Nothing's Perfect

Xaden wakes up slowly for the first time in years. At first he thinks the smaller body in his arms is Liam, when they were first placed in their foster home, or Bodhi before that, when they were younger and Bodhi would sometimes climb into his bed at night. It doesn't take long to wake up the rest of the way and realize just how wrong he is, though.

Those hips, for one thing, and that hair for another, and then the night before comes back with the force of a lightning strike. He smiles, but doesn't move. The light in the window is pale; it wouldn't have been enough to get in if the curtains hadn't burned. He throws a shadow up over the window to make sure she can sleep a little longer.

If he was more selfish, he'd wake her up. He doesn't think she'd complain, given how enthusiastic she was the night before, but it doesn't feel right, especially when he has to be up for one of Nyra's stupidly early leadership meetings but she can sleep longer.

He hates to leave her to wake up alone either, though. He should do… something. Something that feels personal. He thinks about writing her a note, but there's nothing he can bring himself to put to paper that feels real enough. Something else then.

The idea comes as he dozes contentedly, listening to her breath, smelling the floral scent of her hair and the almost-sweet earthy one that must be arnica salve. She does like her plants and flowers, doesn't she?

He could get up and look, but that would require leaving her before the last possible moment, so he closes his eyes and concentrates, grabbing the dawn shadows on the west side of the Rider's Quadrant and sending them out into the tall grass and wildflowers along the river. He can't see them but with nothing else to distract him, his control is good enough to feel the shape of every leaf and petal the shadows wash over.

Xaden's lost track of the minutes by the time he's gathered up a dozen or so flowers, carefully plucking them at the stems and carrying them all the way back inside cocooned in shadow. He can feel people in the walkways as the shadows jog past now, and smiles a little at the confusion he imagines on their faces.

Only once the darkness has succeeded in sliding the plants under her door does he resign himself to getting up. A quick crack of the shadow over the window says that yes, it's nearly time for him to be at that meeting. He lets the shadows under her body push her up ever so slightly so he can slide his arm out from under her without disturbing her sleep, and he dresses as quietly as he can.

The flowers are not quite perfect. He tucks a small white flower in his jacket pocket and sets the rest in a jar on her desk. Nothing's ever completely perfect, but she's starting to make him wonder if that's not untrue after all. Laying in a sliver of dawnlight that gives her curves to his shadows in ways that make him want to go right back to her, she certainly looks perfect. He takes another minute to watch her, feeling the way her chest rises and falls in the dark of the room.

When he turns to go, he lets the dawn back in and realizes again just how much of a mess they made. Smiling to himself, he lets the shadows of the mess clean themselves up, quickly sweeping all the shattered wood and charred fabric into the corner. She was going to need new furniture. He made a note to have Garrick take care of it later. All of his attempts to maintain distance from her- physical distance, emotional distance, anything- had failed. He might as well go the other direction and let his full claim on her be known.

Xaden slips out the door and checks the wards behind him, but his thoughts remain with her. Nobody else is allowed to destroy her. He'd given up hope that he could stay away from her, which means that the only option he has left is to try not to destroy her himself. She is certainly turning out to be worth the effort.