It's raining. Thundering in the distance, somewhere beyond the point his eyes could see, but crimson flashes bounce around the walls of her bedroom. He can't get it out of his head, these three long days, endless days he thinks, with nothing but sadness and regret and anger and all the emotions he cannot quite name or would not. He's not sure anymore whose sadness he's feeling, his own or hers. Whichever it was he was ready to endure it all, to take it all away and smother it in his veins so she doesn't feel any of it anymore. She would surely tell him how wrong that is, how much it sounds like heroin. He doesn't care, for her he would do it all over, again and again on a loop till he finds the answer to her question. Why she said, that's the only thing she said when he rushed to the hospital, he was scared to death, now when he thinks about it, scared because he doesn't know how to heal, that's her gift and hers alone. And whatever solutions he conjures up from his brain is not enough for her, nothing is. She deserve much more than he can ever give, but by God he will die trying and if there is such a thing as an afterlife which he doubts, he would try even then, from the abyss of death he will caress and whisper and coo sweet words of encouragement and praise because she deserves a thousand lives of happiness, of hope and comfort and safety. She's stirring now, restlessly tossing her sheets around her slight frame, grabbing at the invisible spectre before her eyes.
-Joan…- he whispers tightly from the darkness.- Joan… I'm here.- he's on the verge of tears, unable to contain all the emotions that are thundering through his heart. A soft whimper reaches his ears and he is on his knees before her unable to hold on anymore. Tears are already sliding down his ruff, unshaven face, catching in his stubble.
- I am here, I will never leave your side again, I'd rather die than betray you like that again.- his hands touch softly at her temple. He chokes in her sorrow, it burns and aches and sears down to his very core. He's sure he's sobbing openly now and tries desperately to stop, to push it all down. She needs him now, to watch over her but he can't stop, to him her tears are acid and they leave open wounds and they drip and drip on him, all over him, punishing him. God, if I ever believed in you, if I ever for one moment believed that you exist why, tell me why are you punishing her, why are you punishing my guardian angel, why are you punishing her?
-Punish me.- he mutters silently through thick streams.- Please, I beg of you… Punish me.-
She feels it, the dread, the desperation. Fire, endless streams and strands burning her, around her, drowning her in smoke and soot. Why she begs, it roars and swirls, you did it, you did it, you did it. It whispers, stop, please. It will never stop, it is endless and powerful and it chokes. She can't breath, she cannot speak, she cannot think not now, not while it pushes it's way down her larynx to her lungs. It rips through her life like an endless forest fire, tearing it's way through her life, her friends, her loved ones, they are all gone. You did it they chant in unison. You killed him, murderer. They are a punishing choir of truth. I didn't, I didn't know. Fire rises around her, the long strips whip her back and shins. Searing down to her flesh and bones revelling nothing but the truth. I did it. She surrenders to it, to its burning embrace, let it eat me alive. But something is stopping it a slow, and sure river of words. It chases and fends away all the hurt and danger. It clashes with the fire, crackling and steaming around her. Punish me it says. And it is deep and blue and full of wonder. Please, I beg of you… Punish me. And she thinks she knows that voice, she's heard it before. It caresses her every morning with steam and jasmine and every night it sooths her with soft whispers. Whose voice is it, that distant river of love that embraces and touches her face with pure intent. I love her it says, soft and warm and true, ever present, ever calming. Don't hurt my angel… it drips adoringly over her face like small kisses. Who are you? She reaches but she cannot touch, cannot reach. Please, save me… everything is dark and deep, deep blue. Take me away! The fire is still there. She can see it, shining and licking at the edges of this deep blue wall. I will never leave you, the water reaches for her and she can swear it is human and warm, and it smells like home, like laughter and love and protection. Take me away from this place she chokes, surrounded by its embrace. I love you Joan… it hums safely rocking her to the shore.
She wakes, fluttering her eyes, slowly registering her surroundings. She's in her apartment, its cold and empty, there are boxes next to her bed, Andrew's clothes and shoes, piles and piles of books and cables and she realizes how much those things will remind her of him, even if they aren't those exact books, those exact cables he rolled around his three digits every evening when he packed his bag for work. There are small, almost indescribable noises coming from behind her door and there is a chair pushed close to the head of her bed. She knows who it is without even thinking. He insisted on staying, not taking no for an answer. She thinks about the dream again, about the water. But she cannot dwell on it long because her door is slowly opening, she hears it but is turned away from it, laying on her side, tucked in her favourite feather comforter. He is quite, so much so that she wasn't sure if he entered or not. There is soft clicking of porcelain coming her way and jasmine, endless streams of jasmine that makes her shiver.
- I'm here Joan, I'm not leaving.- he thinks she's asleep, he would never call her Joan otherwise but that voice, the voice she could identify anywhere, in any life time. – I will never leave you.- That deep, blue voice.