Particles of Light, Chapter 21: Good
Title: Chapter 21- Good
Author: 15lbpurebunny
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Except, the stars in the sky. Those are mine.
Spoilers: Light spoilers though Season 1 are possible.
A/N: So, here we are. The end of the line. I really enjoyed writing this series, and enjoyed the feedback and thoughts that have been posted in comments and discussed. I'd like to thank adlervan , grimorie and firthgal for providing some much needed technical support and feedback and beta-ing at times. I really appreciate all the help you've given me with this fic, which has been invaluable.
I'd also like to thank everyone for reading this. It really means a lot to me.
Finally, I'd like to mention my dear RSH, who actually had a conversation with me that takes place in this last chapter.
Chapter 21
Good
“Live your Life. It is all you ever had.”
-Zen Buddhist Master 15lbpurebunny
Charlie’s eyes used to just flutter open as he woke, taking their time, like anyone’s would. Adjusting from sleep to wake, dark to light. That was before prison. Now, pupil saturates iris like an opening umbrella, muscle and sinew moving forward fast to rise, like an animal. Only two states of being, sleep and wake.
Not here.
His eyes burn as they adjusts to the dim moonlight, but his lids are open wide. He’s aware of her missing presence next to him, of her heat missing from bed, as if she’s been there with him every night of his life instead of just part of this one. It throws him a bit while he tries to remember if she was really just here. Wasn’t his body just stretched out over hers, wasn’t he just inside her? Or, was that just another vapor of desire messing with his head?
No, that was real.
His pulse pounds in his neck as his feet touch the carpet. Long, heavy steps take him across the room to the closet. One, two three strides and he’s across a room that would take most men ten to stride through.
Why would she be in the closet?
He sniffs out a small laugh, but checks it out, even so. She’s not in the closet, but as he turns to walk out, he smells her on him. It’s in his hair, on his body. It’s prettier than oranges, than peaches, that smell. So beautiful, her scent. He stops for a second to take it in. He’s covered with it.
Thinking she took off, scared and angry and hurt, he goes to his window, looks out. Seeing her car still there on the opalescent drive below, he listens with finely tuned ears for noise. He hears something. Small, bare feet padding across cool marble.
The bathroom. He sighs with relief. And, dread fills his chest, right afterwards because if she’s here, if she’s really here, then she can leave again.
*********************
He realizes as he sprints into the open doorway of the large bathroom that he appears a bit eager and overbearing, running like this, a bit out of breath with excitement and internal thought. So, he begins an awkward, naked casual stance which is even worse, one long arm clutching the door frame like he’s over-acting in some old movie.
She’s there, his Dani. Looking over her shoulder at him, through messy strands of hair that look jet black in the dark.
“Whattreyoudoinginthedark?” The words rattle off so fast, he almost has to stand on his toes to expel the air, chest and torso rising up a bit with the force of air. Like a man on a crucifix, about to start the slow process of suffocation.
It looks like she could be smiling, but he can’t tell from where he’s standing. She’s walking towards the shower, and he can see every soft inch of skin glowing with the light from the window in the ceiling. Skin that he feels familiar with now, every shadow and secret. Skin he wants her to feel good in, all of the time, at least as good as it feels to him to touch her.
“Like the dark.” Her voice is small in the big room and when she reaches the shower and turns on the water, like a soft, tiny spectral figure, she beckons him from over her shoulder again. “This’s a big shower, Charlie. What a waste….”
He’s frozen, unable to move. What started as a casual clutch of the door frame is now Charlie holding on for dear life as the room narrows a bit, his mind a digression of dark thought.
Tired brown eyes see him, see whatever thing is holding him back and pretty soon, she’s walked over to him, wet feet on slippery marble. She takes his large hand in hers, wrapping her shower-wet fingers around his thumb. “Come on. I promise I won’t bite. Much.”
Her smile breaks when she realizes she can’t budge him. She can hear his heart when she leans in towards his chest.
“I don’t take showers.”
That sound she hears in her ears, that irregular, frantic pounding. Dani decides that must be her heart breaking.
*******************************************
“You saved me in a shower once, remember that?” The words come out slightly cheesier than they sounded in her head, and she cringes, biting the inside of her lower lip in the dark.
“Charlie….I’m going into that shower. And, I’m gonna to get clean. You can follow me in. Just you and me in that shower. And we make something new.”
Just as her hand starts to leave his is when he clutches on like he’s drowning. The walk to the shower is slow, long and agonizing. He feels horror when he realizes he’s shuffling a bit.
And, once he’s under the water, his brain is on fire. Until her hands are on his temples, forcing his face down to hers, making him look at her. Straight into her.
It’s not easy, this shower thing. He can feel his legs tremble a bit but he tries to concentrate on the warm water, how that used to feel good, how maybe it can feel good again. So different than the tub, where the water laps at his sides, gently. This is a torrent. It almost slaps, burns him with its irritation. It isn’t going to go away, this deep pitted dread. Not today, anyway. But, there is something new. She’s with him, and when she presses her body to his, wrapping her arms around him, he winces, but it IS new. And, he sees, somewhere in the hazy distance of his mind an layer of memories, slightly stamped down by this one. This new one. He cranes his neck down and kisses her wet hair, inhaling the scent of the water, the shampoo, this woman, her love. Everything.
*******************************************************
“No, no.” His voice is reaching a fevered pitch as they reach his car, the sky still dark, the stars still out. The canyon still dark blue and quiet save for their hushed tones. “Not JUST fruit. Waffles. With eggs. Or, maybe not eggs. Maybe those waffles with the fruit on top, but…fresh fruit, not that fruity jelly stuff. Real fruit. With that whipped cream. And, instead of eggs, those potatoes. Those thick cut potatoes all fried up with the onions and bell peppers and stuff…and toast. Yes, sourdough. With butter and….”
“I’m thinkin’ coffee.”
“Yeah, well, that too. Yeah, that too. YES.”
Dani looks over at Charlie as she slides into the car next to him. She’s not seen him drive before, not from this angle, and she studies this side of his face for differences.
“You know….you look completely different from this side.”
*******************************************************
They decide on Canter’s. Again. For the first time. Nothing else is open at 4 a.m. The drive there is slow, paced and calm. No traffic, just lights and city and pavement. Reese looks out the door and feels sort of wide awake, and sort of completely relaxed all at the same time, being driven. Charlie is talking nonstop about ingredients. She’s learned to just let him go off.
“I mean, you know, it’s infinite. Ingredients. Made from other ingredients. Which are made from ingredients. It never gets broken down, in most cases, not to the final ingredients…..”
She slips her seatbelt off, a lifetime of training telling her she’s being bad and unsafe, but she feels safest when she’s next to him, so she slides over as far as she can go, cuddling up to his warm body. That shuts him up fast, as his long arm drapes over her. He’s almost hot to the touch against her. She doesn’t look up, but imagines him smiling down at her when they’re stopped at a red light, with what she thinks of as his half and half smile; half deeply goofy, half deeply beautiful.
******************************************************
Their booth is in the back, just where they left it. Denizens of the night abound, but somehow their little island of booth is private, perfect. He slides in, his back to wall. Before he can settle in, she’s next to him, already. It’s a move that would have made him gasp a few hours ago.
What do you feel like, Dani? His big hand holds the menu out in front of them, while his arm slides around her, drawing her small body to him, again.
Dani looks around the place. Looks at her partner, this odd, beautiful man. Orange and brown booths, orange hair, overzealous waiter, underzealous waitress, woman talking to herself, couple ordering, disheveled businessman coming down off a high, busboy clinking glasses together as he clears a table.
What do I feel like?
I feel good again.
*********************************************************
In another hour or so, the sun is coming up, flooding that impossible city with light and purpose and justice and yellow-white warmth. But, for now, it’s quiet. It’s dark, their little corner of the booth, their little corner of the world, the universe, with the brilliance of the stars drowned out by electric city light, by orange glow.
But, Charlie and Dani know the stars are there. Just the LA stars. Just the ones that belong to the blue night sky that hovers over the city. They know those stars are there.
Because they can feel every last one, shining around them in that booth.
Author: 15lbpurebunny
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Except, the stars in the sky. Those are mine.
Spoilers: Light spoilers though Season 1 are possible.
A/N: So, here we are. The end of the line. I really enjoyed writing this series, and enjoyed the feedback and thoughts that have been posted in comments and discussed. I'd like to thank adlervan , grimorie and firthgal for providing some much needed technical support and feedback and beta-ing at times. I really appreciate all the help you've given me with this fic, which has been invaluable.
I'd also like to thank everyone for reading this. It really means a lot to me.
Finally, I'd like to mention my dear RSH, who actually had a conversation with me that takes place in this last chapter.
Chapter 21
Good
“Live your Life. It is all you ever had.”
-Zen Buddhist Master 15lbpurebunny
Charlie’s eyes used to just flutter open as he woke, taking their time, like anyone’s would. Adjusting from sleep to wake, dark to light. That was before prison. Now, pupil saturates iris like an opening umbrella, muscle and sinew moving forward fast to rise, like an animal. Only two states of being, sleep and wake.
Not here.
His eyes burn as they adjusts to the dim moonlight, but his lids are open wide. He’s aware of her missing presence next to him, of her heat missing from bed, as if she’s been there with him every night of his life instead of just part of this one. It throws him a bit while he tries to remember if she was really just here. Wasn’t his body just stretched out over hers, wasn’t he just inside her? Or, was that just another vapor of desire messing with his head?
No, that was real.
His pulse pounds in his neck as his feet touch the carpet. Long, heavy steps take him across the room to the closet. One, two three strides and he’s across a room that would take most men ten to stride through.
Why would she be in the closet?
He sniffs out a small laugh, but checks it out, even so. She’s not in the closet, but as he turns to walk out, he smells her on him. It’s in his hair, on his body. It’s prettier than oranges, than peaches, that smell. So beautiful, her scent. He stops for a second to take it in. He’s covered with it.
Thinking she took off, scared and angry and hurt, he goes to his window, looks out. Seeing her car still there on the opalescent drive below, he listens with finely tuned ears for noise. He hears something. Small, bare feet padding across cool marble.
The bathroom. He sighs with relief. And, dread fills his chest, right afterwards because if she’s here, if she’s really here, then she can leave again.
*********************
He realizes as he sprints into the open doorway of the large bathroom that he appears a bit eager and overbearing, running like this, a bit out of breath with excitement and internal thought. So, he begins an awkward, naked casual stance which is even worse, one long arm clutching the door frame like he’s over-acting in some old movie.
She’s there, his Dani. Looking over her shoulder at him, through messy strands of hair that look jet black in the dark.
“Whattreyoudoinginthedark?” The words rattle off so fast, he almost has to stand on his toes to expel the air, chest and torso rising up a bit with the force of air. Like a man on a crucifix, about to start the slow process of suffocation.
It looks like she could be smiling, but he can’t tell from where he’s standing. She’s walking towards the shower, and he can see every soft inch of skin glowing with the light from the window in the ceiling. Skin that he feels familiar with now, every shadow and secret. Skin he wants her to feel good in, all of the time, at least as good as it feels to him to touch her.
“Like the dark.” Her voice is small in the big room and when she reaches the shower and turns on the water, like a soft, tiny spectral figure, she beckons him from over her shoulder again. “This’s a big shower, Charlie. What a waste….”
He’s frozen, unable to move. What started as a casual clutch of the door frame is now Charlie holding on for dear life as the room narrows a bit, his mind a digression of dark thought.
Tired brown eyes see him, see whatever thing is holding him back and pretty soon, she’s walked over to him, wet feet on slippery marble. She takes his large hand in hers, wrapping her shower-wet fingers around his thumb. “Come on. I promise I won’t bite. Much.”
Her smile breaks when she realizes she can’t budge him. She can hear his heart when she leans in towards his chest.
“I don’t take showers.”
That sound she hears in her ears, that irregular, frantic pounding. Dani decides that must be her heart breaking.
*******************************************
“You saved me in a shower once, remember that?” The words come out slightly cheesier than they sounded in her head, and she cringes, biting the inside of her lower lip in the dark.
“Charlie….I’m going into that shower. And, I’m gonna to get clean. You can follow me in. Just you and me in that shower. And we make something new.”
Just as her hand starts to leave his is when he clutches on like he’s drowning. The walk to the shower is slow, long and agonizing. He feels horror when he realizes he’s shuffling a bit.
And, once he’s under the water, his brain is on fire. Until her hands are on his temples, forcing his face down to hers, making him look at her. Straight into her.
It’s not easy, this shower thing. He can feel his legs tremble a bit but he tries to concentrate on the warm water, how that used to feel good, how maybe it can feel good again. So different than the tub, where the water laps at his sides, gently. This is a torrent. It almost slaps, burns him with its irritation. It isn’t going to go away, this deep pitted dread. Not today, anyway. But, there is something new. She’s with him, and when she presses her body to his, wrapping her arms around him, he winces, but it IS new. And, he sees, somewhere in the hazy distance of his mind an layer of memories, slightly stamped down by this one. This new one. He cranes his neck down and kisses her wet hair, inhaling the scent of the water, the shampoo, this woman, her love. Everything.
*******************************************************
“No, no.” His voice is reaching a fevered pitch as they reach his car, the sky still dark, the stars still out. The canyon still dark blue and quiet save for their hushed tones. “Not JUST fruit. Waffles. With eggs. Or, maybe not eggs. Maybe those waffles with the fruit on top, but…fresh fruit, not that fruity jelly stuff. Real fruit. With that whipped cream. And, instead of eggs, those potatoes. Those thick cut potatoes all fried up with the onions and bell peppers and stuff…and toast. Yes, sourdough. With butter and….”
“I’m thinkin’ coffee.”
“Yeah, well, that too. Yeah, that too. YES.”
Dani looks over at Charlie as she slides into the car next to him. She’s not seen him drive before, not from this angle, and she studies this side of his face for differences.
“You know….you look completely different from this side.”
*******************************************************
They decide on Canter’s. Again. For the first time. Nothing else is open at 4 a.m. The drive there is slow, paced and calm. No traffic, just lights and city and pavement. Reese looks out the door and feels sort of wide awake, and sort of completely relaxed all at the same time, being driven. Charlie is talking nonstop about ingredients. She’s learned to just let him go off.
“I mean, you know, it’s infinite. Ingredients. Made from other ingredients. Which are made from ingredients. It never gets broken down, in most cases, not to the final ingredients…..”
She slips her seatbelt off, a lifetime of training telling her she’s being bad and unsafe, but she feels safest when she’s next to him, so she slides over as far as she can go, cuddling up to his warm body. That shuts him up fast, as his long arm drapes over her. He’s almost hot to the touch against her. She doesn’t look up, but imagines him smiling down at her when they’re stopped at a red light, with what she thinks of as his half and half smile; half deeply goofy, half deeply beautiful.
******************************************************
Their booth is in the back, just where they left it. Denizens of the night abound, but somehow their little island of booth is private, perfect. He slides in, his back to wall. Before he can settle in, she’s next to him, already. It’s a move that would have made him gasp a few hours ago.
What do you feel like, Dani? His big hand holds the menu out in front of them, while his arm slides around her, drawing her small body to him, again.
Dani looks around the place. Looks at her partner, this odd, beautiful man. Orange and brown booths, orange hair, overzealous waiter, underzealous waitress, woman talking to herself, couple ordering, disheveled businessman coming down off a high, busboy clinking glasses together as he clears a table.
What do I feel like?
I feel good again.
*********************************************************
In another hour or so, the sun is coming up, flooding that impossible city with light and purpose and justice and yellow-white warmth. But, for now, it’s quiet. It’s dark, their little corner of the booth, their little corner of the world, the universe, with the brilliance of the stars drowned out by electric city light, by orange glow.
But, Charlie and Dani know the stars are there. Just the LA stars. Just the ones that belong to the blue night sky that hovers over the city. They know those stars are there.
Because they can feel every last one, shining around them in that booth.