ForevaXena's FanFic . . .
First Light
by Emily Duncan
Disclaimers:
This is a work of fiction and
any references to real people, products, and/or organizations are only included
to lend a sense of authenticity. All the characters, whether central or
peripheral, are wholly the product of the author's imagination, as are their
actions, motivations, thoughts and conversations, and neither the characters nor
the situations which were invented for them are intended to depict real people
or events. Manchester, England, is a real place - not as scary as the rumours,
but just as wet. The content depicts love and a variety of sexual relationships
between consenting adult women. There will also be violence and bad language,
but not to any great extent. If it is illegal for you to read work of this
nature, then please do not continue.
It
was six weeks since the bar manager had laid her assistant in the ground, and
the spring sun was just beginning to hit the North’s grey city, gently warming
the new shoots that would soon turn into primroses and bluebells, as the grass
grew green over Max's grave. The
change in the weather had not, however, taken the chill out of Nia’s heart –
although for the first time since the fatal fire, she was beginning to feel a
sense of acceptance, if not peace.
She'd
taken her friend's death hard, almost getting herself killed by lashing out and
screaming blame at everyone she came across.
All thoughts of imminent danger were quickly dashed by her implacable
grief – and if it had not been for Jake’s constant, hovering presence, the
remnants of Fire and Ice’s controlling gang might quickly have lost patience
with their most recent manager. The
dark woman became increasingly concerned, seeing the bar manager’s accusations
for what they were – a fragile veneer for the fact that she really saw her
friend’s untimely demise as her own responsibility. The memory that Max had sacrificed her life by remaining in
the burning building to look for her kept the small blonde awake at nights as it
tortured her soul.
The
bar had been totally swept away by the force of the explosion – nothing had
been salvaged from the rubble. With
no job to go to, there was nothing for Nia to do to take her mind off the pain.
The
blonde spent weeks locked in her apartment, imagining what could have happened
if she’d arrived at the bar a few moments earlier, remembering Max’s
bloodied body lying in the street, reliving their last moments together.
She saw only Jake – the dark woman was her lifeline in the chaos that
grew out of the destruction of Fire and Ice, bringing her news of the tug of war
between the remaining leaders of Manchester’s underworld, and the slow,
painful progress of the police investigation.
But Nia had no hope that the forces of law and order would manage to turn
up a culprit. Even without their
extensive contacts within the metropolitan forces, Matt and his colleagues were
notorious for their rapid disappearing acts.
So the bar manager sat in her flat, refusing to expect good news – and
even Rachel found it difficult to gain entrance, inexperienced as she was with
grief of this magnitude.
This
was Nia's way - despite her easy openness and cheerful disposition, the
strongest emotions struck her very core. She
reeled from them - and when this occurred, she preferred to deal with the tidal
wave alone, knowing it could easily submerge anyone else who came near.
Beaten and suffocated by a current of conflicting feelings, she could do
nothing but wait for the storm to pass. She
emerged eventually, a little more rested and slightly less wan and drawn, and
seemed to have found a grudging recognition of her loss – but the tide had
gone out in her eyes, leaving a numb emptiness behind.
With the confusion on the streets, she was able to slink quietly away
from her old life, secure in the knowledge that everyone would be too busy
fighting to try and follow her or even notice she was gone.
But she still wanted answers – and there was nobody left who could
satisfy her demand.
Matt
was nowhere to be found. He’d
apparently also gone into the bar, in search of Nia – it seemed that he’d
known about Max’s call to the police, but knew nothing of the radical plan to
dispose of the evidence. The fire
had been started without his authorisation, by various renegade elements within
his team. Or so said the heavies
who paid Jake a visit, a few days later. Apparently,
he’d last been seen dashing into the burning building - but a body was never
found.
With
the head gangster's disappearance, Manchester descended into anarchy.
The power vacuum that sprung up gave birth to a number of pretenders with
lofty ambitions, and in the weeks after the fire, there was constant war between
rival factions. Drive-by shootings, bar-room brawls and street-stabbings grew
increasingly common, and although more than one civilian got caught in the
crossfire, the police refused to intervene.
A
few years earlier, Jake might have been tempted to step into the breach and
return order to Manchester's disintegrating underworld. But somehow, the prospect of forging her own empire amidst
the ruins seemed strangely unattractive - now she had someone else to consider,
and a new focus in her life. The
small bar manager had assumed an importance she'd never expected, and these
days, her first thought was always of Nia.
Surprisingly,
it felt right that this was the case.
*
*
*
“Well,
the University kept my place open.” Said Nia, slowly.
She
leaned back in her chair, and looked questioningly at Jake, silhouetted against
the background of the lunchtime traffic. The
warm weather had convinced many of Manchester’s bar owners to put their tables
and chairs out on the street – and the two women were sharing a cup of coffee
on the veranda of one of Manchester’s quieter gay bars.
“I
can go and start doctoral research whenever I like. They’re even going to pay my fees.” She finished.
The
dark woman gave her a serious, intent look.
“Are you ready for that?” She asked.
“I
think so.” Nia replied.
Her
eyes welled with tears, as they always did when she thought of Max.
“I
miss her so much, you know.” She whispered.
“But
going back to school will do me good. She’d
want me to.”
“Yes,
she would.” Replied the butch, with a smile.
A
ray of spring sunlight glinted off her shades, illuminating the face the bar
manager had come to love. She
smiled back – reflecting that Jake had been a pillar of strength over the past
weeks. After the blaze had died
down, explanations had been given, and apologies exchanged, although much still
remained unsaid. But Nia was
beginning to realise that it didn’t really matter – what was important was
the fact that her trust in the dark woman had been restored.
Jake’s heroism in pulling Max out of the burning bar, and going back in
to look for her, was something she’d never forget.
For
the first time in a long while, the blonde woman felt content.
The insecure, wide-eyed girl had disappeared for good since she lost her
friend – but in her place had grown a woman who knew pain and suffering, and
had triumphed over it, as she realised every time she looked in the mirror at
the brand new crow's feet and grey hairs that signified the new maturity.
“Who
knows what could happen in the future.” She speculated, aloud.
Her
companion looked down, surprised. “I
certainly don’t.” She muttered,
half to herself.
Nia
reached for the butch’s hand. “Do
you want to stick around and find out?”
THE END
Back to FanFic Index