Only Shadows Ahead
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Hair billowing about her face, Gaia tended to the shrubs on the far south-east peninsula. The wind was picking up, but then it always did here. Her ability to achieve solid form on Hope Island had faded with time. No longer Earth-bound, transparency had become her constant state of matter these days.
Feeling, touching and manipulating the earth was no longer second nature. Even here, toiling amongst the soil took a great deal of concentration. She had to work hard to achieve what she had once taken for granted — the ability to form a physical connection with her beloved realm.
There would soon come a time where even this would become impossible. Gaia sighed; forcing the thought to the back of her mind, eyes scanning the horizon.
The views here at the top were breathtaking, granting a 360 degree panorama of the island and surrounding ocean. A treat for anyone who dared negotiate the jagged cliff-face and perilous rocky outcrops. Easy enough for a free-floating spirit to access, but more difficult for those of flesh and blood.
Only Kwame had ever attempted the climb to the top. It had taken him half the day to ascend, but the effort had taken it's toll. Exhausted, he'd had no choice but to call on help from Linka to get back down again. That had been several years ago. He'd been barely out of his teens.
Her Planeteers were no longer children. No longer naive; no longer burdened by their child-like view of the world. They were fully fledged, bona-fide adults; treading a fine line amongst the greed, corruption and destruction plaguing the planet.
The time had come to sort their own way in life. Two had found their path. Two had found each other. One would need a little nudge in the right direction, but she had every confidence that Gi would reach her destiny in due time.
Gaia rose to her feet; dress fluttering in the breeze and shielding her eyes. Sunset was putting on a spectacular show this evening.
It was her favourite place; at the highest point of the island, amongst the shrubs. Lavender grew like wildfire, here. Uninhibited and free, a rippling blanket of purple and green sprouting from all sides and corners.
The crystal chamber beckoned.
She turned and faded; intent on recharging her energy for a while.
Two weeks later.
Grit crunched under his sneakers as they made their way up to the rooftop. Heading back to the Geo-Cruiser, Linka's hand seemed so small clutched tightly within his own. He squeezed her fingers, and she grinned back at him, stumbling slightly on a broken concrete step.
"Dyermo," she muttered, glancing back. Her momentum slowed, and he tugged her onwards, wanting to get out of the dank stairwell. The smell of mould and cigarettes was strong here.
The second bottle of wine had been a bad idea. They weren't drunk but they were certainly tipsy. Linka's unsteady gait was quite charming, really. Not conducive at all towards those all important gross-motor skills — like climbing several flights of stairs, for example — but certainly enough to impede their ascent.
She waved her finger idly in the air. "I doubt either of us are in any condition to pilot, Yankee."
"Mmm." The same thought had already occurred to him. He shrugged, not too concerned. "We'll bunker down for the night. Done it plenty of times before."
"Blankets..." She paused, seeming to lose her train of thought. "Ah, I have had too much wine."
"You ordered 'em."
"You helped me drink them!" she giggled, swaying slightly. "Bozhe moy, I am still recovering from the fact you asked me out on a date."
"First time for everythin'." He smiled, glancing at her lovely profile. "Occurred to me I've kinda neglected that step after all these years."
"Da," she said, giving him a sly grin. "This is true."
"Plenty of quality pick-up lines, though."
"Quality?" she muttered, giving him the side-eye. "Oh Yankee, you are the absolute worst at —"
"Did you sit in a pile of sugar?" He slowed, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close. "Cause you have a pretty sweet ass."
"Oy," she moaned between fits of giggles. "That is terrible —"
"Do you have a Band-Aid?" he said as she collapsed against him. "Because I just scraped my knee falling for you."
"That is just as bad —"
"Do you have a map?" he said breathily, leaning in further and cupping her chin, tilting it upwards. "Cuz I'm gettin' lost in your eyes."
She snorted, shoving him away lightly. Still laughing, he reached for her hand again, swinging it lightly as they eyed each other nervously; the air charged with mutual attraction.
"Durak."
"Hey, I got moves," he laughed as they exited the door, spilling out onto the rooftop. "They just never worked on you."
"Yes, they did."
Something about the finality of that sentence floored him. He squeezed her fingers again, feeling her shoulder bump against his arm. Wisps of hair had escaped her beanie, moving about her face in the breeze.
She sighed happily as the Geo-Cruiser came into view. Wheeler picked up the pace, unlatching the door and climbing in. Swinging his leg up and over, he misjudged the height and slipped, crashing to the floor with a resounding oof.
Linka's giggles soon filled the cabin; entering and finding him sprawled half-way between the aisle and the third passenger seat. His left foot stuck up awkwardly in the air and he groaned, tossing an arm over his face as Linka clambered towards him.
"Graceful," she laughed, offering her hand and pulling him up. "Well done, Yankee."
"Coulda' sworn that step-down was lower," he grumbled, dropping heavily into the pilot's seat. "Blamin' it on the alcohol."
"Could also be your coordination."
"Mmm," he replied, watching her shrug out of her coat and toss it to the floor. His eyes appraised the slim figure underneath; those dangerous curves hidden beneath a black lace dress and black panty-hose clad legs. A hint of cleavage; enough to illicit that familiar tug at the base of his stomach.
So Linka. That alluring femininity she strove to keep hidden — until now, that is. She seemed brimming in confidence. Different, more sure of herself — to the point that her penetrating gaze lately was making him a little nervous.
She stepped in front of him, leaning back casually against the piloting console and watching him quietly, and for a moment he wondered how tonight was going to pan out. That maybe —
"We were meant to talk, tonight."
He raised his eyebrows. "We were?"
"Da."
"Did we?"
"Nyet."
"Hmm."
She moved forward; stepping over his legs with measured care and sinking into his lap, straddling him. Hooking her arms around his neck, she lowered her face and smiled down at him; nose to nose and close enough to take his breath away.
The corner of her lip quirked as she tossed her beanie aside. More strands of hair fell loose from the messy bun piled on top of her head, falling about her face.
She was beautiful. Perfection.
"Do we need to have a conversation?"
"Conversation?" He shook his head, doing his best to ignore the various scenarios flickering away in his mind. "Define the word 'conversation'."
She leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair; her nails dragging through his scalp slowly and deliberately, eliciting a soft groan from him.
"I do not know. How do you say… perhaps a chat?"
"About the Lakers scores last night?" he teased, finding himself wholly distracted by the sensation of her fingers stroking through the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Nyet."
He shifted uncomfortably; the movement causing Linka's body to sway above him.
"Got plenty of anecdotes about the weather?"
She gave him a perfect little pout, forcing his head back against the head rest and raising herself slightly. Her breath was warm against his cheek, her mouth grazing his ear and moving down his neck. She nipped him gently with her teeth.
"Jesus, Linka," he groaned as his body reacted accordingly. "You're —"
"Just wanting to see if we are on the same book."
"Same page?"
"That too."
He felt her lips press against the pulse in his neck, nuzzling him affectionately. Her tongue flicked the sensitive skin at the base of his throat and he swore under his breath, hoping she'd continue whatever the hell she was doing because it felt fucking fantastic.
She sucked lightly at his neck and he reached out, unbinding the bun until her thick hair tumbled about her shoulders. He ran his fingers through the loose curls, brushing them away from her face.
Throwing caution to the wind, Wheeler's arms wrapped about her body, crushing her against him; feeling her cheek press down against the top of his head as she held him. She was soft and comforting; her body's warmth radiating from under the layers of material separating them.
He wanted her desperately.
Almost as if hearing his thoughts, Linka shifted her hips, rocking ever-so-slightly against him. He let out a harsh breath against her skin, sliding his hands under her dress and gripping her lithe thighs, anchoring her in place.
"Yankee?"
"Yeah?" he said huskily.
Soft lips brushed his. He blinked up at her, trapped; his head still angled back against the head rest.
Her hair trailed down around his face in a perfect, perfumed cloud.
"Do we need to talk?"
He arched up, kissing her deeply, an almost unconscious answer to her question. His hands travelled of their own accord, moving further along her thighs and slipping underneath her bottom, squeezing gently.
She gave a soft gasp against his mouth, grinding against him and Wheeler's resolve crumpled into oblivion.
He tipped their combined weight forward, shuffling until they were perched on the edge of the pilot seat. He withdrew his arm long enough to fumble beneath the console, activating the window shutters.
They closed in sequence, soon plunging the cabin into darkness. He could hear her rapid breathing; feel the rise and fall of her chest against his; the soft press of her breasts. The faint scent of vanilla and strawberries remained on her skin and he tipped her back further, nuzzling her neck and losing himself in her scent.
Like a flag to a raging bull, he was overcome by the dire need to remove clothing.
He was done.
"Yankee?" Her voice was a mere whisper.
He reached behind her back, grabbing hold of the zipper and reefing it down impatiently. The dress was tugged down over her shoulders and arms until the fabric piled in a loose pool around her waist. She surged forward, cupping his face and kissing him again; searing and passionate as his hands roamed her bare skin.
"Jake?" she breathed. "Do we need to talk about things first?"
"Nope," he said gruffly, removing his shirt and tossing it aside. He lifted her, stepping away from the pilots seat and dropping her roughly to the floor, his hands blindly seeking out her thighs as he settled himself between them. "I'm done talkin'."
Six Months Later
Ma-Ti sat at the counter, waiting on the coffees. He'd never been a coffee drinker prior to being a Planeteer, but it certainly helped with the long hours and lack of sleep. He rubbed his face tiredly, swinging around on the barstool and taking in the motley groups of people in the all-night diner.
His power no longer needed to be commanded. One glimpse at a random stranger told him all he needed to know. Those who were pure of heart were the easiest to read.
Just a flick of the eyes was all it took.
Flick. College student studying for an exam the next morning.
Flick. Homeless woman warming herself over a steaming drink.
Flick. Truck driver stopping for a break. Currently wired up on amphetamines and god-knows what else.
Flick. Young family travelling to visit family. The children were asleep across the vinyl booth seats; their parents arguing quietly over a large, rumpled map.
There were very few people he couldn't read. Looten Plunder was one of them. Plunder was a man devoid of empathy or compassion for others. Anger was the only way into his mind, but Linka had continually baulked at that suggestion so he'd left it alone.
Ma-Ti settled his elbows on the counter again, chin perched in his palms. The diner was reasonably quiet but he closed his eyes nonetheless, an attempt to drown out the incessant chatter that existed only within his mind.
A small television was on, tuned into a late-night news station so he focused on this instead. A pretty blonde newscaster reporting on a multi-millionaire's palatial home.
Ma-Ti was unsure of the practicality of having a ten-pin bowling lane hidden behind a shoe closet, but then again, it was really none of Ma-Ti's business. Sometimes the divide between the rich and the poor was startling — especially in their line of work.
"Coffees are ready, darlin'."
Distracted from his musings, Ma-Ti thanked the waitress and gathered the drinks in his arms. He paused, glancing again at the television as a random symbol appeared.
A double figure eight symbol flashed on the screen, lying in a horizontal and vertical design, overlapped in the centre. Bottom section coloured. Three small dots at the base.
Ma-Ti's mouth dropped open with recognition.
Strange symbol wreaking havoc with servers across the United States.
Symbol cropping up all over the internet.
Thought to be responsible for the breach of interpol servers in the United Kingdom.
Credible threat to national security.
The nation's top analysts were investigating.
Ma-Ti stared hard at the television. SAIP had obviously become international news now, its existence no longer hidden away by the powers that be.
But SAIP's influence had always been on the cards, so to speak. MAL was supposedly still operational, so they had avoided the future that was originally intended.
Their new path was all the more uncertain however, but at least it wouldn't result in Linka's death or the fall of civilisation.
But still, it was food for thought.
"Dude, you fall asleep?"
An impatient Brooklyn drawl sounded behind him. Wheeler grabbed the travel mug from Ma-Ti's over-crowded hands. "Need my coffee fix."
"Sorry," Ma-Ti explained, heading for the door and frowning in confusion as Wheeler headed for the counter. "Got a little… what are you doing?"
"Ball and chain wants a muffin," Wheeler replied, reaching for his wallet and waving the waitress down. He placed his order and leaned against the counter, flashing a pearly-white grin. "Blueberry."
"Getting one for yourself?"
"Why?"
Ma-Ti smirked. "Because we all know it will be half eaten by the time you get back to —"
"Aw, c'mon." Wheeler waved away his concerns with his trademark confidence. "You have so little faith in me, man."
They collected the muffin and headed for the door. Ma-Ti gave the truck driver a worried glance on the way out. Bloodshot, heavily-lidded eyes, pale skin and under the influence of something, the man clutched blindly at the sugar packets, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger until the granules began to slip out.
The man glared at Ma-Ti as he passed, as if aware of being under close scrutiny.
Flick.
They headed towards the vehicles. Ma-Ti glanced back worriedly, shaking himself slightly. The carpark was dark, barely illuminated by the moon and the lights inside the diner.
"Good muffin."
Ma-Ti suppressed a laugh as Wheeler took a second bite.
"You are a glutton for punishment."
"Nah, man," he replied with a mouth full of food. "I'm just a glutton."
"Here," Ma-Ti said, grabbing Wheeler's arm and pulling him away. They verged off, heading towards a beat-up looking truck parked along a grassy verge. "Do me a favor?"
"Depends on what you —"
"Fry the engine."
"Huh?" Wheeler froze for a moment, probably doubting he'd heard Ma-Ti correctly. "Did you just —"
"Fry the engine," he repeated, gesturing towards the truck. "He has countless convictions for dangerous driving. It is about to get worse. Don't let him leave here."
After a moment's hesitation, Wheeler shrugged. He ducked around the engine manifold, aiming between the grates with a look of concentration on his face. A faint red glow indicated that the job was well and truly at hand.
It only took a minute. Wheeler emerged, scratching his head and glancing at the damage no doubt inflicted beneath the manifold.
"Done."
"Thank you."
"If I get done for property damage, I'm blamin' you."
Wheeler took another bite and powered ahead, climbing into the drivers seat of the waiting SUV and passing the paper bag to Linka beside him. Ma-Ti climbed into the back, settling next to Gi and passing out the drinks.
"You took ages," Gi said.
Kwame took his coffee eagerly. "We were about to send out a search —"
"Did you eat my muffin?" Linka's tone was accusing. She stared incredulously at Wheeler, looking pissed off. "Yankee, I —"
"I took a bite, babe."
"Just how do you define a bite, Yankee?"
"It's the ability to sink one's teeth into —"
"You have left me crumbs!"
"There's enough for a mouthful, there," he said, flashing that cheeky grin again as he started the engine, steering the car out of the lot and back onto the highway. "I'm not a complete —"
"Moron?" Gi finished for him. She rolled her eyes, stretching and resting her head on Ma-Ti's shoulder. "Asshole?"
"Glutton for punishment?" Ma-Ti added, reminding Wheeler of their earlier conversation. "I warned you that —"
"God, it's the food police," Wheeler muttered. "Guy can't even —"
"You ate my muffin!" Linka exclaimed, laughing. She shook her head, crossing her arms and settling her gaze on the dark road ahead. "I was looking forward to that!"
"Was good too," he said, watching Linka scoop the remains out of the waxed paper base. "See, just creates all the more anticipation for the next —"
"I will get my own at the next —"
"I'll sink my teeth into that one too, toots."
She scoffed, crossing her ams indignantly. "Do not think for a second that you are 'sinking your teeth' into anything tonight."
"Aw, that's not —"
"Ahhhh," Kwame said with a groan. "Too much information."
"I liked it better when you two were fighting outside of a relationship," Gi added.
"Better fighting when you're in one," Wheeler said, turning briefly to grin at Gi. He waggled his eyebrows. "Make-up sex is da bomb."
"Oh God, Wheeler," Ma-Ti laughed as he watched his friend earn a playful slap to the side of the head.
"Sorry, cutie." The American chuckled, reaching out and settling his hand on the back of Linka's neck, squeezing gently. "I owe you one."
Linka settled back, resting her hand on his thigh and Ma-Ti could see the gentle smile playing on her lips.
"Mmm hmm."
Nine Months Later
Oil spills were Kwame's least favourite Eco-Emergency. Despite the safety precautions, despite the strict embargoes and internationally-recognised safeguards, they still occurred at a dreadfully regular pace.
He toiled for another hour, covered in thick, black, choking goop. He could almost feel it seeping into his pores, polluting his bloodstream almost as much as the marine life suffering along the shoreline.
"We need to stop meeting like this."
"Sorry?"
Kwame straightened, looking around in surprise for the owner of the voice. A tall women stood behind him, wearing a plastic sun visor and a bulky white waterproof outfit. She grinned apologetically, waving a blackened glove in greeting.
"Us," she explained, peeling off the gloves and smiling at him. Chestnut skin and dark, curly hair tied into a pony tail that trailed to the base of her spine. Heart-shaped face and full lips. "It's just a pity we have to keep meeting under these circumstances."
"Oh," he replied, because nothing better was coming to mind. He swallowed, heart thumping faster in his chest. "Yes. True."
He recognised her by sight only, knowing her to be part of an international clean-up team funded by an eccentric philanthropist, whose seemingly innocent motives were driven more by his need for public adoration than an interest in the environment. But still, the funding provided the transportation, the manpower and the equipment, so who was he to judge.
He'd met her a few times before, yet her name alluded him.
"Exxon sure have a lot to answer for, don't they?"
"Yes," he replied bitterly. "I am sure their expensive lawyers will once again make the charges disappear."
"It's like juvenile detention," she remarked, eyeing the devastation. "Slap on the wrist and a 'don't do it again,'.
"Tell that to the wildlife," he said. Several carcasses lay along the shore line; otters, herons and dead fish mostly. Gi was up ahead, watering down the live animals they had managed to save.
"How are you, Kwame," she said warmly; her green eyes meeting his. She was extremely attractive — enough to recall several conversations over the past year at various sites (and a few knowing elbows to the ribs from Wheeler) but he still couldn't draw forth her damn name.
"Good. Well, apart from… you know," he said, gesturing around helplessly. He was a little lost for words, uncharacteristically tongue-tied. It wasn't a condition he found himself in that often. "The oil is… bad."
"Uh huh," she replied, and Kwame gave himself an almighty subconscious forehead slap; aware that he sounded like a complete fool. "Nothing out of the ordinary for us."
"Not much else that can be done, now. We are done for the day, but I am sure you will be onto the next —"
"Our contract runs out at the end of the year," she said. "Doubt it'll get picked up again."
"He will not renew —"
"No," she said, unaware of the way Kwame was peering at her with unabashed interest. "He's found a new cause. Couple of young kids developing large-scale, low cost collapsible tents. Refugee applications, that sort of thing."
"That's a shame," Kwame mused, before thinking better of it. "I mean, the lack of funding for you, not the —"
"I know," she laughed. "It's a great cause. We've already started applying for grants."
Kwame scratched his face, forgetting for a moment that his hands were covered in slime. Knowing he'd streaked oil across most of his face, he gave up trying to act cool and detached.
"I cannot recall your name," he said with an embarrassed laugh. "I am so sorry, I —"
"It's Asha," she said, laughing with him. "With all the people you meet in your line of work, I can understand if —"
"Do you want to get a cup of coffee?" he blurted out, not meaning to interrupt but wanting to get it out before he lost his nerve. "I mean, after this is —"
"Sure."
He gave her a radiant smile, delighted that she'd said yes. "How should we —"
"I can give you my phone number —"
"Hang on." Kwame attempted to retrieve his cell phone and realised it was buried beneath the god-forsaken plastic onesie he was wearing. "Oh, for goodness sake —"
She laughed. "It's not meant to be this hard, is it?"
Kwame shook his head, removing his own gloves and attempting to wipe the oil from his cheeks and brow. "Where are you staying?"
"Holiday Inn. It's a little out of town, but —"
"Pick you up at seven?"
"Sounds great." She nodded with a shy smile, suddenly seeming as self conscious as he was. "I'll see you then?"
"Count on it."
She nodded again, giving him a small wave as she headed back down the shore towards her colleagues. Lost in thought, Kwame headed back down the beach with a slight spring in his step.
Twelve Months Later
Flicking his cigarette onto the street, Bleak stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked along the footpath, tailing the group of girls at a distance.
His new career path didn't pay as well as the old one, but it granted him anonymity and he could pick and choose the work he wanted.
Corporate companies, conglomerates, rich housewives. Didn't matter where the money came from, so long as he was paid. Last week, it had been a cheating husband. Off fucking his personal secretary at a 'business trip' while his wife held down the fort with their two young children.
Trust fund wannabes, the pair of them. She'd paid well though, and the resulting monumental dummy-spit had been worth it.
She'd reached atomic bomb proportions by the time he'd presented her with the evidence.
Poor bastard had no idea what was about to hit him.
Mafia. Rival bikie gangs and accusations of stolen drugs. Investigating insurance claims was another branch that kept him busy. Usually investigation work that needed to be kept strictly off the books.
He'd built up a reputation now. People knew now to ask for 'Mr Black', a conscious effort to rebrand himself. Plunder was just a distant blip in his otherwise new, eventful life.
The girls turned the corner and he followed, walking casually along as they entered a cafe. Their school backpacks were heavy and cumbersome, but looked right at home amongst the jean and sweatshirt-clad bodies they were attached to.
They entered the same cafe he knew they would, destined to order the same shakes and fries he also knew they would.
Routine could be a blessing or a hindrance.
They settled into a booth and Bleak strode past them, taking a seat at the empty counter. He ordered a coffee, ignoring the shrieks of laughter coming from the high-school girls. Perusing the menu, he was undecided on what to eat. A body dropped into the stool beside him; a menu clutched tightly within her hand.
Long, brown hair and a wide face lightly dusted with freckles, the girl sighed, drumming her fingers on the counter and waiting for the waitress to approach.
Peals of laughter sounded again, and Bleak winced. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard.
"Jesus," he muttered, giving them a sour look.
The girl glanced at him but said nothing. The waitress bustled over and she placed her order on behalf of her friends.
The scent of juicy fruit. The gum popped and squelched between her teeth as she glanced again at Bleak. He watched her with unabashed interest.
"What?" she remarked, eyes narrowed with distrust. "Got a problem?
"Chewin' louder than a fuckin' camel."
Her eyes widened, obviously unaccustomed to elders swearing at her. Nonetheless, she snapped her lips louder. "That better?"
"No."
She shrugged, handing her cash over to the waitress. "Got a problem, you're free to leave."
"Just ordered my coffee."
"I can breathe louder it you want, too," she said. "Make fart noises with my armpit."
"How old are you?"
She shrunk back warily. "Not old enough, honey."
He grinned at that, taking a sip of his steaming coffee. "Just curious."
"Curious about what?"
"Nothin'."
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm seventeen."
"Fair enough."
She retrieved her change from the waitress, giving him a once-over. "Not a serial killer or nothin', are you?"
"What makes you think think that?"
"Just a vibe I'm gettin'." She popped her change back into her purse, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "How do I know you're not Charles Manson?"
"Charles Manson didn't technically kill anyone," he pointed out, taking another sip of his coffee. "So your whole point is redundant."
"Man, you're weird."
With that, she headed back to her friends without a second glance. He sat quietly for fifteen minutes or so, unable to help listening in to the girls prattle on about boys and clothes and other completely banal topics of conversation.
They eventually ran out of things to talk about. Rising to their feet, the girls filed out of the booth and the brown haired girl slowed, grabbing her bag and still eyeing Bleak warily.
"Grace! Move your ass!"
She jolted, hurrying to catch up and they disappeared outside, striding confidently past the front windows.
Bleak smirked, ordering a slice of apple pie and leaning back.
He had time. He wasn't on the clock.
Call it personal curiosity.
This was a one-off job, after all.
Two Years Later
"Move it or lose it."
Linka shifted her shapely legs, allowing Gi to take a seat beside her. A black and white movie was playing, something Gi had no hope of recognising but she settled down to watch it anyway.
Hope Island was a much-welcomed stop. A few days of rest and relaxation before they were on the move again. Gi hadn't realised how much she had missed the place until they'd landed yesterday.
"It is good to be home," Linka murmured. Her lilting voice was quieter than usual. She seemed tired, but they were all pretty exhausted these days. "I have missed it."
"Forgot what the furniture looked like," Gi commented drily. She pointed towards the Bali-inspired shutters. "Have they always been there?"
"Who knows." Linka tossed an arm across her face, settling down against the pillows and stretching her legs across Gi's lap.
"Comfortable?"
Linka wriggled her toes. "Very."
"Where's your other half tonight?"
"He and Ma-Ti went swimming, I think." She yawned, curling up on her side. "Somewhere on the south side."
"Kwame's out with Asha, no doubt."
"Hmm," came Linka's sleepy reply. "They seem to be getting serious."
"They're cute together," Gi offered. "She's lovely."
"How is everything with you and —"
"Don't know," she replied, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling fan whirring quietly above them. She shrugged. "Hasn't been returning my messages."
"Oh," Linka replied somewhat awkwardly, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "I am sorry, I did not mean to —"
"Wasn't really that into him anyway," she said softly. "I'm not worried," she said loftily, watching Linka flop back down onto the cushions with a heavy sigh. "Tired?"
"Da."
Gi smirked. "That rock on your finger weighing you down?"
"Oy," she said with a laugh, holding the ring out and twisting the diamond around her finger. "It is too big."
"That complaint get brought up in the bedroom, too?" Gi asked, snickering as a cushion impacted with the side of her head. Gi shrieked, tossing it back.
"Gi!"
"Just sayin'," she laughed. "Still can't keep his hands off you."
"Da." Linka stretched again, grinning. She nudged Gi gently with her foot. "There are no complaints from me in that department."
"Yeah."
Gi smiled at her friend, so thrilled with the way Linka's life had panned out. All of the changes were overwhelmingly positive. Linka was glowing. She seemed softer, even more feminine and lovely these days. Relaxed and carefree, no longer 'sweating the small stuff'. She seemed to have a new outlook on life.
Although being young and in love tended to do that.
Or so she'd heard.
"Cheer me up," Gi said, throwing her arm over her face in an overly dramatic fashion. "Help me forget my woes."
"We have a few days to ourselves," Linka offered, yawning again. "That is good."
"Yep."
"Holidays are coming up. Christmas and New Year."
"Party, party," Gi muttered. "Remember last year?"
Linka winced at the memory. "I remember spending New Years Day vomiting into the toilet bowl."
"Stock up on more wine," Gi muttered; more to herself than to Linka. "We goin' red or white for this holiday festive season?"
"Neither." Linka smiled gently, pushing herself into a sitting position. Her hair spilled prettily about her shoulders as she crossed her legs underneath her, reaching for the remote. "I will need to cut back this year."
"Early New Year's resolution?" Gi teased. "Or would vodka work just as —"
Linka shook her head but remained quiet, a knowing smile playing upon her lips.
"Uh…" Gi faltered. Her mouth opened and closed for a moment. "Care to clarify that?"
"Do I need to?" Linka quirked an eyebrow, passing a hand over her seemingly flat stomach.
Gi stared back, a delighted grin slowly spreading across her face. Shuffling forward, she placed her hand on top of Linka's — an intimate gesture of friendship, affection and solidarity.
Linka was right.
No further clarification was needed after all.
The End
Author's note
That's all, folks!
Eleven Months. Fifty-Eight Chapters. Two hundred and twenty thousand words. This little fic has invaded my day-to-day life for the majority of 2017.
Thank you for my reviews. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. You guys were the reason I kept going. I have a few people I wish to thank individually if that's okay. They freakin' deserve it and will get a little present in their inbox within the next week or two.
RRL24: your thoughtful reviews were so appreciated. Also, your professional insight into the complexities of fear and emotion were appreciated. I struggled with certain scenes in the fic (most of the Kroi scenes) and to read your feedback was so valuable to me.
Becks7: Thank you, dear lady! Your regular reviews were always looked forward to. Your fondness for all things W/L is lovely to see and thank you for sticking with me for the past year. I appreciate it more than you'll ever know!
Miss Mango: What a ray of sunshine you are. Just by reading your reviews and correspondence, I imagine you to be as bubbly and slightly kooky as i am! You and I have trodden the CP fandom for a while now, haven't we?
Arya169: Du bist wunderbar! I've loved reading your comments and observations, as well as your predictions. I hope you've enjoyed the spoilers I've provided. Your English is bloody perfect. No improvement needed!
OzQueene: time and circumstances got in the way towards the second half of the fic, but bloody hell, how amazing are you? The effort you put into editing my drafts had to be seen to be believed. Without a doubt, you've made me a better writer. Epithets are gone. Point of view is consistent — I'm no longer bouncing around character heads like a tennis match. The apostrophes and commas are still shit, but I reckon that'll always be with me lol! From the bottom of my heart, thank you and I hope all is going well for you, hon.
Thank you to PhoenixArisenAgain, Harbinger of Kaos, Cheznut2, Random-Ju-User and all my other guest reviewers. It was lovely to see you checking in!
Thank you to some of the old crowd from the days of the Yahoo Groups CPC. A couple of you sent encouraging PM's to let me know you were reading. You know who you are!
God. This sounds like an acceptance speech or something. Sorry. But I guess this is my way of officially re-retiring from the fandom. I'm done. My kids need their mummy back! I won't be writing any more new CP fics. I'm really proud of this one and happy to finish on a high note. I'm wanting to focus on other avenues and paths now.
All the best to you all. Thank you for sharing the adventure!
Sarah xxx