Gently Through This Broken Sky (R/K) Fic

[shadow_walker3]

Title: Gently Through This Broken Sky

Author: shadow_walker3

Pairing: Kristen Stewart/Robert Pattinson rpf (written in KPOV)

Rating: I believe I’m incapable of writing anything less than R or NC-17, so this is no exception, but I’m incapable of also writing porn without plot (just ask my friends). One day though…I’ll succeed.

Warnings: Other than the above, I can’t really think of any…unless you have a really weak stomach.

Summary: I will preface all summaries by saying that I enjoy injured men. I have since I was about eight years old. I cannot explain, nor do I promote the injuring of men; however, there will be no complaint from me if they are. For some reason, I find them hotter when injured. I believe it to be some sort of Florence Nightingale complex, where the need to then take care of them takes over and…I have no idea - they’re just hotter, ok? So to get to the actual summary, which is longer now than it should be, I finally just asked my friend/beta/lover/wife/hetero-life partner, Kaia what the hell the summary should be and she said: “It’s a story about how a plane crash brings people together (she doesn’t write for Hallmark, I swear), like a bat mitzvah, but less fun - with less dancing and relatives and food and more snow and possible death and crash landings.”
Timeframe: Right after the MTV Movie Awards 2009

Chapter 2 of ? who the hell knows by the time I’m done.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nor am I profiting in any way besides my torrid fantasies. And I really didn't think I'd ever write anything of this nature again after the last epic I attempted, so...we'll see. LOL



A/N: Nickell would like to point out that she is also a hetero-life partner and was left out of the previous author note in that capacity. She is also "anonymous" as she can't log in or some shit.



Chapter 2: Assume Crash Positions

Groggily opening my eyes to the aftermath was more jarring than the whole crash and impact thing. Because where the cockpit should have been was more open air and where Rob’s seat used to be was now…nothing. Not exactly a comforting sight. I was never any good in physics or science in general; I wouldn’t have known any of the answers to that stupid Biology lab that Bella prophase and anaphase-d her way through, but I can tell you that when you’re strapped in a seat, you don’t move as much as something not strapped in a seat. Which meant Rob was somewhere…else. Some random fact about bodies in motion staying in motion kept running through my head like a broken record, but that wasn’t helping me locate Rob. I was…fairly certain I did not need to enter what was left of the cockpit to know that the pilots were no longer with us. And I was also fairly certain I did not need to see that, so my main focus became finding the world’s new number one hot commodity, Mr. Edward Cullen. I was really hoping I wouldn’t find several pieces of the popular Mr. Pattinson.

I unbuckled the seatbelt and tried to assess myself before I got up. It would do Rob no good if I wound up passing out upon standing. I did a visual check 10 fingers, still had all my other appendages. I had a few cuts from…who even knew what they were from, but I didn’t seem to be bleeding profusely from anywhere, I had not been impaled on impact and the buzzing and ringing in my head was slowly giving way to…son of a bitch. The goddamn headache was back. I attempted to lessen the ringing further by that wonderful stick-your-finger-in-your-ear trick, which did precisely nothing but let me know that my head was bleeding from somewhere. I prodded at the side of my head, trying to find the wound and found a nice gash about three inches above my ear. It was sore, but not terrible, and the bleeding was already starting to stop. I took a deep breath, hoping I wouldn’t be wrought with terrible pain at some internal injury I couldn’t see, but my breathing was fine, fast, but fine and my heart was just about pounding out of my chest, but I didn’t think heart attack was imminent, so I tried standing up.

And promptly fell on my ass.

I pushed all thoughts of Bella Swan out of my head and chalked it up to the whole, ya know, PLANE crash thing, and not a natural sense of clumsiness that I didn’t seem to acquire until the MTV Movie Awards. I’ll never live that down. As I sat gathering what little dignity was left, I realized there was no one really here to give a shit; and just sat there for a while, trying to make the sense of vertigo go away. I pulled my knees up and rested my head on them, breathing slowly and trying extremely hard not to completely lose my shit.

The complete and total silence was…deafening, which I’m pretty sure is an oxymoron, but I could have head trauma and wasn’t going to wage another mental war with myself over semantics and grammar. You’d think the aftermath of a plane crash would yield more noise, but I suppose the big bang was already over, the carnage already complete, now all that was left was smoldering metal and broken glass.

Fuck. Rob.

I willed myself to get up, shaky at first, but at least this attempt didn’t land me back on my ass. I had a really nice view of trees and mountains and snow out the…well what the hell was I supposed to call it - the fucking front of the plane was now lying adjacent making a general L-shape, so it’s just a big open space where the fucking cockpit used to be. And Jesus, I hoped that Rob really was not somewhere out there because I would never find him if he wasn’t in or close to the plane. Shit. After hanging onto the seat for a while, I felt confident enough I could try moving. Ruling out travel in the snow for the moment, I could deduce that Rob was not in front of me, or in the seat where he should have been sitting. Honestly, I was kind of mad at the asshole - I mean - if he was out there in the snow thrown by the force of the impact - I was here alone, and wouldn’t that just be a bitch? For the fucker to be all civil and chivalrous and then leave me the hell alone in the wreckage of the plane? I sighed and tested turning, groaning as the adrenaline started to wear off. I had a fleeting thought to the ibuprofen that Rob had handed me before, wondering where they went and if they survived the crash, because I was gonna be really sore in a short period of time. Then I realized how ridiculous and shallow I was being when Rob really could have literally been lying next to a tree somewhere. Fuck.

Ok, so turning. This really couldn’t be that difficult, the plane was not that large. The back of the plane seemed to fair better than the front. Although I have no direct recollection of the impact, I’m guessing from the way the cockpit was twisted that it was sort of a nosedive landing. The back was just along for the ride. My ears had seemed to recover most of their actual hearing ability, the ringing fading to a dull buzz that was just annoying under the surface. I coughed; the fumes from some part of the plane still burning catching in my throat for a moment. The back of the fuselage seemed intact, nothing was sparking or smoking, I took that as a good sign, but it also wasn’t terribly well-lit and we’d left around dinner time. Night would be setting in soon and if I didn’t find Rob…

I waded through what used to be the aisle. Most of the seats seemed to be intact, save for a few that were upturned and one that was totally missing. I mentally kicked myself for not paying more attention to the details of the plane when we boarded, but who the hell thinks it will actually crash!? I seemed to remember the pilot saying something about the back being storage and supplies, but yeah, liiiiiiiiittle fuzzy here. I stopped in my trek and had I not already been bleeding from the head, I would have smacked myself in the forehead. Wouldn’t be a good time to like, call Rob’s fucking name or anything, would it? God. I probably did have a head injury.

“Rob?” came out waaaaaay weaker than I intended, and I coughed at the fumes again. Shit, that had to go. I was surprised how hoarse I actually was, but yeah. I cleared my throat and tried again, succeeding at adjusting the volume level to something less than a dying mouse.

My head snapped too quickly to the right when I heard a groan, and I added one of my own, grabbing the seat next to me for balance. I moved slowly towards Rob, because really, who the fuck else would it be, and craned my neck trying to figure out just where he ended up.

“Rob?”

I heard a very low, very weak, yet very distinctive British-accented, “Fuck.”

I snorted, “Are you all right? Say something else; I don’t know where the hell you are.”

I got a delayed response, but eventually, a “Kristen?” made its way out.

I crawled over one of the wrecked seats and thankfully didn’t end up on all fours, ducking towards the sound of Rob’s voice. There was a pile of…I have no idea what the pile all contained, but I was pretty sure Rob was under it. “Jesus Christ, are you…” and then I promptly started laughing my ass off. I don’t think he was too impressed.

There was a definite annoyance and the inflection and volume was much stronger when he uttered, “What the fuck is so funny? Are you mentally unhinged? Did you hit your head? We’ve just been in a plane crash and you’re laughing while I’m fucking stuck under here!” He broke off in a cough then and I tried to stifle my laughing.

“Are you all right?” I asked, still chuckling.

“Yeah, I’m just…stuck.” He paused, “What’s so funny?”

I snorted, “Well…for one…I can see your legs and that’s about it. So, you kind of look like the wicked witch.” I have NO idea where that came from - I’m serious, I must have hit my head, because this shit wasn’t funny, but I couldn’t stop laughing at the image. “Second, I think you’re stuck under a seat and…” I broke off into a fit of giggles.

“Kristen” (this was uttered in that really serious tone he gets, complete with the disdain embedded and that very ‘I’m going to kill you’ air to it - it’s very intimidating - if you’re a Pomeranian).

Still, he really didn’t need to say anything else, “I’m sorry,” I said, enunciating the sorry with as much remorse as I could while still chortling quietly, “But…Rob, you’re under the seat…the seat…” I snickered, “and the goddamn EMERGENCY door.” I laughed again, “And you can’t be mad at me - because I totally just heard you snort under there and you think it’s funny too.”

He was silent a minute, “Isn’t…wasn’t…” he stopped.

“Rob?”

“Kristen, there was only one door.”

I snorted, “Yeah, so?”

I could tell he was schooling his features into that very patient visage, “Kristen, doesn’t it strike you as odd that we were in a plane where the emergency door and the door to the plane are…the same door?”

He said this with so much…curiosity, it only made me laugh harder. He was laughing too. “I suppose it does not bode well for their safety records.”

“I think the Civil Aviation Authority might want to hear about this.”

I stopped trying to un-pile the debris. “The what?”

“The…” he sighed, “It’s the agency that regulates flight travel, I’m sure you have an equivalent.”

My brain took a moment to kick in, “Oh, sure, right. It’s the FAA here. Federal Aviation Administration.”

He hummed thoughtfully at me.

I went back to un-piling and promptly started laughing again. “Rob…seriously. The door?”

“Yes,” he said, just going along with me now.

“It tells me to push, not pull in the event of an emergency requiring the door to be released. I don’t know about you, but I think in this case, I’m going to have to pull, not push.”

“That’s wonderful Kristen, and how long do you think you’ll be pulling and not pushing, exactly, so, you know, I have an idea how long I’ll be compressed under the emergency door?”

I tried to lessen my chuckling, grunting as I moved a rather large piece of metal. “I’m going as fast as I can here. There’re only a few more pieces.” I got the sigh again and just continued.

“So…you want the good news or the bad news?” I asked after a few more minutes.

“Well I’m all for good news at the moment as we’ve just been in a plane crash.”

“Sarcasm, was that you?” I threw back, but didn’t let him add anything, “I think I can get you out, but…I’m going to have to find some kind of…lever.” I was rather impressed with my mental faculties here, given that a few short minutes ago I was giggling over ‘push not pull’ and now managed to come up with a tool such as a lever. I turned to start looking for a piece stable enough, “Also, I’m not going to be able to put much pressure on it, so I sure hope it’s enough that you can get out.”

“Yes, I’d like that as well.”

I smirked, finding a suitable piece. “Ok…if you can like…I dunno…move away from the place that’s tightest to you, that’d probably be good.” I waited for a response, but didn’t get one. “You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Pissy British,” I said under my breath, wedging the metal under the seat and door and pressing on it. It didn’t budge. Shit. I tried instead putting all my weight over it and succeeded in moving it about an inch and then it moved back.

“Ow! Shit!”

I let go of the metal immediately, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” he said with a rather defeated sigh.

“I’m not just going to leave you there, hold on. I have to find something heavier.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he asked. “You’re not wet are you?”

My brow wrinkled, “No…why would I bet wet?”

“Well you’d be heavier then.”

I shook my head, ooooooook, “Yeah, all right…” I frustratingly looked for something heavy to weigh the end of the lever down and found nothing of use in the vicinity. Shit! This was getting really ridiculous! “I can’t find anything heavy enough Rob; maybe I can try to wedge it underneath the other seat.”

“Try it I guess, I can’t exactly give you advice from under here.”

I took a deep breath and pushed the stupid lever down again, straining to make it catch on the bottom of the adjacent seat. After a few minutes of struggling, I managed to get it propped under it, “I don’t know how long that’ll hold,” I crouched down on the floor, trying to see how much room that gave him. “Can you…move out?”

I could see movement, but nothing else. Rob didn’t say anything but I could hear shuffling.

“Do you need help?” I finally asked, realizing that he had a penis which meant he wouldn’t ask.

“Probably,” he said, straining as he tried to maneuver out from the space.

I wavered for a minute, but got down on the floor, lying on my stomach to see if I could reach him. I have no clue how much help I’d actually be, but well…the thought was there. I stuck my hand under and met his shoulder as he arched it to get more leverage to move. I grabbed the material of his shirt and pulled, but he didn’t move anywhere. I had nothing to push off from. “Can you…can you push off from the wall with your foot or something?” I finally asked, rather snippily, I will admit.

“Oh, I really wish I would have thought of that,” he threw back, “what with my whole inch of moving space here. I can’t even get my foot to turn Kristen.”

“Sorry, sorry,” I tried heaving him again.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!”

“Just…wait a second.”

“Well do you want to be under there all night or what? I’m just trying to help!”

“You wanna just try and shut up!? Don’t help right now!”

I let go and sat up, just waiting for him to do…whatever the hell he was doing under there. I risked a glance at the lever, it seemed to be holding for the moment but the bar seemed slightly more bent that it had when I first wedged it there. I watched it as it bent a little further, and I’m thinking it was my sharp intake of breath that made him stop moving.

“What?” he asked.

“Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch here, but we really need to get you out of there pretty damn fast.”

There was a moment of silence and then, “Ok.”

I dove back to the floor and was actually surprised at how far he’d managed to shimmy himself. I grabbed the material of his shirt again and could actually see his eyes this time. “We need to move now,” I said, making sure he knew I was being totally serious and not impatient.

He grunted and shoved and I pulled and we got about half of him out. I didn’t wait for him to start again; I just kept pulling, my feet slipping on the floor as he slid all the way out. Actually, it was rather comical, I flew back a bit and he landed with a grunt, his head landing on the crook between my calf and ankle and we both just…laid there. Well, as much as you can lie in an area the size of a crawlspace. Fucking plane.

I waited until my breathing seemed to calm and my muscles stopped screaming at me and my head stopped swimming. Shit. I looked down and watched as Rob’s attention seemed fixed on that stupid lever beam. But I realized why in a second when the thing snapped and the seat and door went smashing into the floor.

“Shit,” I said, letting out a breath.

He turned his head, looking back at me upside down, “Thanks.”

“Hey no problem,” I accentuated with a small kick of my leg, making his head bounce slightly from where it was resting. He winced and I instantly felt bad, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. Just…sore.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I said, adding, “Who knew plane crashes sucked this bad, huh?”

I could see the smirk even though his head was turned back again.

“Are you all right?”

“I suppose I’ll live,” upside down Rob said, “How’re you?”

I snorted, “I’m peachy. I haven’t been this sore in…I’ve never been this sore.”

He nodded awkwardly from his position and then started looking around the plane. I realized he hadn’t had any first hand experience with the wreckage as he was stuck under the damn door. I wondered if he felt as disoriented as I did when I woke up, but I didn’t ask. He didn’t seem inclined to move either, but I really needed to get out of the cramped, half-propped space I was in. I jiggled my leg, giving him warning that I was going to move so his head wouldn’t smack into the floor. He let it rest on the ground, his eyes closing as a sigh escaped; his right hand came up like usual to run through his severely disheveled hair. I stepped over him, trying to figure out what the hell we were going to do next. He met my gaze and I hoped my eyes didn’t look as glassy as his did. His other arm was cradled against his chest; I hadn’t seen him move it at all.

“Can you get up?” I asked, watching him carefully, throwing in at the last second, “Your arm messed up?”

He shrugged, and winced, “Yeah, I think so. And yeah, totally.”

He didn’t make a move to get up and I didn’t push him. I squatted down and swatted his leg with the back of my hand, “What happened when the plane started going down? You get tossed around?”

He smirked, “I was standing right next to you Kristen.”

I rolled my eyes, “Yeah and then your ass was gone. What happened?”

He blinked a couple of times, and I could tell he was thinking. He took so goddamn long though, that I thought he was having a seizure or something. I tapped his leg again softly, "Hey."

“Sorry,” he said, his eyes focusing on me again, “I…I really don’t remember a whole l
lot of what happened. I mean, I remember standing in the aisle and looking at you and then…”

My eyebrows rose, trying to will him to continue. I nodded shortly, “And then…”

He shook his head, “I really don’t know. Pain. I remember hitting something really hard and not much after that.” He looked around what was left of the fuselage, “I’m guessing I flew back that way,” he gestured vaguely, “Physics is apparently a real bitch though. I have no idea how I wound up under the seat like that, but…yeah,” he trailed off, squinting up at me.

I nodded again, “Well…we should probably figure out…what we want to do.”

He laughed humorlessly, “Right. Our options are just limitless in this situation,” he groaned, attempting to sit up, but he didn’t make it very far.

I frowned and pushed him back down, “Just stay put for a while. Rest. I’ve had time to let the adrenaline wear off.”

He shook his head at me, “No, I think I want to get up.”

I eyed him suspiciously but relented when he held out his hand, wordlessly asking for my assistance. I helped heave him into a standing position and waited until the complete and total grimace became something of more schooled control. “What else hurts besides your arm?” I asked, still giving him the doubtful stare.

He shrugged, wincing again as it pulled his shoulder, “I’m quite certain I have a few more cracks in ribs that weren’t there before…the cracks that is, not the ribs.”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Thanks for clearing that up.” If he was still this sassy, he must have been feeling pretty well.

We maneuvered through the rest of the aisle until we reached the section of the plane where it had severed in two. I smirked at Rob, “Look honey, a room with a view,” in all honesty; it was a spectacular view…if we would have been in a nice mountain resort or something with a fire place and free drinks. Instead, the majesty of the wilderness in front of us seemed far less homey and much more looming and holyshitwe’reinthemiddleofnowherescary.

Rob took in the vast expanse in front of us, “It really is quite amazing,” he said softly.

I turned and smiled, “Well, yes, Robert, it is. However, unless you had a snowmobile hidden under the emergency door with you, I think we’re kinda fucked.”

He sighed, “Well…do we have any idea where we landed? What part of the country were we flying over when it went down?”

I looked at him incredulously, “Well, gee, I don’t know, let me get my compass and map out. How the fuck should I know? I wasn’t exactly charting out our course on the GPS map in the event we crash landed!”

Rob was silent for awhile, and I rubbed my hands over my face, “Have you checked the cockpit?” he asked finally.

I shot him a look and finally sat down in the seat I’d landed in, my leg bouncing nervously, “No, I don’t…I’m pretty sure they didn’t make it,” I fluttered a glance to the front end of the plane, “I mean, I looked for you first…but I didn’t…there wasn’t any…” I just stopped and looked at him.

He held my gaze for a moment and then looked towards the ruined cockpit, “I should
probably check then.”

He took a deep breath and was about to move but my hand shot out and grabbed his good arm, “You…you don’t have to. I really don’t think you’re going to find them alive.”

“No, but I think I should check. There might be a radio in there too…” he tore his eyes away from me then, looking back in the direction of the cockpit, and his jaw tightened. “Stay here,” he told me.

As soon as he started walking towards the cockpit, I couldn’t sit anymore and began pacing in front of my stupid seat. Why he felt the need to check, I have no idea. I mean…sure, the radio excuse was I suppose an important one, but…he really didn’t need to see that if they were…I started chewing on my thumbnail as I paced, watching as he got closer and closer to the door, stepping over ruined metal and fiberglass. I suddenly had the urge to run after him and block the doorway. As it was, it wasn’t much of a doorway left - it was very close to simply falling off and I had a moment of panic when I realized that Rob opening the door might make it fall off and then I’d see whatever was behind the door too. Another part of me wanted to just stop Rob altogether and save him the extra pain of witnessing the demise of the pilots. I must have looked like a junkie on zebra steroids or something, all jittery and…why was he stopping? Rob stopped outside the door and simply rested his hand on it. Fuck. I was about to call his name and tell him to just come back, but he must have just been mentally preparing himself or something because in the next second he opened the piece of door that was left and stepped inside.

Chapter 3

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3