"You need to sleep if you're leaving in the morning," I whisper softly, staring down at his head, rested comfortably on my thighs. He shakes it slowly, glancing up at me.
"I'll sleep when I'm dead. I've got this time with ye, I willnae waste it." He turns onto his side and rests his cheek against my thigh, placing his hand onto my hip. "I want to hear about what life has been for ye since we last spoke."
"I thought you didn't want to know," I murmur gently, pushing his hair back from his eyes.
"Aye, I do... It may kill me but I must hear it."
"Well, I've told you everything significant, really... I was- pregnant half the time we've been apart."
His eyes flicker to my stomach, to the battle wounds of labor, the wounds I acquired with no reward. I smile softly when he rests his hand against the flat area, pressing his lips together.
"Ye didn't deserve more pain, mo ghràidh."
"I'm living with it," I whisper, striving for positivity. "I'm doing alright."
"Are ye?"
I nod. "Right now, I'm wonderful."
"Aye, as am I." His lips curve in the corners, creasing his cheeks with dimples. I look down as his fingers curl around the ends of my crimson hair, rested against my stomach.
"Your hair has grown. It looks bonny on ye."
"Yours too." I touch it lightly, relishing the feel. "The color is remarkable... It's so dark... if you're in the light, there's a kind of blue undertone. Indigo blue."
"Indigo?"
I smile softly and nod. "Yes. It's the name for a dark kind of blue."
"They made that up in your time?"
I chuckle, shaking my head. "I'm not really sure when they made up that one."
"Tell me more about it... About where you're from."
I think back, a small curve to my lips in remembrance. "Well... it was very hot where I lived. Usually in the nineties. You'd walk outside and start sweating." I chuckle when he makes a dubious face. "Yeah, it wasn't like Scotland at all. There are millions and millions of people- so many that the faces blur together. The entire state was surrounded by ocean. Warm water."
"Ocean with warm water?"
"Yes, sometimes too warm."
"Wow, that must have been something."
A small smile of remembrance lights my face. "It was."
He rubs my hip gently, humming. "Do ye miss it?"
"Certain things, yes."
"Like what?"
"It was so easy to live then... compared to here. There were showers, warm baths, restaurants everywhere that would serve any type of food you wanted. Cars, airplanes, trains... ways you could get around the world in a matter of hours, days... Women were regarded as more than wives, or mothers then. I could work to secure my own living. I was free to choose who I wanted to marry. I went to school. University. I left my family and traveled alone to Scotland- I was free to do that."
He stares at me, obviously absorbing what I'm telling him with caution. I smile and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't know... it was just easier for me there."
"Aye, I understand... But ye seem to- ye don't understand either... what kind of role ye have in a man's life as well."
I stare at him, blinking. "I have no role as Lachlan's wife, Callan."
"Maybe not to him. But to a man who loves his woman, who grows with her... a wife is a confidant, a person to trust in an untrustworthy world. She's the-the bearer of your legacy. A wife nourishes a man's life, gives him what he needs to survive... do ye understand? 'Tis no simple role."
His words sadden me to my very bones, as once again, he gives me a glimpse of a life I cannot have. I'm the first to look away, towards the wall, fearing I'll begin sobbing in front of him.
He sits up slowly, reaching out for my cheek. "Gill-"
"I'm fine," I whisper when he turns my face towards his, blinking to try and hold back the water forming. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against mine, exhaling.
"I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
"I feel I do."
"Why?"
"I don't ken really... maybe for doing this to ye again. Showin' up here. I couldn't stay away, knowin' I'd see ye."
I smile softly, sniffling. "I'm glad you didn't... it's just going to be hard to say goodbye again."
He nods, opening his eyes. "I found myself- waiting... when ye were in fever and seconds away from dying before my eyes, secretly, I was waiting for it... The dark part of me, the part that wants to steal ye from this place and that man, knew that if it happened, I wouldnae be able to go on. And possibly, if the sin of it didn't keep us apart, we'd be able to join, in heaven and love freely, without reservation. I've never experienced that kind of fear. I became irrational... I was so scarit to lose ye."
I stare at him, smiling softly. He chuckles darkly and closes his eyes, shaking his head. "I ken it's a horrible thing to think- to say... aloud..."
"It's a beautiful sentiment, Callan. I love that you love me that much."
His mouth presses to mine softly, and he moves above me gracefully, clasping my cheek. "I do."
...
As if I've received a blow to my gut, I let go, crying out Callan's name into the pillow as his fingers cease their moving inside of me. We're both drenched, despite the chill of the room, too caught up in our lust to stop.
Dawn is breaking, showing it's self through the window.
"I love ye more than life itself. Your heart, your body, your mind, your soul. I cannae stop touchin' ye. I cannae. I want to be sore from lovin' ye to much."
Molding his body to my back, he presses his mouth to my throat, entering me slowly. Both of us groan at the contact, our bodies sensitive to the touch. He clasps my hip and rocks into my body, moaning in pleasure as I tremble against him, still coming down from my high.
"Don't stop," I whisper. "Never stop."
I feel my body resist him, swollen from overuse but I won't stop him. Like him, I want to be able to feel his touch even when he's gone... for as long as a possibly can.
"Oh God," I whisper desperately, turning my face to his. He kisses me breathlessly but with passion. Unspeakable passion that raises the hair on my arms to a standpoint.
His hand scales my body, cupping my heavy, sensitive breast in his large palm. He moans, pulling me closer, as close as possible.
My eyes flicker to the window once again, as I fear the inevitable morning that is approaching fast and then I close my eyes again, willing it away.
...
"Gillian..."
I open my eyes slowly. My eyelids resist the effort and shut again.
"Mo chridhe, I must go. People will be stirring."
At his words, I open my eyes and look to him, dressed on the edge of the bed. He smiles softly and touches my face, caressing the skin softly. There's a sinking in my gut, that forces tears of fear into my eyes.
I sit up slowly, touching the wound on my stomach lightly. My heart is cracking open, it's painful. I drop my head down and break down into sobs, shaking my head in disbelief.
Unwilling to think of him in that war. Unable to think of what will become of him. Unwilling to think that I'll really never be able to see him again. That he'll be gone.
He moves closer, wordlessly and pulls me close, wrapping his arms around my body tightly. My tears fall onto his shoulder.
"Please don't go," I beg, desperately.
"I must, Gillian."
"You won't come back."
"I'll live."
I close my eyes at the words. "Promise me."
He doesn't though. He can't. I know he can't. Instead he presses his lips to my forehead tenderly.
"I must go or someone will see me leavin' your bed chamber."
He stands, slowly and grabs his bag. I stare at him and utter the only thing I feel could help him. "Don't sign anything."
He turns. "Why not?"
I sit up, eyes wide. "Have you already?"
"Nay. But why can I not?"
"Because when this rebellion fails, and it will, you don't want anything linking you to this battle... In case you can escape."
"If my destiny is to die among the men of my country, then I will, Gillian. I'll not escape," he says, stubborn as ever.
I close my eyes, feeling my lips tremble. "Please, just don't sign anything."
He nods, gently after a moment staring at my face. "Ye have my word."
That calms me slightly.
"Have you gotten food for your journey?" I whisper, standing as well. He shakes his head. "Stop by Ann on your way out."
"Aye, I will."
I reach into my jewelry box, taking out a gold cross. A necklace that Lachlan gifted to me over a year ago. I look down at it and then turn, holding it out to Callan.
"Keep this with you. It will keep you safe," I whisper, wiping my eyes when he takes it. I'm struggling to control my raging emotions.
"Are ye sure?"
I nod, smiling softly. "I want you to have something of mine."
He nods and swallows, tucking it into his sporran. "Aye, then ye shall have something of mine."
He takes out a journal- it's old and worn down. He hands it over to me and I notice his name has been laced into the bottom of the leather.
"My parents had it made before they passed. I've not gone a day without it, as ye can see. I'd like ye to have it as well."
"Callan, this is- important to you. Really important."
"Aye, which is why I leave it with ye." His words press into a part of my body, that make it hard to breathe. But it's his next words cut off all of my air supply in a matter of seconds. "You're on these pages, mo ghràidh. My life before ye, when I met ye and after I left ye. I leave you my every thought, so ye really ken how much someone thinks of ye in each passing day."
I close my eyes, smiling in regret. I move into his body in a rush, exhaling when his arms come around my body, squeezing tightly. Our mouths connect with a rough, aching passion. He holds me close, appreciating my lips until we're breathless, pulling back to finally inhale again.
"Think of me," he whispers, head pressed against mine, breath hot against my cheek. I nod, crying.
"Always."
He releases a groan and pulls back, turning. I watch him move to the door, stuck in my place. He grasps the door, but stops, turning back to look at me.
I smile, completely bare and unaware of it. He smiles too, it's small but genuine.
"We'll see one another again."
I nod, wiping my cheeks. I know what he means. "Maybe- things will be easier then."
He nods, and looks down, twitching his mouth. That's when I notice the red brimming around his eyes. He opens the door and disappears within seconds.
I hear his footsteps bound down the hall, loud at first, then an echo, and then- there's nothing there. Deafening silence.