Fic: Eyes Wide Shut (1/1)
Title: Eyes Wide Shut
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Cristina/Owen
Word Count: 365
Summary: He dreams about her dying. For ciaimpala, who requested "Cristina/Owen; half of the pairing wrongly thinks the other is dead, and then they reunite" at my Winter Gift-Fic Extravaganza. Spoilers through 6.24 - Death and All His Friends.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: This pairing has really grown on me; I hope I managed them to your liking!
Eyes Wide Shut
He dreams about her dying.
Sometimes, it’s a crazed gunman taking her down in the halls of the hospital, blood colored strange, somehow, different when it’s seeping from inside her scrubs, instead of staining from the outside. Sometimes it’s the enemy -- any enemy, anyone he’s ever been sent to fight, to defend against: faceless and lethal, and she bleeds out on his fatigues before he can ask, beg her to hold on. Sometimes, she falls down the stairs, snaps her neck. Sometimes she’s crossing the street, gets smashed against a car. Sometimes, she’s driving, and she’s flattened by a semi.
Sometimes he’s driving the semi.
The night he puts his hands on her -- the night he regrets more than words and thoughts combined -- that night, he isn’t seeing her within his grip; he’s seeing her eyes, lifeless, her body on the sand, and he’s avenging her, he’s blind with the grief of it, and he’s wringing, raging, pouring out his heartbreak and taking the bastard who did it, who caused it; he’s taking down with him.
It scares him most because he would have killed the specter in his mind, the thing that robbed her from him; it terrifies him because at the very same time, he would have killed her, too.
It’s a dangerous thing, to love a person that fucking much.
But when he wakes up, when he wakes and searches her out and finds her right there, right there with him, next to him, breathing; sometimes watching him, waiting for him to need her, to need to see her and know that she’s safe: it’s like he’d never learned to breathe before, because discovering it in her is so novel, so perfect and untouched. When he kisses her, he can’t imagine a world without her, he can’t remember his dreams, because they just don’t make sense, anymore: the earth couldn’t turn if she didn’t exist; and he’s made calm, in those moments, with her. He’s whole.
Until he closes his eyes again.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Cristina/Owen
Word Count: 365
Summary: He dreams about her dying. For ciaimpala, who requested "Cristina/Owen; half of the pairing wrongly thinks the other is dead, and then they reunite" at my Winter Gift-Fic Extravaganza. Spoilers through 6.24 - Death and All His Friends.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: This pairing has really grown on me; I hope I managed them to your liking!
Eyes Wide Shut
He dreams about her dying.
Sometimes, it’s a crazed gunman taking her down in the halls of the hospital, blood colored strange, somehow, different when it’s seeping from inside her scrubs, instead of staining from the outside. Sometimes it’s the enemy -- any enemy, anyone he’s ever been sent to fight, to defend against: faceless and lethal, and she bleeds out on his fatigues before he can ask, beg her to hold on. Sometimes, she falls down the stairs, snaps her neck. Sometimes she’s crossing the street, gets smashed against a car. Sometimes, she’s driving, and she’s flattened by a semi.
Sometimes he’s driving the semi.
The night he puts his hands on her -- the night he regrets more than words and thoughts combined -- that night, he isn’t seeing her within his grip; he’s seeing her eyes, lifeless, her body on the sand, and he’s avenging her, he’s blind with the grief of it, and he’s wringing, raging, pouring out his heartbreak and taking the bastard who did it, who caused it; he’s taking down with him.
It scares him most because he would have killed the specter in his mind, the thing that robbed her from him; it terrifies him because at the very same time, he would have killed her, too.
It’s a dangerous thing, to love a person that fucking much.
But when he wakes up, when he wakes and searches her out and finds her right there, right there with him, next to him, breathing; sometimes watching him, waiting for him to need her, to need to see her and know that she’s safe: it’s like he’d never learned to breathe before, because discovering it in her is so novel, so perfect and untouched. When he kisses her, he can’t imagine a world without her, he can’t remember his dreams, because they just don’t make sense, anymore: the earth couldn’t turn if she didn’t exist; and he’s made calm, in those moments, with her. He’s whole.
Until he closes his eyes again.