And the Mill Wheel Slows Down [Father Kreiner/Eight] (Regrets)
Pairing: Father Kreiner/Eight
Challenge: Regrets
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: For the EDA The Ancestor Cell. The Story will be understandable only if you have read that, I fear.
Summary: This hand is meaning to hurt you, but it doesn’t.
Note: For lack of time and personal reasons this will be, for a long time at least, my last post in this community. I'm not sure how often I can come here to read your stories, so you'll probably not get many comments from me in the near future. I'm sorry for that, and that I'll miss your works. They have, so far as I have read them, all been great!
Dead eyes watch you from an almost unrecognizable face. Dead, but burning. Their stare runs straight into your very soul, uncovering all your secrets but finding only those he wants to find. You open your heart to let him know, to make him understand but he doesn’t see. He’s created his own truth, and the skin his one working, trembling hand touches isn’t yours. It’s the skin of a man you hope doesn’t exist.
This hand is meaning to hurt you, but it doesn’t. And yet it hurts, keeps the air from your lungs until you’re drowning. You know it is your fault, and the guilt is crippling.
He’s lived too long, suffered too much, living among monsters and becoming one in the process. You never wanted this to happen to him; the truth, the realisation sinks in slowly even now, and the horror grows with each passing second. He is what you made him. Never have you wanted so much to undo the past. It’s a dangerous thought and you know where it’s leading. Fighting desperation you wonder if he is aware that in all of this he is just a tool, all his pain just part of the plan meant lead you to this point.
You’re almost there. The battle with desperation is lost the moment you realise that to keep yourself, to keep everything from becoming like him you’ll have to sacrifice him, once again.
Fingers tremble against your cheek with the desire to tear off your face, to caress. He has waited for you for so long. You look into his eyes in search of the man you once knew and mourn for what you find. For he is in there still, lost, helpless but still there, a shadow that survived to wait for you for all these years. He is waiting for you even now. Come and save me.
Please.
You can’t look away. You hearts shatter.
Do you regret abandoning me now, asks he, who is too torn to hurt you and too broken not to. Do you wish you’d come back?
Yes, you want to say. And, I’m sorry. So sorry. I didn’t know. You look for your friend in his dead eyes and say, I can’t turn back time. Except you could and he knows it.
His lips are dry, brittle and bloodless, and cold against yours. He hates you - you know you deserve it and it breaks your hearts even more that he can’t get over you, that he’ll forgive you in the end.
You break his heart in return when you take his face in your hands and call him by his name. He can’t bear it, tells you to stop when what he longs for, more than anything, is to be that man one more time. You say it again, firmly. The name is still his and you want him to know it.
In the end he’ll forgive you. The certainty is a poison that swallows your soul.
A single hand, brittle yet strong enough to snap your neck in a second curls in your hair. You imagine, when he kisses you, that he tastes the betrayal, the cowardice, the lie, and maybe, just maybe, the necessity, all compressed and waiting on your lips.
When you kiss him back you only taste ash.
September 8, 2008
Challenge: Regrets
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Spoilers: For the EDA The Ancestor Cell. The Story will be understandable only if you have read that, I fear.
Summary: This hand is meaning to hurt you, but it doesn’t.
Note: For lack of time and personal reasons this will be, for a long time at least, my last post in this community. I'm not sure how often I can come here to read your stories, so you'll probably not get many comments from me in the near future. I'm sorry for that, and that I'll miss your works. They have, so far as I have read them, all been great!
Dead eyes watch you from an almost unrecognizable face. Dead, but burning. Their stare runs straight into your very soul, uncovering all your secrets but finding only those he wants to find. You open your heart to let him know, to make him understand but he doesn’t see. He’s created his own truth, and the skin his one working, trembling hand touches isn’t yours. It’s the skin of a man you hope doesn’t exist.
This hand is meaning to hurt you, but it doesn’t. And yet it hurts, keeps the air from your lungs until you’re drowning. You know it is your fault, and the guilt is crippling.
He’s lived too long, suffered too much, living among monsters and becoming one in the process. You never wanted this to happen to him; the truth, the realisation sinks in slowly even now, and the horror grows with each passing second. He is what you made him. Never have you wanted so much to undo the past. It’s a dangerous thought and you know where it’s leading. Fighting desperation you wonder if he is aware that in all of this he is just a tool, all his pain just part of the plan meant lead you to this point.
You’re almost there. The battle with desperation is lost the moment you realise that to keep yourself, to keep everything from becoming like him you’ll have to sacrifice him, once again.
Fingers tremble against your cheek with the desire to tear off your face, to caress. He has waited for you for so long. You look into his eyes in search of the man you once knew and mourn for what you find. For he is in there still, lost, helpless but still there, a shadow that survived to wait for you for all these years. He is waiting for you even now. Come and save me.
Please.
You can’t look away. You hearts shatter.
Do you regret abandoning me now, asks he, who is too torn to hurt you and too broken not to. Do you wish you’d come back?
Yes, you want to say. And, I’m sorry. So sorry. I didn’t know. You look for your friend in his dead eyes and say, I can’t turn back time. Except you could and he knows it.
His lips are dry, brittle and bloodless, and cold against yours. He hates you - you know you deserve it and it breaks your hearts even more that he can’t get over you, that he’ll forgive you in the end.
You break his heart in return when you take his face in your hands and call him by his name. He can’t bear it, tells you to stop when what he longs for, more than anything, is to be that man one more time. You say it again, firmly. The name is still his and you want him to know it.
In the end he’ll forgive you. The certainty is a poison that swallows your soul.
A single hand, brittle yet strong enough to snap your neck in a second curls in your hair. You imagine, when he kisses you, that he tastes the betrayal, the cowardice, the lie, and maybe, just maybe, the necessity, all compressed and waiting on your lips.
When you kiss him back you only taste ash.
September 8, 2008