a/n: Been a while, huh? But I'm not dead, trust me. Just working on other stuff, that's all.

Before this commences, the purpose of this fic is not to live out my private fantasy or outshine any of the canon characters; you know, normal Sue stuff like that. I don't mind if you take it that way, either. It'll just show that...well, someone decided to go only skin deep with this thing. Crit is welcomed of course; my writing can always use some more. And this may be stupid, but I'm iffy about the rating. If it's necessary, please tell me if I should rate it higher.

Thanks to MadameLady for beta-ing this. Poor her. XD

Don't own the Hawks. Just taking one of their characters in particular for yet another spin around the block.

The waves wash up on the beaches, taking Merbs with them. Earthquakes thrash the land, making a few unfortunate souls perish under the weight of their own roofs. A crack of thunder, and most of us feel the sparse hair on the back of our curved necks stand up strait like a hundred thousand lucent beacons. We look at water and cringe, at once imagining water filling up our lungs as we try to scream and nothing comes out. We have nightmares about acid rain, and delusions in daylight about microscopic organisms contaminating the air that we breathe. There is an awesome thunderstorm tonight. A few times I saw lightning touch down onto the highest peaks of the visible mountain range and setting some trees on fire. Dangerous possibilities form in my mind at the thought of the flashes of light passing through my body, but I don't flinch or shoo them away.

See that red skinned female sitting by the window?

That's me.

The storm had lasted for hours. It was a rare sight to behold; if Merbs actually took some time away from their outrageously intricate scenarios depicting their deaths, they might actually be able to see the glorious demigod that is nature. Storms of any kind were brilliant displays of power. I used to be exactly like them; fearful of anything that could take my life away. Ordinarily I'd be walking the streets, enjoying my day off from my studies. The fact that it was raining wouldn't be an issue either, but after the fiftieth time of being badgered by strangers to flee from being in contact with some falling water, I figured it wasn't worth it, and no sooner had I emerged from the confines of my home I was back. Sitting by the window, bored and cradling my elongated face in the palm of my hand, no less.

Watching this misunderstood phenomena go by.

Stork wouldn't have wanted me out there anyways, I reasoned with my barely suppressed audacious guise. A guy can fly over the moon and through the dust-filled clouds, meet every kind of strange creature you could possibly think up in your pretty little head, scrape by without food, and cheat death precisely four hundred and eighty two times.

But let your mate wander outside in a drizzle…blasphemy.

He should talk. If anyone was an oddball in Merb society, it was him.

Oh sure. The fearful mindset and near psychotic precautions to prevent anything bad happening was so widely accepted. If you were to spend forty years of your life creating a device that would keep you from getting paper cuts, what would have been deemed a complete loser is judged as a hero. But Stork was the first to actually go beyond all of the conceptions, and see for himself if the world really did offer all of the rumored danger. And, according to him, it most certainly did. That didn't stop me from being jealous of the fact that every day he got to leave the terra to help restore the rest of Atmos.

The restoration process was becoming tedious. I don't mean to sound selfish, but all of this renewal of the crumbled parts of the world sounded more and more like poor bastards who couldn't help themselves each time Stork came home and described his day. I begged to go with him; I literally got down on my slender knees and begged him, gently but desperately gripping his skin tight black uniform and trying to capture his approval with my shimmering teal eyes.

He flat out said no. I have to say, I was sore at him for that, but what could I do? It wasn't in my place to argue with him about it. In fact it really wasn't in either of our places to argue about anything. The common goal for a Merb, no matter how adventurous of a personality you have, is to survive. In his opinion, I would perish at a later time if I just stayed on the terra and continued my studies, which were becoming increasingly more boring each time I went.

The time he was gone left me listless and jaded. The Restoration stressed him out, but was also interfering with…other things.

I wanted to become pregnant. I wanted to feel the swell of my stomach filled with fertilized eggs that were striving to see the vastness of the world. And I wanted to be the kind of mother who would let them see that. Had I not been released early from my classes, we would come home to the dwelling at the same time. We would try and hold off our desires as long as we could. My skin would perspire and itch at the uncomfortable feeling of his black beetle eyes not meeting mine; because looking at each other would just make it more difficult. After shutting all the blinds to make sure that no one was looking into the dwelling (because he's just paranoid like that), he would pace the rooms. To anyone it would look like something was on his mind, something negative.

But I know he's just trying to cool down.

Because through the years that we've spent together, we found that it was hard to keep our hands off of each other. Although I looked forward to seeing him this evening, part of me knew it wouldn't matter. It would just be another internal battle to see how long we would last. Which, for me, was a damn shame. Not only did I like being with him, but I wanted children. He rarely protested intercourse, although the possibility of kin was something that made him quite nervous. But lately…he just wasn't in the mood. He didn't have to say so, and I didn't need to ask. I'm just an observant female.

Of course, there was the option of not letting him refuse me. Such thoughts of control would be looked down upon. Then again, there were a lot of things within our relationship that would be looked down upon. And we didn't care.

Sometimes we pretended to, but the charade always failed in the end once we were together.

I heard him enter the dwelling. I turned from the window to see him just inside the door; teeth chattering and soaking wet. My blue eyes tinted shrewdly. He would soon eye me like a stalking tiger, claiming that he didn't like it when I got like this, but then concede to yet another sweet and fulfilling surrender. He looked comical, standing there in the jet black uniform we were all requested to wear in public. Even from here I could see the meager hairs on the visible parts of his body standing strait up; probably from having to walk from the edge of the terra to our locality in the pouring rain and clashing thunder and lightning. I put away the shrewdness for now, and went to greet my husband.

"Glad to be home finally?"

"Glad to be alive is more like it." He sneered, ringing the water out of his long greenish black hair that was now almost down to his waist.

I chuckled. "I walked home in it too."

Stork looked at me and narrowed his eyes through the damp stringy curtain on his head.

"You know I don't like it when you're out in the storms."

"So you're assuming that I was the one who made it rain just so I could disobey you?" I said, and I smirked.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "No…"

"Good. Now…" I took the opportunity to discreetly brush the back of my slender red hand against the drenched material of his suit.

"I think you'd agree that it'd be good to get you out of these clothes."

Nodding absentmindedly, he reached behind him to find the small invisible zipper on his back. My thin lips turned upwards ever so slightly and my eyes glinted as I heard the zipper go further and further, raking down the tiny metal teeth of the typical contraption.

And then to my dismay it stopped.

Stork was looking directly at me, and I automatically kicked myself once again for showing my thoughts on the contours of my own face.

"I think I'll change in the bedroom." He said, and walked past me, pointedly brushing his moist shoulder against mine as he went.

My mouth threatened to form a wolfish grin. It was amazing how much of a sly bastard he had become; how good at our little game he had become. The past few months had been tedious and hard on him, impeding on the physical aspect of our relationship.

I wanted to savor this; such a twist of fortunate fate couldn't possibly last long.

I followed him slowly, and walked down the hallway, careful not to slip on the small puddles of water that he had tracked in from outside. I stood in the shadowed doorway of the bedroom, leaning my head up against the door frame and watched Stork shed his layers of clothing. He couldn't see me, but somehow my presence was palpable.

"You're certainly taking longer than usual." He said, not even glancing in my direction.

Contrary to what I'd like to do, I had to see if this wasn't some kind of joke.

Let me stress that this is the same man who, the other night, pushed me firmly but harmlessly away from him when I pulled myself close to him. Why was he provoking me, especially when he knew that when I got my chance, I would be gentle with getting my fix? Thoughts to rest, I silently entered the lightless bedroom and grasped his neck softly as I kissed him deep, in this way telling him that he better be serious and that I wasn't messing around. Merb skin is often cold and clammy, but our skin was on fire, even with him still partially wet. He lifted me up and placed me on our cot that we shared every night, and my inner radar suddenly felt at home as I found myself underneath him. My maroon tone flushed darker, and lime green turned to forest. From then on I couldn't tell if it was dark or night, or if the rain had finally cleared up. I couldn't tell if I was numb or having another one of those blessed sensory overloads that he had gotten very adept at giving me.

There were two things that were most prominent in my mind: One was survival.

The other one was the fact that I never wanted to give this up.

Marriage was talked about as some kind of final frontier. A threshold that barely anyone on Merb dared to cross. Those who did were at first admired, but then pitied, like their choice to be a union and create children was a signed death wish. I was eighteen, female, and like other girls, looked upon as a commodity of sorts. I never did have a sob story to burden my friends' ears with, but apparently I had this air about me that made it seem like something horrible had happened in my past.

But who really cares about what goes on behind the curtains of our experiences when really, surviving those experiences are all that really matters?

Merb society is weird when it comes to the sexes. Females were revered as something very rare and special, but it was a feeling short lived. As children we are cuddled and told every day what blessings we are. As we grow, we feel like freaks. A single isolated group of legatees whose only purposes in life became being the ones to be gawked at in public if we walked without an escort, and the future recipients of the other sex cell that would make us bear children. Merbs didn't like to bear children; it's something we all knew. But it had to be done. And in an underlying fashion, they put that nearly invisible but nagging responsibility on us. The girls.

I still lived with my parents. One morning I was out the door and on my way to my classes, and my friend Skua caught up with me.

"Morning Jacana." She said. Her voice was very high pitched, and my sensitive ears twitched as she greeted me.

"Morning." I replied. My voice was so low, especially at the beginning of the day. Sometimes, people would mistake me for being a male.

"So last night I had this dream that I was standing on that cliff over by the Lapwing ward, and all of a sudden this gigantic monster rose out of the clouds and took me by the waist and started climbing up this huge mountain and everyone was trying to rescue me, but the thing was holding on so tight that there wasn't even a chance that I would slip-"

This was sounding like a movie I had seen a long time ago in one of my classes. Nonetheless, did I mention that Skua talks everyone's ears off? But I can deal with it. It's not like she's too annoying. And besides…she is my friend after all.

My friend. Right.

Once again our morning walk to class consists of her babbling like a maniac while I listen (or tune her out) in silence. I had my long jet black hair braided into a plait that fell thinly along my back, mixing with my uniform that was the same color. The only thing that even hinted uniqueness was my blood red skin peeking out from the black. Although Skua and I differed greatly in looks, but we both had the same color eyes. The old saying opposites attract can seriously shove it, because it's obvious in our case. I liked Skua; she added something into my day that I couldn't produce myself.

Whatever that 'something' was, I really didn't know at the time. I felt too dumbed down to even notice my own feet.

We went to the campus which the girls attended to. About a mile the other way was the campus for boys. The common thing for girls to do was to sneak over to the guys' campus, just to see what it was like. It wasn't forbidden for females to be over there exactly, but if boys were to see them, it would just be…weird.

Scary too. And Merbs didn't like scary. So they rarely did things that would make them scared.

Occasionally, someone broke away from the collective, and did something that everyone else considered drastic.

Back then I wished I had that urge. That impulsive urge that sometimes overcame other Merbs that caused them to do insane and out-of-character things. Most of the time it was like I was brain dead though. I won't lie; I acted jaded out of my mind. Like nothing surprised me, or even interested me. I walked my terra like I was just a zombie sometimes. My parents were too focused on their own affairs to know that their only daughter was acting like this. They didn't even care when I said nothing at the breakfast table that morning. Nobody cared. And probably, no one would unless I did something extreme.

But I didn't even have the drive to earn my parents' attention again, like I had when I was just a baby.

Classes were talks. Just talks. Talks about poisonous plants, deadly animals, deadly natural disasters, the War, death by walking, death by eating, death by not looking where you were going, death by chocolate for God's sake. It all went in one of my pointed ears and came out the other. Unlike my squealing female classmates, I stopped passionately fearing for my life a long time ago.

Girls were all about blather, I learned. I used to join in, but obviously I no longer partake. When the day is done, they gather outside the buildings in large looming circles, talking about…anything. Every now and then I wanted to join them, pretend that I was another gossipy female just waiting to get the dirt on someone or something that happened. But I would just keep walking. I remember that day Skua was with one of the circles, and I didn't fetch her. I wasn't afraid of being alone with my thoughts, because they were mine, and mine only.

Home wasn't really home anymore, but I liked staying there anyway. It was usually quiet and undisturbed; my parents worked together in the confines of the terra's council, and they took forever to get home. I would do my groundwork in peace, eat in peace, and daydream in peace.

After about an hour after I got home, however, I heard the door to our dwelling open again. I immediately thought it was strange that they were home so early, but I went to greet them anyway.

"Hi guys. Get home safely?" I asked quietly, my mother and father, hunched over, pulled their overcoats even closer to their skinny bodies. Their body language told me that they were not here to stay.

"We came to fetch you, Jacana." My father said. Kinglet was a strange man, very distant. Besides my skin tone, I also inherited his remoteness.

"What for?" I asked him.

"You are eighteen, dear." Mother said in her imitation sturdiness. Vanga could be firm with anyone, except her own kin, it seems. "It is time for you to be registered."

My birthday was months ago. Why we hadn't done this then was beyond me. But I agreed anyway, and I went with them.

Perhaps this is where I got my habitual quietness, I thought as we walked to the center of our ward without a word. They were quiet Merbs, very calm and unbending Merbs, but they certainly held a lot more warmth when I was a child. Now, they were…detached almost. But what could I do, I was just a teenager. A legal adult, but even I wasn't ignorant enough to think that I still wasn't seen as just a teen.

They were registering me. All Merbs were registered eventually. It helped keep track of who was ready for marriage, who was ready to have babies, who was splitting up, who died, who was born, yadda yadda yadda. Merbs were very organized, very methodical, and perhaps paranoid beyond belief. But they're my people. Yay.

It's a quick thing. They take samples of my blood, they record what type it is, they test me for any diseases and ailments in general, and then they write down my name in this gigantic book. I've heard the story, my friends have heard the story, everyone's heard the story. And it's supposed to be some big thing, too. But there I was, staring dumbly into the air as a male Merb with shaky hands drew my fluids. My parents didn't change either.

Females are often written down for eligibility in marriage when they turn eighteen. It's not completely an obligation thing, but like many other things, we often feel that it is anyway. I suppose deep down beneath my seemingly inert layers I didn't really want to get married. I wanted to just stop all of the blood tests and all of the awkward questions concerning my fertility which I knew absolutely nothing about anyway. I wanted to make all of them raise their voices just a little bit, make them stop being so timid.

But I went home that night with those urges very unsatisfied. Unsatisfied, and tucked back into the recesses of my progressively rebellious mind.

The day they signed me off was the day that I went numb. Truly unfeeling; anyone could've sawed off my limbs and I wouldn't even flinch. I was no longer a minor, but they signed me off anyway.

By 'signing me off', I mean that they gave me away to my future suitor. My…husband.

The word was poison on my tongue back then. Pure and concentrated poison. I walked through my teen years feeling cooped up and unexposed, enjoying the painful but reassuring loneliness that came with my guarded inner-workings. Now I felt like an open book. A diary even, with the spine bent on the most private and embarrassing page of all.

You'll live a rich and innocent life, Jacana. It's what your father and I have always wanted for you. Is what they had said. Like the loving, thoughtful, moronic parents they were.

I was dressed in my customary robes, got my customary haircut, jewelry, and was drilled on the words that I was meant to say during the marriage that would signify that I was a good female mate. Of course I had no intention of saying those polite words to whoever was receiving my hand in marriage. I wasn't dead set on making the rest of this poor sap's life a living hell, but this final robbery of my freedom; it really set me off in a way that even to this day I can't really describe.

The day of the presentation I went off to the council to meet my suitor. Each step on the way echoed. The air was still and cool as always, unforgivably unfeeling to the fate of which I was being led to. I think my parents felt that I was unhappy about the arrangement. It wouldn't be surprising. I was practically radiating my distaste for the situation.

The tall doors of the council building swung forth to admit me. I passed Merbs down the hallway while I walked behind my parents, and they would give me small smiles and nods of encouragement. I wondered if they were truly wishing me luck, or if they pitied me. I didn't know. I didn't even care. In fact, many of my cares were slipping away at an uncomfortably fast pace, and I mildly worried if there would be anything left of the common Merb mentality within me by the end of this increasingly cursed day.

My mother looked back at me, and we made eye contact. There were tears in her eyes. Either that or mine were playing tricks on me.

Very hopeful tricks.

My parents met with the council member who would be recording my union. We all bowed to him, and my spine curved out of robotic influence. He called for the other to enter the room, and they obeyed. The doors swung forth to admit him, and from under my veil I already found myself staring at him.

Long dark forest hair (disheveled), exaggerated hunch, and large peering yellow eyes. His broad shoulders were the last sign of what was a male. A very awkward, timid, inelegant male.

One which…

The more I stared, I began to recognize him.

When I was ten years old I heard gossiped stories about the one Merb who left the terra of their own will. The one Merb who taught himself how to fly a gigantic carrier through the wastelands. The one Merb who, despite everyone telling him that he had no chance of survival and that he should get his spacey head out of the clouds, went on to become the pilot of one of the greatest squadrons to ever grace the skies of Atmos.

My interest was piqued, but on the surface I remained cold and unfeeling.

When coming face to face with me, he tried his hardest to look indifferent, but flicker after flicker of apprehension was evident in his expression. In a fleeting whimsical second I wished that I could feel like that; anything other than the cynical bitterness that flew through my static brain, coincidentally whenever I looked at my parents.

"Jacana, miss." The council member said. I think his name is Grebe or something. "This is Stork of the Storm Hawks. For his effort in protecting this terra and others across the globe, the least we could do for this magnificent pilot was offer him someone's hand in marriage."

He looked like he was about to throw up. Not in the scared witless way, just in the this-is-so-unbelievably-ridiculous-I-think-I-might-die kind of way. Poor Stork. I guess I wasn't the only one who drew the short straw. Somehow I was partially comforted at the fact that we both probably thought this entire arrangement was full of crap.

"Do you accept, miss?"

No. Not really. I could practically feel my parents' eyes burning into my back.

"Yes." I said.

"And you, sir?"

He didn't have anyone cracking a whip at his back. What would his answer be?

"Yes." He said, without hesitation. I was mildly impressed at how sure he seemed. He should've lent some of that assurance to me, even if it was fake.

"Do we have a dwelling?" He asked. His voice was almost deceiving, and for some reason I liked that.

"Of course. You're free to join each other there whenever you wish. You two may go."

Such a short affair to attend; to dress up for and whatnot. He didn't leave right away, but my parents ushered me out just as quickly as they led me in the council building, and I risked looking back at my new husband. Our eyes met, and to this day it still creeps me out at how emotionless we both looked.

One week, two weeks, a whole month. The second after I set foot in that dwelling while halfheartedly holding Stork's large green hand, time didn't feel distinguished anymore; didn't make a difference. The urge to rebel began to fade away, and the acceptance for a hopefully long but bland life set in. At first it was all simple words, rarely looking each other in the eye, and acting like two zombies who had risen from the depths of hell already married. I was so disenchanted that I couldn't even find it inside of me to be miserable about my arrangement.

He would leave in the morning to do his job which was off the terra, while I still went to my classes. On the way out one day, my professor of my last class of the day confronted me. Secretly I was happy that she did; it would help stall for time until I had to go back to the lonely dwelling.

"Jacana, I heard about your marriage."

I said nothing, just blinked.

"I'm very proud of you for going through with something like that at such a young age. Not very many girls would take such an involuntary pact in stride like you have." She smiled fondly. "Normally after marriage one wouldn't be able to continue their courses, but given Stork's chosen line of work, I'm happy that you were able to stay. You're a fantastic student."

I wanted to divulge every single discontentment about my marriage in her. Her glasses fit her facial frame the way it would a regal wise philosopher. Deciding to take a dive, I overflowed.

"I'm unhappy." I muttered, so quietly that she almost didn't catch it.

"Why, my dear?" She asked. If only she could be one of my parents; I hadn't been spoken to in that kind of tenderness since I was a young child.

"I-I want to make this work…but I'm afraid."

She put her large experienced palm on the small of my back. "Afraid of what, exactly?"

"I…don't know."

Her prudent old eyes looked back at me, and in a wordless fashion I found all the answers I sought after. I always knew I liked this female; she was…different.

Kind of like me.

"That's the trouble with Merbs." She said exasperatedly. "We've become so used to fear we don't even need a reason to feel it anymore."

I stared at her. And she said, "It's quite simple, really." I raised an eyebrow. The only other Merb I met who was as puzzling as her was Stork.

"Well…I have papers to grade. I do hope you find some solace in your situation." And she went back and stood diligently at her large podium, not saying another word.

And so I left, with the inside of my dwelling to look forward to and some food for thought about my marriage that just a little while ago I had such foul feelings towards. The lengthy walk home, I delved into my relationship with this male, something that I had been naively planning to just ignore until death did us part. From what I gathered, Stork liked being away. Not just physically; at meals, when neither of us were even making an attempt at conversation. He would stare out the window, not caring that his fork missed his mouth several times before the food would find its target. It was like he was trying to escape something. I couldn't possibly wish guilt upon him for that, because in lot of ways I wanted the same thing. But my thoughtful nature refused to let me get away, to let me have the same luxury as my husband.

He was not a bad person. Not at all, actually. He spoke to me softly, with respect. He never ordered me around or scolded me, and he let me do as I pleased. I thought it was quite generous of him, but that wasn't quite what I was looking for. He felt caged by this arrangement, no doubt. What if, I thought riskily, we didn't look for what was outside our cage for comfort, but instead at each other inside the cage?

What if I could make us love each other?

To start a raging fire, you first needed a few tiny seemingly insignificant pieces of kindling, after all.

Lord, the things I would have to do though…

I walked into my ironically unwelcoming home, and went straight to our bedroom where Stork said I could have the large cot to myself while he slept out in the den of the household; another slice of evidence that right now he really wanted nothing to do with me. There was a closet connected to the room that I had never looked through; never saw a reason to. And I still didn't. In fact, I don't know what compelled me to open up that closet, but that day I did. There were old but hopefully sterile boxes filled with dusty (I involuntarily shuddered at the sight of those collected gray mildew particles) records. Taking a chance with the dust, I let my fingers flip through the large discs, strangely interested at the titles printed on each case. Merbs weren't much for music. He must have acquired such a collection on his journeys with the Storm Hawks.

So dumbly enraptured at names like Arc of Dehn, Collectables, Grossly Sophisticated, and the Daughters of Dementia, I flipped through the names in a fascination and curiosity. To be sadly truthful, music was rare in these parts. It was obtainable, sure, but music was often something that Merbs associated with letting loose and getting out of control. And that wasn't wise to do when all you were focused on is getting through the day in one piece.

My normally keen ears didn't hear the front door open. Next thing I knew I was jumping at the sound of Stork's velvety but uneasy voice.

"Jacana, what're you doing?"

My instincts told me to get up and apologize a thousand times for snooping around through his belongings. To beg him for forgiveness (which he would provide anyways), to show him that I was truly sorry. Then I considered that maybe this was one of the elements I needed to change in this relationship. I couldn't have a decent conversation with someone I was always saying sorry to, especially when he was probably tired of hearing it.

"Looking at your albums. You've got quite a collection here." I said.

Stork raised an eyebrow. "Yeah…why were you looking through the closet?"

I shrugged. "I was bored. I didn't do anything to them, I was just looking. You're not mad, are you?"

It was obvious that he wasn't expecting me to do this right after he came home, but he shook his head quickly as if he was snapping out of the anxious daze. "No, no…of course not."

Finally allowing myself to truly smile in his presence, I turned back to his records. Out of my peripheral vision I saw an old vinyl player in the corner, collecting gray soot.

"You have a player too?" I asked him, looking back at him with a small amount of excitement. "Where did you get all of this stuff?"

He rubbed the back of his curved green neck. "Going from place to place with the Storm Hawks earns you some…souvenirs."

I paused for a few seconds. "Can we play some?"

Stork looked perplexed once again. Inwardly I was thriving on these expressions of his; when all I had seen of him was an unanimated blank face, even the slightest illustration of emotion on his face sent a jolt of something that I couldn't quite yet name through the extrasensory nerves in my body.

"I don't see why not. I haven't listened to music for ages."

I grinned. For the first time in a long time, I grinned. Not even before I was married to him did I show so many teeth. I crawled into the closet and brought out the record player, blowing some dust off of the turn table (the both of us cringed at the grime, but decided to ignore it for the sake of the situation). Then I once again thumbed through the discs to select one. My hand went to pull an album from its slot.

"Wait." Stork said suddenly, making me freeze.

"Here," He leaned over my shoulder and flipped to the back of the sideways stack, pulling out an album titled 'Attrition' out. "This one's better."

With him carrying the player and me the record, we went out into the den of the dwelling, and I sat on the pristine white couch as he placed the disc onto the turn table. A soft folky sounding tune started wafting through the air. I decided that I liked this. Metaphorical idioms spewed forth from the singer's gliding mouth, stumbling over the words in a way that made it strangely appropriate.

While I sat, Stork stood, staring at the player with a faraway stare containing a hint of sorrow. I furrowed my brow. I didn't want to make my husband any more distant than he already was; the music was supposed to help bring us together, not allow us to go on some grieving thinking tangent.

"This is beautiful." I said, doing something out of the ordinary in our interaction and not standing for the constant silence.

Stork nodded in return.

I glanced at the empty spot beside me. "Don't you want to sit?" I asked.

"Not particularly."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Well I'd like you to sit next to me. Please."

He looked taken aback, but he complied with my request (or demand, really) anyway. His nearness was soothing to me, however awkward and ill at ease it was. When I looked at him, truly looked at him, I really liked the way he was. His body was gawky to any other pair of eyes, but when I looked at it I simply saw the wear and tear of Merb life accompanied with all of the dreadful adventures he had been through. A pang of regret spilled through me briefly; if only I had forced myself to look at him earlier, I would have seen the magnetic signs of character that were creased into his figure.

Charisma was a new word for me to describe him. There were so, so many things to describe him, some that were too deep for even my perceptiveness. That was another thing that was just so scarily engaging about him; no matter how much you dug up from the soil that was his personal sea, there was always more to uncover. Merbs were simple folk. Elaborate in what they cooked up in their shaky heads, but simple in the sense that that's all they were sometimes; a big steaming gumbo of fears. Oh, Stork had fears. But he did something that no one from here ever did, and that was step over the boundary to meet those fears.

Perhaps it was time for something similar.

"Stork, are you happy?"

"Hmm?" Was his spacey reply.

"Are you happy here, with me?"

He nodded slowly.

"I want to hear you say it." I said, looking at him head on and not joining him as his gaze with me faltered. I just knew he was thinking what's gotten into her?

But he decided to obey.

"I am happy with you."

"As I am with you." I said. "Why did you decide to get married when you came back?"

Stork's face fell, as if the explanation was painful to recall. "I wasn't…I didn't…it wasn't my choice, to be honest."

"Me neither. What's your explanation?" I asked with a hint of a smile.

"I came back to tell the council that the war was officially over. It was supposed to be quick; in and out, that's all. They bombarded me with all sorts of gifts and rewards for the time I served, but I didn't want any of it."

He looked very uncomfortable telling me all of these things, and I don't know what spurred him to continue. But whatever it was, I was happy he decided to. I listened in earnest, bringing one of my dark red legs up to my chest and resting my chin on the knee.

"For some reason…they told me that I was old enough to…marry. Seeing how old I am, that doesn't really make sense, does it?"

It didn't. Stork was only twenty-five. Not even truly an adult in the eyes of the Merbian public. Unlike girls who could be married as soon as they were legal adults, males had it different. They were just under the line of being 'grown up' in everyone's perspective until they were in their third decade, or until they proved themselves otherwise.

Then again, Stork was a part of the squadron that caused the majority of Cyclonia's downfall. I'd say he more than proved that he wasn't a child.

"I know what everyone must've said about me, Jacana." He said. "That I was some freak who actually wanted to be out there in the middle of the fighting and gore."

Stork looked away from me, and instead out our window at the view of our borough. His face wasn't timid anymore. It was subtly twisted with something bitter burrowing beneath his skin. "I just needed to get out of here, and go where there were people who actually cared about what was happening in the world."

I silently cursed my ears for actually tuning in to the verbal stench that spewed from the gossipy girls I went to school with. He's crazy. He's that weirdo who actually wanted to fight. Ridiculous. Foolish. Idiotic. A legend not because of the great things he had done, but because he chose to broke away from our drone-filled terra.

They knew nothing. Not a thing.

"When I refused all of their offers, they accused me of once again disrespecting the homeland. That I left once before against their laws and I'm going against them again by wanting to leave with nothing."

He shook his head. "That's…why I don't like it here. They're always trying to tether us down."

"So they tethered you down by making you take a wife?" I asked quietly.

He didn't acknowledge that, but I knew that on the inside he was agreeing. "So I said fine. They slapped me together with the most recently registered female, and…"

"Here we are." I finished for him.

We became quiet.

"I didn't…" Stork started, breaking the silence finally, but he paused. "I don't mean that I r-regret being with you. It's just…now, the both of us have a very…set future ahead of us."

"Do we even truly know each other, Stork?" I asked faintly. His watchful eyes darted to look at me, and I met them with a longing gaze of my own.

He didn't answer, but he shook his head so slightly that I would've missed it if I hadn't been in turn watching him as intently as I was. He danced around all of the hard points of our circumstances; I knew he didn't want to hurt my feelings. And knowing that, it gave me a small bit of happiness. I guess, in a mildest of senses, he really did care about me. And naturally I for him, otherwise I wouldn't have more or less forced him into interacting with me like this when otherwise it wouldn't have taken place in a million years.

My stomach was in knots. Writhing, slithering, knots filled with a sensation that I didn't quite understand, but it made me privately want to satisfy a strange urge of getting physically closer with him. We were married. In so many cultures what I was feeling towards him was completely accepted and natural. Not in our world; in fact, whether you were singled, married, or married and with children, it was never right to feel this way towards the one you cared about that way. No one did. Or maybe that was the façade. Perhaps everyone else felt exactly the way I did when I looked at my husband that very moment, but held it inside for fear of letting loose something that would just be too strange and unhinged in the eyes of the public.

It was the truth of our society, but I was still at loss. How could I feel something so overwhelmingly beautiful, and then in the end it was wrong? I didn't want to believe that it was wrong. It just felt too good.

"Well I want to get to know each other." I said. I was about to say a lot of weird things, but I was tired of always being on my toes, holding back everything that I really wanted to say in favor of an easier outcome. I scooted closer to him, and I guess he was too shocked to draw back away from me. This feeling…this feeling of wanting to tell him that there was nothing to be afraid of, that I was nothing to be afraid of. So scary. So scary, and precious.

Strange, how quickly this whole acceptance of my position thing came on. I wondered a little if the excited feeling in my gut was a perk.

"O-okay." Stork said, seemingly ready to run when I started spitting skin-melting venom. Yet he didn't move as I insanely acted on impulse, moving closer until I felt my arms wrap themselves around his stiff upper body like snakes of dubious intentions.

It was so bizarre, touching someone else like this, but I liked it. Heaven help me, I liked it. He didn't hug me back or anything, but I was okay with that. With his flat chest now pressed up against the similar uniformity of mine, I could feel his heart, and it was pulsing like he had just finished running a twenty mile long marathon. I pulled back, just to peek at his face, and a pair of surprised frightened eyes were looking back at mine. The expression of my own visage was barely imaginable, but at the moment I didn't care. He looked so uncomfortable, almost to the point of being in pain, but I didn't want to stop. I had to show him how much I felt for him; the feelings that had been bottled up like a plugged sleeping volcano up until now.

It was really, really wrong for me to be like this. If anyone else saw this they would be so freaked out they wouldn't be above blinding themselves to try and rid their memory of the scene.

"Jacana…" He said shortly, and I prayed that he would not push me away. Not again, I didn't think I could take it. "Why are you acting like this?"

"You don't like it." I stated rather than asked, granting his silent wish and pulling away completely.

"I just want to know what reanimated our corpses so that we're suddenly acting like a human married couple." He said simply, with just a touch of sarcastic humor in his voice.

"Well if we're spending the rest of our lives together I don't want it to feel like a cage." I replied. "So…what do you say to a little affection?"

Stork stared, looking afraid, but was obviously considering my words. My crazy, mixed up, coaxing words.

The words that were coercing him to open up when all his life he was taught that it would lead to nothing but torture and then death. It was overwhelming, all this substantial emotion I had pumping through the cellular chords in my body. I had to share it with someone.

Not waiting for his reply that would obviously never come, I leaned in and pressed my lips against his. Everything I knew about him told me that his mind was probably screaming at him to push me away, but he didn't comply. Instead, he just sat there motionless, letting me kiss him in my own little inexperienced way.

Merbs are very sensitive to detail. I applied this common trait to this situation as well. His lips were thin and cold, but were becoming swollen by the second the longer mine were firmly planted against them. The slightest amount of chap covered both the top and bottom, and I could feel every crack in the sensitive skin. It certainly wasn't a shot against him though. Practically, it would have been stupid of me to think someone of such character would have lips that were smooth as silk.

A lock of his hair brushed against my cheek, slick with natural oil. Hair being in mind, I separated myself from him in surprise as I felt a large but sturdy hand creep up into my own messy but thoroughly washed mop of hair. In the instant it took for me to notice the feeling of his fingers ghosting over my scalp, he had pulled his hand away and looked elsewhere.

"Sorry." He whispered.

And I simply smiled. "Don't be." I pecked him on his cheek which was now sporting a dusky forest color. I rose, and I was glad to see him not sigh in relief as he normally would have. He just stared up at me, shock, confusion, and longing locked up with a padlock within his gaze.

"I'm your wife."

We pray that our lives are long, but not fruitful. We think nothing of the events that determine our personas. We just want a long life. Such a mindset makes for a dutiful strive for survival, but does nothing to satisfy a dehydrated soul, thirsty for exploration and learning.

Of any kind.

My prayers consist of the opposite. I wish for a long life, yes. But the fruit of my tree is what I wish to pay homage to. Living for tomorrow's moments is all well and good, but useless if you have no desire to truly enjoy them. To live in the past is not our nature exactly, but living in the future is just as destructive. Merbs are living proof of that fact.

Sometimes I can't help but worry my ears off. A warning or coo to be careful still sits on the tip of my tongue like an everlasting communion wafer, reserved for everyone around me and myself as well. But I try to disconnect myself from the bad as much as I can; I try to be practical, not fixated on the possibilities of the painful types of death that are out there.

It's dark in our bedroom. The moons are out, making their slow orbit around the planet of Atmos, and we both stare out the window admiring their aesthetics, but at the same time our true thoughts are elsewhere. My eyes flicker in fatigue, for our previous measures left me lacking any real energy. But I don't look back on the memories with any negative thoughts. In fact, I cradle my curve-less stomach, hoping that life is forming within it as all forms of time tick by.

My body still rippled with pleasurable aftershocks of our activities. A sign of a well spent night. He makes it hard to think at all when all you can do is feel. I still question why his hands grip my flat chest like he expects something to be there; the sadness that sometimes comes through his actions. What lies underneath that phobic exterior, I always wonder. And have yet to figure out. But he treats me well, and he obviously cares about me. And as thanks I don't vigorously try to chip away at the layers he had acquired through his travels.

Stork looked pensive. Big surprise. We had been quiet for a long time, stuck in a comfortable stalemate of silence. A blanket is drawn around his lower half in a small display of modesty that probably no amount of intimacy can alleviate, even if it's dark and we can barely see each other. But I don't mind. The way it hugs hesitantly to his waist is alluring.

Ha, alluring. A word only I could ever use to describe him.

"Thank you." I said gently, my lips curling into a soft smile that he could only see with the help of the light that belonged to the two moons out in the sky.

He nodded, smiling back.

"Do you care about me?" I asked, springing the question on him like a pesky frog from under a leaf. I didn't know what kind of answer I was expecting to get either.

"What kind of question is that?" He replied, a small bit of laughter in his voice.

"A fair one, if you ask me." I say. "Really, do you care about me?"

He didn't speak for a little while. I was happy the days of fidgeting and darting eyes hungry for a way out were gone. At least during these moments, they were.

"You want me to say that I love you. Like the humans."

"I never thought about it that way, but…" I trailed off, bearing this in mind.

"I love you." He said, letting it role of his tongue so easily that the phrase sounded more foreign than it did when he said it before. Such leisure in saying the three words was treading on dangerous ground in the world of Merbs. Sweet, welcomed, deliciously dangerous ground.

But it burned. It cut its way into my heart and it burned like a hot blue flame. "How long did it take you?"

"Mmm?" He said, furrowing his brow in query.

"How long did it take you to realize that you loved me?"

Stork chuckled. It was a very low chuckle too, the kind that he got when he was entertaining dark thoughts. Not necessarily evil or morbid thoughts, just dark. The kind that really ought to stay in the shadows where they belonged; where they would only exist between us. For out in the public, they would be slaughtered and ridiculed, for simply being natural.

"Too long." He said, and he drew me up tight in his arms. I looked down and saw crimson skin against green, immersed in moonlight. He may have seemed mentally unstable at times, but when he acted like this it was like his world had never known such a peace. I was happy to be a part of it.

I may not ever know every single detail about Stork, nor will I ever adopt the mission to do so. But the majority of our layers miraculously come down when we acknowledge that we are together for life.