want to, to make himself feel better, to know what she'd say. But what would he tell her?
He stopped, pushing himself to a sitting position and scooting backwards until his head hit the wall. His muscles were cramping, burning uncomfortably from the over exertion of the last few hours but even that didn't take his focus off her. Nothing did. Nothing ever did. And it was getting worse.
He slammed his hands into the floor beside him, palms open, before pushing himself angrily to his feet. She'd made her decision, why couldn't he just accept that? A small voice began to whisper in the back of his mind as he pulled his muscle shirt over his head and tossed it on his bunk. He ignored it, shedding his pants before walking into the fresher naked and closing the door.