the_lioness | (no subject)

Summer in Olau is a wondrous thing. Far too many years have passed since Alanna felt she had a true home, and she has thrown herself into the daily workings of the Barony, riding out with Myles to visit the village and local farms, and speaking with the men and women hard at work in the orchards and vineyards. Adam has done the same, slowly relaxing under the scrutiny of strangers when he realizes they regard him with simple curiosity, not malice. In the evenings, they play and laugh with their newly formed family and rarely have cause to miss the bar at all.

Alanna was called to Corus for the better part of last week. Upon her return, she found she had to pause on the road when the castle came into sight, taking a moment to acknowledge the truth in the words she had once told George; the greatest joy of a journey is the homecoming.

She has a security shift today and arrives early enough for a drink and conversation, should any of her friends happen by her favored spot on the couch. As pleased as she is by the move, there are several people Alanna wishes she could take home with her to stay, but time and fate rarely bow to one’s wishes.

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That's the way of life; time and fate are up for grabs, and no one knows how any of it will play out.

Not till the end.

Or right before it, at any rate.

"Hullo, Alanna."

Lucy's face is a welcome sight and Alanna looks up with a smile, instantly moving to the side so she's not monopolizing the couch.

"Lucy," she replies, and the Good to see you doesn't need to be spoken aloud.

Lucy sits next to her without another word and smiles faintly.

"How are you?"

The usual banal response, uttered out of habit, is not forthcoming. Alanna seems to think about the question, then answers:

"Very well," and her smile widens. "I'm pleased with our decision to move home, even if there are things I miss."

Like showers.

"And you?"

She shrugs after a moment and smiles best she can.

"I've decided to move home as well."

The smile fades, making room for puzzlement.

"To London?"

In a different timeline or version of her world, perhaps -- it's not unheard of, and Alanna shakes her head to drive away an image of Thom.

"No."

And her smile's crooked.

"Really home. For me."

Confusion is slower to fade than the smile, and Alanna's brow furrows in a familiar stubborn expression as she slowly works out the meaning of Lucy's words.

Really home.

It's almost amusing how obvious it is when Alanna realizes; her face is far more expressive when her sword isn't in her hand, pointed at an opponent.

A moment later, she's chewing on her bottom lip and staring at the arm of the couch, watching her fingers frantically pick a hole in the fraying, well-used fabric.

"I'm sorry," and that's just sighed.

Pick, pick, pick.

Mutely, Alanna shakes her head and holds up her other hand. It's a silent request for a moment while she masters her thoughts and struggles with what to say.

It's also possible she doesn't trust herself to speak just yet.

"No," is her eventual response. "Don't say that."

When she looks at Lucy, her eyes are sad yet clear. On some level, she knew this day would come. It might not be easy, but it's not a surprise.

"I'm sorry I'm leaving," she says anyway, and then her smile's a little realer, "but I'm not sorry to go. Does that make sense?"

Alanna watches her friend, searching Lucy's eyes and finding, to her surprise, that she's smiling a little in return.

But only a little.

"It does," she admits softly. "Why now?"

"Because I'm tired." Very simply.

"And I want to go home."

"Both are sound reasons," Alanna comments, largely for her own benefit.

A glance down at her hands, folded now in her lap, and she holds a breath until it becomes painful.

"I wish I could have known you for longer."

It's nearly a whisper.

"I do too," she whispers back, and reaches out with one hand.

"I'll see you again. I will."

Her hand is clasped firmly in Alanna's own.

"Aye." Alanna smiles, and it's the sort of expression that indicates she won't accept anything else. "I'll believe that, for it is rare for me to have a female friend, and I'll always remember and love you as one of my very first and truest."

"And I you. There as here. I promise."

Alanna has to look away again.

She's not very good at goodbyes, possibly because this sort of farewell is a relatively new experience; in the usual way of things, death rarely comes with warning of its arrival.

But this is far from the usual way of things, and when all is said and done, she's genuinely happy that Lucy will finally find peace.

"And I hope you always remember our mischief," she laughs quietly, eyes bright and shining but filled with a sort of hope, "Matthew."

She laughs after a minute and leans over to kiss Alanna, gently and as friends do, especially in Narnia.

And it means, "Good-bye," a little, but she's hoping she'll see her at least once again before Sunday.

Just in case.

"I will, Alan. Promise."

"Good," and it's said fiercely and with a little blush, much like the sort a young boy might get when kissed by his mother, but then she turns and pulls Lucy into a hug.

It's not as if she's a stranger to being contradictory.

"When?"

"Sunday."

Just that.

Because it's the only answer she has.

"Then I'll be here Sunday," Alanna promises, nodding firmly and leaning against the couch arm with a mulish look of determination.

And her word, once given, won't be broken. Not if Alanna has any say.