Disclamer
I don't own these characters. I'm using them purely for my entertainment and I'm not making any money. If I was, I be a whole lot richer.
Stay With Me
It wasn't when she closed her eyes that she saw him but when she kept them open. Stay, with me… those soft words lingered in the rain. She could see him now, taking in the plains and hollows of her face. She looked into his face and thought that she saw love. She couldn't guard against the one thing she always wanted. So she let the defences fall, bit by bit, brick by brick. It hurt more when you built that wall the second time. She had learned that the hard way. Whoever had said it better to have loved and lost hadn't lived her life.
The question is- when a blind man tell you that you're beautiful, should you believe him? She had chosen to and carried the words with her. They were the only thing that kept her soul warm on the lonely nights she spent alone in the bare apartments that she called home. An assassin with a heart, the ultimate irony. Even worse, an assassin who wants to be loved by the man who had indirectly caused her death. Sometimes she hates her life, despairs at the isolation that is mostly self imposed. And she realizes that without death, she would have nothing to live for. The cruel twist that makes up her life is not lost on her.
Slowly, she traces a D on the window pane, looping another D through it, just like he used as his calling card. Her slender hand feels stiff, the fingers alabaster pale. The delicate bones in her wrist ache with the chill that travels from the glass, but she rests her hand there anyway. She wonders if it's better to feel pain than nothing at all and cannot answer the self imposed question. Through the narrow gaps in the condensation, she can see the rain falling outside. It's hardest on nights like these. With no-one to hold her and no-one to care, all she can feel is the bitter cold of outside creeping into her bones.
Rising from the bare floor, she wraps herself in a soft grey wool blanket and tries to pretend that it's his arms around her. She closes her eyes and breathes in the scent of him. He always smells of leather and some tangy unknown soap. Slowly, she turns, still with her eyes closed. She can feel him around her, though the room is still empty. If she was able, she would cry now, but if she let the emotion go, it would kill her. The ache of wanting him is so bittersweet for her.
And suddenly, the ghost of him is real. Warm arms encased in leather wrap around her. She opens her eyes, only to find that his are closed behind dark glasses. Tenderly, she slips them off and lets the wool blanket slide to the floor. Taking his hand, she leads him to the door. It opens silently on well oiled hinges and they step out into the rain together. She turns to face him so that he can see her and watches his reaction.
The smile threatens to spilt his face in half. He raises one hand and traces her features, fingers lingering on the slight scar on her neck. She lifts a hand to cover his, gently moving it away from her neck. She doesn't like to be reminded of her death. She smiles, and kisses him, then whispers in his ear the words that have come to represent their relationship.
"Stay. Stay, with me." The words are hopeful, their meaning clear. The wind snatches the words from her lips, but she knows that he heard them. He doesn't have to speak for her to know the answer.
She takes hold of his wrist, like she did on the first night. He lifts her like she weighs nothing at all and carries her to the bed where they've spent so few nights together. She knows that when she wakes, he'll be gone, back into the life he calls normal. She'll go back to wanting him for another year, but for a moment, that's alright. She needs him to get her through the night.
On the anniversary of her death, she celebrates her life with the man she now knows she loves.