Fanmix: A Paper Tiger Can't Tell You Where He Stands (Sark and April)
So I started work on this about... I dunno. Five months ago? Whenever we decided to engage in the plot that we just engaged in. This was going to be my magum opus to Sark and April's entire relationship, but that would imply that it's more than just a bunch of songs and quoted threads and a 300X300 image that's pretending to be a coverart.
So... It's basically macaroni-and-paste break. And also Beka's belated birthday present.
A Paper Tiger Can't Tell You Where He Stands:: A Sark and April Mix
She- Elvis Costello
She
May be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She
May be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day
It takes him a minute to realize that... Yes, there is a small blonde teenager talking to him. That's unusual and it definitely gets his hackles raised, because... Why?
"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's unwise to talk to strangers?" He asks, cocking his head to the side.
April frowns and purses her lips a moment, thinking, then shakes her head. "No. Should I not?"
"I'm not exactly the authority on who you should or shouldn't talk to," he responds flatly, which is more of an automatic answer than anything.
She giggles a little. "Shouldn't talk to strangers. But strangers are interesting."
He won't even pretend not to be a little bit unsettled by the laugh. He's on edge enough as it is, and there's something oddly familiar about this situation. "I'm... Sure they are," he says slowly. "I'm not one of them, however."
"Yes you are," April declares. "I think you are." She smiles adorably at him, like she's just randomly taken a liking to him.
Which... she has. So there you go.
Miracle Drug- U2
Beneath the noise
Below the din
I hear your voice
It's whispering
In science and in medicine
"I was a stranger
You took me in"
"Well. Hello again." Yes, that's about all anyone can get out of him right now. He is quite dense about certain things even if he is ridiculously smart about other things.
April rather throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly, just clinging. "I worried. Lots of hurt, everyone hurt." And she was worried for him.
Sark's doing that thing where his arms go up instinctively rather than just accept the hug as it is. But he very slowly lowers them and gives her a rather polite, somewhat forced hug. He's still not used to this and it shows on his face. "Yes, well... I wasn't one of them... Through sheer force of luck, apparently."
"Good." She doesn't let go, but she looks up at him and smiles. "But you're here! I knew you were here, but you were busy. I would've stopped them if they'd hurt you."
He looks back down at her, thoroughly perplexed still. He remembers her- he remembers liking her. He just can't remember why. Emotional attachments don't stick in his head unless they just get hammered in there. "Yes, I'm here... Although I haven't exactly been welcomed with open arms... Well until now anyway."
Admittedly, it's a pleasant change even if he isn't altogether accustomed to getting hugged by little girls.
Broken- Lifehouse
The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life
So now he's kneeling in front of her, holding her face in his hands, like he's trying to ground her. This is what the Doctor's good for, of course, not little terrorist boys, but he's what's here. "Where are you?" He asks. Well, at least he's deductive enough to figure out she's not here.
"There's too much. There's too much everything. I can't stop it and I can't find myself and... it hurts. The shards, they hurt, they cut me. I can't..." She whimpers softly and curls in on herself a little tighter.
April, he thinks hard, gritting his teeth, because maybe that's better than talking to her verbally. You're here. That's where you're supposed to be. Here with me, even though I have no idea why you would ever want to be around a person like me, our similarities aside. I doubt that matters at the moment.
At this point, he's hoping if he thinks hard enough at her, she can follow his thoughts back or something. This is not a logical problem and thus he cannot solve it logically, and thus the mental flailing and a hell of a lot of wishing he was back somewhere where things made sense to him.
April whimpers a little, leaning into his touch a bit, and she reaches out, almost blindly, to press her hand over his heart.
"Here," she says, her voice hardly audible. "With you." She breathes deeply, trying to ground herself. "There's pieces everywhere. Shattered. And they cut. I can't ever get away."
So he's stumped and it's rather pathetic, really, especially since... This isn't like him at all. She broke his brain. So there's nothing I can do? Sark doesn't let things go easily. This might be the first thing he hasn't let go that might actually be healthy for... Anyone.
She's tried. She shows him memories, emotions, feelings. Trying to fix it, trying to fix her crew, none of them succeeding, but she's a little more grounded now, enough to reach out and touch him. "Don't leave," she whispers. "Please don't leave."
"I'm not going anywhere," he assures her. And he's not. Not if he can help it, which there will always be circumstances where he can't (or won't), but he's not thinking about that right now.
Someone to Fall Back On- Jason Robert Brown
I’ll never be
A knight in armor
With a sword in hand,
Or a kamikaze fighter;
Don’t count on me
To storm the barricades
And take a stand,
Or hold my ground;
You’ll never see
Any scars or wounds -
I don’t walk on coals,
I won’t walk on water:
I am no prince,
I am no saint,
I am not anyone’s wildest dream,
But I can stand behind
And be someone to fall back on.
The fact that he's not entirely happy that his April is so confused and uncertain about the world just makes him edgy. He isn't the type to fix things- really, he's precisely the opposite of her here-captain. He's just the type to demand that things be fixed and really it's all he can do to keep from tracking down the Vesimer and doing just that. Yeah, because that would go so well.
And around this point is about when he realizes he has nothing really helpful to say, because his utter fail at being a seriously considerate human being is showing... So he doesn't really say anything. Just makes a few odd mental promises without really meaning to where she can hear them about seeing her through this and finding some way to make it better.
Really. People in the Rift need to stop trying to make promises they can't keep. It only leads to heartbreak.
"I know you will," she murmurs in response, not quite realizing that those promises weren't made aloud. "You take care of me. I know you'll take care of me. No matter what."
No matter what he might put her through, in the end, she trusts that he'll come through. Especially now that her mind is started to be fixed, she has no illusions that there's a chance he could betray them all some day, but she trusts him to take care of her, in the end.
You Are My Home- The Scarlet Pimpernel
You are my home
You make me strong
And in this world of strangers
I belong to someone
You are all I know
You're all I have
I won't let go
She's a little afraid he won't want her here after he hears that. Actually, she's rather terrified of it. The Doctor's out of town. The Vesimer, last she saw, had a knife sticking out of his chest and she's the one who put it there.
He has to stay. He has to. But there's so much of her telling her that he won't that it's hard to believe he will. "Duìbùqĭ," she whispers.
He's getting the feeling from that apology of what she's not saying. Never let it be said that he's not observant. "April... Look at me."
They're sitting, by now, a change that happened sometime while she was crying, and she curls in on herself before looking up at him, hesitantly. Her eyes are wide, and somehow even able to read his mind, she can't... grasp that somehow, he doesn't hate her.
He moves his hands from around her so he can take her face in his hands, staring at her intensely and giving her the full effect of those damn eyes of his... And he better not be tearing up right now or he'll be very cross with himself.
"You had absolutely no reason to latch onto me like you did. It was a foolish thing to do, and perhaps you knew that all along. Perhaps you simply didn't care. I'm not a good person and I will never be a good person, and either you see through that to something I'm not sure is real or something else entirely, I don't know... What I do know is that there is absolutely nothing you can do that could make me hate you, you daft, brilliant little girl. Not when all you've ever given me is the sort of love and devotion I don't ever recall experiencing before."
That's more words than he's ever told anyone as far as how he feels about them and it's almost shocking that he admitted that out loud... But she needs to hear it- not just in fragments gleaned from his head. She needs to hear it- those words from his mouth, even if he's never been the sort who confesses so openly like that.
"And what you've done is nothing I wouldn't have done myself if I was asked to, and I wouldn't have felt even half as much remorse for it... If any."
And that... that is a big deal. She knows it. It shows in her eyes and the way she's just staring at him with the most awe-struck, reverent expression he'll ever see on her face. It's official, now. They're family. In everything but blood. And she projects this utter love, down and dirty, nothing will ever change my mind love.
"Wŏ ài nĭ, gē ge," she says softly, and wraps her arms around his neck.
Paper Tiger- Spoon
I'll never hold you back
And I won't force my will
I will no longer do the Devil's wishes
Something I read on a dollar bill
A paper tiger can't tell you where he stands
We'll go back tonight the way that we came
I'm not dumb, just want to hold your hand
Sark tries to feign complete nonchalance, but it doesn't quite get through, even with his mouth set in a firm line, there's a certain degree of panic in his eyes. Of course, he can't actually respond to the threat until he knows what the threat is- for all practical purposes, April might be able to handle it, but he doesn't want to take that risk. Not with her.
When did you start caring so much?
He waits for whatever it is the Vesmier's waiting for, muscles tense like he's about to make a bolt for it when he has the right information to suss out a plan that won't get either of them killed. He is not going to panic right now. He is going to stay calm. He is better than that. Of course, watching the Vesmier engage in what's probably a mental conversation of some sort is doing nothing for his nerves. He's used to conference calls where he could at least hear the conversation. Even one side of it would be nice.
The change in expression doesn't bode well and he lets his emotional barriers drop a little further, to actually manage to convey a certain amount of worry when the Vesmier explains. "She can't do that." Which he's probably already telling her or has told her, and is a moot point, but he says it anyway. "I will go after her if I have to."
Or... He'll send someone else to do it. Either way, he will get her back, even if she resents him forever. Better her resent him than wind up hurt or worse. He can handle resentment. He's not sure he can handle her dead at this point.
The Vesmier is very good at winning arguments... against rational opponents. But April isn't rational right now, and if centuries of arguing with the Doctor has shown him anything-
He switches tacts. :: Give me your location. We can find a way to help. :: Not stop her. Not call her back. With the urgency laid over her thoughts, she's not going to pause for that. And he can't promise her backup, but...
"I'm going to assume she hasn't introduced you to the TARDIS," he says, to Sark. "Time And Relative Dimension In Space. Put simply, a sentient timeship. The one here has adopted the Doctor whom April is pursuing, and is very fond of her as well. She is malfunctioning. Her full capacities will not be at your disposal. But she is capable of scanning, teleportation, and certain projective assaults. It is necessary for me to remain here and coordinate with Torchwood on a comprehensive solution to this, but with your permission I will introduce you to her so that you may assist and retrieve April."
"No, she hasn't," Sark says absently. Even if the situation wasn't dire, he probably wouldn't question the words 'sentient timeship.' He's been facefirst in the Rambaldi mythos for years now, and right now anything that might get April and not cause loss of life, limb, or sanity is fine with him.
"That will be fine." It's better than the five hundred scenarios running through his head, considering they all involve access to things he doesn't have access to in this world. What he'd give for even a fraction of his former contacts for once in this godforsaken world. "I just want her back."
He says that without actually meaning to, but now that it's out, he doesn't question it. More important things to concern himself with than admittance of something that's far too obvious right now anyway. "Do what you have to do," he adds, hastily.
Castles Fall- Stoney Clove Lane
You loved me from the start
And watched my metal heart
Turn to rust
But you're not here at all
To watch my castles fall
And turn to dust
"You really love her, don't you? April, I mean. That's why you're doing this." Once again Marshall speaks when he should stay quiet, but if Sark actually had much of anything left to him with all the unfortunate anguish welling up inside of him that tends to come whenever he thinks of April these days to turn around and glare at him, he would have been shocked to see that Marshall didn't look the least bit apologetic about his observation.
Enough to feel like I should be doing something more than what I'm doing, with or without a plan. Enough that it hurts. Enough that I don't even feel like myself anymore. In a word, yes.
He's not going to admit that to Marshall Flinkman, however. Rather than even muster up the strength to deny what's too obvious right now, he just slams the journal shut, and pulls open the door with a bit more force than his natural sense of restraint generally makes him capable of and is gone from the room and from all sight a few seconds later.
Endgame- Anthony Stewart Head
Look at me now
Never thought I'd be here
What was I thinking, what have I left undone, unspoken
Look at me, I feel a little helpless
Like a beetle on its back
Look at you
Looking down at me
Wasn't meant to happen like this
I need more time to set things right
Not ready to think these things in the middle of the night
Life seems never ending, until it's ending
Finite, sight unseen - we choose the path we walk
But is it meant to happen like this?
She doesn't throw herself at Sark, of course, as he's in pain. But she comes up quickly, puts a hand on either side of his face. "Shhhh," she whispers, and tries her best to project calm, which doesn't work very well as neither she nor the other people in the room are feeling that. "It's okay. You're okay. Don't breathe hard, makes it worse."
She hesitates, then attempts what the Doctor did after she got shot, when she was curled against him. Tries to filter out the pain a bit. The only way she knows is to transfer where the pain-receptors are... receiving. She's not practiced, she doesn't know what she's doing, but maybe it's enough to help him.
It's her fault he's here. It's the least she can do.
There's something almost calming about April's hands on his face, even without the projection. She's here, she's alive. He didn't come here for nothing, even if it's looking like he's not going to leave here with nothing. They say tales of redemption end in death, but if this were really that sort of tale, then shouldn't he have saved her? Shouldn't his death mean something?
There's another stabbing pain as he tries to calm his breathing. If he hyperventilates, it's not going to make anything better. He's not dead yet, after all, and maybe he'll find some way out of this. Or maybe not.
It does help a little, enough to let him relax just a little, although the pain is still there and every time he breathes, he feels the tip scraping against the bone, but the pain isn't the dominating factor anymore. Just there, existing in the background like static that twinges.
"Should have listened to you... When you told me..." He winces. Talking hurts and he could probably just think it and she'd hear, but he's not thinking all that clearly right now. "...Not to come." And you know it's bad when Sark can't even force himself to articulate anymore.
"Should've listened," April agrees, scowling a bit at him. "Meimei is much smarter than you. Next time listen." She scolds him even as she fights not to grimace at the bits of pain she's feeling herself. She wants to pull the skewer out, maybe just enough that it's not scraping his bone, but she doesn't dare.
But she can't deny it's good to see him.
He almost smiles, but it comes out as more of a pained grimace. "Yes... On all counts." Provided there is a next time. Promise me that and you can have whatever you want from me.
He's not exactly feeling optimistic about his changes of surviving this, all things considered, and it's not making the realization of how absolutely worthless he is in this world any better. Back home, it would have never gotten this bad unless he just really fucked up and even then there was some marginal chance that someone would extract him because he was too valuable an asset to lose or he'd find some trivial bit of intel that would give him leverage over his captors.
Clearly none of this applies here and he has fourteen hours to find something that does on top of the excruciating pain.
He takes a breath, steadying himself against the pain, "If I miss my deadline... Don't try to stop him."
He pointedly doesn't want to die, but that doesn't mean he wants her to die trying to protect him just so he can get killed anyway, and if one of them doesn't at least stand a minuscule chance of getting out of here alive at some point, then what was the point?
April buries her face in his chest, gently, careful not to bump into the skewer to make things worse.
She can't answer that. Because she can't promise she'll be able to just sit back and watch him die.
But she won't argue.
"Love you, gege," she whispers.
Hurt- Johnny Cash
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
"Wait." He drops his head. In a spanse of what couldn't be more than a few seconds but feels like an eternity, his mind races through a dozen different thought processes. Fourteen hours ago he was telling was her that he didn't want her to stop Thane from killing him, and now, given the choice between her life and his, he's just going to let her die?
He loves her. More than he should. Enough to kill for. Enough to fight for. Enough to put himself through a Hell he'd have been better off avoiding for...
He'll destroy her more than he already has. Better she die now before she dies shattered, if he even has the mercy to kill her when he's finished breaking her.
This is what happens when you get too involved. Did you think for a second that it was going to end any other way? You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for her.
She doesn't need to watch you killed in front of her on top of everything he's done to her.
You wouldn't have felt nearly this much pain if it was anyone else. If he had shot Lang, you would have been absolutely thrilled it wasn't you. When did you get this weak?
If she dies, then what did you come here for?
...But not enough to die for.
Even if he could find a perfectly reasonable choice for making the decision he knows he'll make, it doesn't change the truth. The real reason he'd make this horrible choice is purely selfish: You're just afraid to die.
He clenches his eyes shut, willing his resolve, his control, everything he had a handle on before he met April to return to him and force him through this and force everything else back. His chest feels like someone shoved that damned skewer back in and twisted it around, but he fights through it. There is nothing more important than survival. There will never be anything more important than that.
He opens his eyes again, but still doesn't meet Thane's eyes, his voice as flat as he can manage it, although, for once it sounds forced, like someone trying to hide the fact that their voice is shaking by speaking slowly and deliberately and emotionlessly, but there's clear evidence of the desire to break underneath the cleverly disguised vocal intonations. "I know I'm in no position to ask for anything..." He inclines his head towards April. He may have used up his pleas for requests at this point, but it can't hurt to ask... Or it'll just hurt more. "Can I have a moment?"
He finally looks up into Thane's eyes and there's no expressionless facade, no forced defiance, nothing that anyone who has ever known him could expect to find on his face even in the worst of situations. All there is a very tired, pained, conflicted, and absolutely terrified young man who knows he's lost the war. Grant me this grace. You took her away from me. You've driven me to show her what kind of a monster I really am. You've already won. Give me this.
This time, Sark doesn't have to agree. Not in so many words. Thane knows he's won. And he's in no mood to give Sark anything. Sark took away something he considered his. Worse, he pitched April against him. So he's going to take this. He's going to choke on the thought of April's blood. And he's going to consider himself damn lucky that Thane didn't take him apart and mail him back to Torchwood piece by piece.
He doesn't have to refuse. It's written in his eyes.
~*~
The gunshots are what eventually pushes him over the edge and he knows he's so close to shattering that it's only one little tilt in the wind before that happens, and even not having to see her execution, it absolutely hurts, because he knows. He killed her. He let that happen to her.
She trusted him and that was how he repaid her.
Family Affair- Abra Moore
Where do we begin picking up the pieces?
Where do we begin after all that’s been said?
And how do we begin to say I still love you?
And how do we begin to repair this family affair?
And then the guards open the door to his cell, and in a heartbeat there's a little blonde streak (not so little as she once was, but little all the same) racing in and throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and just... loves him.
"Julian, Julian, I'm here, I'm alive, it's okay..." She accompanies that with a projection of {lovemissyousorrylovesad} that could only come from one person.
At first, Sark's convinced that he's just taken the final descent into madness and this is the most vivid hallucination he's ever experienced. It doesn't even sound like April (he hasn't bothered to look up from his deep contemplation of his knees), so maybe he's just snapped and forgotten the sound of her voice... God, he can't even have accurate hallucinations.
But a hallucination shouldn't be able to project like that... And he'd know those emotions anywhere- hell, he knows them better than his own at this point. His heart nearly stops and despite something inside of his head screaming that she shouldn't be here and he doesn't deserve her anymore, he pushes all protestations away and holds onto her like he's afraid he's going to lose her again. He'll take into account the physical difference in a moment. He knows it's her. It couldn't be anyone else. How it's her will be another important thing to note, but not something he's going to concern himself with when all he wants to do is to assure himself that she's real.
And he can't find words right now, but his head is an endless cycle of apologies, mixed with remorse, regret, fear, and everything else that's been rolling about in his head ever since that horrible night.
For a long time, she was angry. She was angry he'd been too scared, even though she'd known death was the thing he feared most. She was angry she hadn't meant enough to him. But the longer she had to think about it, the more she came to realise that it wasn't fair, really, to put him in that sort of situation, given how he'd lived and been trained his whole life, and expect him to do any different.
So April dampens all the regret and fear and apologies, just for a moment, just long enough to project a very clear sense of forgiveness. It's not given blindly, and it's given after more than a year of struggling with herself, but really that makes it all the more sincere.
"Love you, gege," she murmurs.
I'd Come For You- Nickelback
I was blindfolded, but now I'm seeing
My mind was closing, now I'm believing
I finally know just what it
Means to let someone in
To see the side of me that no one does or ever will
So if you're ever lost and find yourself all alone
I'd search forever just to bring you home.
"Look who finally decided to show up," Cole says proudly, taking the shotgun from the guard and studying it. "Made a mess of things too, but that's how it goes." He shoves the barrel of the shotgun into Sark's back to urge him forward and Sark resists the urge to try to just kill him right now, but either fear or the fact that he knows it wouldn't work either way stays his hand.
"You got a moment," Cole says, poking him again. "Take it."
April has already lit up, feeling him there, just there and with his team and everything. They're going to get out this time. She's not sure how yet, she's not even sure if Julian's sure yet, but she knows they will.
Everything she's been through, and April is still an optimist.
There's still that edge in her eye, though - the killing instinct, the thirst for blood. Cole's blood. It's not exactly a welcome addition, but it's better than being broken, now isn't it?
"I knew you'd come," she says with a smile.
He drops down on his knees in front of her, holding back more than he can describe. This is not how he wants to see her again, but at least she's not bleeding and not broken. At least this time, no one's going to lose, not unless this really goes sour. At any rate, she's getting out of here if it's the last thing he does. He let her go once and he swore to whoever there was to swear to that he wasn't going to lose her again. When he said he wanted a second chance, he never realized how literal that was going to be.
It takes him a long time to actually say anything, he just gently strokes her cheek, tries to ignore that instinct he can see in her eyes, and then kisses the top of her head, before whispering two words in her ear in Mandarin. "Just watch."
Angels- Robbie Williams
And through it all she offers me protection
A lot of love and affection
Whether I'm right or wrong
And down the waterfall
Wherever it may take me
I know that life won't break me
When I come to call
She won't forsake me
I'm loving angels instead
It's only moments after Sark's collapsed that April skids around the corner, scarf ends trailing behind her, hat crooked on her head. She pauses long enough to take in that Sark is alive and that there are no more attackers to dispatch, then practically flies to his side, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around his neck.
Nothing needs to be said, yet. She's just going to hold him.
If anything can be said about April (and many, many things can be said about her), her timing is always impeccable. He's bleeding, bruised, and his hand aches enough that it's starting to get difficult to just ignore it. He just murdered four people and he doesn't even know what that fifth one will wind up doing- possibly he just singlehandedly made the entire conflict worst. Well, if he did, maybe they should have screwed with another wanderer.
And Ariel's dead, because she had to die in his place- for the second time, he's survived when he should have died.
He turns his head so he can bury his face in her hair and choke on something that's either a bitter laugh or a poorly restrained sob. "I'm not really having the best time of things, am I?"
Understatement of the year.
"Not really, no," she replies softly. Her voice is shaking a bit, but she's stable, and sturdy, and not letting go of Julian any time soon. "It'll get better. It will."
She'll make sure of it, somehow.
"I hope that's true," he murmurs into her hair, taking comfort in her presence- at least she's here. That's something.
At this point, he really doesn't want to know what happens if things get worse.
Didn't Know I'd Love You So Much- Repo! The Genetic Opera
Sometimes there's not enough time
But I didn't know I'd love you so much
I didn't know I'd love you so much
I didn't know I'd love you so much
But I do.
He can't think about her injuries, can't think about the fact that she's probably close to dying. The memories from the last time he thought he'd lost her are so close to the front of his mind, but even they don't seem as real as this. He never saw her dead, the only blood on his hands was metaphorical... He didn't have to watch her die.
"April," he whispers, his voice choked. There's so many things he desperately wants to say, but they keep catching in his throat. He never wanted to believe this would actually happen. He got his second chance- she got to live, after all, no thanks to him. If anyone deserved to die tonight, it was him, paying his dues, dying instead of her, like it should have happened with Thane.
He swore he couldn't lose her and now he's going to, and he can't think of a damn thing to say. It's all he can do to keep from breaking down right here and screw the fact that he's in a vulnerable position.
Though it hurts, and she can barely breathe anyway, she starts to cry, in Julian's arms, grasping feebly at his shirt. She'd always thought that if this happened, she'd be comforting him, telling him it's okay, and not his fault. But right this instant? She feels like she's fourteen again, and she's hurting, and she's scared.
She's not ready. Not yet.
"Julian," she whimpers hoarsely, practically a plea. Don't leave me. Promise you won't leave me.
And when she breaks, he breaks, because this is it and they both know it and all he can do is bury his face in her hair and hold her and grit his teeth through choking sobs."You had no reason to latch onto me the way you did," he chokes, remembering the moment he first realized that he loved her- that somehow his darker nature had been brightened by some strange little girl he was convinced was merely following him about because of some passing fancy and not true devotion, but God how he learned he was wrong. "Thank you," he finally whispers.
As much as he wants to be selfish and wish he'd never met her, just so he wouldn't hurt so much, he can't bring himself to think like that. The year he had with her was the most pure and decent he'd felt since he was a child- he never believed for a second that he could feel like that again until he met her. If someone had told him that he'd be here, right now, with a broken heart, holding the same silly, little girl who approached him on the street that day in his arms as she lay dying, he would have found the idea to be insane. Oh if he knew now what he knew then.
"Never," he responds to the plea in her voice, his voice still strangled by sobs and half-muffled by her hair. "There is absolutely nothing than you can do that will ever make me leave you."
Prelude 12/21- AFI
This is what I brought you, this you can keep.
This is what I brought, you may forget me.
I promise to depart, just promise one thing.
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.
April shivers and takes a few shallow breaths, trying to get enough air to speak, to tell him how she feels, how much she needs him. She can't manage it though. Not that words would be enough.
So what she does, instead, is to take everything she feels for him - all the love, trust, adoration, friendship, lingering betrayal, forgiveness, need, belief, hope - and she shoves it into his mind. It's not a send, it's her own feeble attempt at, for the first time in her life, structuring something in someone else's mind. It's a bubble, in the back of Julian's mind, with everything she feels about him right there for review whenever he wants. It's inexpert, and mostly only separate because she's surrounded it by so much of herself, and if someone more skilled doesn't re-do the structuring, it'll fade in a few days or a few weeks, but it's there.
It was more effort than she should've put forth, if she wanted to have more time, but she can't just... say words. She can't just say words, or send words, and expect them to convey what she wants him to know. But it shows on her face, the effort, in the draining colour, in her frantic heartbeat, in her ever-dwindling breaths.
The last sacrificial act she'll ever perform. For him. Like it should be.
There's a bloodbath still going on around them, she can hear it, and vaguely recognise it, but it doesn't matter, as long as no one's hurting him. She's still crying, judging by the tears still dripping down her face, and she keeps grimacing in pain, but she doesn't close her eyes. She grits her teeth, twists her hand in his shirt harder than she should be able to, and takes as deep a breath as she can. So she can speak.
"W-wŏ ài nĭ, gē ge," she manages to whisper, almost inaudible, her eyes on his face. Her eyes have never left his face.
And they don't leave his face even as the life drains from them.
He pulls away, half in shock at that gesture, his heart pounding in his chest, tears drying on his cheeks and ones still unshed making it hard to focus, no matter how many times he tries to blink them away. He'll cling to that, beg someone to make it stay if he can, because he never wants to lose that- the last bit of April he'll ever have.
"April..." He trails off, because he can't find the words either. He can't even offer her what she just offered him, as if it would matter much, but the fact that his heart's breaking over her, the fact that he ever cared at all, the fact that he absolutely loved her, the fact that he's never regretted anything the way he regretted betraying her.. It's there somehow. It's there in the fact that he can't stop looking at her, wishing this had been different, wishing he wasn't losing her. People weren't supposed to matter to him, wasn't that what he once said? But she mattered- she always mattered. She made him better, made the idea of being something less than reprehensible seem so much more appealing. She was his entire world.
And how do you start to tell someone all that when they've only got seconds left? How do you begin to return the gift they've already given you with their last moments?
You can't, but it's there all the same. Maybe she knows and maybe she doesn't, but he has a feeling she knew long before he did what he felt.
"W-wŏ ài nĭ, meimei," he whispers back, staring right back into her eyes until she's gone and he breaks down again, sobbing into her hair and murmuring the same phrase over and over again.
It should have been me. It always should have been me.
Storm- Lifehouse
I know you didn't bring me out here to drown
So why am I ten feet under and upside down
Barely surviving has become my purpose
'Cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface
If I could just see you
Everything will be alright
If I see you
The darkness will turn to light
There's a little angel statue in a private (or as private as one can get) corner of a Chicago cemetary with a name carved into the poilished stone. The first name and the date of death are the only accurate things about it- the year of birth is a complete lie, the last name only true in a certain sense, and the date of birth is the first date that came into Sark's head, since he never knew her actual birthday.
March 22, 2008. The day he met her.
The statue is merely an ediface- Torchwood would keep her body- but he needed something that was his, a place to go and remember her that's a bit more intimate and personal than a morgue.
"I've never actually done this before," he says with some trepidation as he lays a bouquet of flowers at the base of the statue. "It seems silly, almost. I have serious doubts that you can hear me, but... I imagine this is what you would have done were it me." He shakes his head, gritting his teeth, because he's tired of having breakdowns. He wants a sense of control back, if only because having control means he doesn't have to live with the anguish overwhelming him. He can pretend sometimes, but whenever he thinks about her and realizes she's really gone this time, it's just too much.
He stares down at the ground, still unable to find the right words. "You told me to be good. I believe you have far more faith in me than I really deserve, but I'd done fairly well for myself to a point, barring a few... Setbacks." He cringes, but doesn't look up. "That was when you were alive, however. I took it for granted, perhaps, how much I really need you here, but..." His eyes drift up to the angel's stone face and he swallows as if he's wondering if it's judging him, despite how silly that sounds, "...But I'll try not to falter, if not for my sake, then because I need at least one promise to you that I can actually keep."
He lingers for a moment and then finally walks away, back out into a world that's a little bit colder than it used to be, wondering if that's even remotely the one promise he'll really be able to keep.
So... It's basically macaroni-and-paste break. And also Beka's belated birthday present.
A Paper Tiger Can't Tell You Where He Stands:: A Sark and April Mix
She- Elvis Costello
She
May be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She
May be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day
It takes him a minute to realize that... Yes, there is a small blonde teenager talking to him. That's unusual and it definitely gets his hackles raised, because... Why?
"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's unwise to talk to strangers?" He asks, cocking his head to the side.
April frowns and purses her lips a moment, thinking, then shakes her head. "No. Should I not?"
"I'm not exactly the authority on who you should or shouldn't talk to," he responds flatly, which is more of an automatic answer than anything.
She giggles a little. "Shouldn't talk to strangers. But strangers are interesting."
He won't even pretend not to be a little bit unsettled by the laugh. He's on edge enough as it is, and there's something oddly familiar about this situation. "I'm... Sure they are," he says slowly. "I'm not one of them, however."
"Yes you are," April declares. "I think you are." She smiles adorably at him, like she's just randomly taken a liking to him.
Which... she has. So there you go.
Miracle Drug- U2
Beneath the noise
Below the din
I hear your voice
It's whispering
In science and in medicine
"I was a stranger
You took me in"
"Well. Hello again." Yes, that's about all anyone can get out of him right now. He is quite dense about certain things even if he is ridiculously smart about other things.
April rather throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly, just clinging. "I worried. Lots of hurt, everyone hurt." And she was worried for him.
Sark's doing that thing where his arms go up instinctively rather than just accept the hug as it is. But he very slowly lowers them and gives her a rather polite, somewhat forced hug. He's still not used to this and it shows on his face. "Yes, well... I wasn't one of them... Through sheer force of luck, apparently."
"Good." She doesn't let go, but she looks up at him and smiles. "But you're here! I knew you were here, but you were busy. I would've stopped them if they'd hurt you."
He looks back down at her, thoroughly perplexed still. He remembers her- he remembers liking her. He just can't remember why. Emotional attachments don't stick in his head unless they just get hammered in there. "Yes, I'm here... Although I haven't exactly been welcomed with open arms... Well until now anyway."
Admittedly, it's a pleasant change even if he isn't altogether accustomed to getting hugged by little girls.
Broken- Lifehouse
The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life
So now he's kneeling in front of her, holding her face in his hands, like he's trying to ground her. This is what the Doctor's good for, of course, not little terrorist boys, but he's what's here. "Where are you?" He asks. Well, at least he's deductive enough to figure out she's not here.
"There's too much. There's too much everything. I can't stop it and I can't find myself and... it hurts. The shards, they hurt, they cut me. I can't..." She whimpers softly and curls in on herself a little tighter.
April, he thinks hard, gritting his teeth, because maybe that's better than talking to her verbally. You're here. That's where you're supposed to be. Here with me, even though I have no idea why you would ever want to be around a person like me, our similarities aside. I doubt that matters at the moment.
At this point, he's hoping if he thinks hard enough at her, she can follow his thoughts back or something. This is not a logical problem and thus he cannot solve it logically, and thus the mental flailing and a hell of a lot of wishing he was back somewhere where things made sense to him.
April whimpers a little, leaning into his touch a bit, and she reaches out, almost blindly, to press her hand over his heart.
"Here," she says, her voice hardly audible. "With you." She breathes deeply, trying to ground herself. "There's pieces everywhere. Shattered. And they cut. I can't ever get away."
So he's stumped and it's rather pathetic, really, especially since... This isn't like him at all. She broke his brain. So there's nothing I can do? Sark doesn't let things go easily. This might be the first thing he hasn't let go that might actually be healthy for... Anyone.
She's tried. She shows him memories, emotions, feelings. Trying to fix it, trying to fix her crew, none of them succeeding, but she's a little more grounded now, enough to reach out and touch him. "Don't leave," she whispers. "Please don't leave."
"I'm not going anywhere," he assures her. And he's not. Not if he can help it, which there will always be circumstances where he can't (or won't), but he's not thinking about that right now.
Someone to Fall Back On- Jason Robert Brown
I’ll never be
A knight in armor
With a sword in hand,
Or a kamikaze fighter;
Don’t count on me
To storm the barricades
And take a stand,
Or hold my ground;
You’ll never see
Any scars or wounds -
I don’t walk on coals,
I won’t walk on water:
I am no prince,
I am no saint,
I am not anyone’s wildest dream,
But I can stand behind
And be someone to fall back on.
The fact that he's not entirely happy that his April is so confused and uncertain about the world just makes him edgy. He isn't the type to fix things- really, he's precisely the opposite of her here-captain. He's just the type to demand that things be fixed and really it's all he can do to keep from tracking down the Vesimer and doing just that. Yeah, because that would go so well.
And around this point is about when he realizes he has nothing really helpful to say, because his utter fail at being a seriously considerate human being is showing... So he doesn't really say anything. Just makes a few odd mental promises without really meaning to where she can hear them about seeing her through this and finding some way to make it better.
Really. People in the Rift need to stop trying to make promises they can't keep. It only leads to heartbreak.
"I know you will," she murmurs in response, not quite realizing that those promises weren't made aloud. "You take care of me. I know you'll take care of me. No matter what."
No matter what he might put her through, in the end, she trusts that he'll come through. Especially now that her mind is started to be fixed, she has no illusions that there's a chance he could betray them all some day, but she trusts him to take care of her, in the end.
You Are My Home- The Scarlet Pimpernel
You are my home
You make me strong
And in this world of strangers
I belong to someone
You are all I know
You're all I have
I won't let go
She's a little afraid he won't want her here after he hears that. Actually, she's rather terrified of it. The Doctor's out of town. The Vesimer, last she saw, had a knife sticking out of his chest and she's the one who put it there.
He has to stay. He has to. But there's so much of her telling her that he won't that it's hard to believe he will. "Duìbùqĭ," she whispers.
He's getting the feeling from that apology of what she's not saying. Never let it be said that he's not observant. "April... Look at me."
They're sitting, by now, a change that happened sometime while she was crying, and she curls in on herself before looking up at him, hesitantly. Her eyes are wide, and somehow even able to read his mind, she can't... grasp that somehow, he doesn't hate her.
He moves his hands from around her so he can take her face in his hands, staring at her intensely and giving her the full effect of those damn eyes of his... And he better not be tearing up right now or he'll be very cross with himself.
"You had absolutely no reason to latch onto me like you did. It was a foolish thing to do, and perhaps you knew that all along. Perhaps you simply didn't care. I'm not a good person and I will never be a good person, and either you see through that to something I'm not sure is real or something else entirely, I don't know... What I do know is that there is absolutely nothing you can do that could make me hate you, you daft, brilliant little girl. Not when all you've ever given me is the sort of love and devotion I don't ever recall experiencing before."
That's more words than he's ever told anyone as far as how he feels about them and it's almost shocking that he admitted that out loud... But she needs to hear it- not just in fragments gleaned from his head. She needs to hear it- those words from his mouth, even if he's never been the sort who confesses so openly like that.
"And what you've done is nothing I wouldn't have done myself if I was asked to, and I wouldn't have felt even half as much remorse for it... If any."
And that... that is a big deal. She knows it. It shows in her eyes and the way she's just staring at him with the most awe-struck, reverent expression he'll ever see on her face. It's official, now. They're family. In everything but blood. And she projects this utter love, down and dirty, nothing will ever change my mind love.
"Wŏ ài nĭ, gē ge," she says softly, and wraps her arms around his neck.
Paper Tiger- Spoon
I'll never hold you back
And I won't force my will
I will no longer do the Devil's wishes
Something I read on a dollar bill
A paper tiger can't tell you where he stands
We'll go back tonight the way that we came
I'm not dumb, just want to hold your hand
Sark tries to feign complete nonchalance, but it doesn't quite get through, even with his mouth set in a firm line, there's a certain degree of panic in his eyes. Of course, he can't actually respond to the threat until he knows what the threat is- for all practical purposes, April might be able to handle it, but he doesn't want to take that risk. Not with her.
When did you start caring so much?
He waits for whatever it is the Vesmier's waiting for, muscles tense like he's about to make a bolt for it when he has the right information to suss out a plan that won't get either of them killed. He is not going to panic right now. He is going to stay calm. He is better than that. Of course, watching the Vesmier engage in what's probably a mental conversation of some sort is doing nothing for his nerves. He's used to conference calls where he could at least hear the conversation. Even one side of it would be nice.
The change in expression doesn't bode well and he lets his emotional barriers drop a little further, to actually manage to convey a certain amount of worry when the Vesmier explains. "She can't do that." Which he's probably already telling her or has told her, and is a moot point, but he says it anyway. "I will go after her if I have to."
Or... He'll send someone else to do it. Either way, he will get her back, even if she resents him forever. Better her resent him than wind up hurt or worse. He can handle resentment. He's not sure he can handle her dead at this point.
The Vesmier is very good at winning arguments... against rational opponents. But April isn't rational right now, and if centuries of arguing with the Doctor has shown him anything-
He switches tacts. :: Give me your location. We can find a way to help. :: Not stop her. Not call her back. With the urgency laid over her thoughts, she's not going to pause for that. And he can't promise her backup, but...
"I'm going to assume she hasn't introduced you to the TARDIS," he says, to Sark. "Time And Relative Dimension In Space. Put simply, a sentient timeship. The one here has adopted the Doctor whom April is pursuing, and is very fond of her as well. She is malfunctioning. Her full capacities will not be at your disposal. But she is capable of scanning, teleportation, and certain projective assaults. It is necessary for me to remain here and coordinate with Torchwood on a comprehensive solution to this, but with your permission I will introduce you to her so that you may assist and retrieve April."
"No, she hasn't," Sark says absently. Even if the situation wasn't dire, he probably wouldn't question the words 'sentient timeship.' He's been facefirst in the Rambaldi mythos for years now, and right now anything that might get April and not cause loss of life, limb, or sanity is fine with him.
"That will be fine." It's better than the five hundred scenarios running through his head, considering they all involve access to things he doesn't have access to in this world. What he'd give for even a fraction of his former contacts for once in this godforsaken world. "I just want her back."
He says that without actually meaning to, but now that it's out, he doesn't question it. More important things to concern himself with than admittance of something that's far too obvious right now anyway. "Do what you have to do," he adds, hastily.
Castles Fall- Stoney Clove Lane
You loved me from the start
And watched my metal heart
Turn to rust
But you're not here at all
To watch my castles fall
And turn to dust
"You really love her, don't you? April, I mean. That's why you're doing this." Once again Marshall speaks when he should stay quiet, but if Sark actually had much of anything left to him with all the unfortunate anguish welling up inside of him that tends to come whenever he thinks of April these days to turn around and glare at him, he would have been shocked to see that Marshall didn't look the least bit apologetic about his observation.
Enough to feel like I should be doing something more than what I'm doing, with or without a plan. Enough that it hurts. Enough that I don't even feel like myself anymore. In a word, yes.
He's not going to admit that to Marshall Flinkman, however. Rather than even muster up the strength to deny what's too obvious right now, he just slams the journal shut, and pulls open the door with a bit more force than his natural sense of restraint generally makes him capable of and is gone from the room and from all sight a few seconds later.
Endgame- Anthony Stewart Head
Look at me now
Never thought I'd be here
What was I thinking, what have I left undone, unspoken
Look at me, I feel a little helpless
Like a beetle on its back
Look at you
Looking down at me
Wasn't meant to happen like this
I need more time to set things right
Not ready to think these things in the middle of the night
Life seems never ending, until it's ending
Finite, sight unseen - we choose the path we walk
But is it meant to happen like this?
She doesn't throw herself at Sark, of course, as he's in pain. But she comes up quickly, puts a hand on either side of his face. "Shhhh," she whispers, and tries her best to project calm, which doesn't work very well as neither she nor the other people in the room are feeling that. "It's okay. You're okay. Don't breathe hard, makes it worse."
She hesitates, then attempts what the Doctor did after she got shot, when she was curled against him. Tries to filter out the pain a bit. The only way she knows is to transfer where the pain-receptors are... receiving. She's not practiced, she doesn't know what she's doing, but maybe it's enough to help him.
It's her fault he's here. It's the least she can do.
There's something almost calming about April's hands on his face, even without the projection. She's here, she's alive. He didn't come here for nothing, even if it's looking like he's not going to leave here with nothing. They say tales of redemption end in death, but if this were really that sort of tale, then shouldn't he have saved her? Shouldn't his death mean something?
There's another stabbing pain as he tries to calm his breathing. If he hyperventilates, it's not going to make anything better. He's not dead yet, after all, and maybe he'll find some way out of this. Or maybe not.
It does help a little, enough to let him relax just a little, although the pain is still there and every time he breathes, he feels the tip scraping against the bone, but the pain isn't the dominating factor anymore. Just there, existing in the background like static that twinges.
"Should have listened to you... When you told me..." He winces. Talking hurts and he could probably just think it and she'd hear, but he's not thinking all that clearly right now. "...Not to come." And you know it's bad when Sark can't even force himself to articulate anymore.
"Should've listened," April agrees, scowling a bit at him. "Meimei is much smarter than you. Next time listen." She scolds him even as she fights not to grimace at the bits of pain she's feeling herself. She wants to pull the skewer out, maybe just enough that it's not scraping his bone, but she doesn't dare.
But she can't deny it's good to see him.
He almost smiles, but it comes out as more of a pained grimace. "Yes... On all counts." Provided there is a next time. Promise me that and you can have whatever you want from me.
He's not exactly feeling optimistic about his changes of surviving this, all things considered, and it's not making the realization of how absolutely worthless he is in this world any better. Back home, it would have never gotten this bad unless he just really fucked up and even then there was some marginal chance that someone would extract him because he was too valuable an asset to lose or he'd find some trivial bit of intel that would give him leverage over his captors.
Clearly none of this applies here and he has fourteen hours to find something that does on top of the excruciating pain.
He takes a breath, steadying himself against the pain, "If I miss my deadline... Don't try to stop him."
He pointedly doesn't want to die, but that doesn't mean he wants her to die trying to protect him just so he can get killed anyway, and if one of them doesn't at least stand a minuscule chance of getting out of here alive at some point, then what was the point?
April buries her face in his chest, gently, careful not to bump into the skewer to make things worse.
She can't answer that. Because she can't promise she'll be able to just sit back and watch him die.
But she won't argue.
"Love you, gege," she whispers.
Hurt- Johnny Cash
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
"Wait." He drops his head. In a spanse of what couldn't be more than a few seconds but feels like an eternity, his mind races through a dozen different thought processes. Fourteen hours ago he was telling was her that he didn't want her to stop Thane from killing him, and now, given the choice between her life and his, he's just going to let her die?
He loves her. More than he should. Enough to kill for. Enough to fight for. Enough to put himself through a Hell he'd have been better off avoiding for...
He'll destroy her more than he already has. Better she die now before she dies shattered, if he even has the mercy to kill her when he's finished breaking her.
This is what happens when you get too involved. Did you think for a second that it was going to end any other way? You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for her.
She doesn't need to watch you killed in front of her on top of everything he's done to her.
You wouldn't have felt nearly this much pain if it was anyone else. If he had shot Lang, you would have been absolutely thrilled it wasn't you. When did you get this weak?
If she dies, then what did you come here for?
...But not enough to die for.
Even if he could find a perfectly reasonable choice for making the decision he knows he'll make, it doesn't change the truth. The real reason he'd make this horrible choice is purely selfish: You're just afraid to die.
He clenches his eyes shut, willing his resolve, his control, everything he had a handle on before he met April to return to him and force him through this and force everything else back. His chest feels like someone shoved that damned skewer back in and twisted it around, but he fights through it. There is nothing more important than survival. There will never be anything more important than that.
He opens his eyes again, but still doesn't meet Thane's eyes, his voice as flat as he can manage it, although, for once it sounds forced, like someone trying to hide the fact that their voice is shaking by speaking slowly and deliberately and emotionlessly, but there's clear evidence of the desire to break underneath the cleverly disguised vocal intonations. "I know I'm in no position to ask for anything..." He inclines his head towards April. He may have used up his pleas for requests at this point, but it can't hurt to ask... Or it'll just hurt more. "Can I have a moment?"
He finally looks up into Thane's eyes and there's no expressionless facade, no forced defiance, nothing that anyone who has ever known him could expect to find on his face even in the worst of situations. All there is a very tired, pained, conflicted, and absolutely terrified young man who knows he's lost the war. Grant me this grace. You took her away from me. You've driven me to show her what kind of a monster I really am. You've already won. Give me this.
This time, Sark doesn't have to agree. Not in so many words. Thane knows he's won. And he's in no mood to give Sark anything. Sark took away something he considered his. Worse, he pitched April against him. So he's going to take this. He's going to choke on the thought of April's blood. And he's going to consider himself damn lucky that Thane didn't take him apart and mail him back to Torchwood piece by piece.
He doesn't have to refuse. It's written in his eyes.
~*~
The gunshots are what eventually pushes him over the edge and he knows he's so close to shattering that it's only one little tilt in the wind before that happens, and even not having to see her execution, it absolutely hurts, because he knows. He killed her. He let that happen to her.
She trusted him and that was how he repaid her.
Family Affair- Abra Moore
Where do we begin picking up the pieces?
Where do we begin after all that’s been said?
And how do we begin to say I still love you?
And how do we begin to repair this family affair?
And then the guards open the door to his cell, and in a heartbeat there's a little blonde streak (not so little as she once was, but little all the same) racing in and throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and just... loves him.
"Julian, Julian, I'm here, I'm alive, it's okay..." She accompanies that with a projection of {lovemissyousorrylovesad} that could only come from one person.
At first, Sark's convinced that he's just taken the final descent into madness and this is the most vivid hallucination he's ever experienced. It doesn't even sound like April (he hasn't bothered to look up from his deep contemplation of his knees), so maybe he's just snapped and forgotten the sound of her voice... God, he can't even have accurate hallucinations.
But a hallucination shouldn't be able to project like that... And he'd know those emotions anywhere- hell, he knows them better than his own at this point. His heart nearly stops and despite something inside of his head screaming that she shouldn't be here and he doesn't deserve her anymore, he pushes all protestations away and holds onto her like he's afraid he's going to lose her again. He'll take into account the physical difference in a moment. He knows it's her. It couldn't be anyone else. How it's her will be another important thing to note, but not something he's going to concern himself with when all he wants to do is to assure himself that she's real.
And he can't find words right now, but his head is an endless cycle of apologies, mixed with remorse, regret, fear, and everything else that's been rolling about in his head ever since that horrible night.
For a long time, she was angry. She was angry he'd been too scared, even though she'd known death was the thing he feared most. She was angry she hadn't meant enough to him. But the longer she had to think about it, the more she came to realise that it wasn't fair, really, to put him in that sort of situation, given how he'd lived and been trained his whole life, and expect him to do any different.
So April dampens all the regret and fear and apologies, just for a moment, just long enough to project a very clear sense of forgiveness. It's not given blindly, and it's given after more than a year of struggling with herself, but really that makes it all the more sincere.
"Love you, gege," she murmurs.
I'd Come For You- Nickelback
I was blindfolded, but now I'm seeing
My mind was closing, now I'm believing
I finally know just what it
Means to let someone in
To see the side of me that no one does or ever will
So if you're ever lost and find yourself all alone
I'd search forever just to bring you home.
"Look who finally decided to show up," Cole says proudly, taking the shotgun from the guard and studying it. "Made a mess of things too, but that's how it goes." He shoves the barrel of the shotgun into Sark's back to urge him forward and Sark resists the urge to try to just kill him right now, but either fear or the fact that he knows it wouldn't work either way stays his hand.
"You got a moment," Cole says, poking him again. "Take it."
April has already lit up, feeling him there, just there and with his team and everything. They're going to get out this time. She's not sure how yet, she's not even sure if Julian's sure yet, but she knows they will.
Everything she's been through, and April is still an optimist.
There's still that edge in her eye, though - the killing instinct, the thirst for blood. Cole's blood. It's not exactly a welcome addition, but it's better than being broken, now isn't it?
"I knew you'd come," she says with a smile.
He drops down on his knees in front of her, holding back more than he can describe. This is not how he wants to see her again, but at least she's not bleeding and not broken. At least this time, no one's going to lose, not unless this really goes sour. At any rate, she's getting out of here if it's the last thing he does. He let her go once and he swore to whoever there was to swear to that he wasn't going to lose her again. When he said he wanted a second chance, he never realized how literal that was going to be.
It takes him a long time to actually say anything, he just gently strokes her cheek, tries to ignore that instinct he can see in her eyes, and then kisses the top of her head, before whispering two words in her ear in Mandarin. "Just watch."
Angels- Robbie Williams
And through it all she offers me protection
A lot of love and affection
Whether I'm right or wrong
And down the waterfall
Wherever it may take me
I know that life won't break me
When I come to call
She won't forsake me
I'm loving angels instead
It's only moments after Sark's collapsed that April skids around the corner, scarf ends trailing behind her, hat crooked on her head. She pauses long enough to take in that Sark is alive and that there are no more attackers to dispatch, then practically flies to his side, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around his neck.
Nothing needs to be said, yet. She's just going to hold him.
If anything can be said about April (and many, many things can be said about her), her timing is always impeccable. He's bleeding, bruised, and his hand aches enough that it's starting to get difficult to just ignore it. He just murdered four people and he doesn't even know what that fifth one will wind up doing- possibly he just singlehandedly made the entire conflict worst. Well, if he did, maybe they should have screwed with another wanderer.
And Ariel's dead, because she had to die in his place- for the second time, he's survived when he should have died.
He turns his head so he can bury his face in her hair and choke on something that's either a bitter laugh or a poorly restrained sob. "I'm not really having the best time of things, am I?"
Understatement of the year.
"Not really, no," she replies softly. Her voice is shaking a bit, but she's stable, and sturdy, and not letting go of Julian any time soon. "It'll get better. It will."
She'll make sure of it, somehow.
"I hope that's true," he murmurs into her hair, taking comfort in her presence- at least she's here. That's something.
At this point, he really doesn't want to know what happens if things get worse.
Didn't Know I'd Love You So Much- Repo! The Genetic Opera
Sometimes there's not enough time
But I didn't know I'd love you so much
I didn't know I'd love you so much
I didn't know I'd love you so much
But I do.
He can't think about her injuries, can't think about the fact that she's probably close to dying. The memories from the last time he thought he'd lost her are so close to the front of his mind, but even they don't seem as real as this. He never saw her dead, the only blood on his hands was metaphorical... He didn't have to watch her die.
"April," he whispers, his voice choked. There's so many things he desperately wants to say, but they keep catching in his throat. He never wanted to believe this would actually happen. He got his second chance- she got to live, after all, no thanks to him. If anyone deserved to die tonight, it was him, paying his dues, dying instead of her, like it should have happened with Thane.
He swore he couldn't lose her and now he's going to, and he can't think of a damn thing to say. It's all he can do to keep from breaking down right here and screw the fact that he's in a vulnerable position.
Though it hurts, and she can barely breathe anyway, she starts to cry, in Julian's arms, grasping feebly at his shirt. She'd always thought that if this happened, she'd be comforting him, telling him it's okay, and not his fault. But right this instant? She feels like she's fourteen again, and she's hurting, and she's scared.
She's not ready. Not yet.
"Julian," she whimpers hoarsely, practically a plea. Don't leave me. Promise you won't leave me.
And when she breaks, he breaks, because this is it and they both know it and all he can do is bury his face in her hair and hold her and grit his teeth through choking sobs."You had no reason to latch onto me the way you did," he chokes, remembering the moment he first realized that he loved her- that somehow his darker nature had been brightened by some strange little girl he was convinced was merely following him about because of some passing fancy and not true devotion, but God how he learned he was wrong. "Thank you," he finally whispers.
As much as he wants to be selfish and wish he'd never met her, just so he wouldn't hurt so much, he can't bring himself to think like that. The year he had with her was the most pure and decent he'd felt since he was a child- he never believed for a second that he could feel like that again until he met her. If someone had told him that he'd be here, right now, with a broken heart, holding the same silly, little girl who approached him on the street that day in his arms as she lay dying, he would have found the idea to be insane. Oh if he knew now what he knew then.
"Never," he responds to the plea in her voice, his voice still strangled by sobs and half-muffled by her hair. "There is absolutely nothing than you can do that will ever make me leave you."
Prelude 12/21- AFI
This is what I brought you, this you can keep.
This is what I brought, you may forget me.
I promise to depart, just promise one thing.
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.
April shivers and takes a few shallow breaths, trying to get enough air to speak, to tell him how she feels, how much she needs him. She can't manage it though. Not that words would be enough.
So what she does, instead, is to take everything she feels for him - all the love, trust, adoration, friendship, lingering betrayal, forgiveness, need, belief, hope - and she shoves it into his mind. It's not a send, it's her own feeble attempt at, for the first time in her life, structuring something in someone else's mind. It's a bubble, in the back of Julian's mind, with everything she feels about him right there for review whenever he wants. It's inexpert, and mostly only separate because she's surrounded it by so much of herself, and if someone more skilled doesn't re-do the structuring, it'll fade in a few days or a few weeks, but it's there.
It was more effort than she should've put forth, if she wanted to have more time, but she can't just... say words. She can't just say words, or send words, and expect them to convey what she wants him to know. But it shows on her face, the effort, in the draining colour, in her frantic heartbeat, in her ever-dwindling breaths.
The last sacrificial act she'll ever perform. For him. Like it should be.
There's a bloodbath still going on around them, she can hear it, and vaguely recognise it, but it doesn't matter, as long as no one's hurting him. She's still crying, judging by the tears still dripping down her face, and she keeps grimacing in pain, but she doesn't close her eyes. She grits her teeth, twists her hand in his shirt harder than she should be able to, and takes as deep a breath as she can. So she can speak.
"W-wŏ ài nĭ, gē ge," she manages to whisper, almost inaudible, her eyes on his face. Her eyes have never left his face.
And they don't leave his face even as the life drains from them.
He pulls away, half in shock at that gesture, his heart pounding in his chest, tears drying on his cheeks and ones still unshed making it hard to focus, no matter how many times he tries to blink them away. He'll cling to that, beg someone to make it stay if he can, because he never wants to lose that- the last bit of April he'll ever have.
"April..." He trails off, because he can't find the words either. He can't even offer her what she just offered him, as if it would matter much, but the fact that his heart's breaking over her, the fact that he ever cared at all, the fact that he absolutely loved her, the fact that he's never regretted anything the way he regretted betraying her.. It's there somehow. It's there in the fact that he can't stop looking at her, wishing this had been different, wishing he wasn't losing her. People weren't supposed to matter to him, wasn't that what he once said? But she mattered- she always mattered. She made him better, made the idea of being something less than reprehensible seem so much more appealing. She was his entire world.
And how do you start to tell someone all that when they've only got seconds left? How do you begin to return the gift they've already given you with their last moments?
You can't, but it's there all the same. Maybe she knows and maybe she doesn't, but he has a feeling she knew long before he did what he felt.
"W-wŏ ài nĭ, meimei," he whispers back, staring right back into her eyes until she's gone and he breaks down again, sobbing into her hair and murmuring the same phrase over and over again.
It should have been me. It always should have been me.
Storm- Lifehouse
I know you didn't bring me out here to drown
So why am I ten feet under and upside down
Barely surviving has become my purpose
'Cause I'm so used to living underneath the surface
If I could just see you
Everything will be alright
If I see you
The darkness will turn to light
There's a little angel statue in a private (or as private as one can get) corner of a Chicago cemetary with a name carved into the poilished stone. The first name and the date of death are the only accurate things about it- the year of birth is a complete lie, the last name only true in a certain sense, and the date of birth is the first date that came into Sark's head, since he never knew her actual birthday.
March 22, 2008. The day he met her.
The statue is merely an ediface- Torchwood would keep her body- but he needed something that was his, a place to go and remember her that's a bit more intimate and personal than a morgue.
"I've never actually done this before," he says with some trepidation as he lays a bouquet of flowers at the base of the statue. "It seems silly, almost. I have serious doubts that you can hear me, but... I imagine this is what you would have done were it me." He shakes his head, gritting his teeth, because he's tired of having breakdowns. He wants a sense of control back, if only because having control means he doesn't have to live with the anguish overwhelming him. He can pretend sometimes, but whenever he thinks about her and realizes she's really gone this time, it's just too much.
He stares down at the ground, still unable to find the right words. "You told me to be good. I believe you have far more faith in me than I really deserve, but I'd done fairly well for myself to a point, barring a few... Setbacks." He cringes, but doesn't look up. "That was when you were alive, however. I took it for granted, perhaps, how much I really need you here, but..." His eyes drift up to the angel's stone face and he swallows as if he's wondering if it's judging him, despite how silly that sounds, "...But I'll try not to falter, if not for my sake, then because I need at least one promise to you that I can actually keep."
He lingers for a moment and then finally walks away, back out into a world that's a little bit colder than it used to be, wondering if that's even remotely the one promise he'll really be able to keep.