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sga_flashficHearty hello to everyone! I'm new to lj and to SGA, so I hope I'm doing this right. I don't know if there's any restrictions to naming a fic after the challenge; I hope not.
Title: Left Behind
Author: kuonji
Characters: guess
Pairings: none
Rating: G
Challenge: Left Behind
Summary: Once a day, for just a short time, the warm golden light from outside forms a perfect circle of color on the floor, and for that period of time before this dazzle of beauty stretches away into an oblong mass, she sits.
Title: Left Behind
Author: kuonji
Characters: guess
Pairings: none
Rating: G
Challenge: Left Behind
Summary: Once a day, for just a short time, the warm golden light from outside forms a perfect circle of color on the floor, and for that period of time before this dazzle of beauty stretches away into an oblong mass, she sits.
Left Behind
by kuonji
Once a day, for just a short time, the warm golden light from outside forms a perfect circle of color on the floor, and for that period of time before this dazzle of beauty stretches away into an oblong mass, she sits. She sighs in the center of this incandescent glow and she squints her eyes shut, and she thinks about the home that she left behind.
She finds that she can't remember it very well anymore. She only recalls in her sleepy mind that perfect corner to curl up in, and those comfortable smells of the eating area, and the hum of machines with the sky overhead, pinpricks in the blackness.
She sees more of the sky now than she once did. But it isn't the same.
He isn't here.
She remembers him better than she remembers her old bed or the taste of the meals in the place that she has left. She remembers how he used to look at her, like she was mysterious and irresistible and strong, yet his, just like she liked it.
On the night before they separated, he had spoken long and soulfully to her. She listened to his voice rising and falling, and she watched his strong hands talk until he was too tired to do more than simply run them over her face and the back of her head, again and again -- excited yet mournful. She hadn't been able to tell him anything, as always, a fact that ever frustrated her because he told her so much in return. But she pushed her nose into the warmth of his neck and spread herself over him, and she closed her eyes and made the soft meaningless noises that she knew soothed him.
He held onto her and for long hours did not speak.
The next morning, he had prepared their meals, as always, and as always, he offered her some small tidbit with his fingertips. He was shy and she thought it was silly, but as usual, she played along and took it, and then he rested his large hand on her cheek and told her again with looks and a low tone that he would miss her. She could tell that he did not really believe that she could understand his feelings. It was not the time to correct him, though, even if she could, so she ate, silent, and felt him talk on and on beside her.
She had not wanted to leave, or to be left. But she had made it matter-of-fact, as had he. He had turned around to look at her with his eyes, just for a moment at the last, and she had watched him fiercely with her ears until she could no longer.
It's strange, sitting here now, thinking these things.
This new place is wide and bright, with sights and sounds and smells that she has never known until she came. In some ways, it is starting to feel familiar to her, as if this could become her home, too.
She is where she is now. And he... is not. Perhaps he is living life as he used to; perhaps instead he is becoming even more feral than she ever was. She had seen in the dazzling kaleidascope of things that he had explained to her with his whole animated body, that he was traveling somewhere far away and new and so unknown that she could not imagine it. Except, of course, when he had told her about it, she could.
There is a high ringing sound, normally the signal for her to get up, to stretch the colored warmth down her spine, and to find her meal.
Today, however, she feels mellow, and so she tucks her gray and white paws beneath her and does not open her topaz eyes.
Because maybe this will become her home. But maybe not. She knows with an ancient certainty that he'll tell her which when he comes back.
End.
If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:
Marks (Stargate Atlantis), by kuonji
Best Freinds Forever (Stargate Atlantis), by kuonji
Independance (Stargate Atlantis), by Lacey McBain
by kuonji
Once a day, for just a short time, the warm golden light from outside forms a perfect circle of color on the floor, and for that period of time before this dazzle of beauty stretches away into an oblong mass, she sits. She sighs in the center of this incandescent glow and she squints her eyes shut, and she thinks about the home that she left behind.
She finds that she can't remember it very well anymore. She only recalls in her sleepy mind that perfect corner to curl up in, and those comfortable smells of the eating area, and the hum of machines with the sky overhead, pinpricks in the blackness.
She sees more of the sky now than she once did. But it isn't the same.
He isn't here.
She remembers him better than she remembers her old bed or the taste of the meals in the place that she has left. She remembers how he used to look at her, like she was mysterious and irresistible and strong, yet his, just like she liked it.
On the night before they separated, he had spoken long and soulfully to her. She listened to his voice rising and falling, and she watched his strong hands talk until he was too tired to do more than simply run them over her face and the back of her head, again and again -- excited yet mournful. She hadn't been able to tell him anything, as always, a fact that ever frustrated her because he told her so much in return. But she pushed her nose into the warmth of his neck and spread herself over him, and she closed her eyes and made the soft meaningless noises that she knew soothed him.
He held onto her and for long hours did not speak.
The next morning, he had prepared their meals, as always, and as always, he offered her some small tidbit with his fingertips. He was shy and she thought it was silly, but as usual, she played along and took it, and then he rested his large hand on her cheek and told her again with looks and a low tone that he would miss her. She could tell that he did not really believe that she could understand his feelings. It was not the time to correct him, though, even if she could, so she ate, silent, and felt him talk on and on beside her.
She had not wanted to leave, or to be left. But she had made it matter-of-fact, as had he. He had turned around to look at her with his eyes, just for a moment at the last, and she had watched him fiercely with her ears until she could no longer.
It's strange, sitting here now, thinking these things.
This new place is wide and bright, with sights and sounds and smells that she has never known until she came. In some ways, it is starting to feel familiar to her, as if this could become her home, too.
She is where she is now. And he... is not. Perhaps he is living life as he used to; perhaps instead he is becoming even more feral than she ever was. She had seen in the dazzling kaleidascope of things that he had explained to her with his whole animated body, that he was traveling somewhere far away and new and so unknown that she could not imagine it. Except, of course, when he had told her about it, she could.
There is a high ringing sound, normally the signal for her to get up, to stretch the colored warmth down her spine, and to find her meal.
Today, however, she feels mellow, and so she tucks her gray and white paws beneath her and does not open her topaz eyes.
Because maybe this will become her home. But maybe not. She knows with an ancient certainty that he'll tell her which when he comes back.
End.
If you enjoyed this story, you might try these:
Marks (Stargate Atlantis), by kuonji
Best Freinds Forever (Stargate Atlantis), by kuonji
Independance (Stargate Atlantis), by Lacey McBain