Puke

This story is a story of love-

No. Chop that.

This is a story of unconditional love. Yes. There is a difference. In fact, that's the entire point of this story. Though others may have different opinions, like Katherine to my right with the hangover, who says to write here that vodka ruined her day and to never believe anything I say. But I think she disagrees with me merely to disagree with me. In my mind, there is no point of being 'loved' if there is no motive of unconditionalism, or a hope of to-be unconditionalism. Love is to be unconditional. Love itself is unconditional.

In the past, this love was found easily. Now, it is not. It is being replaced by attraction and quirky things stuck so subtly in the mind that only the grace of God can weed them out. Therefore, I write this, and this is why I feel so strongly about it. If I cannot find what I need here, then it is up to me to find someplace else to locate it.

Katie says not to go to the bar in NY on 64th and Quita in your search. I say, quoting Kiba in Wolf's Rain: "They say there's no such place as paradise. Even if you searched to the ends of the earth, there's nothing there. No matter how far you walk, it's still the same road; it just goes on, and on. But in spite of that, why am I so driven to find it? A voice calls to me, and says: Search - for paradise.

And so I do."

-=-(*)-=-

"You are worried," The man whispered.

The woman jumped, startled. The stars above them twinkled brightly as he wrapped his arms around her waist - just to be certain she wouldn't manage to fall off the balcony and onto the shining blades of grass in the garden below.

"You don't always act like this. What is it?"

"Nothing. It is nothing."

"You are never worried about nothing. You have many things on your mind. I may not be a perfect reader, but you are never closed."

The woman leaned against his shoulder, burying her face in the wool he wore. His presence was comforting. She smiled, allowing herself to close her eyes. "I was not always an open book."

"True. Not to me."

"I'm never an open book to those who I do not want to be."

"Was that a challenge?"

They both laughed, turning up their faces to the stars until the woman looked away at the fringes of trees beginning to eat at the prim, kept, grassline. "Stop talking so formal. Work's rubbed off on you."

"Hm... has it?" The man clutched her tighter, smiling mischieviously. "But... what was it? a red herring? Red herrings don't work on me."

"Drat." The woman laughed and snuggled into his shoulder again. They both stood there in the frozen silence until a child's cry made them jump. "I've got him-"

"No." The man stopped her with a stern look. "He's got to learn. Nothing's going to come out of it if you keep on babying him forever."

"And he'll never get anything out of it either if you yank his childhood away from him so young."

They glared at each other, not with anger, but with rather a peeved continuation of some recurring contradiction. The man finally shook his head and pulled the woman back to the balcony's railing. "Enough. Now, tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

"Nothing."

He gave her a sharp look.

"It's..." She looked away guiltily, staring at the treeline again. "It's so... stupid. I feel awful-"

The man crossed his arms and leaned back against the railing. "Really? You finally decided to get rid of that horrid carpet? It was such a hard decision to make?"

The woman laughed at him, swatting his arm playfully. "Not that, and you know it. The rug was a gift from my mother and it's a very, very nice rug. That's in the closet until I can use it again."

"Stowage," he corrected her. "I'm just glad the hideous thing is gone. So what is it then, if it's not that?"

She fiddled with her dress pocket, turning it inside out, then pressing it right-side in again as primly as possible, unwilling to answer and perhaps hoping he would give up and head inside their room with an exasperated sigh. The man knew her too well for giving up, however, so he waited, his facial expressions ranging from curious to balatant impatience. To conclude, he scrunched up his nose, scowling, and in the end, she noticed that.

"I- I- feel awful for having to leave again."

His jaw dropped. "That?! It's that?! Honestly, you're gone for what? five seconds? At most-"

"But it's not five seconds! It's a year! I feel like I'm living two lives!" The woman choked a laugh as she turned to slump over the balcony with her elbows strangely unlady-like on the marble railing. "And, well, you know that's technically true. I am living a double life. Here I'm a wife, and mother; and then there, I'm flying around with a bunch of hypothetical friends who are as nuts as I am, and know it-"

"You aren't mad."

"Weird; odd," The woman corrected him with a smile.

"Whatever. You're one person."

"Two lives," she whispered, shrinking down to look at the forest again. "I feel like I'm commiting adultery every time I think of the world before- after, really. There are so many things I just- wish I could share with my friends here; but when I'm there, I miss all of you terribly. I can't live without you."

The man shrugged. "Everyone says that when they're in love."

"Then I'm irrevocably in love-"

"Irrevocably?"

The woman winced. "I can't- can't change it? Maybe?"

"Good. Go on."

She pursed her lips, wondering where she'd left off.

"-irrevocably in love..."

"Oh. Irrevocably in love with you, and I can't change it. See? If you would've let me finish the sentence, you wouldn't have needed to ask for an explanation."

"That was a test of your butchered English vocabulary." The man grinned, eyes flashing.

The woman huffed, crossing her arms. "You aren't busy dealing with the removal of Latin roots."

"You ought to learn Latin."

"Oh... enough teasing. I'm learning German! Isn't that enough?"

The man rolled his eyes and settled back against the railing with a light shrug. "Just finish your thought."

And a queasy expression crossed the woman's face. "I... I forgot it."

"... And that's you for me."

"Oh! Right." A hand drifted to the woman's gently rounded stomach as she turned her back on the gardens to face her husband. "I was going to comment that it doesn't make sense for me to leave when I'm not whole without you."

"But it does. Completely. I thought we'd agreed; one year here, one year there."

"But it's so tiring."

"But we grow old together," the man whispered after a silent pause. "And that's what's important, isn't it?"

The woman gazed firmly at him for a long time. He reached for her hand and as she took it, tracing the ingrained lines she already knew by heart. They were creased deeply at points, but the skin was thick and smooth, almost feminine in the right light; even with their gentleness, however, there was the firm set of muscle beneath that promised fierce strength. She couldn't imagine any sane person doubting them. "Right," she managed finally. "Right. And nothing else does, does it? We're happy."

"And the children. They need you. I need you."

The woman blushed and turned into his shoulder to hide it. "Don't, really, L-" She suddenly slumped against him, her mouth forming an O with her eyes wide in horror.

The man frowned, pulling away to catch her shoulders. "What-?"

And she fell instead, crumpling softly to the marble of the balcony floor; exposing the arrow lodged in her back.

-=-(*)-=-

Yes... yes... I'm evil. Don't tell me. I just though it would be a nice change to begin this at the ending. :P

Review if you're nice, basically, and if you're mean - heck, review also.

Rage: YES, I HAVE GOTTEN OFF MY LAZY BUTT. :) Happy?

~L