by Mike Smith
Sighing, not expecting it to be that easy, Marcus was about to dismiss his Praetorian Commander for the evening, when he noticed the oddest thing. For the man’s and his daughter’s gazes were fixated on each other, to the exclusion of all else. It reminded him of a time, not so long ago, when he used to look upon his wife with such naked adoration.
“So Sofia, let’s try this again, before I die of old age. Who do you want?” Marcus asked, but this time with a knowing smile.
*****
Sofia stared out across the packed ballroom, observing the many happily dancing couples with a pang of envy. While many of the eligible young men had approached the unattached women, requesting a dance, none had approached her. Furthermore, she expected that none would. Her strong, classical beauty, flashing green eyes and long auburn hair deterred many of the more wary individuals. Her forceful personality and biting wit dissuaded many more, as more than one had received a crushing putdown in public over the years.
Even if one determined suitor managed to overcome the first two hurdles, none would dare face the third—her father, seated next to her on his high-backed chair, staring out pensively at his guests. His expression a barely concealed grimace, he looked as if nothing would please him more than to have some foolish young fop approach him to ask his permission for a dance with his daughter, so he could bite their head off.
Sofia sighed quietly, looking around, wondering where Jon was. At least he could be relied upon to entertain her. His descriptions of the various guests often bordered on the hysterical, as his simple upbringing gave him a unique perspective. Unfortunately tonight he has not at her father’s side. She assumed even the Praetorian Commander was allowed the occasional night off. He was so often at her father’s side, he had just become a permanent fixture in her life, part of that intimate circle that only included the three of them.
Finally she caught sight of him, off to one side of the crowd, talking to Lieutenant Zhang, his second in command. They were engaged in a heated discussion about something, and Elsie leaned forward, whispering something to him, so close her lips almost brushed his cheek. Sofia had to bite back the sudden surge of jealousy that swept through her, taken by surprise at the strength of it. For Jon didn’t belong to her, and she had no say about whom he could or couldn’t see while off duty. It was none of her business, which left her wondering why she was so incensed at the sight of the two of them together.
She was so caught up in her own internal monologue she failed to see them separate and lost sight of him in the crowd. She sighed again, assuming he had retired for the evening, wondering how much longer she had to stay, before she could make her apologies without appearing rude.
She was shocked when the guests in front of her parted to reveal Jon, approaching her. She unconsciously noted how the other guests just automatically stepped out of his way, the crowd separating before him and then reuniting behind. She was shocked to note that his gaze was firmly affixed on her and, as always, it seemed like everything else faded into the background, until it was just the two of them.
Then the moment passed, as Jon came to a stop in front of them, kneeling and bowing deeply before her father, as was proper. Strangely enough he didn’t even glance in her direction, which hurt more than she expected.
“Commander,” her father’s gaze finally came to rest on him, still kneeling before them. “I am surprised to note your attendance here tonight, as I thought that you were not attending.”
“A personal engagement this evening, my Lord,” Jon once again bowed deeply.
“Very well then, carry on,” her father dismissed him, and Sofia’s heart sank once again. So her earlier guess had been correct, that he would not be on duty tonight and therefore wouldn’t be keeping her company. She was therefore surprised when instead of retreating he turned to face her.
“Princess,” he uttered in that maddening way of his, part in greeting, part in farewell.
“Commander,” she replied politely, recognising they had many observers, as she was not the only bored attendee wondering if the arrival of the Praetorian Commander signified some dramatic happening.
“I would be delighted if you would honour me with this dance?” Jon carried on calmly, as if he were inquiring about her schedule for the evening.
“Excuse me?” Sofia blinked, thinking she must have misheard and her imagination was simply filling in the gaps.
“Dance with me, please?”
“I,” she faltered, suddenly realising that she wanted nothing more. But she glanced at the guests observing the proceedings with interest, then at her father, but he didn’t seem to have moved. She wondered if he had even heard Jon’s question.
“I’m sorry, Jon. No, I cannot,” she replied regretfully, hating herself at that moment.
Looking down at him, still kneeling before her, she expected to see disappointment, perhaps even a hint of regret in his eyes, but they were the same colour as always—like the morning mists on Eden Prime and equally as difficult to read. However, he must have seen something in hers that she could not hide, for his right hand came up and hovered for a second above hers, before he took her hand gently in his and pulled her to her feet as effortlessly as he stood on his own.
All conversation in the room came to an abrupt halt, as every eye in the room was instantly drawn to the couple. Even the string quartet came to a screeching halt. The silence in the room was deafening and Sofia bit her lip, waiting for the immediate repercussions. Turning to face her father, dreading his reaction, she wondered how she could possibly shield Jon from her father’s wrath.
Instead he stared at the pair quizzically, as puzzled as to why they both simply stood there. Motionless.
“My Lord,” Jon nodded slightly. “I will return your daughter, later.”
Then her father nodded. He simply nodded. Sofia was appalled, wondering what had happened to her father and who this imposter was. Then she didn’t have much time for any further thought, as Jon was pulling her forward, through the crowd towards the centre of the ballroom. Once again the other couples parting to allow them to pass.
“Jon,” she whispered frantically. “What are you doing? I don’t know if I can do this, as I’ve never danced before.”
“Sure you have,” he replied unconcerned. “I have spent countless hours watching as you practiced.”
“I’ve never had any spectators before,” she hissed back.
“Yes you have, you had me,” he replied, confidently taking her into his arms.
“That doesn’t count,” she disputed, although she had been very much aware of his gaze whenever he had been in attendance, taking his turn to guard her. For some reason whenever it was any of the other Praetorians she completely forgot they were there, but never with Jon. “What happens if I trip and fall?”
“Then I will catch you,” he reassured her. As if by some unknown signal, the music resumed, and he took the first step, followed by the next. She matched him step-by-step, perfectly in sync with him, as if they had been dancing together for a lifetime. So immersed in the moment, she only had eyes for Jon and didn’t even realise it was just the two of them, and that everybody else was only watching. The music seemed to whisk them away to some other place and time, where it was just the two of them, alone—forever.
Resting her head against his chest, his chin resting comfortably against her temple, Sofia suddenly had an epiphany.
This is what I want. Jon holding me in his arms, where I can remain safe, forever.
*****
“I was wondering how long it would take you.” A voice shattered the stillness of the room.
Sofia looked up, surprised, as Jon and all the other guests vanished, leaving her alone except for the woman kneeling before her.
“Lieutenant—Elsie, what are you doing here?” Sofia asked shocked, recognising the woman.
“Observing,” she said in a humorous timbre. “You know I used to watch you and Jon together all the time. I wondered if you two
were the only ones who were oblivious to what was plainly apparent to all. Jon at least I could understand, since he is as dense as a black hole when it came to his feelings for you, but you?” Elsie pursed her lips. “I thought that you were smarter than that.”
“I don’t understand,” Sofia shook her head in confusion.
“I would have given anything for Jon to look at me, just once, the way that he did you. I would have resigned my commission, transferred, anything. But, as Jon has repeatedly said, unfortunately you don’t get to choose who you fall in love with.” Elsie sighed, before continuing on with a smirk. “You know what? I used to hate you. I thought you were a rich, spoilt brat, who was just toying with his feelings.”
“Probably just as much as I hated you, as I thought that you were a thief, constantly trying to steal him away from me.”
Elsie laughed, looking up at her. “Well at least one of us was right about the other.”
Sofia reached out to Elsie, offering her a hand, which the other woman gladly accepted. Embracing her, Sofia said, “Thank you for everything. If it wasn’t for you and the other Praetorians I would never have had the short time that I did with Jon. My father once said he wouldn’t trade the years he had with my mother away for anything. I finally understood what he meant, and feel likewise.”
“I was wrong about you,” Elsie admitted. “It turns, out in the end, you were worthy of him, even if it did take you long enough to realise what was truly important. It was my honour to have served you.”
“How is he?” Sofia asked desperately. “Have you seen him recently?”
“Yes, I saw him recently, he is missing you both, and looking forward to the day that he will be reunited with you.”
“Tell him that I love him, and I finally understood what was important—him. The responsibility, duty, it meant nothing in the end, not unless you had somebody to share the burden with. That was what my father was truly trying to tell me. I’m only sorry that it took me so long to understand his meaning.”
Elsie laughed, a joyous sound, taking a step back, bowing deeply before Sofia, just as she once had to her father. “You have come a long way, my Lady. I am proud to have known you. As for passing on your message, I will leave that to you. As I expect that you will see him long before me, but I promise not to peek—much.” She giggled naughtily.
*****
“Wake up,” the voice caressed her, in time with the gentle brush of a pair of fingertips against her cheek and then lips. “Sofia, wake up.”
Slowly she opened her eyes. It had to be just after sunrise, as the light was slowly filtering into her bedroom, encroaching across the bed, illuminating the room and banishing the darkness.
A new day was just dawning.
Trying to shake off the strange dream she’d had, Sofia wondered who had woken her, even as her body subconsciously leaned into the caress. Her mouth opened to permit the entry of the fingers pressing against her lips, her tongue swirling around the fingertips, tasting them. A sound very much like a purr fell from her lips, as if her body recognised the taste and approved.
The next thing she heard was a sudden, sharp, indrawn breath.
Fully awake now and startled by her own reaction, her eyes snapped open. What was she doing? In bed with some stranger, licking him, her body humming, reacting instinctively, as if they had been lovers for years. The first thing that she noticed was the eyes staring down at her, wide in astonishment, their normal misty-grey colour darkening with desire and arousal. The rest of his face was exactly how she remembered him. Thinner, paler perhaps, but unmistakably her husband. Her gaze was drawn back to his eyes, as they were like windows onto his soul. They seemed brighter somehow, more carefree, as if a great burden had been lifted from them. It made him appear younger, more like the man she first met many years ago, before the subsequent heartaches had taken their toll on him. She saw that his gaze in turn was drawn to her lips, still wrapped around his fingers. She licked them instinctively and heard a guttural groan escape him.
His desire was raw and transparent.
Was it really him? For she had dreamt of him so often, it was sometimes difficult to separate her dreams from reality. A part of her wondered if that was all this still was—a dream? “Jon is it really you, returned from the dead, or are you simply a phantom of my imagination?”
“I’m real,” he reassured her, bending his head and tenderly kissing her lips.
“But how?” she gasped, her lips still burning from his kiss.
He frowned slightly and shook his head. “Later. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment. I’ll explain all later, but first I need to take my time concentrating on you.” And he did. She felt his hot breath scorch her neck as his lips brushed against her skin. She gasped and felt herself melt against him when he tugged at the soft flesh of her earlobe with his teeth.
She closed her eyes and flattened her hands on his torso, brushing her palms against his chest. Acting on impulse, she curled her fingers around the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer to her.
She looked up into his face and saw in his eyes what she felt in her heart. That they shared some basic, primitive connection that was so strong not even death could keep them apart.
“My sweet Sofia, how I have missed you.” His voice was rough, as he gazed into her eyes.
He resumed his quest to concentrate on her. She tangled her fingers into his dark hair as he continued to kiss her neck, her cheek. When she felt his rough hand beneath the cotton fabric of her nightdress, she sucked in a deep breath. She arched her back, trying to push closer to him, if that was even physically possible.
With a low rumbling groan, he covered her with his own body and lowered his head. The feel of his lips on hers were just as she remembered—incandescent. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down onto the bed with her. They sunk into the mattress with the weight of Jon’s body lying along the length of hers.
She closed her eyes and felt his fingers tangle in her hair. As they kissed, she felt his tongue brush against her lips. He deepened their kiss and she welcomed the intimacy of each stroke, thinking about the promise of a deeper intimacy they were about to share.
His hands stroked and caressed, his lips nipped and sucked, driving her skyward until she thought she’d go insane with need. Finally, she held his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. In them she saw a thousand promises meant to last a lifetime—but it was not enough.
“Wait,” she begged him. It took a few moments for her breathing to become even again and her mind to clear. “I cannot do this again, knowing that when I awake I will be alone again, you gone forever.”
Jon leaned back, a frown marring his expression, a pout that made him look far younger than his years on his face, but he gave her question serious contemplation.
“Then what about a physical reminder? Tangible proof that you can keep with you until the end of days. Something that you can wake up to. That will constantly remind you that I am real, and no figment of your imagination. As, in all honesty, it already belongs to you, and is something I have long been meaning to return to you.”
“What is it?” she asked, watching suspiciously as he reached behind him. Her eyes went wide when, in one swift movement, he removed the shirt he was wearing. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the dark, angry red scar running vertically along one side of his chest. She ran her fingers along the length of it, and looked up at him, questioning, “How did you get this?”
“A parting gift from Captain Benson, Malthus’s son, before I cast his soul into the depths of hades for all eternity.”
“I remember him,” Sofia murmured. “An arrogant fool who boasted about stealing me away from you.”
Jon looked at her surprised, not realising the two had ever met.
He once again drew in a startled breath, as Sofia’s lips followed the trail left by her fingers, causing desire to pool in the pit of his stomach, leaving him unsure of how much longer h
e could restrain himself. Catching her face in the palm of his hand, he angled her head upwards towards his own. “I hope that he didn’t hurt you?” he demanded. If he had, he would have to follow the bastard into the depths of hell and make him pay all over again.
Sofia simply shook her head in denial. “Robert had to finally pull me off him, before I could do any more serious damage than I already had. I don’t approve of killing in general, but I’m glad to hear he is dead. It saves me the trouble of doing it myself, after seeing how he has hurt you.”
Jon smiled widely, proud of this woman who had stood in front of all and loudly proclaimed she would stand by him, for better or worse, for so long as they both lived. “You can play with the scar later,” Jon promised her. “But that is not what I had in mind when I said I would give you tangible proof. Instead I meant this.” He lifted something from around his neck, where it had been resting on a chain, and Sofia blinked when she saw what rested in the palm of his hand.
“My mother’s ring,” she gasped. “I was sure it had been lost in the attack on Eden Prime.” She reached out with a trembling hand, worried that it was a mirage and would disappear when she touched it. But instead it was reassuringly solid, warmed by resting against Jon’s chest. As soon as she picked it up, she gasped. Not at the ring, but at the impression left in the palm of his hand. For the mark perfectly matched the ring now firmly in her grasp, as if they were two of a pair. “Jon, your hand.”
Taking the ring from her, he eased it onto her finger, where it belonged, making a silent promise to them both that this is where it would remain—forever. “Don’t worry love, it doesn’t hurt. Instead it is just a visible sign of the same brand that is on my heart and soul, for both belong to you and only you.”
His promise reminded her of Miranda’s words back on Eden Prime, that while she might have had his body, she would never have his heart—or soul, as both belonged to her exclusively. At that moment she shared some of the other woman’s pain, not being able to imagine the sorrow of having only such a small piece of this man, knowing that the rest belonged to another. She made a silent plea of happiness for Robert and Miranda, hoping they could work through their differences and be able to share what she and Jon had.