Fic: Love Outlasts Death
Dec. 4th, 2011 05:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
embolaliaTitle: Love Outlasts Death
Pairing: Kara/Leoben
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,000
Summary: The way the world is, winter and summer happen at once.
A/N: This was written as a holiday wishlist gift for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
deborah_judge who asked for "A ficlet set in my post-finale "Prayers to the God of Earth" universe." You should go read that first because (a) it is gorgeous and (b) otherwise this won't make very much sense!
*****
Kara is preparing their evening meal when it happens. She’s humming to herself softly as she slices peppers, an old melody Leoben remembers her singing to their children. It’s as familiar to him as Kara herself, but he isn’t sure he’s ever known the words. By winter they’ll have a grandchild, he thinks, and perhaps she’ll sing again.
Suddenly the knife falls from her hand and Kara gasps. Leoben rises swiftly, reaching for a towel to staunch the bleeding, but he finds her unharmed. “Kara?” he asks in concern.
She turns toward him, tears shining in her eyes. “It’s time,” she says simply, and takes his hand.
He’s only a little surprised to find them suddenly outside, in the dark, standing in snow up to their knees. As the world reforms around them he takes it in slowly. Leoben recognizes it at once: the temple before them was once destroyed by his own hands, but enough time has passed that it has been rebuilt twice over. The brick is now crumbling with age. He feels the fluctuations in in the stream here, too, and recognizes with a sobbing breath what Kara means, when she’s brought them there. She squeezes his hand.
“This way,” he offers, and of course she knows, but Kara allows him to lead her toward a small stone house. There are candles in the windows, even this late at night, shining outward like beacons. Leoben pauses a few feet from the steps, remembering helping Kayla lift the keystone into place in another life. He follows Kara inside.
There are many people gathered downstairs, their faces vaguely familiar to him, echoes of people he once knew. Some are crying, others are talking softly. A dozen children are half-asleep propped up in armchairs or sprawled beside the hearth. Talia smiles at them as they enter, tears in her eyes, and a young boy, no more than eight, rushes to fling his arms around Kara’s waist. She presses a kiss to the top of his head, grandmotherly for all that her youth remains with her.
Una descends the stairs, unsteady with exhaustion. Her face crumbles when she sees them. “She’s been waiting for you.” Leoben hugs her close, lets her cling to him. He’s not sure if she remembers him or not, but is glad that if she does she bears him no ill will.
Upstairs Kacey is sleeping, looking fragile and lost in the sea of blankets. Kara sits down on the edge of the bed and he settles behind her. It would be hard to recognize his daughter if her presence in the stream were not so strong--her hair is white with age, her face lined with wrinkles. Around her bed are the talismans of her life: the goddesses Hera and Athena and Hestia, the images of her wife and children and grandchildren.
Kara reaches back to take his hand as she begins to whisper. “Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer.” She breaks off for a moment, then begins again. “Lords of Kobol, we thank you for the wonder of our daughter Kacey, for all you have shown her in her life, for who she has become. We trust that you will give her peace.”
Kacey’s eyes flutter open, and Leoben squeezes Kara’s hand. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Kara says softly. Kacey smiles up at them.
“Thank God,” Leoben murmurs. He can feel her spirit there with them, slowly easing free from the stream. He nods to her, this old woman, his first child, and she nods back in gratitude as she lets go. Kara turns, burying her face in his chest as she cries.
They are back in their home then, back on his Earth where it is summer and the setting sun casts shadows late into the evening. He can feel Kacey near him as the weeks pass, as he and Kara gather the harvest and pray for guidance and make love. Leoben asks her only once if she’s alright. She looks at him and her eyes are full of grief, but after a moment she nods. “Love outlasts death,” Kara says simply, and picks another ear of corn.
He isn’t sure if he’s grieving himself, but he thinks of Kacey often. He remembers a squirming girl, whimpering for her mother as he carried her quickly from the marketplace; a daughter in Kara’s arms, beloved and new; the young woman he guided and nurtured in the ways of God. She is all of those at once, even now.
The days are shortening again when a Simon comes running up to their door while they’re eating breakfast, panting for them to come at once. They reach their daughter’s bedside in time to hold her hands, to urge her on as she gives birth. For a moment Kacey is there again, filling the whole room. Then the baby begins to cry.
Kara turns to look at him in wonder. Leoben laughs with joy.
As they walk home, hours later, the new family settled behind them, Kara links her arm with his and rests her head against his shoulder. “Maybe you were right after all, back then. She was ours.”
Leoben shakes his head. “I was wrong. I didn’t know.”
She shrugs, smiles enigmatically. “Sometimes the pattern is too big to see.”
“Almost always,” he admits.
Leoben stops as they reach the steps of their home and wraps his arms around Kara, gazing out across the fields at the sunset. “What’s that song you sing?” he asks quietly, remembering her humming to the baby earlier.
Kara sighs, leaning into him, watching the symphony of color playing out in the sky. “I don’t know the words,” she says softly. “But my father used to play it for me when I was little.”
“Love outlasts death,” he answers, sighing with newfound peace.
“Yes,” she says, pulling back enough to smile at him. “It does.” She presses upward, kisses him on the mouth. The sun dips below the horizon.
Pairing: Kara/Leoben
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,000
Summary: The way the world is, winter and summer happen at once.
A/N: This was written as a holiday wishlist gift for
deborah_judge who asked for "A ficlet set in my post-finale "Prayers to the God of Earth" universe." You should go read that first because (a) it is gorgeous and (b) otherwise this won't make very much sense!*****
Kara is preparing their evening meal when it happens. She’s humming to herself softly as she slices peppers, an old melody Leoben remembers her singing to their children. It’s as familiar to him as Kara herself, but he isn’t sure he’s ever known the words. By winter they’ll have a grandchild, he thinks, and perhaps she’ll sing again.
Suddenly the knife falls from her hand and Kara gasps. Leoben rises swiftly, reaching for a towel to staunch the bleeding, but he finds her unharmed. “Kara?” he asks in concern.
She turns toward him, tears shining in her eyes. “It’s time,” she says simply, and takes his hand.
He’s only a little surprised to find them suddenly outside, in the dark, standing in snow up to their knees. As the world reforms around them he takes it in slowly. Leoben recognizes it at once: the temple before them was once destroyed by his own hands, but enough time has passed that it has been rebuilt twice over. The brick is now crumbling with age. He feels the fluctuations in in the stream here, too, and recognizes with a sobbing breath what Kara means, when she’s brought them there. She squeezes his hand.
“This way,” he offers, and of course she knows, but Kara allows him to lead her toward a small stone house. There are candles in the windows, even this late at night, shining outward like beacons. Leoben pauses a few feet from the steps, remembering helping Kayla lift the keystone into place in another life. He follows Kara inside.
There are many people gathered downstairs, their faces vaguely familiar to him, echoes of people he once knew. Some are crying, others are talking softly. A dozen children are half-asleep propped up in armchairs or sprawled beside the hearth. Talia smiles at them as they enter, tears in her eyes, and a young boy, no more than eight, rushes to fling his arms around Kara’s waist. She presses a kiss to the top of his head, grandmotherly for all that her youth remains with her.
Una descends the stairs, unsteady with exhaustion. Her face crumbles when she sees them. “She’s been waiting for you.” Leoben hugs her close, lets her cling to him. He’s not sure if she remembers him or not, but is glad that if she does she bears him no ill will.
Upstairs Kacey is sleeping, looking fragile and lost in the sea of blankets. Kara sits down on the edge of the bed and he settles behind her. It would be hard to recognize his daughter if her presence in the stream were not so strong--her hair is white with age, her face lined with wrinkles. Around her bed are the talismans of her life: the goddesses Hera and Athena and Hestia, the images of her wife and children and grandchildren.
Kara reaches back to take his hand as she begins to whisper. “Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer.” She breaks off for a moment, then begins again. “Lords of Kobol, we thank you for the wonder of our daughter Kacey, for all you have shown her in her life, for who she has become. We trust that you will give her peace.”
Kacey’s eyes flutter open, and Leoben squeezes Kara’s hand. “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Kara says softly. Kacey smiles up at them.
“Thank God,” Leoben murmurs. He can feel her spirit there with them, slowly easing free from the stream. He nods to her, this old woman, his first child, and she nods back in gratitude as she lets go. Kara turns, burying her face in his chest as she cries.
They are back in their home then, back on his Earth where it is summer and the setting sun casts shadows late into the evening. He can feel Kacey near him as the weeks pass, as he and Kara gather the harvest and pray for guidance and make love. Leoben asks her only once if she’s alright. She looks at him and her eyes are full of grief, but after a moment she nods. “Love outlasts death,” Kara says simply, and picks another ear of corn.
He isn’t sure if he’s grieving himself, but he thinks of Kacey often. He remembers a squirming girl, whimpering for her mother as he carried her quickly from the marketplace; a daughter in Kara’s arms, beloved and new; the young woman he guided and nurtured in the ways of God. She is all of those at once, even now.
The days are shortening again when a Simon comes running up to their door while they’re eating breakfast, panting for them to come at once. They reach their daughter’s bedside in time to hold her hands, to urge her on as she gives birth. For a moment Kacey is there again, filling the whole room. Then the baby begins to cry.
Kara turns to look at him in wonder. Leoben laughs with joy.
As they walk home, hours later, the new family settled behind them, Kara links her arm with his and rests her head against his shoulder. “Maybe you were right after all, back then. She was ours.”
Leoben shakes his head. “I was wrong. I didn’t know.”
She shrugs, smiles enigmatically. “Sometimes the pattern is too big to see.”
“Almost always,” he admits.
Leoben stops as they reach the steps of their home and wraps his arms around Kara, gazing out across the fields at the sunset. “What’s that song you sing?” he asks quietly, remembering her humming to the baby earlier.
Kara sighs, leaning into him, watching the symphony of color playing out in the sky. “I don’t know the words,” she says softly. “But my father used to play it for me when I was little.”
“Love outlasts death,” he answers, sighing with newfound peace.
“Yes,” she says, pulling back enough to smile at him. “It does.” She presses upward, kisses him on the mouth. The sun dips below the horizon.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-12-04 10:59 pm (UTC)“Maybe you were right after all, back then. She was ours.”
Leoben shakes his head. “I was wrong. I didn’t know.”
She shrugs, smiles enigmatically. “Sometimes the pattern is too big to see.”
Sobs, then goes away to remember why they're the most wonderful OTP.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-04 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-05 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-05 02:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-05 03:32 am (UTC)I love that you managed to give Leoben some reconciliation with Kacey, even though it's bittersweet. It's such a surprising mercy and grace for him to be given. I'm so glad they could both reach this kind of peace about their relationship.
And aaack, Kara all surrounded by grandchildren, oh how wonderful.
And yep, the pattern is too big to see, but still he saw parts of it and that matters too.
Finally your prose here reads like poetry, it's everything I try to get my writing to be. I'm so flattered and inspired that you saw this in my story.
And oh. Love outlasts death. That means so many things, they've been through so many different kinds of death together, and still they love each other. They are wonderful, and you are wonderful for writing this.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-05 04:00 am (UTC)I was trying to emulate the style of your fics in this universe, so the compliment is to you as well! Your whole comment (and your post) make me so happy :) Happy early holiday-of-your-choice!
no subject
Date: 2011-12-05 09:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-05 03:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-05 11:37 pm (UTC)Very nicely done.
no subject
Date: 2011-12-06 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-11 08:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-11 08:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-22 01:49 am (UTC)Bravo, E! Truly! *HUGS* K :)
no subject
Date: 2012-10-22 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-06 04:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-06 04:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-06 04:41 am (UTC)