[FIC] Quietly, she opened herself up to the night
Title: Quietly, she opened herself up to the night
Author: shipmateee
Pairing: Joe/Miley
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1450
Warnings: slightly AU, angst, mentions of car accidents and comas
Summary: The world tilts, shatters and fades. Gently, she slips out of her universe.
Disclaimer: Clearly didn't happen, guys.
Author's Notes: Miley in a coma. I don't know where it came from, or how I could write it, or how it's Joe/Miley, but it made sense at the time, okay.
Miley only recognises she’s been hit by the car when her body’s already battered and broken against the biting cold of the wet cement, the numbing paralysis sluicing through her veins.
The world tilts, shatters and fades.
Gently, she slips out of her universe.
*
There’s a flickering glow. It’s always out of sight, just sits on what seems like her peripheral vision. Sometimes it gets closer, or maybe she gets nearer. It’s not something she thinks through, unimportant, insignificant.
She doesn’t know how long it’s been, or where she is, or who she is - god, who is she? - when the light expands, eats away at the all consuming darkness, until her whole universe is made up of nothing but pure, pure white.
There’s this high pitched whine, and it keeps getting clearer and clearer, acutely focused until it’s splitting her head open and she just wants it to stop, she needs it to stop.
It’s only when she’s slipping back into the suffocating darkness that she realises it was her own screams.
*
She can feel it.
Something, someone is near her. She wants to reach out, before she remembers that she’s stuck. A piercing cold starts to shut everything down. Everything’s slipping away again, not again, please no, not again.
She tries to cry out, but it’s like there’s a thousand hands wrapping around her vocal chords, squeezing, snapping. It’s unbearable. It’s endless.
*
“What’s happening? Why is her heart rate speeding up?”
A crash, then, “Calm down, Joe. Come on.”
“Oh God, don’t let her slip again. Do something. Do something!”
*
She’s six again, all wonder and curiosity. Her father tells her “Don’t go too close to the river, okay Miley? Promise me.” It’s a simple promise to make, but one she doesn’t keep.
The water rushes past, and the sunlight dances on the ripples like stars, and she wants to touch it, thread the starlight through her fingers. In a moment, she’s been tugged under, the water pulling her down until it surrounds her. She’s only under the current for a minute, maybe seconds more, but it’s as if everything slows down.
She watches her dark hair flutter over her face, whispering against her palms like the velvet ribbons her mother likes to tie around her waist, and her feet just slip through the water, unable to gain a footing. It’s like her whole world just pauses. Her eyes notice the trails of sunlight against the bed of the river. She reaches out and then--
“Miley! Are you okay? What did I tell you? What did I just tell you? Oh, god, Miley, you’re soaking wet, let’s get you changed.” The air floods her lungs like smoke, and she can’t stop coughing for hours.
She never did catch the starlight.
*
He sings to her.
Anything he can think of; songs she loves, songs he loves, bits and pieces he’d heard on the radio, nursery rhymes and melodies with no words.
He sings because it’s all he can do.
*
She recognises the sound as soon as it filters past her conscious.
She doesn’t understand how she knows him, or why he’s near, or why she wants him to stay with her and never leave.
Warmth envelops her hand. It feels like the last thread of her sanity, the last thread of reality. She begs him soundlessly to stay, for what she can only think to be hours and hours until there’s nothing left to feel but the steady thump of her heart.
The warmth is still thrumming through her when she disappears again.
*
“Joe, you have to eat. You need to sleep. You can leave her side, okay? She’ll still be there when you get back.”
Silence.
“Joseph.”
“She needs this. She needs me to be here, Nick. I can’t just leave, I couldn’t do that to her. I would never forgive myself.”
The footsteps are quiet on the linoleum as they walk away.
*
She wants to cry with relief when she slides back again into the heavy warmth. She settles on building every bit of energy she has until she can grab onto it, slide her fingers over it and cling, if only for a moment.
It’s enough for her.
*
“Good news. As evidenced yesterday, her motor skills are returning. It should hopefully only be a number days until she fully recovers.”
The relief that floods the room is palpable. A joyous sob breaks the silence.
*
She remembers bits and pieces, fitting together over time like the jigsaw puzzles she’d done hundreds of when she was nine years old. It tugs her a little further back to reality.
She can recall the tiniest of details about him; the way he held her hand, twining his fingers loosely around hers, the way he’d smile, like she was everything and anything he’d ever wanted, and the way she used to feel around him.
Warm. Safe. Home.
*
Sometimes he fingers the bracelet on her wrist.
It’s delicate; the tiniest of silver threads linking together, weaving an intricate pattern.
It reminds him of her voice.
*
She recalls one summer, brimming with laughter and sunshine, a never-ending adventure.
They travelled thousands of miles in his rusty, beat up truck, which she’d been certain was going to fall apart with each mile they racked up.
It hadn’t.
He’d smiled so much those few months, so much so that she’d wondered how any other expression could possibly fit his features.
She always loved his smile.
*
With each and every set of the Sun, he questions how he’ll continue his life without her.
It always remains unanswered when the dawn slowly lights up the hospital room.
*
She remembers a night spent walking in the rain, droplets falling into her eyes and rivulets running down his collarbone. She’d tried to cup her hands to catch them, and he’d laughed at her antics. He’d laced her hands with his, and he danced her through the streets, twirling in puddles, and skipping on the shining pavement until she was breathless and glowing.
She believes that she loves him.
*
At some point, she feels as if she has awoken.
She can feel the blood in her veins and the beat of her heart and the smell of sharp, acrid scents. When she opens her eyes to the world she sees nothing but faded darkness, and feels cold and alone.
Where is he? How could he leave her?
She is glad to retreat into herself when the light licks at the edges of her vision.
*
“She woke in the night.”
“She what?”
“The patient’s brain activity readings show that she became conscious sometime at 3:21am this morning.”
“Was . . . was anyone there?”
“No. It appears she was alone.”
*
She’s back in their memory again, of that night in the rain. But it’s like everything is on fast-forward, sights and sounds rushing past like a tornado, the rain and wind stinging her skin.
Then suddenly, it all stops.
She’s alone in the road. The silence is deafening. It’s like a shock to her system when the squeal of tires pierces through the night.
She sees him running at her, for her. She doesn’t turn fast enough, doesn’t move quick enough and then--
*
There is nothing.
Her universe is barren and dark. She drifts.
*
She looks so vulnerable just lying there, so completely not herself that he almost can’t bear to look at her.
He’s suddenly angry, so angry, that she’s not doing anything; she’s not even trying.
He can’t even hold himself back when he whispers fiercely into her ear.
“Miley. Get a grip. You need to come back. For everyone. For me. Jesus, you need to be.”
*
It’s like an electric shock, sharp and unrelenting.
It’s like gasping oxygen into your lungs again after breaking the surface.
When she sees the light, she reaches forward and curls her fingers around it, holding tightly until she knows that she is alive.
*
The blurred darkness is again all she sees when she opens her eyes. But this time, there is warmth. Steady, all encompassing warmth.
“. . . Miley?”
He’s quiet, so terribly quiet. She cannot find it in herself to respond, just stares into his eyes hoping he’ll understand, that he’ll know. She’s here. She’s finally here.
A tear slides down his face, dropping gently onto their clasped hands. It feels cool, and wet and real.
She squeezes his hand in hers and they stay together like that, watching the moonlight spilling onto her sheets like ink until it is replaced by warm, warm sunbeams.
She is home.
Author: shipmateee
Pairing: Joe/Miley
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1450
Warnings: slightly AU, angst, mentions of car accidents and comas
Summary: The world tilts, shatters and fades. Gently, she slips out of her universe.
Disclaimer: Clearly didn't happen, guys.
Author's Notes: Miley in a coma. I don't know where it came from, or how I could write it, or how it's Joe/Miley, but it made sense at the time, okay.
Miley only recognises she’s been hit by the car when her body’s already battered and broken against the biting cold of the wet cement, the numbing paralysis sluicing through her veins.
The world tilts, shatters and fades.
Gently, she slips out of her universe.
*
There’s a flickering glow. It’s always out of sight, just sits on what seems like her peripheral vision. Sometimes it gets closer, or maybe she gets nearer. It’s not something she thinks through, unimportant, insignificant.
She doesn’t know how long it’s been, or where she is, or who she is - god, who is she? - when the light expands, eats away at the all consuming darkness, until her whole universe is made up of nothing but pure, pure white.
There’s this high pitched whine, and it keeps getting clearer and clearer, acutely focused until it’s splitting her head open and she just wants it to stop, she needs it to stop.
It’s only when she’s slipping back into the suffocating darkness that she realises it was her own screams.
*
She can feel it.
Something, someone is near her. She wants to reach out, before she remembers that she’s stuck. A piercing cold starts to shut everything down. Everything’s slipping away again, not again, please no, not again.
She tries to cry out, but it’s like there’s a thousand hands wrapping around her vocal chords, squeezing, snapping. It’s unbearable. It’s endless.
*
“What’s happening? Why is her heart rate speeding up?”
A crash, then, “Calm down, Joe. Come on.”
“Oh God, don’t let her slip again. Do something. Do something!”
*
She’s six again, all wonder and curiosity. Her father tells her “Don’t go too close to the river, okay Miley? Promise me.” It’s a simple promise to make, but one she doesn’t keep.
The water rushes past, and the sunlight dances on the ripples like stars, and she wants to touch it, thread the starlight through her fingers. In a moment, she’s been tugged under, the water pulling her down until it surrounds her. She’s only under the current for a minute, maybe seconds more, but it’s as if everything slows down.
She watches her dark hair flutter over her face, whispering against her palms like the velvet ribbons her mother likes to tie around her waist, and her feet just slip through the water, unable to gain a footing. It’s like her whole world just pauses. Her eyes notice the trails of sunlight against the bed of the river. She reaches out and then--
“Miley! Are you okay? What did I tell you? What did I just tell you? Oh, god, Miley, you’re soaking wet, let’s get you changed.” The air floods her lungs like smoke, and she can’t stop coughing for hours.
She never did catch the starlight.
*
He sings to her.
Anything he can think of; songs she loves, songs he loves, bits and pieces he’d heard on the radio, nursery rhymes and melodies with no words.
He sings because it’s all he can do.
*
She recognises the sound as soon as it filters past her conscious.
She doesn’t understand how she knows him, or why he’s near, or why she wants him to stay with her and never leave.
Warmth envelops her hand. It feels like the last thread of her sanity, the last thread of reality. She begs him soundlessly to stay, for what she can only think to be hours and hours until there’s nothing left to feel but the steady thump of her heart.
The warmth is still thrumming through her when she disappears again.
*
“Joe, you have to eat. You need to sleep. You can leave her side, okay? She’ll still be there when you get back.”
Silence.
“Joseph.”
“She needs this. She needs me to be here, Nick. I can’t just leave, I couldn’t do that to her. I would never forgive myself.”
The footsteps are quiet on the linoleum as they walk away.
*
She wants to cry with relief when she slides back again into the heavy warmth. She settles on building every bit of energy she has until she can grab onto it, slide her fingers over it and cling, if only for a moment.
It’s enough for her.
*
“Good news. As evidenced yesterday, her motor skills are returning. It should hopefully only be a number days until she fully recovers.”
The relief that floods the room is palpable. A joyous sob breaks the silence.
*
She remembers bits and pieces, fitting together over time like the jigsaw puzzles she’d done hundreds of when she was nine years old. It tugs her a little further back to reality.
She can recall the tiniest of details about him; the way he held her hand, twining his fingers loosely around hers, the way he’d smile, like she was everything and anything he’d ever wanted, and the way she used to feel around him.
Warm. Safe. Home.
*
Sometimes he fingers the bracelet on her wrist.
It’s delicate; the tiniest of silver threads linking together, weaving an intricate pattern.
It reminds him of her voice.
*
She recalls one summer, brimming with laughter and sunshine, a never-ending adventure.
They travelled thousands of miles in his rusty, beat up truck, which she’d been certain was going to fall apart with each mile they racked up.
It hadn’t.
He’d smiled so much those few months, so much so that she’d wondered how any other expression could possibly fit his features.
She always loved his smile.
*
With each and every set of the Sun, he questions how he’ll continue his life without her.
It always remains unanswered when the dawn slowly lights up the hospital room.
*
She remembers a night spent walking in the rain, droplets falling into her eyes and rivulets running down his collarbone. She’d tried to cup her hands to catch them, and he’d laughed at her antics. He’d laced her hands with his, and he danced her through the streets, twirling in puddles, and skipping on the shining pavement until she was breathless and glowing.
She believes that she loves him.
*
At some point, she feels as if she has awoken.
She can feel the blood in her veins and the beat of her heart and the smell of sharp, acrid scents. When she opens her eyes to the world she sees nothing but faded darkness, and feels cold and alone.
Where is he? How could he leave her?
She is glad to retreat into herself when the light licks at the edges of her vision.
*
“She woke in the night.”
“She what?”
“The patient’s brain activity readings show that she became conscious sometime at 3:21am this morning.”
“Was . . . was anyone there?”
“No. It appears she was alone.”
*
She’s back in their memory again, of that night in the rain. But it’s like everything is on fast-forward, sights and sounds rushing past like a tornado, the rain and wind stinging her skin.
Then suddenly, it all stops.
She’s alone in the road. The silence is deafening. It’s like a shock to her system when the squeal of tires pierces through the night.
She sees him running at her, for her. She doesn’t turn fast enough, doesn’t move quick enough and then--
*
There is nothing.
Her universe is barren and dark. She drifts.
*
She looks so vulnerable just lying there, so completely not herself that he almost can’t bear to look at her.
He’s suddenly angry, so angry, that she’s not doing anything; she’s not even trying.
He can’t even hold himself back when he whispers fiercely into her ear.
“Miley. Get a grip. You need to come back. For everyone. For me. Jesus, you need to be.”
*
It’s like an electric shock, sharp and unrelenting.
It’s like gasping oxygen into your lungs again after breaking the surface.
When she sees the light, she reaches forward and curls her fingers around it, holding tightly until she knows that she is alive.
*
The blurred darkness is again all she sees when she opens her eyes. But this time, there is warmth. Steady, all encompassing warmth.
“. . . Miley?”
He’s quiet, so terribly quiet. She cannot find it in herself to respond, just stares into his eyes hoping he’ll understand, that he’ll know. She’s here. She’s finally here.
A tear slides down his face, dropping gently onto their clasped hands. It feels cool, and wet and real.
She squeezes his hand in hers and they stay together like that, watching the moonlight spilling onto her sheets like ink until it is replaced by warm, warm sunbeams.
She is home.