X-Men: Help Me
Title: Help Me
Author: arliddian
Rating: PG
Fandom: X-Men (movie/comic cross)
Characters/Pairing: Bobby/Laura
Summary: She's broken. He wants to help.
Word Count: 689
Author's Note: A birthday gift for petitebelette, based off a never-completed scene we were cooking up for XMH. Happy birthday, Crys!
Warnings: Allusions to self-harm (nothing horrific).
Disclaimer: Don't own it; don't sue me.
He found her curled in the corner of the shower, cheek pressed to cold tiles. Streaks of blood ran from the already-healing stripes on her arms, staining the shower floor in lines to the drain.
"Oh, Laura," Bobby whispered, voice cracking. He took a step into the room, pausing as he saw her fist tense. He held up his palms, a hot and sick feeling swamping him as he gazed at her huddled form. "It's me, Laura. It's Bobby. I'm not going to hurt you."
Her claws retracted into her skin, the snikt sound and her accompanying whimper too sharp amid the heavy sound of her breathing and his own pounding heart. His movements were slow and cautious as he grabbed a towel from the rack and stepped into the cubicle. He twisted the taps, a gentle spray of warm water soaking into their clothes as he knelt beside her, breath escaping him in a pained sigh.
She shrunk back from him, eyes wide and glistening, a pained mix of emotions swirling in their depths.
"Laura," he murmured gently, hand reaching slowly for her. "I'm not going to hurt you."
When he touched her arm, a shudder ran through her slim frame, green eyes closing. Her skin was cold. Slowly, softly, he dabbed at the lines of blood, stomach twisting as he watched her flesh close up, leaving no physical sign of her wounds. Red-tinted water streamed down the drain.
"Please," she suddenly choked out, opening her eyes, gaze fixing desperately on him. "Please." Fresh tears blended on her face with the water falling from the showerhead, and Bobby felt his heart break.
He placed the sodden, bloodstained towel on the floor. Her breath hitched and her hand suddenly shot out, fisting in his shirt.
"I don't - I don't know... I don't understand wh..." Her cry was cut off by a choking sob, fingers gripping saturated fabric.
"Shhh," he tried to soothe her. "It's - it's okay." His words sounded hollow, echoed in the shower cubicle. He watched her body shake with suppressed cries, an occasional broken whimper the only sound escaping her lips.
He hesitantly touched her shoulder, and Laura's head fell forward to rest on his, the hand clutching his shirt tugging him closer. Realising that she needed the closeness of another person, he slipped his arms around her. Her palm flattened against his chest, pressed against his heart.
They sat there together in silence, water streaming over them. He held her until he felt her shudders subside, her breathing slowing to the same rhythm as his own heartbeat.
"Laura," he whispered into her hair. At the sound of her name, he felt her tense, and he drew back. She began to shrink from him again, expression once again bordering on fear.
"Laura," he repeated gently, hand rising to push strings of wet hair from her eyes. She stopped moving, staring at him with wide eyes.
"I want to help you." His hand slid to her damp cheek, warm against her skin. "Please, will you let me help you?" he asked, voice full of tenderness and concern.
She gazed at him for what felt like an eternity, breathing deeply, blinking away the spray from the shower. With every second of silence that passed, Bobby felt his heart sink a little lower. After all they had been through together, all they had learned about each other, he couldn't bear the thought of being pushed away. Especially not while she was broken and hurting and confused.
"Laura?" he prompted softly. She blinked again and looked down at where her palm pressed against his heart. A hundred things he wanted to say rose in his throat. I want to make it stop hurting. You don't have to be afraid of me. You're beautiful. I care about you.
Instead, he repeated his question, thumb lightly stroking her cheek. "Will you let me help you?"
Green eyes met blue. "Yes," she finally whispered.
She leaned into him again and he gathered her close, soaked fabric clinging to soaked skin, the last traces of blood and tears flowing away, hearts beating together.
Fin
Author: arliddian
Rating: PG
Fandom: X-Men (movie/comic cross)
Characters/Pairing: Bobby/Laura
Summary: She's broken. He wants to help.
Word Count: 689
Author's Note: A birthday gift for petitebelette, based off a never-completed scene we were cooking up for XMH. Happy birthday, Crys!
Warnings: Allusions to self-harm (nothing horrific).
Disclaimer: Don't own it; don't sue me.
He found her curled in the corner of the shower, cheek pressed to cold tiles. Streaks of blood ran from the already-healing stripes on her arms, staining the shower floor in lines to the drain.
"Oh, Laura," Bobby whispered, voice cracking. He took a step into the room, pausing as he saw her fist tense. He held up his palms, a hot and sick feeling swamping him as he gazed at her huddled form. "It's me, Laura. It's Bobby. I'm not going to hurt you."
Her claws retracted into her skin, the snikt sound and her accompanying whimper too sharp amid the heavy sound of her breathing and his own pounding heart. His movements were slow and cautious as he grabbed a towel from the rack and stepped into the cubicle. He twisted the taps, a gentle spray of warm water soaking into their clothes as he knelt beside her, breath escaping him in a pained sigh.
She shrunk back from him, eyes wide and glistening, a pained mix of emotions swirling in their depths.
"Laura," he murmured gently, hand reaching slowly for her. "I'm not going to hurt you."
When he touched her arm, a shudder ran through her slim frame, green eyes closing. Her skin was cold. Slowly, softly, he dabbed at the lines of blood, stomach twisting as he watched her flesh close up, leaving no physical sign of her wounds. Red-tinted water streamed down the drain.
"Please," she suddenly choked out, opening her eyes, gaze fixing desperately on him. "Please." Fresh tears blended on her face with the water falling from the showerhead, and Bobby felt his heart break.
He placed the sodden, bloodstained towel on the floor. Her breath hitched and her hand suddenly shot out, fisting in his shirt.
"I don't - I don't know... I don't understand wh..." Her cry was cut off by a choking sob, fingers gripping saturated fabric.
"Shhh," he tried to soothe her. "It's - it's okay." His words sounded hollow, echoed in the shower cubicle. He watched her body shake with suppressed cries, an occasional broken whimper the only sound escaping her lips.
He hesitantly touched her shoulder, and Laura's head fell forward to rest on his, the hand clutching his shirt tugging him closer. Realising that she needed the closeness of another person, he slipped his arms around her. Her palm flattened against his chest, pressed against his heart.
They sat there together in silence, water streaming over them. He held her until he felt her shudders subside, her breathing slowing to the same rhythm as his own heartbeat.
"Laura," he whispered into her hair. At the sound of her name, he felt her tense, and he drew back. She began to shrink from him again, expression once again bordering on fear.
"Laura," he repeated gently, hand rising to push strings of wet hair from her eyes. She stopped moving, staring at him with wide eyes.
"I want to help you." His hand slid to her damp cheek, warm against her skin. "Please, will you let me help you?" he asked, voice full of tenderness and concern.
She gazed at him for what felt like an eternity, breathing deeply, blinking away the spray from the shower. With every second of silence that passed, Bobby felt his heart sink a little lower. After all they had been through together, all they had learned about each other, he couldn't bear the thought of being pushed away. Especially not while she was broken and hurting and confused.
"Laura?" he prompted softly. She blinked again and looked down at where her palm pressed against his heart. A hundred things he wanted to say rose in his throat. I want to make it stop hurting. You don't have to be afraid of me. You're beautiful. I care about you.
Instead, he repeated his question, thumb lightly stroking her cheek. "Will you let me help you?"
Green eyes met blue. "Yes," she finally whispered.
She leaned into him again and he gathered her close, soaked fabric clinging to soaked skin, the last traces of blood and tears flowing away, hearts beating together.
Fin