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and not me. No money is being made from this and no copyright
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ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Geometry of Shadows
By Celievamp
Fred's room was still a cell, a hermit's retreat from a world that was too often unkind, uncaring. She still wrote on the walls sometimes when inspiration struck and there was no/not enough paper to hand. Willow tried to follow the logic of the math equations, the diagrams that tried to describe in two dimensions the geometry of something that might have had nine or ten. Most of it was mystifying even to Willow. Some of it was beautiful. Some of it terrifying. In angles and equations she saw expressed what she had once tried to achieve with will and word. The end of all things. So mote it be.
"You think too much," Fred said from her position sprawled on the narrow bed. "Come to bed."
Willow gestured at the walls. "So do you."
"I'm afraid my head will burst sometimes," Fred said. "I have to get it down before I explode or I lose it. You never know, it could be useful one day."
"Probably save us all," Willow agreed. She lay down beside Fred again, sighed in contentment at the feel of the alchymist's hands on her skin, long fingers spanning her slender back, as Fred rose up, lifted a slender thigh to straddle her, her hands smoothing over her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts before Fred lowered her head to kiss Willow's nipples, the intimate gesture almost chaste.
Fred traced a pattern through the freckles splashed across Willow's upper chest and shoulder with the tip of her finger. "Casseopia," she whispered. "And on your left hip, Orion." She stretched up and reached for a felt tipped pen from the table, pulling off the cap and tracing the constellations as she described them, Willow enjoying the game, moving and stretching at Fred's command as the zodiac was mapped out on her skin. She had an almost memory or perhaps it had been a dream of Tara doing something similar, using her back as a palimpsest, overwriting her skin with spells of love and protection, of hope and faith, of a future that had never been realised.
Willow had mourned Tara for a long time and part of her always would. But now there was Fred. And as her lover whispered to her of angles and trajectories, quantum mechanics and fractal patterns, a geometry of shadows and stars, a different future beckoned, one she was ready at last to embrace.
The End