Wait For Me Once

by Seishuku Skuld (skuldchan [a] gmail dot com)

Series: One Piece: Skypiea arc

Pairing: Calgara/Norland

Warnings: yaoi, spoilers for Skypiea

Date: September 2006

*~*~*~*~*

Montblanc Norland awoke to the sound of waves. The nights on Jaya had started to grow chilly, and he shivered as the breeze blew over the water and shook the leaves at the edge of the forest, piercing his giant black coat and making him quiver with cold. His elbow was stiff from propping up his head, but still Norland did not move from the bed of flat rock that he lay upon, did not take a step toward the encampment his crew had made on the edge of the island, where a warm cot and tent awaited him. He had grown unaccustomed to sleeping alone outside, for the Jayan weather at night had been so much more pleasant with a warm body beside him.

Norland was a deep sleeper and difficult to wake in the night, which had given Calgara ample reason to chide him, especially since they slept outside--together. But tonight, for the first time in many months, Norland was unable to sleep but for a few moments, his thoughts in a turmoil as tumultuous as the sea. He lay alone on the flat bed of rock--a relic of eons ago when more of Jaya had been buried beneath the ocean--and waited with naught but the waxing light of the moon and his own thoughts for company. This was the bed that had served Calgara and him for almost a month, it was hard and mossy and often wet with sea-spray but for two men it was enough, enough to hold all their wrestling, biting, and violent love-making, and here it would stand--Norland reflected, fighting the frustration that welled up from deep inside of him--here it would stand from now on, an unfulfilled, forgotten monument to a love that had turned cold overnight, a love that had ended without a reason or so much as a song to survive it.

Norland had always known Calgara to be an unpredictable man, one of many actions but few words, guarded in his emotions and but quick to anger. To be an outsider loved by such a warrior, Norland had felt as Calgara's arms wrapped around him every night, that all the cultures of the world for all their differences had been brought a little closer to together--for all their different languages and histories they all shared something in common, and that was the need to love. Their love had brought Norland great peace, almost great enough to compel him to stay and he would have, had it not been for his restless explorer's heart which whispered to him of adventures and treasures yet unseen. He and Calgara had always known that they must part ways, but Calgara had also known that their parting would not be the end, for he could see already that Jaya had become the home of Norland's heart and that one day, when the weight of Norland's wandering was lifted and he desired to settle down, he would come again to Jaya and never feel the need to depart.

Engraved into Norland's memories were those nights--and days--with Calgara, the strong warrior's calloused hands and the deceptive softness of his feathery wings. In all his travels Norland had never met a race of people with wings, and though they were small and vestigial they made Calgara beautiful, the tips of white peeking out from beneath his mane of blood-red hair. Always when they embraced Norland sought them out with his hands, and after their sex Calgara would lie on his stomach and Norland would groom his wings, brushing and straightening each feather before they both resigned themselves to sleep. They made Calgara look like a giant angel of war, moreso when the warrior stood in the sunset, and laughed his mockery at the sky as they clinked mugs, sitting on the edge of the island cliffs and drinking until their wits fled them and nothing was left but a raw desire they did not hesitate to consummate.

Then why, Norland grit his teeth, his eyes opening in the darkness and staring balefully in the direction of the forest, had it suddenly come to an end? Every day the bell had sung for them, a great booming knell that sent shivers down his spine and reminded him of all the times he and Calgara had collapsed over each other in the ruins, the bell's song ripping through their sweat-covered bodies as they crawled and rolled all over each other, hands desperately flying over skin as mouth sought mouth-- nibbling, kissing, shouting as their voices joined with the bell's toll in another kind of oath.

The memories rose unbidden in Norland's mind and all hopes of sleep destroyed, Norland finally stood up and he ran, into the darkness through the thickness of trees and loam beneath his feet, to the great golden city where he knew Calgara must be, to the bell beneath which they had made love not once but many times, to the heritage that Calgara's ancestors had sacrificed their civilization to protect.

When he got there, it felt good to scream, to bellow at his lover which he knew must be lurking in the shadows. The answer he received there was only one of anger--one shining spear that fell the ground where he had stood not moments before, grazing one cheek but opening yet another deeper wound. The formless voice that banished him refused to acknowledge all that had transpried between them.

When morning came Norland's spirits were low though he dared not show the true depths of his anguish to his men. Questions without answers repeated themselves in his head, and he spent more time staring at the ground that day than at his botanical specimens. This was not Calgara's way of parting, Norland decided as he settled down once more for the night, wrapping his coat about him as he lay on his side on the flat rock, staring into the darkness of the forest, issuing a challenge for his lover to come. Calgara was not a man who would let their love part like this, too cowardly to face the possibility of the years that would separate them. No, something had happened that Norland did not understand and suddenly he and his crew were unwelcome.

Norland had warned his men against attaching themselves to this land--they were explorers and all their homes were in the North Blue, but Norland knew already that he had let too much of himself take root here, and that when he left Jaya he would leave too much of himself behind. His hope for sweet memories had turned unexpectedly bitter, and with all his grand dreams of return shattered, Norland boarded his ship, ordered his men to leave behind Shandia's gold and turned his ship toward the endless blue sea, where he hoped for new discoveries that would erase--or at least let him forget--the regrets that he would leave with Jaya.

It had taken hardly a month for their love to grow, a time that by other standards was too short for even the beginning of anything substantial, but still it was there and it was solid, and it weighed on him as he gazed at the island and it started to disappear, the foliage of the trees and their trunks growing more and more indistinct as his ship was caught by the currents and borne away toward the ocean.

Then suddenly the bell rang out, a sound that pierced the morning and the moment, a sound that Norland had resigned himself to never hearing again, and it echoed across the island and across the water, shaking the ship's timbers as he stopped in his tracks, running to the side of the ship and peering over the gunwale, hands gripping and digging into the wood so hard it was beginning to splinter. He saw a tiny figure dash from the forest, a flash of red and nothing more, he saw it wade into the water and over the sound of the bell he heard Calgara's voice, the words carrying out to him as clear as day.

Calgara called his name in a cry that ripped itself from his tattooed chest, filled with grief, heartache, and regret. Speechless, Norland stared at the figure as it grew smaller and smaller, only able to whisper the name of his lover in the midst of his disbelief. Then everything came flooding back and whatever ill will that had befallen them these past three days were forgotten. The memories could not be stayed and Norland recalled the feeling of Calgara's hand against his chest, fingers wrapping around the member between his legs, the sound of Calgara's laugh and his grunts of pleasure, and the silent promises they had made on the edge of slumber, twining their hands together before sleep overtook them.

Norland fell to his knees as the greatest of all promises was uttered, his tears streaming fiercely from his face and falling onto the deck as he viciously bit his lip to stay his weeping. Calgara's voice echoed in his mind louder and more resonant than the golden bell, and Norland carved in his heart a special place for that promise, made ankle-deep in water in a voice ragged with contrition. More than lovers, Calgara had called him a cherished friend and that alone, as Norland bowed his head and let out a wretched sob, was a greater expression of their love than all their nights and all their days together--for true friendship, once forged, was not as fickle as earthly desire; it was everlasting.

The figure on the edge of the island extended a hand and Norland saw, through a blur of tears, that it was waving back and forth--both a farewell and a greeting. Norland swore--as he watched that diminutive form disappear into the distance, never once moving a step nor turning away--that one day he would return to Jaya. From that day forth he would never depart, and Calgara would never have to wait again. So Norland swore and not once that day did he leave the ship's gunwale, for even when Jaya had fallen far below the horizon and the moon had risen shining in the sky, Norland still thought he could see that figure and the flame of that crimson hair standing in the water, waiting.

End