Title: Dance of the Reaper
Song: Threesome by Fenix Tx
Rating: Teen (maybe higher for later chapters)
Summary: Everything revolves around life and death. It is just a matter of which dance you're doing and who your partner is when you die.
Archive: Yes
Disclaimer: All of it is mine, but the characters and the song…Which leaves the plot…Damn.
AU: Not this time…J
To the Song Submitter: Sorry if this isn't what you expected or wanted, but this is what happened. Blame my muse. This first chapter is slightly strange, but later chapters will make more sense. I REPOSTED IT WITH A FEW CORRECTIONS. NOT BIG, JUST THERE. That is all.
Chapter One: Memories
And
if there's nothing left to say
I'll string you along until I get
my way
Use all those subtle inquiries
Like I want to know if
you aim to please
He liked to watch as she typed up the reports. Her head down, copper hair in front of her eyes, and her lips moving, but no sound coming out as she thought about what to type. Her delicate fingers sliding across the keyboard, and finishing another chapter on the daily lives of the men and women in blue. Her arms bent and the sweater pushed up by the posture just so that he could see the pale skin of her neck and collarbone. The small hollow of her throat visible. Sometimes she would bite the end of her pen in concentration when playing spider solitaire, and hoping that Deakins was not following her every move. He liked to watch, and when he watched, he dreamed.
He dreamed that he could feel her arms around him. Her fingers gently tugging at his hair, and her small body curled against his own. He dreamed this more than anything. He wanted her. Her body next to his so that he could keep her safe, and feel her skin against his own. Every night the same things flooded his brain and he was powerless to stop it because as long as she was with him he would dream about her, and as long as he could not have her, he would dream about her. She would torture him until he died, or she left.
They always left in the end. All saying that they could not stand him anymore. He was insane. He was too nice. He was too possessive. He was completely and utterly wrong. Alex would say that, and when she did, he would be lost. Lost is his own head, a place that only she ever dared to venture and save him from his demons. The voices reminding him of his past, his present and his future. His mother, his father and himself. Only she could save him. No one else knew how to scare them away, but she did, and every time she did it, she was one-step closer to being tired of him. One-step closer to hating him and what he was. Completely and utterly insane.
That was why he watched her. His dark eyes following every move so that he could memorize it, and remember it when she left. Only then would he no longer be able to live.
"Ya' know Goren, Deakins will keep you here to midnight if you don't finish that paperwork." Her honey brown eyes sparkled for a second as she goaded him on about his last all night paperwork case.
"I know, but I think it evolved and started eating my desk a few hours ago." He smiled. She smiled back. Safe, for now. But eventually she would leave and he would be left alone to face the horrors of his mind. Him versus his demented version of Satan's dominions. Only Alex could save him, but that would only happen if she stayed.
He was alone that night. He was spread out, his long legs taking up an incalculable amount of space. His thoughts remained on Alex, and his body followed suit. That evening they had gone out for dinner.
She had asked to go change before they left for the restaurant. As they drove to her apartment, he had kept his eyes on her, wondering if she knew how much one dinner was to him. She had drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the raindrops falling on the windshield. He could hear her breathing; in, out, in and out. When they reached her apartment, she told him to make himself comfortable while she changed. He stood in the middle of her apartment, awestruck at his own comfort in her territory. He glanced around at all of her pictures, realizing that this was the first glimpse of her place that he had ever had.
His eyes had been on the picture on the coffee table. No frame, nothing too important about it from his point of view, but he looked down at it never the less. It was balanced against a bottle of water as if someone had stared at it from a position curled up on the couch. She was in it. Obviously, and it took him a full two seconds to register what it was. A wedding picture. Her dead husband starring up at Bobby, and a smiling Alex hanging on his arm. He had never brought up the subject, never ventured close to it because it had been six years ago. He wondered if she still cried for him. He didn't want to think about his Alex crying over love when he would be more than happy to be the one holding her at night.
She returned in a pair of black pants and a red blouse. Her figure evident through the clothing. Bobby felt himself inwardly groan.
"I'm ready. I just do not like the idea of eating in my work clothes. I'm not too fond of this suit." She starred up at him waiting for an answer.
"It looked good on you." Bobby helped her shrug on her coat. He let his fingers brush her arms casually. Nothing threatening about it. She glanced up at him as she locked her door.
"Where're we going?" Bobby even opened the car door for her, but then, he did that every day.
"Italian place just a few blocks from here." She smiled.
"Sounds good."
They had danced that night, as they were waiting for the food to come. Just out of habit, Bobby had led. He could still feel Alex in his arms, her body against his. He had breathed her in. Almost every scent of her body had found its way to him, and he had almost died. His arms around her waist, and one hand resting on her lower back. The dance had been slow, and Alex had leaned against his chest. Her head resting softly on his shoulder.
He wondered if Alex could feel the tension in his body, overwhelming his every sense. He had hoped not. Would she remember the way they had danced? As is they were one being, joined in soul and body? Would she remember anything?
"Dance with me." He had stated it without leaving her room to refuse. If she had, his seat at the table would've remained full. He would never force her to love him. But instead, she had curled small hands around his and let him lead her to the floor. Her hand felt miniscule in his. If he held onto her too hard, he thought he would break her. Then they had danced.
With each step Alex had leaned into his body, and Bobby allowed himself to take full advantage of her position. With her head resting on his shoulder he could comfortably lean his head down and nuzzle against her scalp. He reframed from that urge, but did let his hands slide around her waist and gently rub her back. That had brought her closer to him. He didn't now how long he could last. Then the music stopped, and once again they were two separate beings.
He loved the feeling of being connected with her. Knowing that she was with him, and that he did not have to worry about her with someone else. They wouldn't be able to protect her like he could. He would die for her. Love her, and never think twice about saving her from death only be sacrificing himself. They could never love her like he did. He could never love her like he wanted to because of two simple words:
Partner Fraternization
Those two words destroyed all of his hopes of love and a family. He couldn't love anyone else when he loved Alex. She was his by all right, but at the same time, she would never be his. He needed her to stay sane, and his shadows were slowly taking over his mind without her. He wondered if she would remember him at all when he was gone. Lost in the world his mother had created while trying to get away from her demons. Sometimes he had been one of those demons.
She had chased him into his room. He could hear her clawing at the door, and he only had a few moments to hide. She would find the key soon and even the crate he had place in front of the door wouldn't hold her back. His fingers worked quietly on the latch to his closet and he hoped he wouldn't remember their games of hide-and-seek years ago. Last year. Last year she had counted to one hundred and found him hidden in the crawl space of his closet an hour later. She didn't get mad at their hour long round of the game. She had laughed and applauded him; calling him her brilliant little angle.
Now he sides had turned. He was the demon sent by Satan here to consume her soul. He didn't know when he had changed, or if anyone had noticed. When he finally crawled under the floor of his closet his shoulders scraped on the concrete leaving behind a bloody trail. The lock clicked on his door.
He could hear her coming. Her footsteps no longer soft as she tore apart his room, and he listened as every book was scattered on the floor among the rubble of the crate. Blankets, pillows and papers tumbled to the floor. She stopped. He could hear the hinges on the door creak open as she began the assault on his closet. She couldn't see the door. The corner was to dark and her eyes to weak, but if she caught him then no one would hear his screams. Mark was gone off to some party. As far away from his family as he could get. Drinking as much as dad and coming home to push Bobby out of the way and stumble to bed. Dad was out drinking again. He would come home smelling like beer and tobacco, not thinking twice about the smashed plate in the kitchen and the knife embedded in the wall. The blood on the stairs would go unnoticed until someone complained of the stain.
His right arm hurt. He gently flexed his fingers and felt more blood leak out of his wound. She wouldn't see the blood he had smeared on the door. She wouldn't notice it. His shoulder scraped against the floor again. She was still there. No tumbling objects broken on the ground. Just silence. She was sitting there, waiting for him.
"Bobby. Come out; come out where ever you are."
And
if you want to dance
If she wants to lead, I won't mind
Let's
try this all again only faster now
Now go ahead and pretend I'm
your master now
And if you want to dance, if she wants to
lead
I'll go out of my way, I'll do anything
And one word is
all I need
She liked to listen. She would let his voice slide across her skin and make her temporarily deaf to the ramblings of psychopaths and politicians. He had a hoarse quality to his voice, and she wondered if it would deepen when he screamed. She could hear him screaming her name. Each the first syllable long as he kissed her neck. Every night the same sounds invaded her sleep. She was helpless to her minds whispers, and as darkness enclosed her, his screaming grew louder. He would keep screaming in her head until she heard it. Separation was not an option. She would not allow another man she loved to be taken from her.
She could remember the felling of his arms around her as they danced; the way he had held her. She remembered how he had whispered to her as they moved together. The way he smelled lingering with her long enough to torture he all through the rest of the meal. She had only been that close to him a few times, and during none of those times had she been entwined with her partner on a dance floor. Then there had been that one moment at the beginning of their partnership.
"Eames, are you sure you're comfortable with this?" His voice reached out across the few inches between them and rang in her ears despite his guarded whispering. She tugged on his arm and pulled his head down near hers.
"Goren, for the last time: I worked Vice. Pretending to be your wife will be much nicer than the hooker guise. Anyways, I never get a chance to wear this dress."
His eyes had followed her, and she had laughed. Everyone knew the rumors about the infamous Robert Goren. As strange as he was he always had some model gorgeous brunette draped over his arm. The only ladies man who flirted with cops and had never been maimed. That was all right. She wouldn't mind one night of being Goren's newest fling. At least the dinner was free, and this time he wasn't even Goren.
It had started out casually enough. Light touches and laughs, then Bobby began playing with her hair. His fingers gently running through her hair and stroking the back of her neck. She couldn't help herself. She leaned in against him and let him deal with the party. One arm slid around her waist, and Alex could feel Bobby's breath on the top of her head. She leaned her head onto his shoulder. Snuggling closer into his arms, she let Bobby continue playing with her hair, and lapsed into relaxed silence. Her fingers slid around his neck; she let herself play with the curls at the base of his neck. His hands were warm on her back, and were slowly working their way tighter around her waist. She couldn't hear the music anymore.
Was he even aware of how much he meant to here? That she wasn't like everyone else, and she wanted to stay with him? No, Robert Goren was incapable of realizing that he was loved. He would never notice her feelings towards him. Why should he when he had never been loved? She would make him notice, and then she would never loose him. Not again.
She had lost too many people in her life, and Bobby was not going to be one of them. She needed him. She needed him to be close to her so that she felt safe and protected. Of all that she knew and trusted, Bobby was the only one who could make her feel safe. She needed that safety. She had already lost too many people, and now she wouldn't let herself lose him again.
The hallways were white. With each step, she thought the clicking of their heels got louder against the linoleum floor. How could they carry on like that; acting as if nothing had happened? They were losing him. She could feel it, and with each second he was slipping away from her. Didn't they get it? He wasn't coming back. Her fingers were numb around the coffee cup.
Another second ticked by. He wasn't breathing. Her breath caught in her throat. He was bleeding. She began to fade away. He wasn't there to save her. She wouldn't cry for him, and she wouldn't let them see her fall. Did they know that he was gone? Or that their fruitless attempts to save his life had been in vain? She didn't even know where her feet were taking her. Then, he was there.
Light brown hair matted with blood and the tattered remains of his heart under the sheet. His face was as pale her hands as she leaned down over him. He still smelled of his aftershave, but the metallic scent of copper lingered too long at the back of her throat. Her breath made the sheet flutter, and she whispered her last good-bye.
Then, their silence was gone.
"That was the biggest waste of my life. A fucking hour wasted on some half-dead idiot who shouldn't have been messing around with a gun." Another second.
She didn't feel his throat under her hand, nor did she see his partner's face as she slammed him into a wall. She heard breathing, but it wasn't her protector's; it wasn't Matthew's. Now she would be his defender.
"Don't think for a second that you are better than my husband. He wasn't some idiot messing around with a gun. He was a cop and a person with a better sense of integrity than you, and he died protecting people. He saved them all and you couldn't save him so don't think for a second that you deserve to be standing here alive while he's alone." After that, she didn't remember them pulling her away from him, or the needle that brought her down.
She couldn't lose Bobby. He was her protector, and she needed him. Not again.
And
if
You know it's all in your mind
Take your time with this
one
You both deserve a good time
In every position that I can
think of
He was watching them. Every step they took and he knew about it. The idea that he could out-smart them fueled him, empowered him. They would know the pain that he had suffered, and they would break. He would take every one of their fears and exploit it like they had done to him. He would be the one in power this time, and they would be the ones shattering under His hands. No more Goren and Eames, the Wonder Team; he would be the one to bring them down to their knees. And he would enjoy watching them beg.
Never would he be powerless again. They would be his to torture and his to play with. Then again, cutting Goren down to size would be his favorite. That would almost be as enjoyable as having Eames to play with. He would keep her. Yes, she would be a nice replacement, and eventually he would break her. Then she would be begging him. That was what he wanted. He wanted to watch them beg. Goren's own trust would be his own downfall, and it would be wonderful. Once that trust was destroyed then he would break Eames-before his very eyes. Goren would be helpless as he tore Eames apart. They would be each other's downfall. Then, when he was done with Eames, he would cut back to Goren. That bastard had no idea what he was talking about, and it would cause him pain. How much did the invincible bleed?
The light reflected off the table as he swung his head up to look at her. Slime? Bitch! They couldn't play him. He had felt it, the attraction she had for him. If it didn't fit into her egotistic partner's macho plan then it wasn't his fault. He couldn't help it if women liked him. And what the hell did one of his theories have to do with it? His arms crossed again and the reflection in the mirror wavered. The light reflected off the table and shone back through the glass at him. This was madness. What could this wiseass cop do to him? He probably didn't even graduate high school. He watched as Goren's hands flew through the air. Each finger and each word assaulting his sight and ears. It took under five minutes for him to snap. He didn't even feel the glass give way under his fist. All he could hear was his laughing. Goren's god damned laughing…And then silence
Nothing was the same now; everything had changed and he would make sure that he would pay. The years of torture he had gone through at the hands of the strange men would be nothing to what Goren would feel. He took away everything. Eames was his; she had been attracted to him, and he would get what he deserved.
They were waltzing; slowly turning around each other, and if one of them fell the other would follow.
If
you want to dance, if she wants to leave Let's try this
all again, only faster now
I'll go out of my way.
I'll do anything
And one word is all I need
Now go ahead and pretend I'm your
master now
And if you want to dance, if she wants to lead
I'll
go out of my way to make you believe
That your love is all I need
TBC
You hate it, don't you?
Love,
Minerva
