Notes: Much love and gratitude to dragynflies and katakombs for their beta'ing work, and to houseketeer for her undying encouragement.
Disclaimer: I attempted to proposition them once, but the police told me that was bad . . .
Philadelphia, 1997
Sunset . . .
The world is plunging into darkness. Allison stands on the rooftop of the hospital, the wind whipping her hair around her shoulders as the sky turns a brilliant blood red and the sun begins to dip below the buildings spanning the skyline behind her.
It has been a long day, full of frustration and heartache, and all she wants to do is get as far from everything as she can. Forget that her husband is slowly fading, and the only thing she can do is watch him die. A tremendous ache echoes within her chest, causing her to swallow back the tears that have been threatening to fall for the last twelve hours. She cannot cry. Not yet. It would mean giving up, and she's not ready to do that.
Instead, she hangs desperately onto the notion that love can conquer death. Even if his doctors don't seem to think so.
Ignoring the stinging behind her eyelids and pulling her jacket tighter around her lithe frame in an effort to ward out the cool night chill, she takes a deep breath and thinks about everything they've been through in the last four months alone:
Their marriage.
Small and intimate, held at his childhood church. She wore a white gown and smiled happily for the photographer, and tried to ignore the fact that she didn't believe in God.
Their life as newlyweds.
He held her in his arms every night, whispered sweet nothings into her ear. She snuggled close and tried to pretend that she couldn't hear the raspy quality to his words or feel the growing frailty of the arm he kept tucked around her shoulder.
The shadow of uncertainty that poked relentlessly at the increasing denial to which she had begun to desperately cling.
When they had married, she had known he was going to die. It was only afterwards that she began to tell herself that maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe the cancer wasn't terminal. Maybe he wasn't going to leave her after all.
But even stubborn denial isn't enough to ignore the steadily growing number of hospital visits, nor the dark circles that have begun to form under his eyes. It also isn't enough to block out the way he grimaces when the pain strikes his head just a little too brutally.
Maybe this is what brings her to the roof tonight. Now that the sword of truth has begun to poke holes into her shield of denial, she is left reeling with nowhere left to turn. She needs to get away for a little while. To fortify her defenses. She's beginning to realize that she needs them because she thinks the doctors might be right after all.
It is this thought that has invaded her mind when the door to the roof slowly opens, and her husband struggles through the threshold. Her eyes widen in alarm. "What are you doing up here?" she demands, rushing to his side. "You're supposed to be in bed."
"I missed you," he tells her, reaching for her and grabbing hold of her arm before she can take hold of his.
The words slice through her defenses, and she is left with a shaky smile upon her face. "I'm right here," she says. It is an attempt to hide the rush of emotions threatening to consume her. The piercing look that he gives her tells her that he sees through the words.
"What are you so afraid of?" he asks softly, his voice soft and husky. Unbidden, he reaches out and places his hand upon her slender arm.
The movement, the words, cause her to bite her lower lip as she wills the tears not to come. Turning to him, a smile forces its way onto her lips while the pain betrays itself behind her blue-green eyes. "Nothing," she whispers, her tone barely audible yet filled with the words that he will not say. Everything. Of being alone. Of losing you.
She knows that he knows what it is she is not saying, but neither of them makes a move to fill in the gap. Instead, he smiles brightly (the lie depicted on his lips) and takes her in his arms. "I'm not going anywhere," he says, gazing intently into her eyes before bringing his lips down to meet her own.
The kiss is sweet, tender. A thousand emotions are poured into their embrace, each more potent than the next. Affection. Desire. Love. Fear. Sorrow. It is this last which is felt most prevalently, however, leading to the tenderness in their kiss. She sighs against his lips as the tears finally begin to fall from her blue-green eyes and a chill runs down her spine.
The chill that began the moment she realized that even love may not conquer death.
Behind them, the sun finishes its descent below the horizon of the blood red sky, sending the world into an array of disjointed shadows.
Princeton, 2007
. . . Sunrise
The world is a jumble of shadows and light. Allison stands on the rooftop of the hospital, the cool morning breeze whipping through her hair as the steely gray sky lightens to a misty blue and the sun begins to rise above the buildings spanning the skyline before her.
It has been a long night, full of frustration and headache, and now that the patient has been diagnosed and is on the way to recovery, all she wants to do is go home and rest. Unfortunately, it appears that once again her heart has decided to rule her head. Sighing in frustration, she shoves her hands further into the pockets of her lab coat and wonders when things became so complicated. And realizes that maybe they've always been this way.
Their first date.
Awkward and impersonal, held at a nearby coffee shop. She wore a red sweater and shifted nervously in her seat, and laughed a little too loudly at his jokes.
Their new relationship.
He often left before she awoke, leaving only a faint indentation in her bed. She'd snuggle close to the spot and try to pretend that his new attitude at work wasn't a sign that the end was near, and that his inherent ability to withdraw his emotions wasn't a fumbled attempt to protect himself.
The utter hopefulness, which she clung onto as if it were her shield and she were its sword.
When they had started dating, she had known he was afraid of losing another piece of himself. It was only afterward that she began telling herself that she was enough. Maybe he could move on from the past, from the pain. Maybe if she just loved him enough, they could be happy after all.
But even stubborn determination isn't enough to ignore the wave of fear that she feels when she realizes that even hope may not be enough to keep their relationship afloat. So good at denying everything that has been happening, she can no longer deny the fact that he's gotten so damn good at pushing her away.
Maybe this is what brings her to the roof tonight. Now that the shield of denial has risen to block the sword of truth, she is reeling with nowhere left to turn. And she doesn't like it. She doesn't like feeling like she's out of options. She's felt this way before, and she doesn't want to feel this way now. Not when they've finally begun to break down the walls they've spent so long erecting.
It's time to let him know that she's not going to let those walls come back up. So when she enters the roof, the first words out of her mouth are nothing more than verbal challenges. "What are you so afraid of?" she asks softly, her voice throaty and silken. Unbidden, she reaches out and places her hand upon the coat which covers his muscular arm.
The movement, perhaps the words, cause him to swallow visibly as he attempts to force a mask upon his features. Turning to her, his expression remains stoic, unreadable, except for the fear which betrays itself behind his vibrant blue eyes. "Nothing," he says, his tone hard and mocking, yet somehow betraying the words which he will not say. Everything. Of being alone. Of losing you.
He does not need to say them. She knows what he is feeling because she is feeling it, too. The intense yet clinging fear, the sense of possible loss . . .
So she takes a step closer to him as an unbidden look of tenderness enters her blue-green eyes (the truth reflected within her eyes). "I'm not going anywhere," she whispers, giving voice to his fears. Her lips curl upward into a smile as she sees a glimmer of hope (it is quickly hidden, but she knows it was there) flash within his own eyes. "Nowhere," she affirms before reaching up and bringing her lips crashing against his own.
She can feel him holding back, as though he believes he can fight what is happening between the two of them. She knows that it is a battle he will not win. Because she has already lost.
So when he places his palm upon upon the small of her back and pushes her deeper into the kiss, she moves willingly and wraps her own arms around his shoulders. Savors his taste, breathes in his scent, shivers at his touch. Pushes her tongue into his mouth. Allows her fear to fade for just one moment as she revels at the feelings that have begun to emerge.
It will never be easy. They will always clash, always crash, probably even burn. But right now, she doesn't care. Right now, it feels like the walls are coming down and she's never felt more free.
Ahead of them, the sun finishes its ascent to the apex of the pale blue sky, sending the shadows scattering while the earth completes another revolution on its axis.
FIN
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