From: Adrienne Date: Tue, 28 Nov 2000 14:07:40 -0800 (PST) Subject: xfc: Unspoken Stories (1/1) by Adrienne Source: xfc Title: Unspoken Stories Author: Adrienne Classification: V Rating: PG Keywords: MSR, Roadrunners Spoilers: Minor season 8, Roadrunners Summary: none Disclaimer: The characters are not mine and I'm not making any money off of this, trust me. Author's Notes: Just something I came up with on a whim. ________________________ He asked me where they came from the moment he saw them, the marks on my back, the smooth, shiny flesh that had been different before--before all of this happened. He traced his fingers around the circular scar at the small of my back, and I winced at the tingle it created, like icicles piercing my spine. He asked me what it was, and I didn't know where to begin. He asked me what had happened to my neck, the longer mark overshadowing the smaller, almost invisible one from the incision to remove the implant. Immediately he was worried; had someone tried to take it out again, some barbarian, one of those doctors, one of his men? Who did this to you, he asked me softly, a whisper against my shoulder. He had returned, bearing his own new marks as well. Tiny spots on his face, a nearly open sore on the inside of his upper palette. An incision mark on his chest. He didn't know how he got them. They had been well treated, but when I asked him, there was no explanation, just a clouded look in his eyes as he furrowed his brow, desperate to remember. He didn't remember. They were just there, evidence of a recent past that he didn't know. A past I didn't know... a past neither of us would probably ever know, and that in itself was harrowing. I knew where mine came from. I told him and he was angry. Angry that he wasn't there to protect me from them and angry that my new partner had done this to me. I told him it had to be done and I told him that my new partner only did it to my urging. He calmed and turned me to face him, burying his face in my hair, soft apologies flowing past his lips and over my scalp, warmly, almost as warmly as his tears. I wasn't there, he whispered, I wasn't there and I'm sorry. His fingers found the scar at the small of my back again and smoothed over it, over and over again; he was thinking that if he touched it enough it would disappear. I kissed the line on his chest, between his nipples, wondering if we had healed together in different places at the same time. I wondered who had felt more pain, and who wished more to take that pain away. I told him he was here now, and now is all that matters. New marks were just additions to the old, battle wounds that we collected over time. We would gather more in our time together, some explained, others most likely unexplained. That realization made the silence louder as we breathed the same air once again. They offer lost, unspoken stories. We read them as well as we can. -end- ===== Shake ya ass But watch ya self Shake ya ass Show me what you workin with http://petpede.tripod.com