Firefly Glen the grand optimist

She had feared for the disloyalty of Dirge, and yet her own heart stirred and screamed such selfish notions that as she stood here before Rian, she could find no anger toward him, not then and there. No; her honey-eyed runaway beau was all but forgotten as blue beheld brilliant emerald, and the faint brogue that filled the air brought with it the fire from his lungs and filled her belly with a familiar warmth. 

Not heat, this. Something else. Not love, either; this thing, it was without a name. Immutable too; it came upon her whenever she saw him. But it faded when he left; he was a nameless asteroid that was so brilliant to look upon as it crossed the sky, but when it was gone, it was gone—

It was supposed to be. This asteroid kept returning to strike her where it hurt. He might not see it, but he had left behind a brilliant crater; Rian was the reason Hydra could not utter even to Dirge that she loved him too much, though she did, for fear of him walking away too; her own fault, really, not Rian's, and

Four children together, still that lingering fear. 

Hello, Hydra. 

Her chin lifted some as she looked upon him, gaze searching. Hello, Hydra; this was all he had to say? She exhaled a heavy breath. She hurt; they were starcrossed, were they not? This was terribly unfair, but he had been most unfair to her. To come, to go; she had always been here. He had always known that. Even the wandering paws of her mate were inclined to lead him back to her soon, not almost-forever—

Right?

For now, she counted on this; she would deal with the rest as it came, perhaps find Rian if he did not. 

Hydra knew the true measure of her strength, of strength in its purest form, as she uttered heavily in turn: goodbye, Rian, 

He had made his choices; she had always let him. And now, at last, he had granted her the very same thing. Hydra had seen him turn his back on her, even without meaning to do such, over and over again. These aches were for so many a reason; yearning, wishing, wondering, hoping, hurting. . . it went on, it went on and on and she went with it, each step heavier than the last.