Romancing the Pain - Part 14
Title: Romancing the Pain
Rating: M (for adult themes)
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia
Summary: Post episode 104 as well as my last fic, Come Back to Me. It’s basically its sequel; the events that occur after Silvia was released from the hospital.
A/N: Special shout out to mueroporbesarte who kept me uh, entertained whilst I was studying at the library the other day. I hope you had fun, gorgeous cuz I left the library feeling verrry educated. *snickers* To the rest of y’all, here’s the next installment. I hope you enjoy reading it. *winks*
Oh Juney asked me to put this up. I'm obliging cuz I'm whipped and I love her. And I'm getting another chocolate cake. Gods, I'm too easy. *rolls eyes* It's a petition for an Italian TV show. In Juney's words: "It's called: Terapia d Urgenza" It's like hospital Central, except in Italy. It's the first lesbian kiss to ever air in Italy, well, first Italian made show to showcase a lesbian couple. They have a petition going on and I'd like to help the show stay on the air. Lesbians on tv are quite scarce, sadly ." So if y'all would help my wife out and sign the petition, I'd be grateful. www.ipetitions.com/petition/salviamotdu/
ROMANCING THE PAIN - Part 14
Silvia awoke to an insistent pounding. She moaned in agony, twisting her face to let the other side of her cheek rest against the kitchen table, allowing the coolness to seep into her seemingly over-heated skin. A hand reached out blindly, searching around for her cell phone to check the time. Instead, her clumsy fingers knocked over the three-quarters empty bottle of red wine. The redhead winced painfully as the bottle teetered on its edge before clattering onto the tabletop, spilling out its contents. Rivulets of wine streaked across the table, staining the wooden surface and dribbling off the side to cascade and pool onto the kitchen floor.
Silvia groaned as the pounding grew louder, more relentless. Eyes still screwed shut, she pressed desperate fingers to her temples, willing, begging, for the jackhammers in her head to desist. What in the hell happened last night? Silvia sucked in a deliberately long breath before exhaling slowly, using air as an incentive for her brain to come up with an explanation to her pitiful state. The pads of her fingers dug further into the sides of her head, pressing down against the throbbing that lay beneath her skin, hiding behind her skull to drum out its triumph at her obvious misery. The redhead drew in another mouthful of air as she scrunched up her brows in contemplation, her mind feebly beginning to piece together tattered shreds of an alcohol-abused memory.
**********
Silvia marched into her empty house, shutting the door carelessly behind with a resounding bang that echoed throughout the living room in retaliation for the redhead’s mistreatment of how the door was shut. However, it seemed to be a futile gesture; Silvia simply twisted the lock in place and walked into the kitchen, tossing her bag and keys onto the kitchen table. Her unzipped bag yawned open, spitting out the array of photographs the redhead had brought home with her. The remainder that sat halfway inside of the bag and kitchen table lay there in a disorganized heap, almost imitating a lolled out tongue.
Silvia rolled her eyes, the mess setting off her pet peeve for not tolerating an unclean desk or table. She leaned over and shoved the photographs into a presentable pile before making her way to the wine rack on the kitchen counter. Pulling out a bottle of red, uncaring of the label, she extended a hand above her head to pull open the cabinet door, extracting a wine glass from the shelf. Wine glass and bottle in one hand, the other reaching to pull open a drawer in front of her, Silvia fumbled amongst the cutlery before wrapping fingers around a corkscrew. Items in hand, she pushed the drawer back in and made her way back to the table, pausing only to switch on a stereo resting silently on top of the fridge.
The redhead sat down, gently depositing the wine bottle, glass and corkscrew on the table. Shouldering off her jacket, she tossed it haphazardly onto the back of the chair next to her and proceeded to uncork the wine. She poured herself a generous amount, swishing the blood-red liquid amongst the glass momentarily before gulping down half its contents. Setting down the glass, she allowed the flavor and texture of the wine to penetrate deep into her taste buds, washing down agitated nerves and smoothing down the rough edges of her soul, even as she pulled the evidence photos towards her.
Silvia’s dark eyes bore into the photo in front of her, nit-picking every last detail, her eyes moving sharply from the dimly lit background of the scene to the tiny trace of blood that clung onto a piece of fence. So intent was her observation, that when Silvia’s hand crawled its way to her untouched wine glass, the action was almost unnerving; like the hand had a mind of its own. Indeed, Silvia’s hand molded itself to the glass, lifting it and absentmindedly swirled the wine before tantalizingly bringing it to the redhead’s lips. Lips that parted obediently to permit a healthy gush of wine to tumbled into her mouth, teasingly caressing a welcoming tongue before sliding down Silvia’s throat. These actions were seemingly ignored by the forensics inspector; Silvia merely pondered over each photo, clearly making mental notes even as she shuffled the pile, allowing the last scrutinized photo to slip under the stack in way of allowing the next photo to bear the brunt of the redhead’s intense stare.
For the next hour, Silvia simply sat at the kitchen table, looking over the photos, indifferent to the fact that it was past midnight. The wine bottle was more than half finished when Silvia suddenly looked up, a song from the stereo captivating her senses. It was a melancholy song, rich in tender mournfulness and spiced with loss. It floated past the stereo’s speakers, gliding down to Silvia like a specter, swirling around the redhead, allowing its haunting melody, its lyrics entrenched with regret and sorrow, to envelope Silvia in a bittersweet embrace.
I didn’t see it coming
We were good the way we were
I guess she didn’t think so
I got what I deserved
Silvia bit her lip and brought the wine glass to her lips, taking a healthy swallow. She tried to ignore the song by refocusing on the photos but against her will, her mind disconnected from its concentration on forensic evidence and instead sank into the song’s embrace, permitting it to rock her conscience in a lullaby of remorse.
I didn’t want to believe
That tear in her eye
Meant that this could only be goodbye
Silvia unwillingly closed her eyes. The singer’s voice was heavy with pain and the lyrics describing his lover’s departure only served to mirror Silvia’s own situation. Had she had known that Pepa would have left, Silvia would have stayed up and watched over her sleeping wife, murmur words of reassurance, love and comfort. Silvia would have wrapped herself so tightly around Pepa that not even the wrath of God could have torn them apart. But she didn’t. She had fallen asleep; an exhaustion, driven into her by the emotional encounter of Pepa’s nightmare and the accident, rendering her into darkness. And when she had awoken, she was left to deal with the consequence of her carelessness. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that she was responsible for Pepa’s disappearance.
She’s gone
Every morning I wake up alone
Wondering why I ever did the things I’ve done
A lone tear escaped and tumbled down a reddened cheek, flushed rouge by the alcohol. Yes, the nights were hard; Silvia had gotten used to falling asleep in Pepa’s arms, surrounding by the taller woman’s warmth, her soothing scent. Nevertheless, the mornings were the worse. She would awake alone, cold. Combined with the knowledge that a whole day loomed ahead, stretching out every minute and every second only resulted in Silvia wanting to retreat far into her dreams. At least when asleep, her mind would sometimes give her a reprieve; it would concoct up a dream where she and Pepa were happy. Were together. All that faded when the redhead awoke and had to acknowledge the temporary happiness for what it was: a dream.
Too many bad decisions
I made that broke her heart
Times I should have said I love you
I just plain forgot
Silvia almost choked on a sob that crept unbidden up her throat. She gripped hard at her wine glass and threw back another swallow, willing the liquid, doused liberally with alcohol, to numb her, kill her senses. It was a hopeless plea. Her brain had gone into overdrive, rolling out memories of the early stages of her and Pepa’s relationship. When she had been afraid of the world finding out. When she had put off, time and time again, to announce that she and Pepa were a couple. When she had almost ended things before they began because her fear compelled her to. Each and every insecurity, every fear that resulted in these events had only led to the same one consequence: the disappointed look in Pepa’s eye. The way hurt washed over the brunette’s features, dulling the twinkle that was normally evident in liquid brown eyes. The way her shoulders would tense, its rigidity unacknowledged by everybody except Silvia. Silvia who did nothing to ease Pepa’s turmoil. All because she was afraid.
Silvia exhaled harshly through her mouth. She was fast running out of the number of times she had unintentionally (and intentionally) hurt her wife. Her most recent behavior HAD to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. It had to be, why else would Pepa run away?
I’ve been thinking it through
What I wanna say
But now it’s just a little too late
She’s gone
One shaking hand reached up to finger the necklace Silvia wore around her neck. The redhead had threaded Pepa’s wedding band through a simple silver chain and had taken to wearing it religiously since the day of Pepa’s disappearance. She had never once taken it off; it was the only way she could remain close to her wife, a last piece of Pepa to keep close to her. She kissed the band every night before she went to bed, murmuring all her apologizes and regret to it, almost as if it could convey Silvia’s thoughts to its missing owner. And not a day went by without Silvia reaching up to play with the band, fingers dancing and tracing the smooth roundness, seeking strength and forgiveness.
She’s gone
Every morning I wake up alone
Wondering why I ever did the things I done
Caught between hanging on and letting go
I was wrong
She’s gone
Silvia gave up the pretence of working and shoved the photos aside. She folded her arms on the tabletop and rested her head in the crook of her elbows, tears working down her face in an agitated pattern. It had been over three weeks. And yet the pain of losing Pepa was as fresh and as deeply painful as it had been when she had first found her wife’s note.
‘Pepa, come back to me,’ Silvia pleaded internally as she cried silently, wishing so fervently that the brunette was here with her. Here to pick her up in those deceptively strong yet gentle arms before wrapping themselves around her, blanketing the redhead in love and the promise of forever.
************
Silvia was hurled back to the present brutally, by her father’s voice no less. Don Lorenzo’s husky tone, always teetering towards annoyance and agitation pierced through the redhead’s obnoxiously hungover brain, slithering into already shot nerves only to further abuse them. Silvia moaned, wishing for the world to dissolve. She realized now that the pounding was coming from the front door (not that the pounding in her head was any less dull). Silvia remained seated for a few more seconds before her father’s yelling and persistent knocking motivated the redhead to pull herself up onto legs that felt like jello. She gripped hard at the edge of the kitchen table, waiting for the slight dizziness to pass before slowly staggering to the front door. The redhead grasped the doorknob, turned it and pulled open the door, outright cringing and slapping a hand over her eyes as the sunlight drilled its rays into her irises, sizzling her overly sore head with its infuriating cheeriness.
Don Lorenzo did not even bother commenting on his daughter’s hungover state. He reached a hand out and shook Silvia, uncaring of the fact that his action made his daughter turn a nasty shade of green. “Silvia, look at me,” he demanded urgently.
Silvia peeked out from the cracks of her fingers, frowning. Her father never used that tone unless…the redhead suddenly stood ramrod straight, the pain of her hangover liquidating into a feeling more torturous than even alcohol could dish out. She dropped her hand from her face and stared into her father’s terrified eyes. Silvia blanched, all the blood draining from her face. ‘No…’
Don Lorenzo gripped Silvia’s shoulder in a tight vice. “Silvia,” he croaked out, his voice shaking with trepidation and outright panic. “Silvia…hija, the mafia have Pepa.”
Silvia stared at her father, just stared. Father and daughter merely looked at each other, the apprehension so thick between them that it was almost palpable. As the minutes dragged, Don Lorenzo began to fear the worst. And he wasn’t disappointed. He saw it the minute Silvia’s brain registered his news. Like a speeding train ramming straight into a brick wall, the words dropped onto Silvia’s consciousness. Silvia gasped and stumbled as her vision darkened, the walls of the house closing in on her, sucking air out of her lungs and closing up her throat before cutting off circulation to her brain.
Don Lorenzo barely managed to catch his daughter before Silvia fell, collapsing and sinking into unconsciousness.
A/N 2: The song, She’s Gone, and its lyrics belong to Mike Carr. He’s a local Aussie country singer and he’s gooood. *chuckles* No copyright infringement intended. I couldn’t find a YouTube link to the song so I uploaded it for anybody who feels like a listen:
http://www.mediafire.com/?sharekey=abbc47f47de655a2ed24a2875c7fa58ee04e75f6e8ebb871