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: New
Archive: wherever you want, full permission, just lemme know about 
it. No, I don't believe grabbing it from the list requires a note. :>
E-mail address for feedback: kel@crazysheep.net (as I'm having 
problems with Hotmail and I'm keeping Insub as clear as possible)
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.

"I Carry Your Heart"
by Kelandris


"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)"