7/14/02

He had never been sure that the princess slept. She was at the cliffs before him the next day, no matter that he arrived with the sun. Her back was to him, affording him a moment to study her, if only from behind. Always from behind.

"Did you bring your flute?" she asked suddenly, still facing the cliffs.

He dropped to one knee as she turned, lowering his eyes. "Princess," he greeted her softly. He should have known better than to think he could come upon her unaware.

She laughed delightedly. "You'll get tired of bowing every day, Merrick."

"I won't," he answered. He watched with interest as her bare feet came nearer. When the curse was first broken he had been unable to tolerate her closeness. But turning away had hurt more than not, and this time he had no intention of running.

She knelt gracefully in front of him, startling him into catching her gaze as her skirt fluttered around her. "I will get tired of it," she said gently. "Rise, Merrick. Or I will sing on my knees."

He couldn't help raising his eyebrows at her, and a mischievous smile touched her lips. "Don't think that I won't," she warned.

He bowed his head out of habit. "I could never mistrust you, Princess."

She flowed to her feet and held out her hand expectantly. He could only stare at such an odd gesture, but it was clear that there would be no arguing with her. He took her hand as a gentleman would, standing on his own before releasing her fingers gently.

She gave him a brilliant smile. Her eyes said more than her voice ever would, but that was the way it had to be between them. "Will you play?"

For answer, he raised his flute to his lips and waited for her indrawn breath.

8/4/02

The sun might not have risen yet, but the sky already glowed a brilliant blue. A bird of prey drifted by overhead, spiraling upward on rising currents of air. The steady chir of insects surrounded him, and warmth that bespoke intense heat by midday graced his skin. The morning was well underway even in these, the predawn hours.

A flash of white from the corner of his eye alerted him, and he rolled over onto his stomach soundlessly. The cool stone was rough and unyielding beneath his body, but his uncomfortable perch had been rewarded. Resting his chin on his arms, Merrick watched Princess Shayla traverse the field below.

Then, for no apparent reason, her gliding movement came to a halt and she lifted her head to scan the cliffs. Even sprawled out as he was, he knew the lightening sky would silhouette his figure. There was no way she could miss him.

Insolently, he lifted his right hand and waved.

He heard her laugh even from where he was, and her delighted "good morning!" echoed across the cliffs. She waved too, as though not certain he would hear her, and he felt a grin spread across his face. Her welcome turned an otherwise empty day into one worth living for.

"Good morning!" he shouted back. "You're early!"

"So are you!" she cried. The first limb of the sun had yet to breach the horizon. "Tell me you didn't sleep there!"

"You sleep in a cave!" he taunted, unable to resist. "Why shouldn't I?"

She threw up her hands, lace fluttering around her elbows as she turned her back on him. He laughed. Grabbing his flute, he rolled to his feet and headed for the path that would take him down the side of the cliffs. Whether it was dawn or not, he had already seen the sun.

9/13/02

He was moving before he was consciously aware of it. Maybe it was Ranger instinct; maybe it was something deeper, more ingrained. As his hand flew through the air, though, he had only one goal: to reach the "snooze" button before his alarm completely deafened him.

The noise ceased temporarily, and he fell back against the pillows with a groan. The next few minutes were not going to be pleasant. But what choice did he have?

He levered himself out of bed, pausing only to turn his alarm off before shuffling into the bathroom. Indoor plumbing was still something of a novelty, and he silently offered thanks for human ingenuity. Warm water flowed with just a twist of the tap, and he tried to splash some of the sleep out of his eyes. They could believe what they liked these days, but only a fool threw cold water on his face when he didn't have to.

His clothes from the night before had been flung haphazardly over the single chair, and he had to dig his leather pants and grey t-shirt out from under the mess. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing in the mirror as he crossed the room. He shook his head at his reflection, grabbed his flute from the bureau and swung his jacket off its hook, slamming the door behind him.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he wasn't surprised to find Willie still up and working on the books. The paperwork was a good sign; it meant that all the cleaning was done and it probably hadn't been too bad if the man still felt like going over balance sheets. He had offered to help more than once, but Willie insisted that he did his job and he ought to leave the rest to the owner.

"Eggs are out back," the bartender said, the voice stopping him with his hand on the door. He didn't even look up when Merrick turned. "Biscuits in the oven. Can't have the help collapsing from starvation."

He hesitated, but no matter how late it was he couldn't resist doubling back. Willie's gruff kindness made no demands on his silence, and it was a relief to be able to keep both his secrets and the bartender's good opinion. "Thanks," he called over his shoulder, slipping out the back exit before the other could reply.

11/01/02

"Merrick..."

There had been a time when that voice was so familiar that it wouldn't have woken him, let alone surprised him. Now it did both, and he struggled through the haze of unconsciousness to find an appropriate response. Was there any way to stay in the comforting arms of sleep?

"Merrick, wake up," she repeated. Her voice was soft but insistent, and he bit back a groan. No, there would be no arguing with that command. He had tried before... long ago. There was nothing for it but to concede wakefulness and open his eyes.

Her face swam into view, and it was almost worth the trouble it took to rouse himself. As soon as he moved, though, he decided that "almost" was the right word. Where was he? His body protested when he tried to force it into something resembling responsiveness, and he squinted at his surroundings.

"I could wake you up more quickly," she murmured, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But you probably wouldn't thank me for it."

He grunted, shoving himself into a sitting position on the sofa before he could do something unforgivable. She had no idea what it was like to wake up with a beautiful woman hovering that close. The sofa creaked under him, and he dropped his head into his hands to scrub his eyes roughly. They were... in Willie's office?

Yes, he decided, staring through his fingers at the carpet. The office, where he had slept last night because he had been afraid to go upstairs. She had refused to leave even when her head drooped and he started to worry that she would fall asleep where she stood, so he had sent her up to his room.

Now he remembered. He remembered the way she looked in black leather, and his inevitable response to the sight. He remembered the look she had given him when he told her it was his room. He remembered Willie asking him what he was hanging around for after they had closed...

He lifted his head slowly, taking in the sight of his princess kneeling in front of him. Princess Shayla, dressed in his grey sweats and smelling of the soap he knew was in his shower. She had his flute in one hand, and he blinked quickly.

"What time is it?" He managed to make the words sound reasonably coherent, but he was afraid he already knew the answer. Dawn. Not enough time, in other words, for him to shower and change as she had.

And didn't he regret missing that, a little voice whispered rebelliously in the back of his mind. He tried desperately to suppress it, but the voice would not be ignored. Were her clothes folded neatly on the chair, or flung carelessly across his bed? Had she hung her towel up to dry, or left it crumpled on the floor? And wouldn't he like to know what she was wearing under those sweats--

"Dawn," she said, confirming his guess. Then she smiled, and he felt guilty for thinking about her like that. "I'm sure the deer can wait, if you'd like to change."

"Yeah," he muttered, trying not to sound too eager as he pushed himself up off the couch. "I would... uh, Willie--he's probably made some breakfast, if you want."

"Oh, I don't need anything," she said quickly. She rose without effort, as though she had already warmed up and run several miles this morning. He recognized her self-effacing mode when she was trying not to be the princess, and he shook his head.

"He'll have made it anyway," he told her, taking her elbow. She let him lead her out of the office, but the way she glided along on his arm reminded him that she would never be anything but royalty. No matter what she pretended, there were some things she couldn't hide. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

Willie, predictably, was still up when they emerged. He didn't even look up until Merrick stopped directly in front of him, the princess slightly behind as though she could somehow blend in here. Then he smiled, but it was a friendly smile, not a knowing one. "Morning, kids," Willie greeted them. "There's some breakfast out back, if you're hungry."

Merrick relaxed a little, smiling slightly in return. "Thanks. I'm going to get a quick shower and then we'll be out of your way."

Willie just shook his head slowly. "You're not in the way, and you know it. I'll show your lady friend where the food is. You go freshen up, or whatever it is you do before you run out of here in the mornings."

The princess looked delighted as Willie motioned her around the bar, and Merrick paused to watch the bartender hold the door to the kitchen for her. As though he'd sensed the regard, Willie glanced over his shoulder and gave him a wink. Merrick let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he turned toward the stairs.

11/12/02

Oh, that was funny. Very amusing. Someone had a sense of humor. And he couldn't even blame Animus, now that Kite had gone and the powerful being had left them to their own devices.

It was raining outside. He lay there listening to it for several minutes. The sound of rain against the window was a pleasant one, really, and not one he heard often. But it was better enjoyed from the comfort of one's own bed, with the knowledge that one had nowhere more important to be.

With a sigh, Merrick rolled out of bed and cast about for appropriate secondhand clothes. No leather pants today, and he liked his jacket too much to risk ruining it for the sake of a single morning. He didn't bother taking his flute, either, since the wood wouldn't tolerate dampness without warping.

Which led him to the question of why he was doing this. As he stood at the base of the cliffs, already soaked to the skin and wondering if it was even worth finding shelter at this point, he tried to remember why he was there at all. He knew there were more comfortable ways to be spending his mornings.

Then the wind chilled his face and tugged at his water-laden hair, and he tensed involuntarily. With the wind came no knowledge of Orgs, however, but rather the sure sense of his princess somewhere up ahead and to the right. Somewhere dry up ahead and to the right.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," he muttered, knowing she would hear. He wasn't accustomed to feeling her on the wind anymore, and the communication was disconcerting.

The wind tapered off, but he followed its directions obediently, almost passing by the ledge before he realized it was there. The rock overhang diverted the worst of the rain, though the acoustics of such a place were probably terrible. That was all the logical part of his brain had time to notice before rational thought deserted him.

The princess had not bothered to dress for the weather, and there was no way not to stare. There were many things that could be said about white clothing, but "concealing when wet" was not one of them. Her dress, flattering enough under normal circumstances, was certainly… moreso, now. Her hair glittered with raindrops and her cheeks were flushed as she beckoned for him to join her.

"Is it too wet for you to play?" she asked innocently.

Several inappropriate responses crowded into his mind, so he settled for nodding.

Her smile alone was brilliant enough to clear the clouds away. "I'm glad you came anyway."

Not taking his eyes off of her, he folded his arms. "My pleasure," he replied, not bothering to hide a smirk.

The look she gave him in return was amused and not at all puzzled. And now he remembered: that was why he did this. Rain or not, deer zord or not, she was here, and that was why he came.

11/12/02

There were any number of bad things about rain, and all of them involved the fact that it was wet. It was wet and cold. It was wet and uncomfortable. It was wet and grey, wet and raw, wet and just plain soaking wet.

Merrick was not happy. Rain had always been his least favorite kind of weather. He didn't care how many people told him it was a necessary and beneficial part of nature, or the ecosystem, or whatever they called it in the twenty-first century. Anyone who said that rain was good for all living things had never stood outside in it for days at a time.

He still wasn't sure how he'd let himself be talked into staying on the Animarium. He should be back at Willie's, changing into dry clothes and hiding under a nice, solid roof for the rest of the day. Yet here he was, following the princess back to the magically protected haven at the center of the Animarium.

She paused at the edge of the haven, turning her full attention to him for the first time since they'd left the cliffs. "You look half drowned," she said frankly, and he could see a smile tugging at her lips.

He was about to retort that she didn't look much better, which was of course untrue, though for different reasons, when she glanced down at herself. Catching her skirt up in her hands, she gave it a gentle shake. Golden sparkles fell off of her and faded into the damp air, taking the water with them.

He stared at her as she darted forward, ducking between the trees before the rain could touch her again. He hadn't even known she could do that. Some of the leftover magic from the creation of the Animarium must have found a home in its guardian... they had never considered that possibility. They had never had time to consider that possibility.

"Come on, Merrick!" she called, and he followed slowly. The abrupt cessation of rain as he stepped past the invisible boundary barely registered. He was busy worrying about the more serious implications of her action: she hadn't told him. And that made him wonder...

She had been awake for more than a year before Zen-Aku had been freed and the curse was ultimately lifted. How much had happened in that time? Were there other side effects of the Animarium's creation that they hadn't anticipated?

What else hadn't she told him?

12/1/02

Neither of them had been to bed yet. The sun had already begun to tint the eastern horizon with light and the night was waning fast. The darkness slipped away across the sea, and still sleep was far in the future.

After the pool game that had become a ritual once the bar closed, he had walked her to the door. They had stood there talking until the night seemed more inviting than the stale air of the indoors. So they sat on the stoop while the moon rose, and finally she had laughed and said that they would end up spending the entire night together at the rate they were going.

He still didn't know what had possessed him to admit that wouldn't be such a bad thing. It wasn't as though the words hadn't been there, in his mind, since the first night she had slept at Willie's. But he had promised himself he wouldn't say them, because it was dangerous enough to be around her under normal circumstances.

The hills were shadowed, and he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the predawn vista that stretched up to meet the sky. At his side was the person to whom he had given his life, and the one to whom he didn't dare turn. Behind him stood the monument that symbolized everything he fought for, and ahead hung a sign that the old ways of the earth still persisted.

The light of the lion lay just above the hills. Slightly south and west was the condor, less spectacular but just as steady as the pair converged on the crescent moon. They called those lights planets, now, but the idea of other earths in the sky was too incredible to accept. To him they had and always would represent the spirits of the first wild zords.

To her as well, he suspected. She had changed since he knew her, but the spirit of the earth still found its voice in her. The animal spirits still spoke to her. She still honored the lights of those who had gone before on mornings like this.

"Princess," he said softly. He felt the whisper of air as she turned, and he kept his eyes on the sky with an effort. "The animal spirits chose you well."

Her answer was quietly reverent, but he heard the element of teasing in it nonetheless. "They haven't chosen poorly yet," she murmured.