...If Only in My Dreams, A Shield Christmas Tale

[GrimJack]

I started this for last Christmas but couldn't finish it in time.

I was cleaning out my old computer, found it, and thought I'd post it.

This isn't canon and is entirely a work of fanfiction. If the Admin Team would rather I post this elsewhere or not at all, I am shiny.

Love you guys :)

[Lt. Karl Womack]

…If Only in My Dreams.


“Merry Christmas, my love.”

The words floated through the fade of the shapeless dream, shattered passed the shields and barricades of his masks, and dove into the raging waters of Karlov Womack’s turbulent soul…stilling them instantly. He became peace absolute; one with the tranquility of a love without compromise. Blessed of heart, mind and moment…the final and greatest evolution of those true to only one other; the ballad of the immortal lovers.

His ice blue eyes remained closed but a smile touched his mouth, whispering of devilish intent despite the anniversary of a Messiah’s birth.

”How merry?” he breathed in a low rumble.

Warm lips found his bare chest, hands and tongue followed, moving north to his neck and finally his own eager mouth. The kiss brought a joy to his darkness, an end to a very long night.

But like so many other beings spinning on the worlds or sailing above them, his happiness was fleeting. Kissing ‘Scarlet’ one last time, Karl opened his eyes…and found his view filled, not with the blond and beauty of his fallen love but of the red and resplendent of Cory Bell, his latest lover.

Gifted beyond the skills of the so-called expert Companions, Christine interpreted every nuance of expression, captured the wielder’s harbored and guarded true intent, and used that information in the manner most advantageous to her. Nothing escaped her…especially in the bedroom.

“You forgot where you were…when you were. You thought you were with her,” she stated matter-of-factly without a hint of jealousy or condemnation. Though Womack knew that she could be feeling an equal measure of both and he would never know.

”I did,” his own honesty was due in large part to the fact that lying to Cory Bell only proved two things: you didn’t know the woman, or you didn’t respect her.

“Should I feel flattered?”, Cory’s voice still slid into his ears saturated with her measured control of every syllable.

”I’m not about to tell you how to feel…even I’m not that stupid,” his accompanying smile was cold and distant…disappointed perhaps.

A book of worn pages, she saw every cloud in his blue eyes,
“Tell me of her. Tell me of the woman you feel when I kiss you.”

His shield exploded around him, walling off anything that could compromise his emotional hold of which Scarlet was the nexus.

”Why?”, he barked, buying time against the ambush.

Cory curled up beside him and rested her head against his hard shoulder,
“I could say it is only fair or I am simply curious, but that wouldn’t be the heart of it. I appreciate the condition of humanity, lover, and try to learn from everything I encounter. Scarlet has a Christmas present for me, and I think it’s time I unwrapped it,” her voice softened in a perfectly executed display of need, “What more would you have me say?”

With the argument formed and the enchantress’s eyes off of him, Womack relaxed…just as Cory knew he would,
”What do you want to know?”

He felt her shift beside him and drape one of her legs over his. When she spoke, her voice held a different quality than any he had ever known, and Karl absently wondered if this was her ‘true’ voice,
“In ancient times on the Earth-that-Was there stood a state by the sea. Warriors and poets, politicians and artists, the mighty and the meek…all held inside its boarders. When one of them died, they did not waste words on eulogy or conjecture, instead they weighed the life against one question and one question alone.”

Turning her head into his ear, Cory whispered the last,
“Did she have passion, Karlov?”

His troubled gaze drifted into the past, and he answered with a whisper of his own,
”In everything.”



”I’ll Be Home For Christmas
You can count on me.”


...to be continued.

[Lt. Karl Womack]

"She took to any task with a fire…no matter how trivial. Ask Eddie, he’ll tell you,” a deeper smile found his face, ”Christmas cookies.”

Womack became aware that Cory was now sitting beside him, staring,
“What about them Karl?”

”You’d a thought she was makin’ love to that dough, the way she fell on it. Scarlet never cooked much…our jobs prevented much in the way of sittin’ to table, but it wasn’t to say she couldn’t…pretty much the opposite really. Cookies though…she found the time for cookies.”

Karl forgot Cory was there and dropped into the past.

His hands crept up his own face, tracing an invisible line against his jaw,
”She’d get a smear of flour right here…every time,” his hands made a sweeping motion toward his short cropped scalp, ”She’d tucked her hair behind her ear, when it dropped from her bandanna…marked her each and every.”

Karl’s vision shifted from the line of flour to the razored skin of Scarlet’s stolen face, and his happiness vanished.

With a sniff of irritation and sadness, his mood and speech shifted,
”The bones in both her hands were broken, when they gave her the autopsy. They found skin and blood other than her own in her teeth. A witness said that her shouts and screams lasted nearly an hour…she never stopped…not till the end…maybe not even then.”

Hesitating only a second, Cory’s hand gently brushed away the tears he was unaware he’d cried.

Dead eyes, rendered inert with the loss of his beloved met the enchantress’,
”So ‘yes’…Scarlet had passion…in everything .”

Cory smiled and not a hint of design decorated the beautiful act,
“She did indeed.”

Without another word, Karl stood and pulled on his dark uniform pants and white tank top. Slipping on his boots, he walked over and opened the door, but before he passed through the portal he offered one last statement to the woman in the bed behind him,
”Don’t ever stop lookin’, Cory. Merry Christmas.”

As the door closed behind him, the woman pulled the sheets over her nude body and smiled,
“I won’t.”

As sleep claimed her and her guard lowered, Marie’s dreams danced with visions of gumdrops and fireflies…sugar plums and pirate captains.



"Please have some snow and mistletoe..."



...to be continued

[Lt. Karl Womack]

His boots fell lightly against the grating of The Ares Shield’s Spartan hallways. Unconscious of his course or destination, the bad lieutenant drifted through the sleeping ship, ignoring the oblivion of dream for the fresh pain of reality. It was impossible to keep Scarlet’s image from his mind, so he embraced the hurt…anything to be with his love again. Before he realized where he was he noticed the flicker and glow of dozens of small flames, dancing across the floor in front of him. Reflecting the ethereal quality of the fire, his eyes rose to a scene from a time long past.

Down a seldom used service corridor near the galley, several old ration crates had been arranged in a semi circle of varying levels, and each contained rows of candles. Dozens, maybe more than a hundred and fifty, glowed in the darkness and illuminated the man, the knight, on his knees before him…deep in prayer.

Mancoon Krylin’s back stood perfectly straight and his large hands were clasped piously against his broad chest. His curly locks fell against his cheeks, gifting him with a childlike quality…the playmate and not the warrior.

Womack immediately regretted his unintended intrusion because he knew that no matter how engrossed Krylin appeared to be, he was first and foremost a soldier without equal…and prayer held no sway over the instincts of a being trained to kill and survive.

“M'rry Christmas, Lieutenant,” the giant said from his knees.

Karl raised his hands in apology,
”I’m sorry, ‘Coon…I wasn’t mindin’ my steps like I should. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Ye did’na,” Mancoon smiled at his friend and superior.

His apology accepted the detective in Womack couldn’t resist asking just one question,
”Why so many, Krylin?”

Mancoon’s eyes lowered, and the light embraced the fallen angel,
“One fer e’ryone close tah me that’s gone on tah Heaven.”

Womack’s eyes widened in astonishment at the thought.

Before Karl could respond, Mancoon’s right hand pointed at one of the candles in the row right in front of him,
“That’s Scarlet’s. The wax’s got a touch o’red in it, which ah thought was right.”

Ice blue met red flame, and Womack’s world became the bright memorial of his lost lover. After several moments, Karl noticed an unlit candle beside Scarlet’s and instantly, he knew it was his.

Leaving the candles, his eyes found Mancoon’s and Karl noticed tears stained his friend’s cheeks,
“Ah’ll never forget her, Karlov.”

or you, the giant left the last unsaid.

His throat caught, and he was unable to offer Krylin any verbal thanks. Instead Womack simply nodded and clapped the giant on the shoulder before returning to the darkness of The Shield.



"And presents by the tree..."


...to be continued

[Lt. Karl Womack]

After traversing the dimly lit corridors of The Shield for many minutes, a gale of laughter pulled Womack toward the open area of the cargo bay. Instead of entering, he eased close to the space, but remained in the shadows, not wanting to interrupt another crewmember’s pursuits, as he had with Mancoon.

Off against the far wall of the cargo bay, Christmas in all its illuminated glory had gained a foothold. A card table had been erected, which by itself was nothing out of the ordinary, but instead of the drab and dreary, the piece of furniture had been trimmed with tinsel and brightly colored pin-lights, the origin of which Womack hadn’t a clue. Above the table a single white bulb provided light in which to see, but it was the continuation of the colored pin-lights, hung with wire over the table, that brought forth images of halos and excitement.

At the table, three men laughed and made merry, as only the season and severely spiked eggnog can. Edward Hightower, Israel Pasalewe, and Tiberius Khan celebrated Christmas Eve with cards; three wise men bearing the gifts of loyalty, honesty, and fraternity.

Womack started to move to join them, but realized his current mood would only lessen the atmosphere of his friends, so instead, he listened and found happiness in their joy.

“So that’s why you call him ‘Sugarlips’?”, giggled Eddie, unable to keep himself composed.

“My dainty hand to God,” swore Pasalewe.

“That’s ruttin’ hi-larious, Ray,” Tibby added.

“I find it more sweet really…no pun intended,” the medic purred.

The three men laughed again, until Khan dropped his hand to the table,
“Full house, girls…gimme that shiny.”

As Tibby’s massive arms scrapped the pot toward him the other two men threw down their cards disgustedly…neither held a hand capable of beating Khan.

“What is that…three hands in a row?”, Eddie kidded.

“Give him a break, sweetness…the big lug has to be good at something,” Ray stated with a wink.

“I’m ‘good’ at a lot of things, Ray-Ray, but I’m only ‘great’ at one…pity you’ll never find out just how great,” Tibby winked right back.

Ray’s eyes rolled into his head in mock ecstasy,
“If I’d a known you were going to start with the dirty talk, I would’ve starting throwing these hands earlier.”

All three men shared another laugh and refreshed their beverages. Before the next hand was dealt however, Khan placed the deck on the table and turned to his friends,
“What was he like…you know, before he lost Scarlet?”

The smiles bled from both Eddie and Ray’s faces, but instead of anger or pain, an appreciation filled both of their eyes…an appreciation that Tiberius Khan was the kind of man to care about such things.

From the shadows, Womack pulled away, but he remained within earshot…a morbid fascination compelling him to do so.

“He was great,” whispered Eddie, his eyes drifting into the past, “…don’t get me wrong he was still a hard ass, but Scarlet tempered that side of him. With her he was whole…if that makes sense.”

Tibby nodded.

“I hated Scarlet,” Ray began unexpectedly, and the gazes of both men shot toward the medic, “She took my Sugarlips away from me, so I hated her. For months I cursed her and acted the fool, but finally, Karl shamed me into meeting them for dinner. As soon as she spoke, I knew…she was the only being capable of matching the fire in Karl. I tried my best to be crude and crass and embarrass her with sexual innuendo, but Scarlet gave it back to me in spades. Then I looked at Sugarlips and I saw something I never expected…joy. From that moment on…I loved Scarlet.”

Realizing he had become entirely too serious, the medic concluded,
“Plus the skinny little bitch looked good in red, which I had to at least begrudgingly respect.”

Eddie smiled a leaned into Ray, sharing a hug with the man.

Tibby sat back in his chair and brought his mug up to his lips, but before he took a drink, he asked,
“What one thing do you guys miss the most about him?”

Both men answered simultaneously,
“His laugh.”

Ray and Eddie chuckled at one another for their synchronized response.

“It was like a bark really,” Ray pondered.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, “When he laughs now you can tell its…”

“Controlled,” Ray finished for him.

“Yeah ‘controlled’,” agreed the corporal.

Ray turned to Tibby,
“You’dve liked him, Kahn.”

Putting his mug down, he answered immediately,
“I'd have liked him more maybe.”

Picking up the cards, Khan started to deal but paused and engaged the gazes of both men,
“Merry Christmas, boys.”

“You too, sexy,” teased Ray.

“God bless us…every one,” added Eddie.

Womack quit back into the shadows…the laughter of the three men surrounding him as he departed.



"Christmas Eve will find me
Where the love light gleams..."

[Lt. Karl Womack]

(Somehow the rest of this didn't post back in December, so here it be :) )


Alone again, Karl wondered through his boat and in so doing travelled the path of cherished memories. Laughter and love from another life played before him like an ancient Earth-that-Was projector, casting images of Lync and Scarlet living without the specter of death…though it had been closer than ant of them had known. He passed through these memories like a clipper through fog, and his thoughts soon returned to the matter of mourning and the colorless existence of widowed passion.

The Shield’s bridge materialized from the fog and with an unknown purpose, Womack climbed into the boat’s command center.

Lights and subsystems were powered low, with only navigation and life support displaying fully illuminated control panels. Beyond the forward glass the stars of the Black twinkled in their best impersonation of a Christmas Tree, but the effort did little to lightened the sorrow that cloaked his soul.

Suddenly the pilot chair spun and the smiling face of Damian Malone swung into view; a glass of red wine glimmering against his dark sleepwear, “Merry Christmas, Karl.”

He managed a weak smile, ”Merry Christmas, D.”

Similar in skill to Cory but more practiced in implementation, Damian saw to the core of strangers, so his divination of friends rivaled the otherworldly, “A night fueled by the mind, is it not?”

Without internal debate over the guarding of his thoughts, Womack answered simply and honestly, ”Ruled by the mind, maybe. Christmas Eve…” he offered a sorry smile, ”…you can keep it.”

Damian chuckled softly, “Perhaps, but perhaps it has a gift for us yet…something non-refundable.”

Womack’s eyes narrowed, ”I’m not talking about her, D…seems like everyone has a mind to get inside mine tonight. You want to drink and tell me some crazy Companion stories about gettin’ bare assed with a Governor, well then, I’m listenin’. Psycho-go se and introspection and I’m skippin’ to my lou.”

Malone laughed again and raised one hand in surrender, “Actually I was being selfish with my proposal. I…I just wanted someone to take my brother’s place for the night.”

He took a sip of wine before continuing, “Jax and I never could sleep on Christmas Eve, so we stayed up all night, distracting ourselves with games and conversation…anything to keep our minds off the toys and food that were a sunrise away.”

Womack smiled and his darkness dissipated a bit.

“When we got older, we still stayed up through the night,” continued the Companion, “but now we found that the anticipation of Christmas paled in comparison to an Eve shared by brothers. I’m just a little lonely and nostalgic, Karl, and I have no ulterior motives other than wishing to spend an evening with a brother.”

Karl found himself nodding at the end of Damian’s proclamation, and before he realized it, he was sitting in the Comm chair beside the pilot station. With a smirk, he reached out his hand, ”Give it here, D.”

“Give ‘what’ here?”, the Master answered coyly.

Womack’s answer was a wave of his fingers and a nod toward his empty palm. Laughing again, Damian reached into the darkness under the bridge console, produced a wine bottle, and handed it to Womack.

Bringing the bottle to his lips, Karl took a pull and placed the wine on the console between them.

”So,” started the bad lieutenant, ”What should we talk about?”

Damian Malone, Companion of the highest rank, returned his brother’s smile and whispered, “Let us talk of brothers, of Lync and Jax, and all the tales they share. Let us talk of pleasant things; of love and laughter…of happiness unburdened.”

Womack knew that he had taken the bait and Master D’s hook had him lined and locked. Still he nodded his agreement but not without making known his understanding, ”You’re a good friend to have, D…I learn all sorts of nifty verbal snares and pitfalls when we conversate.”

Clinking his glass to Womack’s bottle, the Companion winked, “To a night of memories and education.”

****

Several hours later, Womack shared a quick hug with Damian and headed back into the Shield less burdened than he had been.


”I’ll be home for Christmas…”

[Lt. Karl Womack]

The Black eternally rolls on without dawn or sunset marking its history, but for those that travel its depths, the ancient clock of mankind still ticks the same seconds tock’d since the beginning…and another Christmas morning began to form amidst the cold dark of space.

----

His night of introspection and haunting closed, the broken man moved to find the comfort and oblivion afforded by sleep, with the hope being that exhaustion of soul would keep the heartache and the nightmares away…for a spell. But magic has a way of getting what it wants, and on that early Christmas morning in the blackness of the deep, the spirits of past, present and eternal wished more of the man from whom the worlds had already taken so much.

But instead of another payment of soul asked of Karl Womack, this time Magic had a gift to give.

The smell drew him from his course…drew him to the heart of The Shield. With each step, Karl seemed to travel a day back in time until nostalgia had returned him to the life before; before the Hate, before Niska, before he had lost that which had made him whole.

The galley seemed the very contradiction, and by default epitome, of the Christmas season. Chaos had taken hold in one section, while perfect preparation and organization reigned supreme farther along the proverbial ‘assembly’ line. But instead of the normal fare fashioned and formed for the troops of Karl’s army, this Christmas morn found the ‘line’ and its queen creating the scents and tastes famous to the birthday of the King of kings.

Shantassa Lan labored over her cookies from creation to birth, dough to tin, with hands and forearms white with flour. Her short hair, gaining length since he had first met her, found its freedom restricted in a small ponytail bound by a simple leather tie. Beyond her bare, flour covered arms the rest of her slight frame was obscured by her work apron, which too carried the Jackson Pollack of cookies’ made.

From the shadows of the doorway, Karlov watched her work for several seconds, unwilling to intrude and bring his darkness to such a joyous scene…yet unable to leave. She hadn’t seen him though, so seconds became minutes, and during that time, a barely audible tune found his ears; carried on the hum of the Christmas baker. So slight was Shanti’s song that it took him several beats to place it, but when he did, his journey into the past continued, until he was a but a boy…a boy with his mother at the foot of his bed.

Karl’s defenses lowered, for just a second, and he forgot the hurt, the ache.

His shield clattered to the floor of his soul, leaving his heart exposed…

And at that moment, the Magic of Christmas struck…and struck true.

”Hush child, let your mommy sleep in to the night until we rise,” Womack’s voice, rough and hard, cracked with the effort of song, but the notes found firmer footing as he continued and held strong…like the man that sung them, ”Hush child, let me soothe the shining tears that gather in your eyes.”

Shanti’s eyes blue beneath their mask of brown turned higher to regard the apparition that emerged from the shadows and entered her galley. No fear or surprise floated in the orbs because she was neither. Womack’s presence had been divined almost immediately upon his arrival outside her door, but being the being she was, Shanti had allowed him to remain ‘hidden’.

She didn’t speak or move…instead she joined him.

”Hush child, I won’t leave I’ll stay with you to cross this Bridge of Sighs,” cop and slave found singular voice, and the Magic of Christmas stepped back, pleased with its work, ”Hush child, I can’t help the look of accusation in your eyes. In your eyes.”

Karl moved beside Shanti and took a position on the cookie line, nearest the tins. With a slight smile, the woman nodded to a sheet of sugar cookies and indicated what container was to hold them. Falling into the task, the broken cop collected a nearby spatula and began the careful process of transferring Shanti’s art.

”Hush child, let your mommy sleep in to the night until we rise.”

As they worked, Womack glanced over at Shanti just in time to see a length of her blond hair pull free of her leather wrapped ponytail and fall into her face. With one ice-blue eye in the past and one focused in the present, he saw both Scarlet and Shanti reach up and move the same hued hair behind their ears…leaving each with a slash of flour along their respective jaw-lines.

Shanti turned to meet his gaze, and Scarlet vanished.

”Hush child, all the strength I’ll need to fight, I’ll find inside your eyes…In your eyes.”

The last shared note hung for a few seconds until Karl finally spoke,
”I’m glad you stayed. Back on Silverhold and all the times since, I’m glad you stayed.”

Shanti blushed but did not look away; instead she did something unexpected.

“Go se,” she breathed in mock irritation.

Karl’s eyes widened in a rare display of shock.

”Go se what? Go se why? Why go se?”, the flustered lieutenant stammered.

Shanti started to untie her apron and moved toward the common area,
“Go se because now Is have to figure out how to pry a massive hunk of coal out of your stocking.”

Her smile lit his world, heralding the official arrival of Christmas morning. Womack’s quickly followed, and with it came something else…

”HA!”

The laugh came from another time, another place, yet it carried no shades or spirits of lost loved ones; instead it arrived without pretense…for a slave girl that had reached his heart.


----

“HA!”

The sound never reached the knowing of Cory, of Marie, but in her dream, Malcolm Reynolds laughed strangely before falling back into her arms.

----

“HA!”

The three wise men around their festive table of cards cocked their ears toward the sound. Tibby looked to Eddie and Ray for confirmation but their smiles were all he needed. In silence the three hoisted bottles high.

----

“HA!”

Finishing the last of his wine, Master D smiled for brothers absent and brothers found.

----

“HA!”

Mancoon Krylin’s eyes remained closed even though he heard the bark of laughter and immediately recognized its origin. Twin tears crept from beneath his pious lids and tracked down his stubbled cheeks. Clasping his hands ever tighter, the holy knight whispered to his God,
“Thank you.”





"If only in my dreams"

The End