Title: Clay Images (1/1)

Author: Northlight

email: uzenet@videotron.ca

Summary: Songbird tries to deal with the changes in Mach-1's appearance.

Disclaimer: Marvel.

Date: July 23, 2000.

Note: Sorry about any mistakes - my subscription seems to have skipped over the issue in which Abe went through his transformation. It's also been a good long while since I've written anything Marvel.

...~*~...

Love is blind. There were a thousand cliches and pat reassurances just like it. And each and every one of them was pure bull. Songbird's slim fingers curled into the cuffs of her knitted sweater, pulling the long sleeves further over her chilled hands. The material was soft against her cheek, bringing with it the scent of manufactured nature as she cupped her face in her hand. Her face twisted into an unconscious scowl as Songbird watched Abe from beneath a thick fan of lowered lashes.

Upon finding her already in the room, Abe had momentarily hovered in the doorway before steeling himself and making his way towards one of the couches. He had sprawled onto it, one arm held beneath his head, the other draped across his stomach. It was a casual pose that did nothing to ease the tension that was nearly a living thing between them. A hundred conversations began silently only be as rapidly discarded, leaving them both choking on the weight of unspoken concerns.

He had closed his eyes against her uncertain glances, leaving her room to watch him freely. Songbird had seen him like this often, had lay at his side, her head on his chest while his hand rested on her hip. And silent and still in his arms, she had felt safe and loved. She had missed being held by him while he was in prison. She had awaken at night more times than she cared to count, curving back to meet his body only to find herself alone. Her body had ached with the absence of his arms around her, and the lonely sound of her own breath had been her only company as she waited for sleep to reclaim her.

Curled into her chair, Songbird eyed the distance that separated them. Had she been inclined to do so, she could have reached his side in a few rushed steps. And Abe would open his eyes, and knowing as he always did, pull her into the circle of his arms. If she asked, she knew that he would lie to her, tell her that everything was fine and that together, they could handle anything. She did not rise, curling in on herself tighter instead.

It was Abe, the man she loved, and she _knew_ that, told herself that... and yet she saw a stranger. She had loved his personality, his intelligence, his caring -- but so too had his appearance drawn her to him. Songbird had watched him, had come to know each line and curve of his face. She had memorized his tiny imperfections with sight and the gentle brush of her fingertips. She had come to recognize the tiny shifts in his expression, learning the emotions which accompanied them.

And this altered face held echoes of familiar expressions, strangely off. If she were to lay her hands against his cheeks, the structure of his face would be something other than she had come to recognize as Abe's.

Songbird sighed wearily as her face found the curve of her bent elbow against the arm of the chair.

~end~