Chapter Title: Silence
Summary: Michel escorts Kerry home from a funeral. They speak, and are silent in turn.
Warnings: slightly depressing, nothing graphic
Rating: T
Pairing: Kerry/Michel (if you like to read between the lines)
"There are haunters of the silence,
Ghosts who hold the heart and brain."
-Madison Julius Caiwen, Haunters of the Silence
She wasn't afraid. Not really, anyway. He was watching her as she moved across the floor, stopping every few feet to accept the condolences of a few well meaning mourners. Still, steadily she was making her way toward him.
So maybe he was right. And she was wrong. Life didn't last forever.
"Not going to cry, are you?" he asked, smiling that funny little half-smile. She just looked at him.
"I don't think so."
The smile faded into a more intense stare. "Good."
Such a funny concept, living. People threw the word around with no real grasp of how precious it was…until it was lost. He was putting an arm around her now, ushering her away from the crowd around the coffin.
She let him do it. Together they made their way out into the night.
"Hey."
"Hmm. Yes?"
He slid the key into the lock on the passenger side of his car and held it open for her. She got in carefully, smoothing her dress back and out of the way. He shut the door behind her firmly, and went around to sit in the driver's seat. She let him put the car into gear and back out of the parking lot before she continued.
"Does it frighten you?"
"Does what?"
"That it could have been me lying there, instead of Olivia."
His hands tightened on the wheel, and his mouth set in a firm line. She examined his face carefully for any hint of weakness, of vulnerability.
Nothing.
So she pressed onward. "It was only luck, really, that I managed to survive at all. The water was so deep, and she was pulling me down.
"Olivia never learned to swim," she added, as an afterthought. "My mother taught me how as soon as I learned to crawl."
"Fortunate," he remarked dryly, as if implying the exact opposite. Kerry wasn't fooled. He accelerated up to the corner of the street, eager to get her home and himself away as quickly as possible.
"Yeah, I think so. It's good I could remember the basics, though. Did you know I was treading water for five whole minutes while they got a boat out there?"
He said nothing, but wrenched the wheel around violently, taking the turn at eighty miles an hour. She shrieked and grabbed hold of the armrests.
"Jesus, Michel! This is a thirty five miles per hour zone! Are you trying to kill us both?"
"Been there, done that," he reminded her with a tight smile.
She shrugged. He still wasn't looking at her. "You know what I mean."
There was no reply. Kerry stared out the window at the lights flying by and took a deep breath. The quiet was suffocating her slowly. It was not by words that she would come undone, it was in silence. He was often cruelest in his silences.
As for herself, well, words were her only weapon.
"I wasn't scared," she said slowly. She could almost feel the stillness shatter around her, sending shards flying in every direction. "I was cold, though. I was wishing it could be decided already one way or another."
She wasn't watching him anymore, but facing straight forward, face blank. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him steal a glance at her.
"I knew Olivia was gone. She wasn't screaming any longer. And I was tired. Tired of kicking; tired of waiting for someone that might never come."
"But you kept waiting," he murmured thoughtfully.
"Yes. I think…I think I would have waited until my legs gave out and dragged me under. Underwater."
She shuddered and wondered when the conversation had taken on a double meaning.
They were pulling into her driveway now, and she hugged herself, rubbing her arms furiously in an attempt to ease the goosebumps that had arisen.
"Would you have come?" she asked suddenly, "If I had died? Would you have brought flowers for the casket?"
"Kerry," he warned.
But she couldn't stop; she was half hysterical already. Her voice was rising in pitch. "Would you have visited my grave, when they buried me? Or would you have forgotten already?"
He slammed on the brakes without warning and turned to her furiously. "That is enough."
She made a strangled sound, half laugh half sob. "No, Michel. It's never enough."
He looked away sharply and she got out of the car, slamming the door behind her. He didn't pull away until she had closed the door behind her and turned on the porch lights. She watched his taillights until they vanished from view, and thought about death.
