Darklight fic: Lamedh by Rhyo
Title: Lamedh
Author: rhyo
Category: Gen
Rating: PG (because - demons, angst: no other real reason)
Note: previously posted on my lj.
Summary: Missing scene, set right after the Demonicos, via Shaw, tells her Shaw hates her and she finds out she killed Shaw's son, Connor.
Lamedh
He strode out of the building ahead of her, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes impassive, distant.
"Shaw! Shaw, dammit, wait for me!" She ran after him, her heavy motorcycle boots making long-echoing sounds on the metal stairway, He stopped, his back turned to her and she grabbed his right shoulder, spinning him around to face her. She saw his face twist in pain and let go of his shoulder. "What else are you not telling me? What else have I done to you?"
He stared down at her, his pale eyes burning with the edge of his anger -- the anger that was always there when he looked at her, even when his words were almost soft. Sometimes he seemed composed entirely of that anger, as though it was what kept him animate. She'd been attracted to him from the very beginning, in a deeply possessive way that pleased and repelled her. He was hers and she knew it; he belonged to her somehow and she had to find out why, had to find out why both sides of her dual nature sought out Shaw.
He looked away, his jaw working, the muscles twitching, but didn’t reply. "Just tell me, Shaw." She touched his chest gently and he flinched away. "Please, I have to know."
With a silent glare he dropped the heavy case and shrugged out of his leather coat. He pulled his black t-shirt over his head and she gasped. His right shoulder and arm were heavily scarred, the muscles twisted and seamed, a hideous contrast to the smooth pale perfection of the left side of his body. On his chest, though...
She let her eyes unfocus and brought her right hand up, the bones in the hand lengthening, hardening. She rested her hand on his chest, her talons perfectly matching the deep scars that began just below the fragile hollow of his throat. Her mark, ripped into his flesh by her hand -- the Hebrew letter lamedh, the first letter of her true name, Lilith.
"You came for me," he said, his voice a harsh whisper, "you killed Connor and then you came for me. Toyed with me like a large cat with her prey and then you marked me, while you laughed."
She felt the urge rise to mark him again, to possess him again, to lick her way along the marks she had left and she shuddered, dropping her hand and turning away. "Shaw, I'm... I'm sorry, I..."
"I wanted to kill you," he continued in the same tone. "To destroy you, rend your flesh the way you'd done mine. Crush the life from your body the way you crushed Connor. My request was refused and they let you live. I knew you were alive, I could feel you..."
His pale eyes burned into hers, the bitter, hot edge of his anger all the more searing for the years it had been banked.
"I..." Though she could sometimes see flashes of her past, her memory mercifully did not supply the images of Connor -- but those marks on Shaw's chest called to her. They were her marks, and he belonged to her. She shook her head and took a step further away. He watched her, face impassive. "You have to know, if I could undo it, I would -- if I could go back and undo all of it, I would."
His jaw tightened. "We have a job to do," he grated out, and pulled his shirt back on over his head, and bent to pick up his jacket and case.
"Shaw, you won’t... won’t leave me?"
"I'll see this through," he said, standing up. "And then I..." He turned away, and started walking back toward the car. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a small smile -- he could no more leave her than she him. He would stay by her side in this fight and she would not permit him to leave after.
Author: rhyo
Category: Gen
Rating: PG (because - demons, angst: no other real reason)
Note: previously posted on my lj.
Summary: Missing scene, set right after the Demonicos, via Shaw, tells her Shaw hates her and she finds out she killed Shaw's son, Connor.
Lamedh
He strode out of the building ahead of her, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes impassive, distant.
"Shaw! Shaw, dammit, wait for me!" She ran after him, her heavy motorcycle boots making long-echoing sounds on the metal stairway, He stopped, his back turned to her and she grabbed his right shoulder, spinning him around to face her. She saw his face twist in pain and let go of his shoulder. "What else are you not telling me? What else have I done to you?"
He stared down at her, his pale eyes burning with the edge of his anger -- the anger that was always there when he looked at her, even when his words were almost soft. Sometimes he seemed composed entirely of that anger, as though it was what kept him animate. She'd been attracted to him from the very beginning, in a deeply possessive way that pleased and repelled her. He was hers and she knew it; he belonged to her somehow and she had to find out why, had to find out why both sides of her dual nature sought out Shaw.
He looked away, his jaw working, the muscles twitching, but didn’t reply. "Just tell me, Shaw." She touched his chest gently and he flinched away. "Please, I have to know."
With a silent glare he dropped the heavy case and shrugged out of his leather coat. He pulled his black t-shirt over his head and she gasped. His right shoulder and arm were heavily scarred, the muscles twisted and seamed, a hideous contrast to the smooth pale perfection of the left side of his body. On his chest, though...
She let her eyes unfocus and brought her right hand up, the bones in the hand lengthening, hardening. She rested her hand on his chest, her talons perfectly matching the deep scars that began just below the fragile hollow of his throat. Her mark, ripped into his flesh by her hand -- the Hebrew letter lamedh, the first letter of her true name, Lilith.
"You came for me," he said, his voice a harsh whisper, "you killed Connor and then you came for me. Toyed with me like a large cat with her prey and then you marked me, while you laughed."
She felt the urge rise to mark him again, to possess him again, to lick her way along the marks she had left and she shuddered, dropping her hand and turning away. "Shaw, I'm... I'm sorry, I..."
"I wanted to kill you," he continued in the same tone. "To destroy you, rend your flesh the way you'd done mine. Crush the life from your body the way you crushed Connor. My request was refused and they let you live. I knew you were alive, I could feel you..."
His pale eyes burned into hers, the bitter, hot edge of his anger all the more searing for the years it had been banked.
"I..." Though she could sometimes see flashes of her past, her memory mercifully did not supply the images of Connor -- but those marks on Shaw's chest called to her. They were her marks, and he belonged to her. She shook her head and took a step further away. He watched her, face impassive. "You have to know, if I could undo it, I would -- if I could go back and undo all of it, I would."
His jaw tightened. "We have a job to do," he grated out, and pulled his shirt back on over his head, and bent to pick up his jacket and case.
"Shaw, you won’t... won’t leave me?"
"I'll see this through," he said, standing up. "And then I..." He turned away, and started walking back toward the car. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a small smile -- he could no more leave her than she him. He would stay by her side in this fight and she would not permit him to leave after.