Fiction: Battlefield (Future 'Serving Up Trouble' short)
I've been listening to this song, Battlefield by Jordan Sparks, for a long time now and absolutely love it. Since I haven't been feeling very "up" lately, I haven't been writing "Serving Up Trouble" much. (This story is my chance to write a tale with very little angst...well very little for me *laughing*) The chapter I'm working on is fun, light and "cute", everything I'm not right now, so I decided to do a short. This song is angsty and so the short is angsty. I hope that doesn't turn you off though. Okay without further ado...
Title: Battlefield
Author: Jailynn
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Warning: Unedited and quickly written
Type: Serving Up Trouble short, angst, romance, song-fiction, alternate reality, crossover
Rating: PG
Summary: Jealousy and fear can cloud the bright light of love...and can turn it into a battlefield
Fandom: Guiding Light/Young and the Restless crossover
Word Count: 1664
Feedback: Please and thank you
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Don't try to explain your mind;
I know what's happening here;
One minute it's love;
And suddenly it's like a battlefield
One word turns into a war;
Why is it the smallest things in that tear us down?
My world's nothing when you don't
I'm not here without a shield
Can't go back now
Bitter taste. Cold and strong. It's filled to the top now but won't be for long at the rate she's going, with the pain filling up her heart.
Salt around the glass lip bites back. Making her mouth pucker even more as she drinks a sip. Her blue eyes are watering in reaction to the liquor in her glass and the words still vibrating in her head. Angry words, filled with venom she didn't mean to spew at him, words he said back in hurt and jealousy. It seems like that's all they do now. Fight and then leave feeling even more depressed, more lost than when they started.
The music pumps and penetrates the nice haze that has started to fill her mind. The flashing lights make her blink a couple of times. White, red, green, blue, orange fly across the faces, the floor and the bar.
Looking around she sees the crowd but not the people. They have already turned into one giant form, swaying to the pounding sounds coming from the loud speakers built into the ceiling. Ashlee drops her head slightly to let her blonde hair cover her ears. Maybe that way her pain will be blocked out as well, a bitterly grim smile curls her lips. Fat chance.
She holds the glass in her hands and brings it to her lips. The words of the song, sped up and changed for the club, finally finds it way into her mind. She wants to smile and cry all at once. If she isn't so conscious of looking like a child, she would plug her ears with her fingers and say, “La, la, la,” to drown out the lyrics. Instead she slings back to rest of her drink and lets the glass hit the bar with a loud thump.
I never meant to start a war;
You know I never wanna hurt you;
Don't even know what we're fighting for;
Why does love always feel like a battlefield;
A battlefield, a battlefield?
Why does love always feel like a battlefield;
A battlefield, a battlefield?
Why does love always feel like...
Can't swallow our pride;
Neither of us wanna raise that flag
If we can't surrender then we both gonna lose;
What we had, oh no
Both hands, tied behind my back with nothing
Oh no, these times when we climb so fast to fall again;
Why we gotta fall for it now?
I never meant to start a war;
You know I never wanna hurt you;
Don't even know what we're fighting for;
Tears choke her air supply. It wasn't always like this. They used to connect so easily. One word, one phrase, a look, a quiet moment would be all they needed to know and feel and understand. But now...it seems like for every good day, they experience two bad ones. Fear makes her feel like she drowning in a raging sea. She wants so badly to scream at the top of her lungs that she loves him and can't take this anymore. Why can't she just let go of her pride and just wrap her arms around him? Why can't she just say that she loves him and doesn't want anything else?
Jealousy is so powerful. Chance's jealousy, while unwarranted and unwanted, over Cane's attention has caused a rift she can't seem to fix. Even though she doesn't understand it Cane is interested in her, he told her, and he knows what this is doing to her relationship with Chance. But never in her life would she believe that Chance could be so blind to the fact that her love for him trumps anything and everything the other man could give her. She looks up and swallows as the bartender takes the empty glass from in front of her. It's on the tip of her tongue to ask for something else, something stronger than before, but her common sense surfaces long enough for her to realize it's time to go. Ashlee pulls some money out of her purse to tip the kind guy behind the bar.
With wobbly legs she moves through the crowd of sweat-soaked dancers toward the exit. Once the door swings shut behind her, she inhales the cool winter air and swell of smoke from the group lighting up in the corner. With a tight, barely there smile, she walks towards the parking lot still aware of the song playing in the club. Not that she needs to hear it. The rest of the lyrics are playing out in her real life. Tightening the coat around her waist she opens her car door and just sits inside it.
Tears she's been battling since she arrived at home today and they started fighting again fall like razor blades down her cheeks. Cutting her very soul into pieces as they cut through the make-up on her face. She rolls her lips together and tastes a different kind of salt, but it's no less bitter than the stuff that surrounded her glass in the bar.
Why does love always feel like a battlefield;
a battlefield, a battlefield?
Why does love always feel like a battlefield
a battlefield, a battlefield?
I guess you better go and get your armor
(Get your armor)
Get your armor
I guess you better go and get your armor
(Get your armor)
Get your armor
I guess you better go and get your
She starts her car and drives toward their home. The street lights pass over head, blanketing her in orange then it goes black again. She hits the radio to turn it on and almost drives off the road as the same song she heard in the club blares through her speakers. Ashlee's fingers tighten on the wheel, but she doesn't turn it. She listens to the song all the way through, pulling into their driveway on the last verse.
guess you better go and get your armor
(Get your armor)
Get your armor
I guess you better go and get your armor
(Get your armor)
Get your armor
I guess you better go and get your
Why does love always feel like a battlefield;
Why does love always feel like a battlefield;
a battlefield, a battlefield
Ashlee opens the front door with a new resolve. She's sick of the tension, the mean and not meant words that pass between them. Because she really isn't sure she knows what they are fighting for anymore. She just knows that her heart can't take the constant warring. Pushing against the wood, she stands still under the threshold. She sucks in a deep breath at the picture before her. His head is down, his short hair disheveled like he has been running his fingers through it repeatedly. An unopened bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass rests on the table in front of him. Ashlee knows that even though he didn't drink like she did, he is just as damaged. He doesn't drink and the fact that he was thinking about it tells her more than words ever could. Chance looks up from his position at the table.
Blood shot, tired eyes hold hers and she drops her bag to the ground, hoping to drop the pain with it. Slamming the door shut with her body, she looks at Chance helplessly. It's up to him. It's always been up to him. What he can't understand because of his jealousy is that she can't see anyone but him. He's it for her, but she will not live in this war zone anymore. Ashlee takes that first step, puts her heart on her sleeve and looks at him with all the love she feels, “Chance...”
“I'm sorry,” his voice cracks, the words break on his lips. Fear settles in his eyes. Fear of this being their last moments together. He knows that this could be it for them. “I just can't...I can't lose you.”
That's all she needs to hear. The white flags are waving between them. The guns are being laid down at their sides and she rushes forward. Leaping into his arms, she wraps every part of her she can around him. “You'll never lose me, Chance. I love you. I've always loved you and nothing, no one is going to change that.”
His large hand holds the back of her head and his other arm tightens around her lower back. His lips press into her temple. “I love you Ashlee. I love you so much it scares me at times.”
Pulling away just far enough to press her lips to his in a passionate kiss. It says all the things she can't verbalize right now, because that would mean breaking the kiss. It told him that she loves him as much as he loves her, that she needs him, that she never wants to fight again and that Cane means next to nothing to her. The man in her arms is all she wants. He is all she'll ever want.
This is what they are fighting for. For a love that is everything. It brings them joy, lifts them up and can break them if they let it...Ashlee is determined to never get to that point again.
Love is a battlefield. It can feel like a war. But she knows somethings are worth the scars and blood soaked fields. Chance Chancellor is worth that to her. And from the kiss they are still sharing she knows that she is worth that to him.
The End...