Casting Out Shadows
“Again! Again! Again!”
She was sweating a little – still unused to the Wakandan sun – and she dabbed lightly at her brow as she straightened. Her tiny audience were not so impeded, jumping with a simple joy for her simple tricks.
She was no gymnast, but apparently the flips and spins she executed as part of her combative style were enough entertainment for the children that inexplicably followed her around the little farmstead that she called home. “I am tired, children. Besides, you cannot possibly want to see it again.” She tried to keep her voice light. She did not want to frighten them. “How about some magic instead?”
They were easily placated, and she let them tug her by the arms and legs, little fists in her loose clothing, tiny fingers wrapped around her own. She marvelled at them, at the tiny delicacy of their features, at all their exuberant joy. She had not beheld children so closely before, and though the mothers and fathers of the little tykes apologized endlessly for their behaviour, she remained as enamoured with them, as they appeared to be with her.
“Aleks!” She straightened at the familiar voice calling a still unfamiliar name. Aleks. Aleksandrina Romanov. It still sat strangely, after so long anonymous, after so long playing at being a ghost, she was unused to the name.
Natalia was standing in the doorway to their small cottage, and even from where she stood, Aleks could see the amusement on the younger woman’s face. She took note of the sun’s low saddle on the horizon and pursed her lips. “We’ll save it for tomorrow, I think.” There was a loud chorus of despair, and the youngest of the gang – Xani, five years old and chubby cheeked and bright-eyed – screwed up her face in a way Aleks had learnt meant a tantrum was about to kick off. Swiftly, she scooped the small girl from the ground, swinging her up high and fast enough to freeze the cry in her throat. She squealed with delight instead, and when Aleks balanced her on her hip, buried her sticky hands into the tangle of braids at the nape of her neck. Aleks ignored the faint tug, and reached out to Molla, the eldest and tallest. She pinched lightly at his cheek. “Will you take the others home? I know I can trust you, Molla.”
As always, the expression of authority made the boy puff his chest out. “Of course, Miss Aleks!” He stomped his foot once and began to click at the others. “Come on! Come on, now!”
Aleks pressed a gentle kiss to Xani’s brow, and began to lower her to the ground again. Xani’s hands tightened on her braids again – put there and styled by the children – and she began to whimper. “Come, Xani.” Aleks sighed, “You will see me tomorrow, and then the day after.”
“And after that?” Xani chirped, wobbling her bottom lip.
Aleks couldn’t help but smile. “Yes. After that, too.” Finally, she was able to relinquish Xani to her elder sister’s hold, patting them both on the head. The rabble began to gallop back towards the city and palace, joy restored once more. “Straight home!” She called after them, as she always did. A few of the children turned to wave at her again before they disappeared over the hill. She waved back until she couldn’t see them any more.
“You should start charging for baby-sitting.” Her great-niece’s voice was coloured with barely concealed amusement. Aleks’ lips twitched when Natalia nudged her slightly. “Come on. Dinner’s ready.”
She trailed after her old pupil, lingering in the last vestiges of the sunlight. Life was easy here, easier than she deserved.
The smell of whatever was on the stove came twisting from the open door of her little hut and she ducked inside, choosing to leave the door open. Inside, Natalia had returned to the stove, already bickering lightly with Sam over the seasoning. She could smell peppers and paprika and fish – something creole then, warming and filling. Steve was setting the table for them, the domestic act still looking absurd to her; his broad frame filling the space, large hands making the cutlery look like plastic. At her entrance, he looked up and smiled.
She smiled back – a reflex now. She and Steve had grown closer over the last few months; during the long hours of solitude she had endured whilst her partner underwent procedure after procedure, Steve had often wound up by her side. There were still shadows between them, things unspoken, memories and deeds too dark to bring up casually – but Aleks thought him an ally, and perhaps, a tentative friend.
“Darlin’.” Her partner’s voice was still a little hoarse – she guessed he had not spoken much today, if at all. She turned to meet his eyes where he sat in their only armchair. She searched his face for a moment longer, taking in the exhaustion and haunted look in his eyes. But there was no ice, no steel there. Unguarded, he watched her back, and when she moved towards him, he reached out and snagged the hem of her shirt with his one hand. It still threw them both a little off balance – her partner was still adjusting to using one limb. She folded into him, and he brushed his cheek against hers. Then he laughed quietly.
She raised a brow, questioning, chiding. He shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “You must have caught the sun – you’re warmer than I am.”
Aleks glanced around the room, glad that no one seemed to be paying them any attention. She drew him in and kissed him greedily. He sighed as she pulled back. “Impossible, my любить.” Love.
All was well.