Particles of Light, Chapter 14: Don't Say A Word
Title: Chapter 15 - Don't Say A Word
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Not mine, no harm intended
Spoilers: Light references to Season 1 always a possibility
Chapter 14
Don’t Say A Word
“The instant you speak about a thing, you entangle it until it loses its meaning. You miss the mark.”
-Zen Buddhist Quote
He’s still drunk, legs actually swinging a bit less than it feels like, but she’s stone cold sober. Soft, lilac scented lips trace freckles like a tender puzzle, covering chest and shoulder, as far as she can reach in bare feet. Small, cool hands wash over his LIFE and over his DEATH, wishing them away. Wishing. He can almost feel her wishing, as if her heartbeat in her hand pulses out intention onto his skin like falling water.
He purposely presses his hips to her stomach as they kiss. He’s wanting - no needing - her to know how much he wants to fuck her. That he doesn’t care what tomorrow brings, not one little bit. Oh, god, that smell, that lilac smell. Her skin. Her hair. That smell pushes up into him, releasing dozens tendrils of memory in his brain. The first time he saw her. The first time they sat in the car together.
Full lips press up into his, her soft tongue, that mouth he can never get out of his head, pushes into his. Opening and closing, breathing softly, wordlessly talking to him. Tongue asking as she licks his mouth, inside and out, her breasts crushing to his chest. He can barely stand, legs feeling rubbery and insignificant. Her mouth asks again, but this time she breathes her questions into him, her eyes open, looking at his, which never closed in the first place. Is it you? Are we here? I think I see you. His lips answer, his hands on her waist, then her neck answer. It’s him. He’s right there. He’s right there when he rips her top the rest of the way and backs her up into the sofa. It’s him when he pushes himself inside her, a bit too rough, hasty like he’s never had it like this and he can’t possibly wait.
And, she’s still asking the fucking questions. Are you there? He tries pounding them out of her, moving hard and fast, silencing her with his mouth on hers. But, even as she’s coming, she’s asking. Except now she’s not talking, it’s just her eyes. But, eyes have a voice, too. And, it sounds like she’s calling to him from another room, in another house, maybe. But, still, he hears every word. Is it you? She asks it over and over again. I see you. But, I want you to tell me, is it you? Those huge eyes asking, tearing up, spilling over, pleading and he can’t stand to look at her face, so he buries his head in her shoulder while he pushes forward, pulls back, pushes forward...But, he just won’t come. He can’t. And, worse, he’s getting sore. But, he keeps going, wanting to make her sore, too. Her hand reaches down between them, softly curling her fingers around him each time he pulls out a bit.
He feels warm metal and yanks her hand away, grabbing a slender wrist in one hand, shaking it in front of her face. The alcohol burns up inside his chest, urging him to act on its behalf. He complies. He quietly leans in to demand answers of his own with an intense gaze he knows she can see, even in the dark she insisted upon.
Why are you here? He steadies himself on his thighs a bit so he can use both hands, one to hold her hand in front of her face, and the other to yank off the wedding ring and throw it across the bare floor.
And, if she wasn’t crying before, now she really is. He finally comes, still holding her hand, forcing her to see her own naked fingers in front of her, his reddened face in the background. He hears her sobbing voice while he’s coming. Nn-not you. Only looks like you.
She starts answer, to tell him why she came here. But, he doesn’t let her. He gets up quickly, practically showing her the door before she’s fully dressed in her torn clothes, wedding ring found and replaced on a sad finger.
“Charlie…” she starts through silvery, aquamarine tears.
The question threatens to burn his dry tongue, the alcohol begging him to release fury and rage and every little pent up thing in the corners of his heart. He fights it, but even so, out thunders a tone he’s never used with her. Ever. He holds a shaky white finger to his lips, ushering her into silence.
“Twelve. Twelve years without a word. You have no right to start now.” It still fills her ears, her heart, when the door shuts behind her, panties in purse, the night air tracing icy fingers up her skirt, cooling the tops of her thighs where she’s still wet from him.
Do I still love my ex-wife?
*****************************************
That was nearly two and half months ago, and here Charlie was with his partner, and she was asking that same question.
Reese’s heart thumped and flopped in her chest and she almost burst with remorse and invisible embarrassment at having asked a question like that out loud. Moments seemed like hours, days.
The streets kept coming and going. Pico. Olympic. 9th.
Finally, Charlie answered her, avoiding eye contact.
“No.” It was short and sweet and totally unlike her partner, which made her even more uncomfortable.
The blocks went by slower, now. Wilshire, Rampart.
“You still love the guy?”
Reese began to shoot Charlie a scalding look, but returned her gaze to the road when she realized it was fair play.
“No,” she paused, breath hitching a bit before continuing. “But, I feel something.”
Charlie kept his gaze forward, too. His voice was quiet, gentle and not unlike he was talking to a frail or dying person, instead of a very much alive cop next to him. “Something only you two knew? And, no matter what, that thing you shared is out there, almost living its own life? Bending and twisting through memory and matter and love and hate? And, no matter who says it was bad or it couldn’t last, you know that only the two of you can judge that. Only you two were there. Only you two know. And, you’ll always have that, no matter what? And, you understand everything. And, you understand nothing. And acceptance, that’s there, too. But, love like you knew? No, that’s gone. Forever.”
Reese’s eyes had started to water a bit and her lower lip twitched. She quickly pulled herself back and moved her head slightly to the right to keep her partner from catching a glimpse of her glistening right eye behind her sunglasses.
“Yep. So, what is that? Zen?”
Charlie hadn’t moved a muscle. He was just staring ahead. It took him a while to reply.
“No. No, it’s not Zen, Reese,” he said with a slight smile and shake of his head. “It’s the price of belonging to someone. It’s the cost of belonging to the past.” His face was a bit drawn and he sighed. “Can we get some tacos before we get there?”
Reese looked over at Charlie, her face softening as she looked into his eyes.
“Yeah. I could go for tacos.”
Her smile lit up the car.
To be continued….