Ficlet: "Loss of", T/Z, Truth or Consequences
Again, written for no_safety_pin. An interlude, happening towards the end of "Truth or Consequences".
The faces changed. The pain changed, too, depending on the face that brought it. But the mad man has been the real constant in her life for the last... weeks? Months? Years?
She isn't sure how long she's been here, and she thinks it doesn't matter. She was here long enough to get used to it. She was here long enough to come to terms with certain things. She was here long enough to regret others.
She doesn't want to look at his body on the floor, doesn't want to see her fate end like this, but eventually she can't help it. Blood pools underneath him and stains the floor she has looked at for hours and days and months.
She had so much time to regret.
And yet, all the time she has been in total control of this.
Not in the conventional way being in control means - she never acted, just reacted, and that only barely when she couldn't help it any more. She never actively shaped any of this.
She was merely aware of a simple fact that gave her control over her situation: that sooner or later she would die.
She made her peace with that fact and accepted it.
It was justified. It was the way it had to be, like a lot of things in her life had always been just the way they had to be.
And now, suddenly, her fate, her justice, is lying on the floor, and he's bleeding dry and his eyes are empty. She has looked into those eyes almost every day during the eternity that was her summer, and they have never been empty before. It scares her.
The outcome of this situation, the one thing she was so sure about - it will no longer end the way it was supposed to end. There is a new situation arising now. One that does not feel justified. One that shakes her to the core. One that needs her to adapt and react and possibly even act.
One that forces her to move forward once more. And she is terrified of that.
For a heartbeat, she wants to tell them to just leave her. To put a bullet to her head, too, so she doesn't have to fight, doesn't have to go on, doesn't have to adjust, doesn't have to deal with all of this.
For a heartbeat, she wants to scream and run from them and grab that gun and do it herself.
Except that she is no longer in control and she can't, so she just sits there and feels another tear run down her cheek while they cut her bonds.
For a heartbeat, her main regret leans down and touches her cheek and looks into her eyes. For a heartbeat, the world freezes.
And in the next heartbeat, his arm is around her waist and he drags her along and he helps her move forward.
.
The faces changed. The pain changed, too, depending on the face that brought it. But the mad man has been the real constant in her life for the last... weeks? Months? Years?
She isn't sure how long she's been here, and she thinks it doesn't matter. She was here long enough to get used to it. She was here long enough to come to terms with certain things. She was here long enough to regret others.
She doesn't want to look at his body on the floor, doesn't want to see her fate end like this, but eventually she can't help it. Blood pools underneath him and stains the floor she has looked at for hours and days and months.
She had so much time to regret.
And yet, all the time she has been in total control of this.
Not in the conventional way being in control means - she never acted, just reacted, and that only barely when she couldn't help it any more. She never actively shaped any of this.
She was merely aware of a simple fact that gave her control over her situation: that sooner or later she would die.
She made her peace with that fact and accepted it.
It was justified. It was the way it had to be, like a lot of things in her life had always been just the way they had to be.
And now, suddenly, her fate, her justice, is lying on the floor, and he's bleeding dry and his eyes are empty. She has looked into those eyes almost every day during the eternity that was her summer, and they have never been empty before. It scares her.
The outcome of this situation, the one thing she was so sure about - it will no longer end the way it was supposed to end. There is a new situation arising now. One that does not feel justified. One that shakes her to the core. One that needs her to adapt and react and possibly even act.
One that forces her to move forward once more. And she is terrified of that.
For a heartbeat, she wants to tell them to just leave her. To put a bullet to her head, too, so she doesn't have to fight, doesn't have to go on, doesn't have to adjust, doesn't have to deal with all of this.
For a heartbeat, she wants to scream and run from them and grab that gun and do it herself.
Except that she is no longer in control and she can't, so she just sits there and feels another tear run down her cheek while they cut her bonds.
For a heartbeat, her main regret leans down and touches her cheek and looks into her eyes. For a heartbeat, the world freezes.
And in the next heartbeat, his arm is around her waist and he drags her along and he helps her move forward.
.