future fic or past fic not sure. not in anyway based on or a reaction to our spoilery friends. just a tale i thought of while laying in bed one night. It's funnny i started it on my iphone and finished it here.
so all spelling mishaps are from autocorrect because it tries to correct my words.
Fat raindrops, big clear liquid bubbles that fell from the sky in a single file fashion, one after another, after another. The grass was a brilliant shade of green, each blade standing at attention under the feet of the very few that knew her, underneath the boots of his feet, the weight of his mistakes.
She wouldn't have wanted it any other way but like this, blue and red and white stripes over a sleek black coffin, a bouquet of rare and hard to find white lilies adorning the ring atop it. The whole thing was perfect. It was beautiful because she was beautiful.
The cemetery was right by the harbor, and on a sunny day the water as an unreal shade of blue, welcoming and beckoning as the beach was. But most of the days they enjoyed it like it was now, a simpler color of gray, mysterious, a color that held so many meanings to them and to the world. She was a gray kind of person, he figured, because she was as complex and mysterious as the color itself. It was all perfection at it's finest.
She was perfection at it's finest.
His black gloved fingers twisted around the silver ring in his fingers, gentle and as delicate as she was, a simpler shade of gray with a brilliant luster, seen by few but loved by all. The ring belonged to her, it belonged with her, he belonged with her. Everything felt so strange, foreign without her. Even the gray of the silver ring felt strange without the woman who brought the luster to it.
He stuffed it back into his pocket and stared at the larger picture on the easel, the military Dunham with eyes so innocent staring back at him. If only he knew her then, known her with that innocence maybe it would have remained so. But he didn't fall in love with her and her innocence, he fell in love with her and her...just her. That was the only possiblity, because she just was and he just wasn't and they fit together perfectly. Fate was perfect.
Which made this all the worse.
It became unfair, fate, and it's cruel ways of breaking apart something amazing for something awful. What possible good came from her departure? Who will be the queen now? Who will be his goddess of everything, something he was forbidden but had anyway? An angel without wings, face surrounded by blonde hair that ignited in the sunshine, gold upon beautiful silken skin, flesh that was cold to him now, empty to him now.
He didn't even have it in him to hate the man that put her there. There was a feral part of him, the inhuman, animal part of him that would kill the man the moment he lay eyes on him. A possessiveness that he had no control of longed to lash out at the soul that brought her to her knees. But while that beast inside him urges and lurks for the moment, the stronger side, his human side, the side she touched and cherished tells him it won't do any good. She is gone. She is waiting for him now.
A sudden sense of calamity washes him from the tip of his head to his toes, and he suddenly knows it's not the rain that's touching him, caressing his skin, but is an ease of awareness that belongs to a presence that is long gone. Olivia is here, in spirit and she is telling him it is time to go. So he will agree and go with her. There is no reason to stay behind anymore anyway.
He can't even stand to be 24 hours without her, even 12 would be unbearable and so it is directly from her funeral to the machine he goes. She's there with him in spirit, a blue presence in his red world. In the front seat of his black SUV she sits with him, and he almost goes to open the passenger door for her when he remembers she is only a presence now. But she is a strong one and it makes him smile to know she's waiting, patiently. And he can hardly wait now.
He strips completely save for boxers at the top of the platform. The machine has long since moved into place, aligning to fit his skin like a glove, ready to rip him from limb to limb, to tear him apart at the seams and let skin become molten metal, a soul becomes a world.
So it is with a quiet calmness that he climbs into the machine, arm fitting into place, leg sliding away with ease. Once settled the metal clamps down on him and he instantly feels a strange relaxation followed by a familiarness of knowing, the feeling that it was right to do all along. And so he closes his eyes and waits. And so he waits.
It doesn't take long for the burn, the numb, the hurt to radiate from his core. He feels Olivia there with him, sitting on the edge of the platform, feet dangling off and smiling, telling him it was all right. A sharp knife of pain stabs his side and he cries out, tears streaking his face but Olivia is there to calm him down, to settle him as everything around starts to tremble.
There is this horrendous groan of warping metal on metal and for a brief moment Peter feels scared at the sound, but its a fleeting second in the minutes he spends without Olivia there and it is nothing compared to the fear he has of being without her. He's never had this feeling before, this complete feeling of loss because she is no longer there to brighten his dark world. It's like only living in the dark, not being able to see what needs to be seen, no illuminating blonde hair to make things right.
A shouting is heard but it's muted to him as he looks toward the ceiling of the warehouse that houses the device and all he sees is blue sky. They would never understand why he used the machine, no one will understand the grief he has in him, and no one will stop him. Another painful tear rips into his side and he cries out yet again in pain, but this time he sees a flash of golden hair as the pain peaks before it fades away. It's sick and probably wrong but he is at peace. He is at agonizing peace with the world and the pain because he knows, he sees, she's there in all her glory waiting. No one would have known that the destruction of Olivia meant the birth of a new world, that the death of the queen of everything would mean a whole new game to play in. It the erasure of the past and everything in that makes it hard to stomach, to come by.
There is a loud sound in his ears and he is blinded by white, a glorious white light that turns gold and then opens for him. There is a bench in the midst of it all and there she is, in all her beauty, shining, golden, perfection, waiting for him. He smiles up at her and she sees him, actually sees him and returns it. Inhaling one last breath he turns his face to her and whispers.
"Livie, I'm coming home."
so what did you think? love it? hate it? are you crying...?