Summary not available.


by obaona

Summary: This is how they fight, this is how they love. L/M, though I forgot to actually use their names ...
A/N: Okay, this has really, really got to stop. These weird vignettes. Must. Stop. *thwacks Gabri as she is to blame* But thanks for beta'ing.


 This is how they fight.

They fight with words and knowledge. Every strike is well positioned, guided by intelligence and the ability to simply be vicious. She tells him he is what he fears most, that he is what he is most ashamed of; he is arrogant, he is not a true Jedi, he cannot do this.

He tells her he wonders if she has a soul.

His fears are many; hers are few. His run deep, and hers run deep and wide. Hers are clean and open, his are tangled and lie in dark corners.

She has to strike many times; he only has to strike once.

They fight knowing how they fight, the origins of the battle. There is always an essential conflict between their natures. It is not that he is calm and she is not; it is that he is not perfect, and neither is she. Fury can rise and be justified. It can rise and be rationalized. Anger is easy to feel, and for the both of them, easy to control. It is an emotion both are familiar with on many levels: on the level of murder, of pain, and of fear. It is not their weapon; it is them, transformed.

They can strike without shame or weakness. They are warriors, and it is easy for them to lapse to such in this. It is a trait that twines throughout everything they are, binding and tainting and, purely, a thing of survival.

So, they are not unaware.

But they live in the moment. They can fight because the future remains in the distance. Without the moment they have no contentment or joy, either, so they always live in the moment. The long shadows cast by years past and ahead would too deeply mark them otherwise.

This is how they fight.

This is how they love.

They live in the moment. But they can take all the beautiful moments and remember them, and make them live again in this moment. He remembers her gentleness; she remembers his passion. The long shadows of moments before pass in the long light of the good memories.

They can say that they are sorry without hesitation. They are warriors; this trait binds and holds and affects them both. They do not hesitate in anything they do. She can give in, a trait dearly learned and now a marked part of her, a thread through her for which she doesn’t hesitate; he can submit to that wisdom and follow her.

There is learned symmetry.

They love knowing the why of their love. It is blessed by the Force, no accident that their actions became intertwined before they themselves were. So there is a natural perfection in that, when they are touched by the Force completely. It is not that he is calm and she is not; it is that he gives when she cannot, and she gives when he doesn’t know how. It is that they are balanced. It is that that they understand how they love. He loves deeply; she loves breathlessly. His is passion; hers is peace. His was trained to flourish; hers she let flourish.

In solitude, she tells him that she loves him many times; he tells her once, and that is enough.

He loves simply. She loves with complexity. Her love is entwined in the little actions, brief moments here and there; his is steady, and shines once and brightly in a defined moment.

He tells her that her spirit is beautiful. He tells her that she is a strong, wonderful woman; that she will be a magnificent mother one day, because she is not just loving, but wise and pragmatic, and she will understand and work through all the difficult times in a way he cannot.

She tells him that she loves him, and doesn’t have the words to tell him why; she tells him that he has the purest soul she has ever known.

They love with words and knowledge; meaning and grace. They love in forgiveness, in apologizing without hesitation. They love in a precisely timed kiss, a smile, and thinking of the other.

This is how they love.