my mind is still full of you [1/1]
Title: My Mind is Still Full of You
Author: ailhsa_23
Rating: 15+/PG - 13
Length: One-shot
Fandom: Pan Am
Characters: Kate Cameron, Niko Lonza
Summary: She was chasing ghosts.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
She liked taking his picture when he wasn't looking.
She wasn't a budding photographer like her kid sister was, but she did know how to use a camera. There was something about him that made her pause: every movement was with a purpose even if he never intended it, and he was so serious. Too many emotions simmered beneath the surface. If only she'd gotten the time to dig a little, maybe she wouldn't find it so hard to breathe at the sight of him frowning up at her from a fallen box. Maybe she wouldn't be filled with so much regret.
-----
She cleaned up her apartment after he'd left. It's what she does when she's upset - she cleans. Every surface she scrubbed raw like the memories of him she tried to erase. But the fact remains that he'd etched his name on a place, that no matter how much she scrubbed, she could not get rid of it. She could not get rid of him.
She pushed open her windows and stuck her head out to escape the overwhelming scent of the household cleaners, little did she realise it started to rain. She faltered, lowering herself down in the window seat, feeling the cold drops on her skin. Something in her chest started to ache then. She shut the window with a snap.
This was too much.
------
There was something different about the way she walked through the streets now. She was never a girl to want to depend on anyone. Not her mother, her father, or even her sister, much less a man. She couldn't help but remember the slight touch of his fingers on the small of her back when they walked. She smiled when they lingered longer than was needed, but was too proud to tell him to keep them there.
Now, all she felt was incomplete.
-----
It took her a few weeks to realise he'd known about the pictures all along. He pretended to be asleep one morning, it was a Sunday. She snuck out of bed to grab her camera. It was rare to see him so vulnerable and almost child-like. It was a strange thing to think of, since she thought him to be so much, sometimes. He was bigger than most men she'd been out with, like the bears he claimed his country did not have. As soon as she took the picture, something about his face had changed; he smiled and peered at her through one eye.
'Gotcha!' his tone was smug, and in spite of her mock outrage, Kate was proud.
He swept her up in his arms and told her he'd known for weeks. Her fingers traced the curve of his jaw and he smiled, covering her mouth with his.
They did not get out of bed for a while that morning.
------
She thought she saw him one afternoon, on stay over in Rome. A part of her thought...no, hoped he'd be there just to say he was right. But her eyes deceived her.
She was chasing ghosts.
------
Months after they parted, she would remember his face, and the tears threatening to fall from her own eyes. It wasn't like in the movies she secretly enjoyed, where the couple stand in the middle of the airport and nothing else mattered. She only wished it could've been like that. There, everyone watched them. The distance between them was too great, and to do herself some credit, so was her self-control. It killed her that she could not touch him.
It killed her that for their final goodbye, she could not be in his arms.
-----
There are some things that settle, like water does after a shower of rain, but she found that if she didn’t think about them, they wouldn’t hurt. She tried this for a while. Days flickered past her like nothing and memories of him were locked away in some far region of her mind, like the box of photographs tucked in the back of her closet.
In some wild twist of fate, both of them returned to her in exactly the same moment.
His face beamed up at her from a park bench in the city, holding two ice cream cones in his large hands. She choked back a sob at the sight of him. Her hands tried in vain to shove the photos back into their box, but instead they scattered further across the floor. Each one was like a shock to her heart; she almost thought it might stop beating for good.
From the park bench was the amusement park, or while he struck a deal with a street side vendor to buy her some flowers - he’d forgotten his wallet and refused to let her pay. He was everywhere all at once, and she could not stop it. They were everywhere - him and her - and it hurt.
For months she built up her resolve, only to be undone by a box of memories.
----
It made sense that her last trip would be here.
It made sense that she let her feet take her to that pub they played billiards and got lost in each other. She wasn’t entirely sure what she would do afterwards, but her days of espionage were over. After Roger’s betrayal and Richard’s implication, she wanted out. It wasn’t fun anymore.
The pool table was occupied, and it was just as well. All she wanted was the atmosphere.
Someone slipped onto the barstool a few feet down from her. It was just the two of them there, but something about this intrusion made her stir. In the dim lighting of the pub, she could not make out his face, but there was something about him that was familiar.
Kate bowed her head, staring into the depths of her drink.
‘Excuse me, sir.’
It was his voice that made her sit up straight. Practiced English over a thick accent.
‘I’d like a glass of wine, please.’
‘Anything in particular?’
‘Bordeaux,’ the man tilted his head in her direction, ‘is that a good choice, Miss?’
‘It’s an interesting choice.’
The man nodded. ‘An old friend suggested it once. She called it a memento.’
It was as if all the air she kept in her lungs escaped her. Her body slumped on the stool and wobbled, as she clung in desperation to the bar. Out of the muddle, someone placed a firm hand on her shoulder to steady her. She glanced up in surprise to find the warm, familiar eyes that haunted her dreams for months.
Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, and lingered below his lips. Maybe this was all a dream and he would disappear as quickly as he came.
‘Niko?’ she bleated.
He touched her face in response. ‘Hello, Kate.’
Author: ailhsa_23
Rating: 15+/PG - 13
Length: One-shot
Fandom: Pan Am
Characters: Kate Cameron, Niko Lonza
Summary: She was chasing ghosts.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libellous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
She liked taking his picture when he wasn't looking.
She wasn't a budding photographer like her kid sister was, but she did know how to use a camera. There was something about him that made her pause: every movement was with a purpose even if he never intended it, and he was so serious. Too many emotions simmered beneath the surface. If only she'd gotten the time to dig a little, maybe she wouldn't find it so hard to breathe at the sight of him frowning up at her from a fallen box. Maybe she wouldn't be filled with so much regret.
-----
She cleaned up her apartment after he'd left. It's what she does when she's upset - she cleans. Every surface she scrubbed raw like the memories of him she tried to erase. But the fact remains that he'd etched his name on a place, that no matter how much she scrubbed, she could not get rid of it. She could not get rid of him.
She pushed open her windows and stuck her head out to escape the overwhelming scent of the household cleaners, little did she realise it started to rain. She faltered, lowering herself down in the window seat, feeling the cold drops on her skin. Something in her chest started to ache then. She shut the window with a snap.
This was too much.
------
There was something different about the way she walked through the streets now. She was never a girl to want to depend on anyone. Not her mother, her father, or even her sister, much less a man. She couldn't help but remember the slight touch of his fingers on the small of her back when they walked. She smiled when they lingered longer than was needed, but was too proud to tell him to keep them there.
Now, all she felt was incomplete.
-----
It took her a few weeks to realise he'd known about the pictures all along. He pretended to be asleep one morning, it was a Sunday. She snuck out of bed to grab her camera. It was rare to see him so vulnerable and almost child-like. It was a strange thing to think of, since she thought him to be so much, sometimes. He was bigger than most men she'd been out with, like the bears he claimed his country did not have. As soon as she took the picture, something about his face had changed; he smiled and peered at her through one eye.
'Gotcha!' his tone was smug, and in spite of her mock outrage, Kate was proud.
He swept her up in his arms and told her he'd known for weeks. Her fingers traced the curve of his jaw and he smiled, covering her mouth with his.
They did not get out of bed for a while that morning.
------
She thought she saw him one afternoon, on stay over in Rome. A part of her thought...no, hoped he'd be there just to say he was right. But her eyes deceived her.
She was chasing ghosts.
------
Months after they parted, she would remember his face, and the tears threatening to fall from her own eyes. It wasn't like in the movies she secretly enjoyed, where the couple stand in the middle of the airport and nothing else mattered. She only wished it could've been like that. There, everyone watched them. The distance between them was too great, and to do herself some credit, so was her self-control. It killed her that she could not touch him.
It killed her that for their final goodbye, she could not be in his arms.
-----
There are some things that settle, like water does after a shower of rain, but she found that if she didn’t think about them, they wouldn’t hurt. She tried this for a while. Days flickered past her like nothing and memories of him were locked away in some far region of her mind, like the box of photographs tucked in the back of her closet.
In some wild twist of fate, both of them returned to her in exactly the same moment.
His face beamed up at her from a park bench in the city, holding two ice cream cones in his large hands. She choked back a sob at the sight of him. Her hands tried in vain to shove the photos back into their box, but instead they scattered further across the floor. Each one was like a shock to her heart; she almost thought it might stop beating for good.
From the park bench was the amusement park, or while he struck a deal with a street side vendor to buy her some flowers - he’d forgotten his wallet and refused to let her pay. He was everywhere all at once, and she could not stop it. They were everywhere - him and her - and it hurt.
For months she built up her resolve, only to be undone by a box of memories.
----
It made sense that her last trip would be here.
It made sense that she let her feet take her to that pub they played billiards and got lost in each other. She wasn’t entirely sure what she would do afterwards, but her days of espionage were over. After Roger’s betrayal and Richard’s implication, she wanted out. It wasn’t fun anymore.
The pool table was occupied, and it was just as well. All she wanted was the atmosphere.
Someone slipped onto the barstool a few feet down from her. It was just the two of them there, but something about this intrusion made her stir. In the dim lighting of the pub, she could not make out his face, but there was something about him that was familiar.
Kate bowed her head, staring into the depths of her drink.
‘Excuse me, sir.’
It was his voice that made her sit up straight. Practiced English over a thick accent.
‘I’d like a glass of wine, please.’
‘Anything in particular?’
‘Bordeaux,’ the man tilted his head in her direction, ‘is that a good choice, Miss?’
‘It’s an interesting choice.’
The man nodded. ‘An old friend suggested it once. She called it a memento.’
It was as if all the air she kept in her lungs escaped her. Her body slumped on the stool and wobbled, as she clung in desperation to the bar. Out of the muddle, someone placed a firm hand on her shoulder to steady her. She glanced up in surprise to find the warm, familiar eyes that haunted her dreams for months.
Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, and lingered below his lips. Maybe this was all a dream and he would disappear as quickly as he came.
‘Niko?’ she bleated.
He touched her face in response. ‘Hello, Kate.’