Meminerunt Omnia Amantes (Closed)

Meminerunt Omnia Amantes: Lovers Remember All

Chapter 1: An Awakening...

Lilianna stood motionless, the mist from her warm breath dissipating into the torrential rain as she gazed upon the house. The rain cascaded around her, her coat doing little to keep her dry. Each heavy drop forced the violent coolness to seep to her soul, her body trembling from both the cold and from the reasons why she had come to be here. She watched as the flickering of lights behind the drawn curtains highlighted the silhouette into view. He was home. Her heart pounded from the realisation. Her mind at war as to what to do; turn and walk home and continue the agony of each day as the abyss grew deeper within her soul. He wasn’t expecting her, so there would be no harm in walking away. Or she could surrender to her desire for him...for peace, true peace, a peace only he seemed to give her...she could go to him.

Both options had her pulling in their direction. The pain she knew, and knew it well. It had become her shield against the world, hiding her from the harsh reality that seemed to gravitate and find a home within her. It was safe; despite the torture and suffering it brought...it was her life. Each new day it grew; sometimes violently, ripping her soul to shreds as it destroyed all hope and love within her. Yet sometimes it was dull, morphing her mind and spirit into a sense of numbness, dulling her very existence into a mundane routine. There was no in between, the violent pain becoming more frequent and intense then the last.

Peace? Well...it was something that her soul would not give up on. There was no need for money, a big home, riches and wealth...no, all she had ever wanted was inner peace. A peace to be free to live. No more pain...as simple as that...no more pain.

Images flooded her mindseye at the memory of him, the rain continued to pour; the hum of the shower pouring down onto slickened, naked bodies dancing a sensual dance of passionate exploration; soft moans echoing amidst fervent kisses and heavy breaths; a soft gasp as masculine hands capture wrists above her head; soft thighs part and wrap to pull him closer still; a silent plea with lust-crazed emerald eyes, his mesmerising brilliant orbs shinning with both understanding and anticipation; a dominant growl, spinning and pulling her back; moist, heated breath with a whisper of desire, lust-crazed heat; then a thrust, splitting her moist core, pushing deep...

Thunder rolled above her, drawing her attention back to the man behind the curtain. It has been months since she had last spoken to him. She remembered the day well; a simple touch of his passing hand had her entire body and soul humming with electricity. She didn’t understand, how could she? She barely knew him; he was nothing but a stranger to her, yet that simple touch awakened a primal need within her. While it was a fleeting touch, it filled her with the peace she so desperately yearned for...he completed her.

Yet she ignored it and the pain never left. No, it only seemed to grow the more she saw him in passing. Her world had become blanketed with hopelessness. There was nothing beyond the abyss...no light, not even a flicker. It absorbed her; everywhere she looked was the mist of despair. Her soul was dying, the anguish pushing her to stand outside his home in one last act of desperation. She was drawn to him; the reasons she didn't know. Yet it felt right in every fiber of her being. Destiny, fate, chance...philosophers had spanned their lifetimes trying to understand it...and yet they never came close to understanding it. And neither did she. She just knew it was right. She couldn’t hide from him any longer, couldn’t hide her vast array of emotion that simple touch on her. She needed him to see; the passion, the desire, the overwhelming need he awakened within her. She needed his strength, his understanding, his authority to give her back a light, if only a flicker, to give her back an understanding of what lay beyond the mists of despair, beyond the agony within her...hope, she needed hope only his touch could give.

Lightning crashed around her, the rain seemingly hammering down upon her frozen form. With a final breath of desperation she moved forward; the click of her heels drowning within the puddles of the driveway. Her mind flooded with doubt...would he see her? Would he even remember who she was? Would he turn her away? Would he understand? Would he be upset? Would he even care? The last thought rendered her paralysed, her hand barely tapping the front door before she fell to her knees. Her heart lurched as the deep grip of pain burst from within and seemingly exploded to her entire being. She could cry, but there were no tears left within her to do so. With all her strength she lifted her hand to knock weakly upon the painted wood of the door. The click of the lock opening brought the anxiety to the surface; her head buried low, her form shivering in a wet pile on his doormat...Would he turn her away? Would he even care?

These had not been kind months.

Their passing had been like the turn of a medieval screw, cinching down upon his heart and cutting deeper through flesh and meat with each day gone. It had been a torment upon his otherwise potent resolve, humbling him. Damn, it had nearly broken him. For all the weaknesses that so frequently claimed the hearts, minds, and paths of men; there was none more potent than love. It had not mattered that he had never anticipated it's kiss, or hers. There was no reconciling his unwillingness to suffer its caress with the way he had so eagerly accepted her own. Love did not ask permission. It, like the men from whom he took orders, did not negotiate.

Love was more dangerous to a soldier than any bullet. It ignored all of man's superficial armors and always found the heart to pierce it. The tenants of love were not unsimilar to those of war. Duty to a force beyond your own. Commitment to see it through. Honor, necessary to travel the great highs and lows with grace and strength. Courage.

The world, however, did not abide in love. It abided in Force. It abided in the laws of men. He was an instrument already dedicated, already claimed. She had come too late. His oath had been sworn. They had known it. In the dark they had whispered of it, made false claims to understand the journey upon which they were taking, and forsaken that knowledge together. In that way he had made a half-oath to her, a secondary promise to which he could never truly fulfill.

The last vision he had of her was golden-hair streaked from the sun, framing elegant features. Framing sadness and loss as she watched him board the plane. The last vision of her that he carried was a collage of their bodies tangled and the gentle plane of her shape against his amidst the dark. The moon light spilling from her window. Her red cheeks and the way she buried herself in his strength while she slept.

When the knock came at the door he was still dressing. Nylon shorts, boyish and blue, hung on his rangy hips and his hands worked to quickly tug a T-Shirt on. The cotton covered the dark ink on the back of his shoulder. The grim vision of an Eagle. The potency of a Trident.

Outside the rain came in sheets, slashing sidelong on a stiff wind that threw it against the houses in an unrelenting onslaught. The sound had always pleased him. It'd been a comfort, a small thrill. It had always been easier to feel himself when it was raining. There was something cleansing and authentic that came with a storm.

He opened the door and saw her there. A drenched wisp, shivering, shaking. In that moment it should have been impossible to recognize her. The streaks of blonde darkened as they soaked in rain water, streaked across her face. Those eyes, brilliant and beautiful, hidden away from him under the wrap of her slender arms. It should have been impossible.

It was impossible not to recognize her.

In an instant he was bending, the corded muscles that bound his rugged form moving and shifting with fluid, deceptive grace. She was slight, a wisp of a girl, and in a moment she was in his arms and cradled. It was not the way he had pictured her entrance to his home. In his most foolish of moments their trip across his threshold had included a flowing gown of white, her hair up with pins. In all of his visions she had been beaming him a smile, letting her eyes radiate happiness. Basking him in it.

There were no words. He had never been much for talking. She had never spited him for it. Instead, she had often carried their conversations while he listened to them. Watching her. It was hard to imagine their roles reversed. The house passed beneath her, beneath his feet. Tile. Hardwood floor. Spartan furnishings that were cold and professional. His house lacked warmth. It lacked the touch of a woman. It lacked happiness. It was clinical and clean to the point of being sterile. Everything was crisp angles. Precise placement. Hardly lived in.

In the bathroom it was more of the same, a solitary towel folded neatly on a solitary rack mounted in the tile. Sea-Foam green. Cool colors. He lifted the precisely folded towel from its place and wrapped her in it, gathered her in his arms. It smelled of his last shower. His body wash. Masculine. Earthy. It was warm, puffy, expensive. It bound her against him, served a proper conduit to sap the chill from her lissome frame and replace it with the warmth of his own.

"I would have come to get you." He said. It was not meant to assure her. There was a promise laid within it, wrapped in those simple words. When he kissed her brow it occurred to him that she might not believe him.

Silence...not a sound between them as he opened the door and stood motionless before her. While the moment only lasted a few brief seconds, to her it rolled into an eternity. She couldn’t bring her gaze to his, couldn’t bare to see the look of detachment as he cast her away and back into the raging storm. He had no reason to allow her in; she did, after all, go out of her way to avoid him since his return. Even now the war continued within her. Her head screamed for logic; there was no future, never a future for them. He was taken...never for her but always for his country. That would never change. Yet her heart screamed louder; she belonged with him, longed to live for him, would die just to be a part of him. Her place was by his side. The two parts of her battled continuously in his absence; to stay and fight for them or to let him go and face a life without him. Her arms coiled tighter around her shivering form, a subconscious attempt at self preservation. She shouldn’t had come; their parting those months ago was final. Well – at least in her mind she prepared herself for such finality.

Re-deployed...

The memory of his voice rang in distance echoes within her mind as the recollection crashed upon her. The fresh summer evening air fluttered softly through the open curtains, painting her heated form in delicious coolness as it floated over her; her sweat-slickened skin erupting in an array of goosebumps in its wake. Her head found its place upon his chest, her lithe legs entwined delicately with his; her body still trembling as she slowly calmed from her heightened release. Her fingertips trailed feather-light circles randomly over his chest; her eyes mesmerised by the soft flickering reflection of the candlelight over his sleek skin. It was an addictive sight; one that had burned into her memory time and again. The shadows upon his rippled abdomen evidence of his dedication. Though, in the back of her mind she knew such dedication wasn’t to her, but to his country. It was a thought she deliberately pushed aside in his presence; their time together was limited and she didn’t dare taint it with the anger and upset that came with such thoughts.

Instead she simply lay curled up against him and revelled in his presence; his strength, his care, his passion all wrapping around her soul as the undeniable sense of peace washed through her. Her fingertips softly continued to explore the hills and valleys of his torso as the candlelight teased over his flesh; his slowing heartbeat persuading her own to settle once more as her mind slowly cleared of the mists of her orgasm. Perfection; that was the only word she had ever used to describe being with him.

“Lily...I’ve been re-deployed...” His voice slammed through her conscious mind; the peace within her shattering into violent pieces. Whispered promises of happily-ever-after’s and love; it all dissipated by the single sentence. Anger, fear, hopelessness; it all erupted within her. It always did when he informed her. Yet no matter how many times he had told her before, no matter how often he spoke of the reality of their relationship; it never dulled the sense of anger-filled loss that came with those words. Tears glistened unshed, her fingers tensing to form fists upon his chest, the anger growing with each passing breath; yet she didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say.

A violent crack of thunder caught her off guard and brought her back to the present; her form jumping wearily before settling back into its shivering rhythm. Timidly she raised her head expecting to see the door closed in her face. But instead there was warmth; a feeling she had so desperately come for, but didn’t expect. It enveloped her, smashing through the coolness that had begun to seemingly freeze her skin. Relief powered through her in overwhelming proportions rendering her paralysed with shock; he hadn’t turned her away.

His strength surrounded her, swirling around her in a tangible vortex of safety and concern; her shivering form nestling into him as he lifted her body with such ease. She had always been drawn to his strength. When they first met his primal strength attracted her, leaving her speechless. It radiated from him in such powerful waves that there was no denying it. It called to her on a primitive, carnal level of her being; thrilling her even in those first few moments of meeting him. Yet it was his ability to harness it with grace and tentative care that she had come to admire the most. She had often watched him at a distance and wondered at how easily he could use that physical power against her. And she was sure that there were times that her playful teasings must have brought him to the brink of that self control. But now it cradled her and allowed her the safety to simply fall apart. She clung to him with what little strength she had; hiding within it, her head shying into his body and willing the overbearing emotions to fade.

Outside her current state of conscious she felt the undeniable sense of vertigo. Walls passed her vision in a whirl of merging dull colours, but she kept her head hidden into the nape of neck. His scent absorbed her. Had he any idea how much he affected her? How his scent called to her? Before she could focus on the thought she was placed upon her own feet, her eyes finally opening to take in the bathroom she now found herself in. It was cold, clinical, distant...an almost direct reflection of the outer persona he seemed to wear.

Her heart thudded powerfully as all her raw emotion flooded through her. For a split second she wondered if he could see them as they raced through her gaze; see the torrent of feeling as it quickly threatened to overcome her. Without a moment of hesitation she stepped forward, tightly wrapping her arms around his waist, clinging to him without any desire to ever let him go. His body, his essence, his soul...it anchored her while she fought the internal battle for control. Clamping her eyes shut she willed her emotions to fade, just a little so she could remain calm. His arms encased her, crushing her trembling body to his...and she didn’t care. This is what she came for, what her soul cried out for, what her body desired. His heartbeat finally coaxed her to calm; the faintest touch of his lips upon her brow drawing her attention away from herself and back to him.

He stepped closer, her eyes locked on his as his hands rose to settle on her shoulders, pulling the wet coat from her form. The weight simply lifted from her shoulders before the slapping of the coat upon the tiled floor echoed through the room. Instinctively her hands wrapped around herself, an unconscious effort to keep what little warmth his earlier embrace left her with. Yet he didn’t allow the bite to get to her, instead quickly wrapping a towel around her shivering form. In an instant his familiar warmth cascaded over her, sinking blissfully into her soul. For the first time since he had left she felt at ease, felt protected...loved. She let her head rest softly against his chest, her mind finding peace in the heartbeat she found. She breathed deeply, absorbing his scent and silently yearned for more...she needed him more than she realised. She needed him to hold her, protect her, love her; to never let go. She needed to feel more of him, feel his very essence upon her soul as she physically expressed her own desires. She needed all of him.

Then it hit her, an almost violent realisation. There was no point running from him. Why had she run in the first place? The agony his job pushed upon her? Because she didn’t want to live a life of constant fear that he would die? Her life was with him...by his side. She couldn’t run, her every instinct called to him. Without him, she was half a soul, half a mind, half a body...half a woman.

Her small, trembling hand fell from his waist, slipping under his shirt with a tentative touch. Her eyes remained low, somehow unable to bring herself to look into his gaze. His body warmth flooded her frozen fingertips as she glided her hand up to rest upon his heart. Each solid beat of his heart seemingly radiated within her, calling to her soul.

“I’m sorry I ran...I’m sorry...forgive me?”

Her voice was soft, timid almost, a slight shake in each word.