Disclaimer: Characters from The Queen of Swords are not mine; they belong to their respective owners. "May" is mine. Please ask if using her.

Spoilers: Very small one from the episode entitled "The Hanged Man." Think back to the superior officer and the 16-year-old boy . . .

Acknowledgements:with help from the fabulous Maril and Robin who is just as wonderful.

Shadows
By: Usagi

"Vera," Grisham whispered, shaking her softly.

"Hm?" she asked, finally starting to wake up. She rolled over, looking up at Grisham.

"Your husband will be here soon. I think it might be wise to take you home," replied Grisham, smiling into her beautiful eyes.

"Did I sleep that long?" she questioned wearily and started to get dressed.

"It’ll be a couple of hours, but I want you safely home."

Vera smiled, and in a matter of minutes the two were riding of out of town: Grisham on his horse and Vera in her coach.

Colonel Montoya smiled as he saw them drive off. ‘He’s becoming smarter,’ the Colonel thought. ‘Either that or he’s been hiding his true nature even from my watchful eye.’

The Colonel had told Grisham to come and see him after he took Vera home, and was waiting inside his office when Grisham returned. He expected to see Grisham come straight to see him so he could go back to bed, but instead his second in command just stood in the doorway, thinking. Montoya became impatient waiting for him. ‘What on earth would keep him up at such a strange hour of the morning?’ Montoya stared at the man in front of him, and all thought of business left his mind. Something was up and Luis wanted to know what it was. Finally, half an hour later, Marcus went inside.

Montoya greeted the man as he entered and then bemused by the captain’s unusually somber face, asked the dreaded question, "What is troubling you, my friend?"

The Queen of Swords silently slipped out of Montoya’s secret room, holding a bag of gold that the colonel had wrung from the peons as tax money. Tomorrow she would return it to the people.

She had noticed while entering that the Colonel was not in bed, she decided to investigate. Then as she was stealing around to the window next to Montoya’s office, she heard Montoya and Grisham talking. ‘This might be interesting,’ she thought, and moved closer to the window.

Grisham snickered. "Your friend? When did I become your friend?" "Why are you trying to change the subject?"

Grisham ignored the second question by answering the first. "Nothing that you’d understand." The young Captain once again headed outside; there was no way he could sleep now.

He was no more than twenty feet from his quarters when a sword was put to his throat.

"What about me?" the Queen of Swords asked. Her curiosity had been piqued.

"Taking a midnight stroll?" Grisham asked as he handed the vigilante his gun and sword. (Which he still wore since taking Vera home). "Look, I’m in no mood to fight, so if you’re going to knock me out, do it."

"You? Not in the mood? That’s a new one," The Queen said with a quick laugh. Her smile faded as she studied his solemn face, "But really . . . what’s bothering you?"

Grisham gave the queen a look that said "You’ve got to be kidding me." But he replied with, "What is this? –‘Look into Grisham’s Soul Day?’"

The Queen smiled and walked around the captain, still holding the sword against his neck, "I just want to learn more about you. Is that so wrong? Besides sides, since our little date in the mine, I’ve become curious."

"If we were friends, it wouldn’t be; but we’re not friends. Besides, why would I just tell all my deep, dark secrets and my most intimate thoughts to my mortal enemy? If you’re going to kill me, you might as well get on with it. I’m not going to open up to a perfect stranger."

The Queen’s sword moved quickly from Grisham’s neck to a much more valuable part of his anatomy. Then she spoke. "I’m not going to kill you, but I could make you sing soprano for the rest of your life."

"You’ve convinced me," Grisham said, a tight look on his face. "I have many bad memories, but it’s my first that’s bothering me tonight. It all started in Massachusetts back in 1812 . . ."

"May! May!" Marcus called, looking around the house for his beautiful bride-to-be.

May came walking in from the back. "I’m sorry, Marcus. I was gardening and didn’t hear you." She then kissed him on the cheek. Taking her chin he lifted her face and kissed her full on the mouth, but the kiss was sad and lifeless. May pulled away, her green eyes staring intently at him. Then she asked, "What’s wrong, love?"

Marcus fingered a strand of glossy brown hair, looking down at it. Then, with a sigh, he finally tucked it into place it and once again gazed into her eyes. "I’ve been conscripted into the army," he told her with regret. "I have to go fight the British."

May’s eyes filled with tears. "No!" she cried. "It’s not fair! I’m supposed to marry you! They can’t do this!" She embraced him fiercely, as if to hold him there and not let him leave.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her, "I have to leave in the morning. They’re just letting me say good-bye."

"Why can’t Britain just leave us in peace?"

"I promise to come back, May, and then we’ll settle down and have a family."

"Why can’t we just leave? As long as we’re together, nothing else matters." May had pulled back and was searching his eyes for some kind of hope.

"Because they’ll find us; and when they do, they’ll hang me for treason. Do you want that?" May shook her head.

The rest of the evening was peaceful. Marcus stayed with May all night, but when he awoke in the morning, May was nowhere to be found. Finally giving up his search, Marcus headed for the army encampment. Wherever May was, she apparently didn’t want to be found.

Grisham stopped talking and looked at the Queen. "Well!" she exclaimed. "What happened next?"

Grisham smiled sadly. "You sound like Tessa. But if you really want to know . . ."

U. S. Army encampment, outside of Boston

"You can’t do this!" screamed May. "He’s my fiancé!"

"Miss Williams," General Drake said sharply, standing up, "I have hundreds of married men under my command. I am not going to discharge one unmarried man who is young and energetic! This is war!"

"I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this—" May replied quietly, her voice laced with malice. She then pulled out a pistol. "But desperate times call for desperate measures."

At that moment, Marcus walked in. "Marcus Grisham reporting for duty, sir." Then, as if seeing her for the first time, he looked at May; his eyes opened wide. "May, what are you doing?"

"Saving you!" she said. Her eyes did not flicker from the general’s. What May didn’t notice was the 13-year-old boy standing behind her, holding a large pistol. He was only waiting for a nod from his superior and everything would be over.

Finally it came; the young man pulled the trigger. As smoke from the gun filled the tent, May screamed.

"No!" yelled Marcus, running over to her. "May, you’re going to be all right. We’ll get a doctor." Tears coursed down his cheeks as he held May in his arms.

"It’s too late, Marcus," May replied in a voice so low and hollow he could hardly hear it. "I’m already dead. But you have to promise to live through this and carry my soul with you."

"I promise," Marcus said, closing May’s eyes softly. "I promise." Marcus laid May’s body on the ground and stood up, his back to the general. He faced the young man holding the pistol. The boy’s face was full of fear. Marcus memorized that face—every line, every curve. He was not stupid; this was not the place for revenge. Finally, almost reluctantly, he turned around. In a voice that could have cut steel, Marcus spoke. "Marcus Grisham reporting for duty."

"We’ll send her body back to her family," replied the general with a smile. ‘This boy is smart. He’s not likely to do anything . . . yet.’

"What family?" Grisham asked. "Her father and mother died a few years ago, and she’s . . . she was an only child."

"I see," was the general’s only reply.

"Permission to take her body to the Reverend Mr. Gill and pay for her burial," Grisham requested hopefully.

"Permission granted, but I expect you back in two hours."

‘Oh, don’t worry, I will be,’ Grisham thought as he picked up May’s lifeless body and carried it outside.

"For the next 3 years I fought the British army, but the only thing on my mind was revenge, and I got it in the form of Krane. With his help I killed the general, but he killed the boy who shot May. But, after the war, two more lives seemed like nothing; my soul was already lost. So, after that I ran away. I eventually arrived here and became the captain everyone knows and loves," he said in a voice heavy with sarcasm. The Captain sighed. "The worst part is, after May died, I swore I’d never fall in love again. And what do I do? I get stuck falling in love with someone I can’t have."

The Queen smiled softly, "It seems I was wrong about you, Captain."

"What on earth do you mean by that?" Grisham inquired.

The Queen sheathed her sword, got on her horse and replied, "You do have a soul." She then dropped Grisham’s weapons to the ground and then kneed her horse into a gallop, taking off into the night.

Grisham watched for a long moment as she disappeared into the darkness and went inside, finally ready to get some sleep.

Montoya walked out of the shadows, smiling as he saw the Queen ride out of sight. ‘Ride peacefully home, my Queen. I owe you that much for this little visit.’ Then he smiled and began to walk to his house, whispering softly, "Grisham, Grisham, it seems that I still have a lot to learn about you."

The End

©Shadows - Usagi - August 2001

Please send your comments on this story to the author - Usagi