Title: I Carry Your Heart
Author: Kelandris the Mad
Fandom: View Askewniverse, general
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob (smarm)
Rating: G, maybe PG-13 for language
Status: posted to the new site 15 Jan 2005; written maybe three, four years before that.
You must send an email to me and let me know where you intend to archive. Private archiving allowed as long as you don't intend to publish. Behave.
Email address for feedback: Kelandris
Series/Sequel: Far as I know, this one's independent. Poem-fic.
Disclaimers: All characters belong to Kevin Smith and the View Askewniverse. If I really get into this, I probably will too. Or at least go into hock when I walk into a video store, go into rut, and buy all the DVDs at once.
Notes: Smarm, smarm, smarm, smarm...It made ren go "awwwww".
Summary: Bob reflects on his life with Jay.
Warnings: Language. Infinitesimal angst. Nobility.


"I Carry Your Heart"
by Kelandris the Mad


"i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)"

Clear eyes looked out at the wide universe, and liked what they saw. A young man sat on a hill overlooking a row of tract homes, breathing in and out, in and out. He wore a black leather trench, a black t-shirt, black shorts with grey long underwear cut-offs beneath, and a battered baseball cap, on backwards. Black motorcycle boots that had seen better days fit the feet as if they'd been molded for the man.

He looked at the meadow below; really just a bit of land that hadn't yet been developed, cluttered with trash from a thousand cars that drove by and tossed before they thought. He saw money exchange hands between the two standing in the tiny field - one a short, thin, mousy fellow with an exaggerated twitch and a bright red Madman tee, and the other tall, with golden-blond hair that fell nearly to his waist, wearing a cream-colored sweatshirt jacket, a grey tee beneath that, and long, baggy, khaki shorts. He listened to their patter, too far away to hear, letting it flow over him like the slight wind blowing over the crest of the hill. He turned his eyes back to the sky. Those honey-brown eyes that were full of compassion, wisdom, trust and love - for the right person. Honey-brown eyes that could turn to chips of chill obsidian when that person was threatened.

Silent Bob was thinking of yesterday.

It was a late-night meet, one of the few that hadn't felt right from the start. As the bus was pulling away, Bob was already looking for an escape route, wondering from which direction the attack was going to come. He didn't look up. Neither of them did. So when the kid jumped, he landed on Jay like a ton of bricks, knocking him to the ground and out cold.

For a moment he felt a spark of fear when the kid rose, turning a gun on him. Then his mind howled, and he ducked to feel for Jay's pulse. As soon as he found it, and found it strong, he shot up in one fluid motion, knocking the gun aside as if with long practice. He brought his arms up, clocking the kid, knocking him back. The kid staggered - he hadn't pulled the punch at all. But he came back for more, and that was his mistake.

Silent Bob gathered both hands full of the kid's tee, dragging him close so his breath was hot on that narrow, pimpled face.

"You didn't kill him," Bob said softly. "For that, you live. But if you so much as bump into Jay from this night forward, I will hunt you down and tear out your heart and set it on fire while you watch." He released him, pushing him back with all the force his formidable frame allowed, and the kid struck the ground hard. He looked up, tears springing to his eyes, then ran off sobbing, leaving the gun behind.

He checked Jay's breathing again, arranged him into a more comfortable position. Man was going to have one hell of a headache, if Bob was any judge, and possibly some serious bruising across the shoulders. Meanwhile, he lifted the gun with a branch, and walked over to a sewer grating, tossing it in with distaste. Guns. He hated guns. Took all the honor out of fighting.

Then he sat down beside Jay, waiting for him to wake up.

"i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you"

Jay groaned, trying to sit up and failing. Instantly Bob was there, offering support, making sure he got to, then kept on, his feet. He waited while Jay weaved a bit, then glared at him accusingly.

"And where the fuck were you, motherfucker? What, you just stand there, watch me go down? Where is the little punk? I'm gonna kick his ass, I told him this was the last time he jumps me! You see where he went?" Angry, Jay looked around, pacing in little circles.

Silent Bob shrugged, tapping out a cig. He lit it, offered one to Jay, and leaned close to light him as his lips tightened around the barrel of the cigarette. Then he snapped the lighter closed, placing it in another pocket. The mystery of economy of motion...he'd mastered it.

On the way home Jay pulled the cord to stop, pointing over to the Quickstop.

"Hey, this may not be a total loss after all - Randal's still there, he's always up for some fine weed."

Ambling after him, he checked the side alleys for movement, moving quietly behind Jay. He bought another pack of cigarettes and one of Jay's favorite cakes, knowing he'd need some extra energy. Pocketing his change, he turned when a customer came in - red knit cap, nervous, hand in pocket. Bob stepped forward, into his path, neatly blocking him from sight of Jay. He stared, his expression dead and cold as space.

The man gulped, turned and ran. Bob lit another cig and turned back, seeing Randal folding a baggie into his pocket and Jay riffling through a wad of cash. He got Jay's attention, gesturing with his head towards the door.

"Pushy bitch, ain'tcha? Yeah, yeah, hold your panties up, I'm comin'. You get way too impatient, you know, gotta learn to calm down, go with the fuckin' flow, you hearin' me?"

Bob sighed, walking after him out the door. How could he not? When even the most inane thing the boy said he treated as jewels from the lips of God. When he'd sworn his life to protect him, no matter what stupid thing he did. When he would live the rest of his life and die happy, just for a chance to see those eyes, that hair, every morning? Foolish Jay, not to know.

"here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart"

Now he looked down from the mountain (or more accurately, the hill), and rose, stretching his legs. Lighting a cigarette, he ambled down the hill, content with his life. Even if Jay never learned, never said anything, never did anything, he was content. Because everything Bob did told Jay he loved him with all his heart, and always would.

"i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)"

END
(Poem from e.e. cumming, "i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)"
****************
Kelandris the Mad
wondering if she should vacuum or lay sod


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