LAST INTERLUDE:



Sven and Romelle and…



     SHE FOUND HIM in his own quarters. His back was to her and he didn’t appear to have heard the ultra-soft shhhh of the portal sliding open and shut, didn’t raise his head at her unobtrusive entrance, so she paused for a long moment in the doorway, watching him in silence. She smiled at his dark head, bowed over his computer terminal. She couldn’t quite tell from where she stood, but she thought it might be a manual on the standard Altean sled he was studying so intently. Always the dutiful soldier, she thought, with a slight shake of her head. Well, not tonight. Her smile deepened.

     Padding silently across with carpeted floor, she stole up behind him, laid her hands over his eyes. Bending very close, she whispered playfully in his ear, “Guess who?”

     “Casia,” he drawled, caught her hand deftly in his own and pressed a kiss into her palm. She squealed in mock-indignation, but when he turned in his chair, caught her about the waist, and drew her to him she offered no resistance. She kissed his smiling lips, then glinted: “Don’t even joke about that. I wanted to KILL you! I mean Erik!”

     Sven laughed lightly. “Don’t take it personally, ren’ai. You’re really not his type, for which I’m glad.”

     “His ‘type’?”

     “Erik tends toward short, voluptuous brunettes.”

     “And you?” she asked, as he clearly expected her to.

     He kissed her palm again and his eyes glittered. “Wrinkled, old, blue-skinned witches, naturally.”

     She batted him playfully, wrinkled her nose, so, laughing, he put his arm about her shoulders, drew her closer against him. He grinned down at her, his eyes taking in the borrowed deep-green kimono-style bathrobe that was all she wore, the water-darkened blonde hair that clung to her long neck and shone like enamel. He lovingly tucked one errant, damp lock back behind her ear before replying soulfully, “And I absolutely CAN’T STAND honey-haired space-nymphs with skin like silk and eyes like sea jewels.”

     “Oh,” she murmured, nibbling his ear, “then I shouldn’t have left any hot water for you, I suppose.” Sighing deeply and putting him from her momentarily, “And I should have insisted you fly to Pollux to retrieve all my clothes and explain to Bandor why we’re not going home.”

     He feigned heart-felt relief, then frowned. “You spoke to Bandor, then? He did not take it well?”

     She sighed. “He was a little surprised, but he took it better than I thought he would.” She went on, with a wry twist to her lips, “He’s happy for us, but I wonder also if he’s secretly a little glad he won’t have his big sister to answer to for a long while.”

     “More likely we’ll be back before he knows it,” Sven said. “I think the Alteans appreciate our gesture, but I get the feeling they don’t REALLY need our help.”

     Romelle narrowed her eyes at him, then burst into rich, deep-throated laughter, delighted that she was able to get yet another over on him. “Oh, my love!” she cried. “You haven’t figured it out?”

     Thoroughly bewildered, he could only shake his head.

     She caught his hands in hers, playing with his fingers while she answered him. “Sweet,” she began, “dear my love, Lance hit on it earlier. You HAVE noticed that despite the fact that their lives’ work lies in scrap heaps the Alteans don’t appear a bit less pleased with themselves.” He was still giving her a puzzled look, though what she was getting at was dawning in his eyes. “Love!” she exclaimed, “they’re NOT upset because they’ve lost absolutely nothing! The beginnings of Gotora aren’t here, or if they are, they’re nowhere near the Lab, and never were!”

     “In all fairness, that occurred to me,” he said defensively. “I couldn’t believe it, though. It just seemed too good to be true and…I just kept seeing all those computers, all that machinery. And, well, with our luck…” An incredulous smile lit his face suddenly and with a joyous whoop he sprang from the chair, catching her by the waist and dancing her about the room. “So that’s what Lance was being so mysterious about! And meantime, Haggar and Lotor think they’ve destroyed Gotora forever. Ha!”

     She laughed up at him, thinking how his happiness delighted her, and how she had never seen his eyes look quite so blue. But her laughter died in her throat as he stopped to search her face with burning intensity, then drew her into his arms, lowering his mouth to hers in a passionate kiss. She placed her hands over his, drew them down from her cheeks to her waist and the knotted sash that held her robe closed. His eyes fluttered open and his brows lifted questioningly. She nodded, kissed him, and then let go for him to twine the sash about his fist and with a decisive tug, spin her free. The robe slipped to the floor and she heard him catch his breath at the soft curves of her slim, naked form, the moisture from her shower still glistening along her white throat and the hollow between her breasts. Then she wrapped her arms about his neck and reclaimed his mouth in a fierce, urgent kiss, felt his arms tighten about her. Still kissing her, he caught her up in his arms, carried her the rest of the way to the bedchamber.

     He stooped to lay her down on the bed gently, but she held on to him and with a vivacious laugh pulled him down beside her. They rolled together, getting tangled in the coverlets and in her long, unbound hair. He couldn’t stop touching her, running his hands through her hair, exploring all the soft curves of her body with light but insistent fingertips. She fumbled clumsily with his collar-more intent on what HE was doing than on her own objective at present-laughing between quick, fiery kisses, “I don’t know how to get you out of this thing!”

     He grinned, struggled into a seated position, and began to pull off his navy and white tunic. She was up in a second, flouncing behind him before he could protest, saying softly, “Let me. I’ve figured it out, now.”

     She helped him…slowly, shook his arms out of the sleeves and pulled the shirt over his head, then cast it aside. She ran her hands over his lean, muscular back and whispered in his ear, “I love you,” while he leaned against her, a deep sigh rustling in his throat. She had seen him shirtless before, but never up close, so she took her time in examining her lover’s body. She frowned slightly; there was no fat on him at all, no bulk, just muscle and bone. And still pale, though he had gained back some of the color he had lost while he lay wounded in Haggar’s cell. But a healthy glow seemed to burn under his skin now, which she knew had much to do with her proximity as well as with the victories of the past few days-and long hours of uninterrupted sleep. She planted soft kisses on both of his shoulders, then brushed his hair aside to kiss the nape of his neck. Her frown deepened at the four straight slash marks there, made by Haggar’s cat long ago. To her eyes they still held frightening immediacy. She traced them with light, cool fingers, then forced her eyes downward, to take in the rest of his scars. They were many and deep, criss-crossing each other in many places. She closed her eyes, recalling how free Zarkon’s soldiers had been with their laser whips. She’d told herself she could never grow numb to the sight, no matter how many times Lotor had forced her to watch the torture of his slaves, but for her own sanity she’d had to. Only, this was different. This was Sven. HER Sven. One scar, just to the right and below his left ribcage was a deep, discolored indentation, as though someone had once rammed a spike through him. Which, she remembered with a shudder, someone had.

     She felt his muscles tense beneath her hands as he realized what she was doing and her throat closed up.

     She loved him. She loved everything about him-his goodness, his bravery and honor and courage, his easy laugh and slow smile, his need to protect those he loved without question or hesitation, his way of pretending shy detachment and reserve as a shield, but couldn’t help but let his true feelings shine through. The medics on Planet Ebb had had time only to save his life, not to put him back together entirely. Well, that was for HER to do! Her alone!

     She moved so he was looking up at her and said gently but firmly, “We have scars all over our bodies and hearts. They signify an attack, a past hurt. But a scar also shows something that’s been tried and proven. It testifies healing and endurance.”

     She thought she saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes and all at once she wanted his arms around her again, to hold him so close she could believe they would never be parted again.

     “Romelle,” he murmured, touching her cheek lightly. “Ren’ai, it’s all right. It’s all past. It is.” But her grasp on her own emotions was more tenuous than she would have him believe and when his eyes met hers finally she could contain herself no longer and fell into his arms with a bitten-off cry.

     He held her while she shook, his arms tight about her, his breath stirring her hair. For a long while, overcome with intensity of emotion, all she could do was cling to him, whispering, “I love you, I love you,” over and over into his shoulder. He held her even after she had stopped shaking, and it was his own turn for impotent rage at the past, at what could never be undone. If he felt any lingering hatred it was for the fact that she had ever been hurt. “Shhhh,” he soothed, and felt her relax against him. Still he held her--tightly--his hand knotting in her loose, tangled hair. He was more than just her protector, now, he thought; he was her lover, and could defend her in body and soul, as he had always longed to, but never dared to hope he could. Silently he vowed a second time that while he breathed, he would never let her be hurt again.

     By and by she sighed and stirred against him. He strove to suppress the reluctance in his voice. “It’s all right, ren’ai. We have time, now. It’s all right. I’m here. It doesn’t have to be tonight.”

     He felt her shake against him again, wasn’t sure if she were sobbing or laughing. Then suddenly she pulled away from him, caught his hands in her own, and favored him with a look that singed his good intentions. She planted feather-light kisses on his fingertips, then moved upward to the pulse at his wrists. “My own Astral Knight,” she whispered into his wrist. Then she laughed up at him. “But I came here EXPRESSLY with the intention of seducing you.”

     He laughed softly, and with infinite relief. “It’s working!”

      “Lie down,” she instructed, kissing him and easing him back against the pillows. Delicately, and with many a smoldering over-the-shoulder glance, she resumed undressing him. He couldn’t help laughing at her melodrama, though, and neither could she once he started. With his eager assistance it wasn’t long before the rest of his clothes lay in a heap on the floor. He reached for her. She took his hand and slid down beside him, drawing the coverlets over them and neatly blotting out the rest of the world. “I can hardly believe it,” she said, her voice still rich with laughter, her arm curling behind his neck.

     “Neither can I.” He traced the curve of her face. “I was dead.” Softly, mystified.

     “So was I.” And it seemed to her now, that she had been--and so had he--dead and buried. Surely neither could have imagined, as Lotor's captive or nameless slave, that such happiness could still exist for them in the world. She looked down into his sheltering, loving gaze and a tender smile curled her lips. “I have wanted you this way for so long and yet, now…it hardly seems real.”

     “I know.” And she saw he understood perfectly, all she had not said. He cupped her chin in his free hand, said in breathy amazement, his eyes shining through the unshed tears that trembled on his lashes, “But it is. Love, we won.”

     She knew, and she knew he knew, that it wasn’t the war they’d won, not yet. Still, it was a victory, one they’d both believed lost to them. And then, at that moment, lying in each other’s arms, it was enough. The rest could wait. So she simply leaned over, called him her own knight again, and kissed him over the heart.

     “Let’s try this again,” he murmured. He pulled her to him, capturing her mouth with his own. Her arms tightened about his neck instinctively, her legs sliding up to twine with his. She squealed with delight as he rolled over on top of her.

     Amazed and pleased at how quickly their ardor rekindled, breathless from the sudden tumble and ardent kisses, Sven propped himself up on one elbow, framing her lovely face in the crook of his arm. Her hair spilled out over the pillow in waves of dark gold silk and he had to touch it again, marveling at its softness and texture. Her eyes, upturned to his, were wide and waiting, dark as sapphires in shadow and so trusting that words failed him. He could only gaze down at her with love, with need and admiration and-desire. He twined one long strand of the dark golden hair about his fingers, brought it to his lips. “Romelle.” The spell broke. He had never spoken her name that way before-no one had-sensually rolling the ‘r’ on his tongue, savoring the ‘m’ and the ‘l’s. “I love you. I love you so much…” He moved from her mouth to the line of her jaw, then to the hollow of her throat, his lips following his hands as they stroked their way down her body. She gasped softly, arching against him, one hand tenderly caressing the soft, smooth skin of his neck, the other clutching at his hair. “Oh God, I love you,” he said huskily, his warm breath tickling her belly. “I have always loved you. Everything I have, all that I am...”

     “Sven.” Suddenly his face was close by hers again. So beautiful, she thought, stroking back the damp raven locks that tumbled over his brow, tracing the deep curve of his smile. So wonderful and precious. And there, at her side, safe in her arms where she had so longed to hold him. She could still taste his breath on her lips, ached to feel his mouth against hers again. His sea-dark eyes held hers, burningly, as though he found some secret source of power there. She smiled-incandescently. “Love me,” she breathed, “Love me, now.”

     He lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss that obliterated everything beyond the borders of that bed, burned back the ghosts of their past and the Galaxy spinning without.

     Sven, she was soon to find, was as honest in love as he was in all things. Slowly, lovingly, over the course of the night she drew him to her, easing away the last of his detachment and whatever remained of his pent-up anger and self-hate and frustration. Not that he needed much encouragement. He responded to her soothing words, her sweet kisses and tender caresses with a passion and an urgency at least equal to her own, for such was his nature that he could not help but give her his whole heart when she gave him hers. When later she did taste tears against her lips, she never feared, knew them for tears of joy. There was so much more to healing, they both knew, than the mere closing of wounds. There was learning to live with the past, feeling safe in surrendering oneself wholly to another person, and reawakening such sweet, long-buried indulgent pleasures as holding one another after loving, and laughing in bed.

     He never looked back on his decision to abandon his vengeance, never even saw it as a choice he’d once had to make. He’d meant what he’d told the witch, that love was stronger than hate, and love had won out, for then and forever. In that instant all the hatred he’d borne in his heart had been translated into love-for Romelle.

     They had both been strewn from the paths they’d originally set out on, and discovered something infinitely more rewarding and precious. She had put aside the destiny her parents had laid on her for a dream of her own and for someone who looked at her and saw HER and loved her for who she was. He had abandoned his dreams of a glorious military career and found his own cause, his own honor, something he alone could fight for, die for, and best of all, live for.




     In a secret room hidden somewhere in the great and many folds of time and space, three men and two women listened in patient silence as the transmission from Altea came to a close. Once it was over they continued to sit in silence for a long time.

     It was broken at last by the youngest of the group who said, somewhat breathlessly, “The danger has passed.”

     “You sound surprised,” the eldest remarked from the shadows. There was a trace of amusement in his voice.

     “Frankly, I am,” the youngest answered reflectively. “That was close.”

     “No it wasn’t,” the elder woman said sharply. “If you had any faith in the Ancients… But, that is very human of you. You live among them long enough, you begin to pick up some of their traits.”

     The youngest bristled. “I AM human, remember? And I’m not ashamed of my fear! I don’t have to cloak it in arrogance. When I think of what might have happened had Hoshi’s Vision gone awry…”

     “But it DID not,” the woman snapped.

     “Enough,” the eldest broke in finally, holding up his hands and both fell into chagrined silence. They followed his penetrating gaze to the window, outside of which stars spun by in patterns few human eyes had ever seen, or ever would see. It was an arresting view, hypnotic and strangely calming at the same time. The eldest intoned softly into the silence, “We won this time, but the struggle is not over. This is only the beginning. And for the love of all things, we must remain together in this. May all our battles end so well!” His eyes remained locked on the window. Without, space was a cold, black void, but one that glimmered with a multitude of stars, like so many candles in the darkness, burning back fear and the chill of space, suggesting hope for the future.


THE END
(5/10/99)


Back to Fan Fiction