Ariadne/Eames- The End Of All Things To Come
Title: The End Of All Things To Come
Author: butterflys_fics/blacksouledbutterfly
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Ariadne/Eames
Word Count: 735
Summary: He had never been much for sharing himself with others.
Warnings: Minor mentions of sex.
Notes: Companion to From Bokara To Invisible.
He had never been much for sharing himself with others. In his line of work it paid to keep secrets; it paid to become an anomaly. (But he can't deny that’s how he was even before he began working in the way he did. He was always the secretive man in the dark corner of a bar; always the man a girl shagged and knew nothing about, not even his real name.)
He had been quite content in living his life as a shadow, as a mystery. He liked editing his life to suit what he needed it to be, leaving things out, adding things in. (There were a lot of things in his life he didn’t want to remember, things he didn’t want to be true- his brother dying when Eames was ten would be one of them- and so he could just hit the delete button on them, not mention them and pretend they didn’t happen. And if no one knew about them- not the people he worked with, not the women he slept with- then he could pretend that they really didn’t happen. He could hide the truth away from even himself and that was a lovely way to live.)
But then that young architect came around. She came into his life quite accidentally, this young and raw talent that surprised him. She was much more talented than he had expected her to be, brought them into a well put together and beautiful world. (He hadn’t let his surprise show though, hadn’t let her know how impressed he actually was by her. he found that if you let someone know too often that they're talented then they take it for granted and the talent fades.)
And somehow, after that, she had gotten under his skin. And he found himself talking to her all the time, calling her when he was out of the country, spending time in her apartment. She had somehow drawn him in with her innocent face and her dark, dark eyes and her smile. (He shared with her things he had never shared with anyone else as though she had reached into his head and pulled the information out, seduced him into it with her innocence.)
For a long time she was his world; for a long time he would try to talk to her daily, calling her even when he knew he shouldn’t, when he knew it was a risk. (He was tempted to tell her everything about himself; he was tempted to take her into the depths of his mind, the dangerous recesses of his thoughts, to show her things that could scare her half to death, that could chase her away. But he found that he wanted to be honest with her above all else.)
But getting close to her was dangerous; getting close to her meant leaving himself open- it meant putting her out in the middle of a battle field. (If anyone knew how much she knew about him she could be in danger; letting her know so much put himself at risk.)
And so he stopped calling her; and so he stopped coming over. And he wouldn’t return her calls either. He had all but cut her out of his life. (She called him quite a bit and he would just sit there, looking at her name on his glowing screen until the voicemail picked up, not letting himself care, not letting himself admit that he cared.)
He had let her get too close to finding out who he really was; he had opened himself up too much, let her curl up inside of him for too long, so long that his body had started to meld around her, tried to keep her as a part of him. (It was like slow poison of the most beautiful kind.)
He put a wall up around himself to keep them both safe, put it all to an end. (He works with her when he needs to; he treats her with kindness, with respect but never lets anything go further than that.)
Sometimes he can see her watching him like she wants to get rid of his new wall, like she wants to get back to how they were. (But he knows that she would never do that. because she may not be weak but she's not good at destroying things and she never will be.)
Author: butterflys_fics/blacksouledbutterfly
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Ariadne/Eames
Word Count: 735
Summary: He had never been much for sharing himself with others.
Warnings: Minor mentions of sex.
Notes: Companion to From Bokara To Invisible.
He had never been much for sharing himself with others. In his line of work it paid to keep secrets; it paid to become an anomaly. (But he can't deny that’s how he was even before he began working in the way he did. He was always the secretive man in the dark corner of a bar; always the man a girl shagged and knew nothing about, not even his real name.)
He had been quite content in living his life as a shadow, as a mystery. He liked editing his life to suit what he needed it to be, leaving things out, adding things in. (There were a lot of things in his life he didn’t want to remember, things he didn’t want to be true- his brother dying when Eames was ten would be one of them- and so he could just hit the delete button on them, not mention them and pretend they didn’t happen. And if no one knew about them- not the people he worked with, not the women he slept with- then he could pretend that they really didn’t happen. He could hide the truth away from even himself and that was a lovely way to live.)
But then that young architect came around. She came into his life quite accidentally, this young and raw talent that surprised him. She was much more talented than he had expected her to be, brought them into a well put together and beautiful world. (He hadn’t let his surprise show though, hadn’t let her know how impressed he actually was by her. he found that if you let someone know too often that they're talented then they take it for granted and the talent fades.)
And somehow, after that, she had gotten under his skin. And he found himself talking to her all the time, calling her when he was out of the country, spending time in her apartment. She had somehow drawn him in with her innocent face and her dark, dark eyes and her smile. (He shared with her things he had never shared with anyone else as though she had reached into his head and pulled the information out, seduced him into it with her innocence.)
For a long time she was his world; for a long time he would try to talk to her daily, calling her even when he knew he shouldn’t, when he knew it was a risk. (He was tempted to tell her everything about himself; he was tempted to take her into the depths of his mind, the dangerous recesses of his thoughts, to show her things that could scare her half to death, that could chase her away. But he found that he wanted to be honest with her above all else.)
But getting close to her was dangerous; getting close to her meant leaving himself open- it meant putting her out in the middle of a battle field. (If anyone knew how much she knew about him she could be in danger; letting her know so much put himself at risk.)
And so he stopped calling her; and so he stopped coming over. And he wouldn’t return her calls either. He had all but cut her out of his life. (She called him quite a bit and he would just sit there, looking at her name on his glowing screen until the voicemail picked up, not letting himself care, not letting himself admit that he cared.)
He had let her get too close to finding out who he really was; he had opened himself up too much, let her curl up inside of him for too long, so long that his body had started to meld around her, tried to keep her as a part of him. (It was like slow poison of the most beautiful kind.)
He put a wall up around himself to keep them both safe, put it all to an end. (He works with her when he needs to; he treats her with kindness, with respect but never lets anything go further than that.)
Sometimes he can see her watching him like she wants to get rid of his new wall, like she wants to get back to how they were. (But he knows that she would never do that. because she may not be weak but she's not good at destroying things and she never will be.)