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 7
*The closer you come, the weaker I get If it ain't happened now, just ain't happened yet*
He stopped short of her, unable to help himself from studying her the way she had him. She was quite the bit shorter than he, but he didn't care. She was a beautiful woman; the woman who'd had his heart for as long as he could remember. At least, he hadn't been able to pin when he'd gone from loving her as a child to loving her as a woman. It seemed as if he'd always loved her, it had just changed in dimension as she'd aged. "Good flying out there today," he offered by way of a greeting.
"But not good enough," she replied bitterly. She was a few feet away, but he couldn't take those last steps. He couldn't make the first move. If she wanted him around at all, she'd have to give him some kind of sign. Something that told him he'd been forgiven for being a jerk a few days ago in the lounge. She shook her head, thrusting her fingers into her hair and grabbing the sweaty strands in a firm grip and pulling. She looked around making sure nobody was within hearing distance. "I feel so helpless," she confessed softly, "What am I doing wrong, Kyp?" she stepped towards him and he fought the urge to meet her half way. It wasn't his place.
"Kyp?"
"You're not doing anything wrong," he replied, putting his hands behind his back and clasping them together, "they took a risk and paid the price, it doesn't reflect on you."
"But it does!" she shook her head and began to pace, moving away from him and then back, making his heart jump into his throat. She wouldn't try and hug him, would she? He hoped not. Any physical contact with her was dangerous; it pushed at the edges of his control. Control he'd built over the years but seemed to evaporate in her presence. Or would, if she touched him.
"It doesn't. Don't beat yourself about something that's not your fault, Goddess. We mere mortals make mistakes, we're not all powerful like yourself."
She glared at him, spinning on her heel and jamming her hands on her hips. "Cut it out. They were my tactics, my instructions."
"And they were taken beyond your parameters," Kyp gestured to her ship, which showed minimal battle damage. "The rest of us came through it like you, with little or no damage, thanks to your instructions and guidance. Milek and Shnai disobeyed orders and it got them killed, it's not your fault."
She examined him for a long minute and seemed to shrink back into herself, accepting his words as fact. "You're right."
"Of course I'm right," he told her with a smirk, "I'm Kyp Durron, I'm always right." Except when it comes to you, he added silently.
She shrugged. "For a mere mortal you're pretty pompous."
"And you wouldn't do a thing to change me, admit it."
"You're right." She agreed, making him blink in surprise. "I wouldn't."
This was getting way too far off topic for his comfort. She was admitting that she liked him as he was. But to what degree, what extent? She belonged to Fel, her choice was the fighter pilot, but her eyes were saying something else. No. He had to be reading too much into it. He swallowed hard and grinned. "Good, because I wouldn't change. I'm too old, too set in my ways."
"You're not old, Kyp."
He smirked. "Compared to you, I'm ancient. It's not the years, Goddess, it's the parsecs."
She stepped towards him and he took a step back unintentionally. She stopped, looking at him critically. Kyp met her gaze for a brief moment and then did something he never thought he'd do. He turned and fled. From her, from the feeling he was wearing his heart on his sleeve and from the voice in his mind. From the sudden, overwhelming urge to tell her everything.
"Kyp!" she called after him. He could hear the shock in her voice.
He didn't stop as he stepped into the corridor. He slowed, but didn't look back as he headed for his quarters and stepped inside.
**********
Kyp's comment about: "It's not the years, Goddess, it's the parsecs." Is paraphrased from my father's often used: "It's not the years, it's the mileage." Parsecs are being used as a unit of distance in this instance.
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 7
*The closer you come, the weaker I get If it ain't happened now, just ain't happened yet*
He stopped short of her, unable to help himself from studying her the way she had him. She was quite the bit shorter than he, but he didn't care. She was a beautiful woman; the woman who'd had his heart for as long as he could remember. At least, he hadn't been able to pin when he'd gone from loving her as a child to loving her as a woman. It seemed as if he'd always loved her, it had just changed in dimension as she'd aged. "Good flying out there today," he offered by way of a greeting.
"But not good enough," she replied bitterly. She was a few feet away, but he couldn't take those last steps. He couldn't make the first move. If she wanted him around at all, she'd have to give him some kind of sign. Something that told him he'd been forgiven for being a jerk a few days ago in the lounge. She shook her head, thrusting her fingers into her hair and grabbing the sweaty strands in a firm grip and pulling. She looked around making sure nobody was within hearing distance. "I feel so helpless," she confessed softly, "What am I doing wrong, Kyp?" she stepped towards him and he fought the urge to meet her half way. It wasn't his place.
"Kyp?"
"You're not doing anything wrong," he replied, putting his hands behind his back and clasping them together, "they took a risk and paid the price, it doesn't reflect on you."
"But it does!" she shook her head and began to pace, moving away from him and then back, making his heart jump into his throat. She wouldn't try and hug him, would she? He hoped not. Any physical contact with her was dangerous; it pushed at the edges of his control. Control he'd built over the years but seemed to evaporate in her presence. Or would, if she touched him.
"It doesn't. Don't beat yourself about something that's not your fault, Goddess. We mere mortals make mistakes, we're not all powerful like yourself."
She glared at him, spinning on her heel and jamming her hands on her hips. "Cut it out. They were my tactics, my instructions."
"And they were taken beyond your parameters," Kyp gestured to her ship, which showed minimal battle damage. "The rest of us came through it like you, with little or no damage, thanks to your instructions and guidance. Milek and Shnai disobeyed orders and it got them killed, it's not your fault."
She examined him for a long minute and seemed to shrink back into herself, accepting his words as fact. "You're right."
"Of course I'm right," he told her with a smirk, "I'm Kyp Durron, I'm always right." Except when it comes to you, he added silently.
She shrugged. "For a mere mortal you're pretty pompous."
"And you wouldn't do a thing to change me, admit it."
"You're right." She agreed, making him blink in surprise. "I wouldn't."
This was getting way too far off topic for his comfort. She was admitting that she liked him as he was. But to what degree, what extent? She belonged to Fel, her choice was the fighter pilot, but her eyes were saying something else. No. He had to be reading too much into it. He swallowed hard and grinned. "Good, because I wouldn't change. I'm too old, too set in my ways."
"You're not old, Kyp."
He smirked. "Compared to you, I'm ancient. It's not the years, Goddess, it's the parsecs."
She stepped towards him and he took a step back unintentionally. She stopped, looking at him critically. Kyp met her gaze for a brief moment and then did something he never thought he'd do. He turned and fled. From her, from the feeling he was wearing his heart on his sleeve and from the voice in his mind. From the sudden, overwhelming urge to tell her everything.
"Kyp!" she called after him. He could hear the shock in her voice.
He didn't stop as he stepped into the corridor. He slowed, but didn't look back as he headed for his quarters and stepped inside.
**********
Kyp's comment about: "It's not the years, Goddess, it's the parsecs." Is paraphrased from my father's often used: "It's not the years, it's the mileage." Parsecs are being used as a unit of distance in this instance.