Valentine
by Dr. Ruthless
Disclaimer: Alliance owns them and I merely adore them.
Rated: S for silly. Don't quite know, really. Why don't you tell me? I'm still not sure where it came from.
Pairing: Nathan/Victor - OaT
Beta: thanks to Jennie
Series: First in a series, continued in Eastern Rain , and Magpie
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Songs for my Valentine give the game away
In rhyme I make you mine, sing all I cannot say
I know mine are the tears I'll never cry
I know mine is the love I must deny
Songs for my Valentine give the game away.
He came into the library today.
He came in again after several weeks and after all the promises I'd made myself I still felt a light sweat break out on my body. I couldn't stay away, had to go to him, drown in the light from him.
The bug creature was with him, walking too close to him as usual. I tried to warn him. I always try to tell him, but he's either too brave, or maybe he's resigned to his fate. They always sacrifice the fairest of the fair to the gods.
This time I beckoned him close, and though I saw that he would rather not, he stooped to be with me, his face approaching mine until I smelled his sweet breath, sucking it down into my own craving lungs as though it were the attar of life itself. His lashes flickered close to my cheek, and his mouth was curved into the suggestion of a smile as he heard me out, perfectly coiled fury, awaiting the opportunity to spring free and devastate the world.
He had my heart in a silver dish, laid at his feet. How could he not see it?
"Victor," I said, and it was hard to find my voice. How is it that he could do this to me, while I was merely common clay beneath his shapely foot? He came closer; my head swam with the nearness of him. I imagined for a second - or less - having the temerity, the daring to lean forward and place my lips to his, and the idea was enough to scorch me, to make me shake and babble like a fool. He smiled in pity and I wanted to scream, `No! That's not what I need from you.'
I didn't. I remained silent, and his eyes met mine. He can compel with those eyes. His pupils glow. I sometimes believe that he is an angel, fallen to earth, tragic without his wings, to study us before he returns once more to his master.
"What?" I jumped. It had been only a second, and already I had lived lifetimes in his arms, worshipping him for his beauty, his kindliness and his sad heart.
"It's LiAnn. She buzzes." How could he not hear it? How could he remain with her when she so obviously meant his destruction?
"Buzzes?" Perhaps, this time, he would listen. If I saved him, he would continue to come and share moments with me, moments like this. I took a deep breath and began to tell him of LiAnn's race and their plot. I'd been to Saskatchewan. I'd seen
He listened gravely. Maybe this time I'd convinced him. I wanted to kneel and kiss the hem of his garment, but when I studied him, I wondered which hem would be politically correct. He dresses informally when he goes amongst us, my prince. I longed to see him clad in his gold and purple, seated on his throne as his subjects make obeisance. I craved the vision of his return to the seraphim, clad in white and born aloft on wings that spread over my poor presence as though to protect.
When he left after our talk, he thanked me gravely for my care and left me speechless, longing and desperate.
As always, I retreated into the stacks after his departure, and tried to relieve myself of the ache for him that never quite fades.
I have never yet found a book in this library to help me fight free of my love for this man.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Mac was here.
I've studied Mac, and haven't ever quite decided whether he is alien or not. His strange, spider-like limbs tell their own tale. I'd believe that he was from the same hive as LiAnn except that I can't hear him buzz. Perhaps that's merely a tribute to the being that designed his silencer system. I choose to believe that he too is a bug, and that Victor my Victor is their target.
This is a plot. They want to take my prince back to the hive with them, there to sire green-eyed larvae that will overrun the earth. Victor is no fool. He discovered a long time ago that LiAnn meant him no good. He was betrothed to her, and now he is not.
That tells its own tale, doesn't it? Mac's limbs are also telling tales.
There must be a way that I can break through his armor, convince him of the deadly danger in which he walks when he is with them. Once there are green-eyed larvae, doesn't he know that she will eat him? Consume my green-eyed god?
How to get through to him? How?
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
The Alien Queen comes and goes. She thinks that I don't know, but I do. I'm always careful of what I tell her. She wants him too, but she won't have him. If it came to pass that she succeeded in cozening my prince, I would sacrifice myself to save him.
She's behaving strangely to this day, but strange is the norm for her.
She kissed me once, and that wasn't even my first clue. I didn't like it. I didn't. It made me feel funny. Kinda like she'd maybe used her mind probe on me. Maybe she had. I hadn't been wearing my foil hat when in the library. I didn't think I needed to because of the lead, but it seemed that I'd possibly been mistaken. Maybe from then on I should start. I made a mental note to do some research.
I didn't know why she was behaving so differently. She seemed self- destructive. Victor needed to know this, and I told him. He somehow seemed to be overcome.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Usually, I drag home at the end of the day, once I have concluded that there is no further reason to stay. When I eventually leave, Victor has always long since departed. I know. I watch him. Nobody ever takes note of the librarian. They should.
It probably surprises you that I have a home a life of sorts -- beyond the books, the dusty papers, and the bytes of information amidst which I nest; but I do. There are other duties, other responsibilities that I have. I creep in, knowing that she hears me as she hears everything. I know that she will scream her abuse at me, and as usual, I will be calm.
A mother should be respected, shouldn't she? She's born so much, and now that she's bedridden, I should help her. Shouldn't I?
I always bear it, brooding on the threats to Victor, and in the end, I sleep, to wake up unrefreshed, with no solution in sight.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
On my way back into work today, I saw his truck, and felt the unmistakable shimmer of feeling from my heart down to my knees. It's Sunday, and he should, by rights, have been at home, or meeting with others of the Nine. Instead, he was on his way in to work. That could only mean one thing. He was coming to discuss his secret fears with me. He'd realized that I could help him -- that I could indeed see beyond the disguises his enemies had assumed, and that I could
Oh, I could.
For Victor, I could do anything. I stopped on an impulse and made a foolish purchase before I cycled over the grass to the door of Headquarters.
I wheeled my bike into the library and propped it up in the sports section. I took my lunch in its brown bag and laid it down in the cookery section. Then I turned to the desk on which lay a host of drab buff folders, deceptive creatures, demure of garb, unappetizing to look at and yet within as juicy as any morsel with their delicious contents. All the knowledge in the world although who would ever know it?
People discard information. They throw it away faster than they would rid themselves of candy wrappers, and I follow behind, gathering it up, harvesting it Insignificant I may be, but the things that I know would topple governments.
My folders lay scattered on the desk, tossed there like so many dead butterflies by the creatures that inhabit this complex. I smoothed them, restoring order within as I greeted each one like an old friend before restoring it to its place. I was deeply engrossed in the assembly of information newly supplied when I sensed the presence behind me. Not good. My internal warning system had failed. I would have to wear that foil hat after all. They were beginning to target me with their mind rays.
An ordinary man would have jumped, or turned perhaps, but I knew that was just what they wanted me to do, so I didn't. I can play with their minds just as easily as they can play with mine. I continued to put my papers in order, tracing the plans for a new stadium in downtown Vancouver, and then moving on to the mayoral proposals for dealing with the drug problem.
"Nathan?" Just the one word and all my intentions fell to naught while his voice shivered over me, a soft and tickling burr that robbed my heart of any steel and left me sick with wanting. Finally, I did turn, and there he was.
He was wearing blue jeans and a soft, fisherman's knit sweater with a roll neck, a blue jean jacket over the top. His jeans were tight against the muscles of his thighs, and the sleeves of the jacket were rolled back to reveal brawny forearms, scattered with golden hairs. I had no defense against him, could only stand and gaze at him, a lonely monster desiring a god.
"Victor." I felt the sweating start on my face, and groped for my inhaler, needing -- as much as anything -- to take the man's eyes from my face - a misdirection that might make me look foolish, but not so foolish as I could look were he to understand my thoughts. I found my inhaler, and then fumbled on the table for the foil that I had fashioned into a hat. I would take no chances that he could read my thoughts. The very thought made my blood run cold.
"Can I Can I help you?" My voice broke and I knew I sounded like a teenaged boy. So much for staying cool. I could see his eyes glaze over even while I was greeting him.
He wore that same, slightly suppressed smile that he always wore when he came down here, and a thought occurred. Dropping my file on the table, I raced to the shelf where I'd stored my lunch. I looked longingly at my purchase of earlier, but now was not the time. This was altogether too important. I fumbled in the brown paper bag and remove my apple. It was wrapped in foil, and I disrobed it hastily, replacing the apple in the bag. It would have to take its chances. Victor was far too important.
My fingers worked swiftly, smoothing and folding the sheet of foil as he looked on, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.
"Nice hat," he murmured, smiling, and I looked around, wondering if he meant that. His was almost finished when he began talking again. "Nathan, I need information on the import and export of items containing mercury over the past year, can you do that?" I paused momentarily. I could do it, yes, but should I?
"Mercury quicksilver. Why do you need the information? They use quicksilver to facilitate their change. It's not safe to tell them where unless" A thought struck me. I took my courage in both hands and inhaled swiftly, then moved over to where he was leaning, perfect and relaxed, against a stack of almanacs.
I said nothing, merely placed my offering of foil onto his cap of dusty brown hair to sit, a shining yarmulke, gleaming like the crown he never wears, opaquing his thoughts against those outside who would dare to steal them. He laughed uneasily and batted me away, but I gritted my teeth and persisted.
"They can't know your thoughts. The invasion could come at any time, and without you, it will all be for nothing." He seemed stunned at my kindness, although why I don't know. I'd told him so much about the things that are threatening us. Nostradamus was very clear about the threats, and Victor must have met with him. The Nine meet everyone.
"Yeah, my thoughts, right." He waved his hands a little, an aimless gesture quite unlike him. My suspicions were now darkly certain and somehow terrifying. This could be an attempt to infiltrate the system, and if so, where was my Victor? Where was my white knight, clad in leather armor to ride to the rescue of mankind?
I decided to test him. As yet, he still wore the protection I had offered, but that could be because it was too small to block whatever with any degree of reliability. I contemplated freeing my sandwich from its wrapping, but egg mayonnaise might speedily become contaminated. I restrained myself and moved surreptitiously towards the files that he required.
He began to walk towards them then, but I grabbed them, holding them to me as though I were a barrier he could not pass. I skipped behind a conveniently sited ladder, hoping to use it as a fortification, but alas I was too slow. His hand clamped the back of my collar and despite my struggles, hauled me around to face him.
"What the hell's your problem, Nathan? Come on. It's Sunday. Give me a break." I stood, quivering, trying to discern if his pupils were round or oblate. He bared his teeth and I sucked nervously at my inhaler. His teeth seemed right. There was a test if I only dared to employ it.
As he let go of my collar, I did the unthinkable. He expected me to retreat, but I didn't. Instead, I ducked forward and kissed him, searching for the tell-tale taste of bitter almonds that would reveal him as alien. I'd been kissed by the queen. Well did I know the flavor of the Nazarians.
I couldn't sense it. He stood, stunned, his hand still against my neck although he was no longer hauling on my collar, and I
I pressed forward. It was done now. He would know, and I would take this one kiss from him. I did. My tongue probed to taste him. Just for a minute I could believe that this was mine, and then, of course, he flung me against the stack to lie panting and groping once more for the inhaler that had dropped from my nerveless fingers; I found myself needing Ventolin as never before.
"Just what the hell are you doing?" His blank amazement was momentary, and then he looked downward. My telltale arousal revealed all, and I watched his face change soften. "Oh, Nathan. Nathan, I'm so sorry."
I hung my head and turned away, back to the stack where my impulse buy of the morning lay waiting. I took it to him and gave it to him, my prince. Then I went to find his data.
When I returned, he was still waiting, holding my gift, and he seemed lost as he stood, a shimmering icon, gilded by my love for him.
In his hand he held it. He hadn't thrown it down. It was a rose, blood red and velvet petals barely opened to reveal a tender heart, the stem encased in opalescent cellophane and plunged at the tip into a dagger-like plastic container allowing it to suck at the water within. It was ephemeral, but at that moment it was perfect, and it was my token for him alone.
Returning with the information that he required, I passed it over.
"Thanks." He turned, dreamlike, and left, my rose in his hand and my foil still on his head.
I sat down and wept for my one, perfect moment.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
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