TITLE: I Fall Without You
RATING: T for angst, angst, angst
PAIRING: Pam/Tara
SYNOPSIS: Far into the future, Pam reflects on the dire consequences of her actions
DISCLAIMER: True Blood and its characters do not belong to me so don't sue 'cuz I have absolutely nothing of value.
A/N: So, I just watched the second episode of Glee and as part of their Britney tribute, they covered Everytime. And for some (sadistic) reason, after hearing their rendition, this story popped into my head and refused to leave. It's a song-fic, yeah and it's angst-y as all motherfu*kin' hell so take it with a spoon full of sugar 'k?
The sky was an angry palette of purple-black clouds, swollen with rain that had yet to fall. Thunder growled ominously, its rumbles deep and loud enough to threaten the foundations of the earth whilst lightning slashed mercilessly at the sky in jagged streaks of white-hot light.
Pam stared out the window, pale blue eyes blank with grief as she silently observed Mother Nature's fury. The chaos in the sky matched the turmoil in her soul.
Notice me
Take my hand
The blonde vampire turned to stereo set perched by the corner of her dresser. In this day and age, the machine was a novelty, a reminder of times past. But Pam always had a penchant for nostalgia; three centuries of walking the Earth made one sentimental toward even the most inane objects.
Why are we strangers
When our love was so strong?
Sorrow clawed at her, sinking fangs deep into her unbeating heart and scoring multiple lacerations across the vulnerable muscle. Pam's eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, a valiant attempt to not to let the feeling manifest into droplets of bloody tears. She knew she had failed when she felt a slight wetness seep from the corner of her tightly shut eye only to meander almost lazily down a lily pale cheek.
She'd failed. Just like she had failed in loving Tara.
Tara. Pam's eyes yawned opened again revealing twin pools of glacial blue that were awash with a pain so visible, it would have driven the coldest of hearts to their knees. The blonde wondered where her progeny was. What she was doing. If she was even alive. When Pam had broken their maker/progeny bond in the heat of anger, she had broken Tara's trust. And robbed herself of Tara's love. Now all that was left inside of her was a coldness that ate into her bones and sucked away at her zest for life.
Why carry on without me?
The soft strains of the haunting melody carried over easily to Pam, whose hearing was as acute as if she had her ear pressed up to the stereo speaker. Why should Tara carry on without her? Pam knew the answer before the question could even properly formulate itself in her mind.
People always thought Pam was the strong one. The confident one. She was the maker. She had the power. The control. How very wrong they were.
It was Tara who held sway over her. Tara who controlled the reins. Tara who was singularly the only person on this godforsaken planet who could reduce Pam to nothing more than the empty shell she now was. it was Pam who pondered why she should carry on without Tara.
Another blood-tear escaped, chasing its predecessor down Pam's cheek and leaving behind a windy streak of red.
Every time I try to fly
I fall without my wings
Pam had tried. She tried to adjust to a life without Tara. Tried to build back some semblance of normalcy, of indifference. And just like a toddler trampling over Lego bricks, her attempts crumbled like broken biscuits. It was another thing she had added to her list of failures.
I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
Fifty years. Fifty years since their estrangement was how long it took for Pam to admit that she needed Tara. That she couldn't breathe without Tara. The concept of needing to breathe was so ridiculous to a vampire that Pam had doubled over in hysterics for a full minute before those sounds of laughter gave way to gut-wrenching sobs.
And every time I see you in my dreams
I see your face
Pam couldn't recount the last time she had a good day's sleep and her body reflected the consequences of being subjected to one too many Bleeds. The blonde had an air of malnourishment around her; her body wasted and thin, her hair lank and unstyled. She barely fed anymore, only forcing herself to consume the cheapest of synthetic bloods when the hunger became overwhelming.
You're haunting me
Pam wanted to hate Tara. She wanted to hate her with intensity that would melt the sun, the moon and the stars. But she couldn't. The person responsible for her despair was also the only person that made her cling to the threads of life, fraying as they were. Seeing Tara's face when she did sleep gave her reprieve from the hellish nightmare that was now her life.
I make-believe
That you are here
It's the only way
I see clear
Pam was no stranger to delusions. She had forced many upon herself during her waking hours. Never doubt the power of your mind, someone had once proclaimed. There were nights where Pam could fool herself into thinking that Tara was by her side or that her absence was temporary. If she starved herself for a good month or so, she could almost feel Tara's ebony skin next to her, smell the scent of cinnamon and dark chocolate lingering in the room like phantom ghosts.
What have I done?
Another roar of thunder rattled the windows and the slash of lightning that cut a vertical line down the ink black sky was so bright that Pam had to blink against its harshness. What hadn't she done? As a human she had shamed her parents to the point where they disowned her. As a penniless woman, she had sold her body to put food in her belly and a roof over her head. In an act of utter desperation, she had slit her wrists and handed her fate to Eric. As a century year old vampire she had given her most fragile commodity, her heart, to someone. Only to sabotage herself with words so sharp and actions so reckless that she had lost everything.
You seem to move on so easy
Yes. Tara was the strong one of the two. She was the one who walked away, battered and bruised as she was from Pam's actions. Tara was the one who didn't look back, didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. Tara was the one who left to start anew.
The chorus of the song whispered through the stereo like wisps of silk. The singer's voice was a study in anguish, every syllable dripping with grief. Pam leaned her head against the window, the crisp frigid air outside tinting the glass with a biting cold that snaked into her pores. Outside the city was blanketed in darkness save for the pinpricks of lights that dotted the streets. Another clap of thunder rolled across the otherwise quiet city, its sound piercing through the window and vibrating through Pam's body.
I may have made it rain
Pam was startled when the window was suddenly assaulted with bullet-sized raindrops. She looked up and saw that the sky had split in two, the clouds tearing itself apart in a furious attempt to lighten its load of water. A steady sheet of rain began pouring from the broken skies, obscuring the city in a blurry curtain of raindrops.
Please forgive me
My weakness caused you pain
Pam jumped, actually jumped when the rain pelted the glass with a driving force that could only be described as enraged. She reached up with a thin hand and pressed the flat of her palm against the windowpane. In retaliation, the rain dropped harder against the glass, thrumming an uneven rhythm that could easily be felt against her splayed hand.
And this song's my sorry
She wished she could take it back. She'd give her (undead) life to take back that fateful night. She'd willingly meet the True Death just to have Tara smile at her one more time. To have Tara hold her. Tell her she loved her, wholly, unconditionally.
At night I pray
That soon your face will fade away
She had prayed. She prayed. She cried. She hollered. She screamed. She begged. She pleaded. When she encountered nights that were simply too painful to endure to dawn, Pam had sank to her knees, calling on every deity she had come across or read to take away the emptiness in her heart. Yet, her pleas for mercy went unanswered. She still she went to bed with visions of Tara burning behind tightly closed lids. She walked the night imagining that the wind that swept around her was Tara wrapping strong, yet gentle arms around her. She awoke to the sensation of having felt Tara's lips on hers. Tara was more than a memory. She was everything.
Every time I try to fly
I fall without my wings
I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
Tears of rich ruby red crawled down her cheeks, winding crisscross paths across her too pale face only to hang precariously at the precipice of her jaw before they tumbled through the air, falling like miniature rose petals before landing on the floorboards in an outward circular splash.
And every time I see you in my dreams
I see your face
The singer's voice was a cacophony of unflinching pain and hopeless despair. It matched the raging storm of emotions that battered into Pam's soul, tearing and ripping until it left a trail of destruction and mayhem in its wake.
You're haunting me
How true were those words. Tara was everywhere. In her head. In my heart. In her dreams. On every face she bypassed on the street. The image of Tara was forever seared onto her soul, a brand that could never be erased no matter how hard she tried.
Pam's body shook under on a transport of heartache and pain. Her face was a macabre mask of blood, agony and misery, her normally vibrant winter blue eyes now eyes sunken and lifeless. She sank to the floor and folded in on herself, hoping to shield what was left of her wasted body and mind.
Outside the storm continued to rage. Winds howled their displeasure only to be drowned out by the rumbling growls of thunder. Rain pelted the earth in furious strokes and the clouds wept as lightning cut through the sky like white-hot swords.
I guess I need you baby
Yes, Pam needed Tara. But it was all too late.
FIN