Elle pauses and looks into Gabriel's eyes, her hands shaking with excitement as she kneels down beside where he is sitting. He sits staring at his hands at the dining room table, making shapes and letters from the grains and trying not to look at her. The plate she has brought his hits the table too hard and makes a sound that shatters the silence and he twitches slightly at the noise, catching a glimpse of her. She has a stupid grin on her face. He sighs.
Today is Gabriel's turn.
&&
Someone once told Elle that good liars need even better memories. She doesn't want to be a good liar anymore.
She knows how desperately Gabriel wants her to fix him but knows she can't, just as badly as she can see him trying to fix her even though she knows she's far beyond repair. Her daddy made sure of that when he broke her early, like a racehorse, but she didn't have anywhere to run so she just atrophied, detached and empty. A child should be able to recall her favorite bear or doll or record and smile, but when she tries to remember her favorite records she can only hear them with the echo of concrete walls, and when she thinks about dolls or bears she can still smell the faint scent of burning plastic.
It isn't her fault that she was treated like an experiment, but somehow she can't help but think that maybe if she had been a better little girl that things could have been different. Maybe if she had been she could have been Noah's daughter instead and she would have spent her afternoons making cookies instead of making monsters.
She knows she was just following orders, just trying to get her daddy to finally say those three little words, but none of that makes her feel any better. She just hopes that one day she'll be able to see Gabriel wearing his glasses without feeling her chest ache, hopes the day will come when she can finally ask him to make that beautiful watch she's always wanted without feeling like she's putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger.
Elle can taste the blood of hundreds on his lips in each and every kiss and she swallows the apologies they can't say, and they're so bitter that they sting her tongue and burn her throat (but they both know words would never be enough for what they've done to each other).
//
Gabriel doesn't believe in ghosts. That doesn't stop him from being haunted.
He prides himself in his understanding and he thinks he understands everything, that is except for why when he sees a quartz crystal as big as a fist he can't help but see it covered in blood, and when he thinks of sandy beaches on dark nights he can't help but feel his heart burn like Elle has it clamped between her hands and is giving it all she's got, determined to kill him for good. He couldn't kill her for good, but he sometimes wonders if she has more of a spine than he does.
He was angry, he was scared, he was confused; she deceived him before, why wouldn't she do it again? There are a million excuses he can think of for what he did, but none of them change the fact that when he runs his fingers through Elle's hair he swears he can still feel sand pressing and scratching against her skin, and nothing stops the guilt he feels when she recoils almost every time he moves hair away from her face, fingers trying their best to be gentle but their best isn't good enough.
It isn't his fault that he was more than ordinary, but somehow he can't help but think that maybe if he had been a better man that things could have been different. Maybe if he hadn't been such a coward he would have understood that normal was okay if being special meant being a murderer.
When he kisses her she tastes like a metallic brine of lithium and tears and he wishes she were a watch so he could wind her back to zero and let her start again (he wonders if he would still love her).
&&
Gabriel knows how to fix everything but himself and Elle can follow anything but her own advice. He suggests they fix their memories by giving them one more shot, fix what reminds them of what ruined everything, wipe and reinstall. She follows his order without question, because it can't be worse than this.
Elle used to go to the beach with her daddy when she had been very, very good, and it was one of the only happy memories from her childhood she had. Gabriel destroyed that. Now when she passes beaches static fills the air and tears well in her eyes and she refuses to hold his hand (if he tries she just shocks him, he thought he would get used to it but he hasn't).
Last week Gabriel and Elle went to the beach, and when she came home she laughed at his sunburned nose and smiled (not cried) when the next day she found sand in her hair.
Baby steps.
Today is Gabriel's turn.
He opens his mouth just slightly, letting her slip past his defenses, and for the first time in a long time he doesn't feel shame or deceit when he thinks about what it really means. It's not just an object and it's not just an action, it's a reminder of his entire life unraveling at the seams with Elle at the end, running further and further away with the thread in hand. But it doesn't have to be, not anymore.
Gabriel opens his eyes and finds himself looking directly at her. She is studying him, waiting for his reaction, and when a grin inches its way across his face (because it's good, it really is) hers follows suit, a perfect mimic until the end when hers continues to grow far larger than his own and she giggles like a child. He can see the happiness in her eyes and they look just a little less burdened, and he thinks maybe it won't be a fast fix, but they can do it.
She presses her lips against his roughly and can't help but feel her heart flutter when all she tastes are peaches.
--
A/N: Ah, angsty with a bit of fluff for good measure. Written for a livejournal drabble challenge at sylelle_chall (prompt: I know that this was part of what had ruined everything but I wanted it once more anyway. - Francesca Lia Block). Won third place. Woohoo! Hope you enjoyed the story; don't hesitate to let me know if you did ;) Thanks for reading!