Faith
Title: Faith
Date posted: 07-05-05
Fandom: Alias
Disclaimer: Emily Sloane isn't mine.
Spoilers: Season One.
Notes: Requested by non_horation
Arvin has a sort of magic.
Emily remembers thinking this when they first started dating. They had gone to dinner- someplace nice, but inexpensive, and they planned to walk around a bit before taking her home- and stepped outside to find it pouring rain.
"Don't worry," Arvin had reassured her, pressing just above her elbow, "It'll clear up."
And suddenly, as if waiting for his words, the rain had stopped.
There were other instances- their first in apartment, charming and in a perfect location, found by accident when Arvin was coming home from work; her engagement ring, an antique with a sparkling diamond set in a twist of gold, just happened to catch the light and Arvin's eye; their home in California, found on an aimless drive. Arvin loved beautiful things, and they called to him. He always made them his.
Arvin could have anything fixed- neighbors with loud parties, faucets that leaked, grass that was dull, untuned pianos. She would come home to find everything was right again, like magic, by simply mentioning it. She never saw anyone actually in the act- it was as though he had elves, or fairies, at his disposal, ready to make her happy.
She developed a faith in this magic, a trust- she had only to keep her faith in Arvin, and things would work out. When it wasn't as painful, she would think, years and years later, that the death of Jacquelyn was more painful because of this faith, her total belief that Arvin would be able to make things right, as he always had before.
Emily got lymphoma when she was forty-seven. The feeling of hopelessness that she felt in the face of her mortality was fathomless. Arvin took her hand and waited for the doctor to leave.
"Emily," he said to her in the calming voice he had always used, "We will get you well."
And Emily believed him.
Date posted: 07-05-05
Fandom: Alias
Disclaimer: Emily Sloane isn't mine.
Spoilers: Season One.
Notes: Requested by non_horation
Arvin has a sort of magic.
Emily remembers thinking this when they first started dating. They had gone to dinner- someplace nice, but inexpensive, and they planned to walk around a bit before taking her home- and stepped outside to find it pouring rain.
"Don't worry," Arvin had reassured her, pressing just above her elbow, "It'll clear up."
And suddenly, as if waiting for his words, the rain had stopped.
There were other instances- their first in apartment, charming and in a perfect location, found by accident when Arvin was coming home from work; her engagement ring, an antique with a sparkling diamond set in a twist of gold, just happened to catch the light and Arvin's eye; their home in California, found on an aimless drive. Arvin loved beautiful things, and they called to him. He always made them his.
Arvin could have anything fixed- neighbors with loud parties, faucets that leaked, grass that was dull, untuned pianos. She would come home to find everything was right again, like magic, by simply mentioning it. She never saw anyone actually in the act- it was as though he had elves, or fairies, at his disposal, ready to make her happy.
She developed a faith in this magic, a trust- she had only to keep her faith in Arvin, and things would work out. When it wasn't as painful, she would think, years and years later, that the death of Jacquelyn was more painful because of this faith, her total belief that Arvin would be able to make things right, as he always had before.
Emily got lymphoma when she was forty-seven. The feeling of hopelessness that she felt in the face of her mortality was fathomless. Arvin took her hand and waited for the doctor to leave.
"Emily," he said to her in the calming voice he had always used, "We will get you well."
And Emily believed him.