Goodbye Author/pseudonym: NemKess Fandom: Andromeda Pairing: Charlemagne Bolivar/Cuchulain Nez Pierce Rating: err.. R??? Status: new, complete Archive: wherever E-mail address for feedback:: nemsmuses@msn.com Disclaimers: Andromeda belong to me? I could only wish. Nope, not mine. Notes: my last one 'Splish Splash' was slash too, I just forgot to mark it. Summary: A high ranking member of the Saber-Jaguar Pride pays Nez Pierce a visit just before his execution. Warnings: slash... "If you get caught..." "Of course." "The execution is scheduled for tomorrow. Tonight is the only chance you'll have. I'll make sure the two of you aren't interrupted for the four hours of my shift. After that, you're on your own." "I'm sure that will be adequate." A strong arm was caught before it's owner could move away. "Bolivar. After this, we're even." "Understood. Now, do let go of me." The aristocrat calmly smoothed down his sleeve once the guard let go. Then with a disdainful tilt of his elegant head, he gestured his companion forward. "Well, lead on." ~*~*~ Cuchulain Nez Pierce was contemplating what various religions thought about the afterlife. He wasn't particularly religious himself- he was a Nieztschean after all- but he liked the idea that he might be able to come back and take his revenge on the man who had caused his misfortune. He was in the middle of a particularly gruesome fantasy where he came back as a ghost and drove Hunt to killing himself when he became aware of a presence at his cell door. There were few things in the world that rattled the disgraced Field Marshall, and he'd thought he'd faced everything that could in the week before- facing down a legend who turned out to be a nutcase willing to die as long as he took everyone else with him, seeing the shame in his children's eyes as he came home defeated, hearing the order for execution and knowing his family would have to work hard the rest of their lives to live down the shame he'd brought onto their names. Really, it was more than any sane man should be expected to take. He supposed he should have remembered the old human saying 'when it rains it pours' or, 'no matter how bad it seems, it can always get worse.'. Those humans. They sure knew a lot about the nature of bad luck. "What? No warm welcome for your old friend? Chu, I'm wounded!" He grimaced at the amused face he hadn't seen in almost fifteen years. "What do you want Bolivar? And what," he leveled his most intimidating glare at the guard and was rewarded by seeing the man shrink away," is a high ranking member of the Saber-Jaguar doing here?" "Tsk, Tsk," the other man chided as they watched the guard scurry away. "You would be amazed at the number of markers I hold in the Dragan-Kazo Pride. Calm yourself, Chu. If I wanted to bring harm to your pride, I certainly wouldn't be chatting with a condemned man." "What do you want, Bolivar?" Cuchulain wasn't sure if it was really sadness that flickered over his visitors face or just a trick of the light. "You used to call me Shar." "Yeah, well. I used to do a lot of things I don't anymore. What do you want?" "Information. I want to know about Dylan Hunt." Suspicion was swirling around in his mind. Why in the world would Charlemagne Bolivar want to know about Dylan Hunt? "Why?" The blonde man shrugged, and Cuchulain lost track of the conversation as the familiar gesture brought back memories. Memories of a time when the Saber-Jaguar and the Dragan-Kazo had been allies and when two teenagers had been more than friends. Shar had always been a fine mixture of elegance and arrogance. Graceful in a way that Chu had been taught that no man should be. But he'd seen no weakness in the too-pretty boy he'd schooled and trained with. Indeed, the boy was often able to turn other's preconceptions against them and use his weak appearance as a strength. Only Chu had never underestimated him and Shar had respected his ability to see deeper than others, past the foppish royal mask. "Chu?" "What do you want with Hunt, Shar?" He knew he hadn't imagined the softening of the dark eyes gazing at him so intently. "Perhaps I wish to avenge you." It wasn't a real answer, but he knew Shar well enough to know it was all he'd get. "The Saber-Jaguar are practically in bed with the man as it is. What could I know that that bitch Elsbett doesn't know?" He hated that woman even more than he hated Hunt. "Well, as fascinating as the man's bed practices are, they're not really what I'm interested in." Charlemagne hesitated for a moment, but obviously thought better of whatever he'd been about to say. "I want to know his state of mind. How far will he go to reestablish the Commonwealth. Weaknesses. Things of strategic value." Well, that was easy enough to answer, and common enough knowledge that he didn't feel he was betraying his Pride passing it on. "He's insane. Nothing short of his death will keep him from his goals and he commands enough loyalty from his crew that even that damned Anasanzi was willing to stand there and let him pull a compound down around our heads." Shar nodded thoughtfully and Cuchulain wondered what was going on inside that enigmatic head of his. It seemed more like he'd simply confirmed information rather than presented anything new. But why would an aristocrat break into the tightly guarded prison facility of an enemy Pride just to confirm something? "Why are you really here, Shar?" Again, there was hesitation before the slender man opened the cell door and slipped in. The prisoner moved to stand, but stopped when gestured to remain sitting. Instead, Shar joined him on the bed. "Perhaps I wished to say goodbye." It wasn't glib like the earlier answer had been. The diffidence in the tone was so at odds with everything he'd ever associated with this man. It just wasn't right to see Charlemagne Bolivar uncertain. Maybe that was why he leaned over and captured Shar's lips in a searing kiss. Or, more likely, it was just because he was going to die tomorrow, and this man had been his first lover, the only man he'd ever loved. Words were left behind as clothes were discarded. Lips and hands moved in accord as lovers turned enemies struggled to make the most of what little time remained. They came together in one last glorious explosion. Laying there, as their bodies came down from the natural high, Cuchulain wrapped his arms around the slender form he'd once loved so well. Charlemagne rested his head sideways on the broader chest, his ear right over Chu's heartbeat. "Shar?" "Shh... Don't speak." And so, in silence, they lay there, like that, until it was time for Shar to go. They dressed quietly and with only an occasional wistful look at one another. When the guard returned, Charlemagne Bolivar, Archduke of the Saber-Jaguar Pride, was once again standing outside the cell, looking as regal as ever. "Bolivar? My family?" The bright blonde head never turned back to him, but Cuchulain saw the slight incline and breathed a sigh of relief. His children would be provided for, regardless of his fate. He listened, with half an ear, as the footsteps faded away. As he closed his eyes and allowed sleep to claim him, the dream images waiting for him had platinum blonde hair and dark eyes. ~*~*~ Charlemagne sighed as he read the communiqué. It was done. Cuchulain Nez Pierce had been executed, death by beheading. Barbaric, but better than most. It had been a risk, going to see his old friend. But he'd needed to know. The universe stood at the apex of a new era. It could go a million different directions from here. The Magog could destroy everything. The Nieztscheans could finally have their empire. Or Dylan Hunt and the Andromeda Ascendant could reestablish the Commonwealth. Unlike Elsbett, who was only using Hunt for her own devices until she could kill him, Charlemagne believed that a restored Commonwealth offered the only true hope for anyone. He'd needed to know if Dylan Hunt had what it took to accomplish such a mammoth task. If he'd honestly stick with until the bitter end, even if it meant his death. And... he'd needed to say goodbye to the only person who'd ever cared enough to understand him. The only person he'd ever allowed himself to love. Quietly, he brooded over an old photograph. Two boys, one almost painfully slender the other already solid with the broad strength that would characterize the man, smirked back at him. "Sorry old friend. But the universe needs Captain Hunt a great deal more than it needed you. You will have to take your own vengeance in the afterlife." A lone tear splashed the photo as Shar allowed himself one small moment to express his grief. When he left his quarters moments later, he was once again the elegant, arrogant man that was both loved and hated by his Pride. And the only person who could have seen the difference, never would.