Another one of those one chapter T/M stories, although this one is relatively happy. The grammar on this one is particularly bad, and it changes from 3rd person to 1st person because I have loads of problems with Carrie. So any feedback is appreciated.
He held her tighter, thinking it was the pain that made her struggle. In fact, the pain was the last thing on her mind. She was dying, the coldness that spread through her as blood escaped through her stomach confirming this, and she didn't want to die like this, not in his arms.
In truth, she hated him. The only reason she was anywhere near him was to get back at Michelle. And of all the things she had expected, the last thing she wanted was to be here, wrapped up in his arms, a knife protruding from her stomach.
She hated him so much his stupidity, his depression, his clinginess. God, she even hated the way he smelt. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. When she imagined herself dying, she pictured herself in the arms of the man she loved, not here. She would rather be alone than with him, the thought of the last thing she ever saw being him actually sickened her.
So she struggled to get away from him, ignoring the waves of pain that this sent ricocheting through her body. She didn't want to have to die in his arms. As her last breath fled her, the only thought in her mind was that this was Michelle's fault.
She was dead, her breathing had stopped. I couldn't be near her, my mind was panicking, it wasn't my fault. I did the only thing I could think of.
"Dessler," The familiar tones of her voice comforted me immediately. She would know what to do, she always knew what to do.
"Michelle..." I stopped as I heard her exasperated sigh. For a moment I was lost, not understanding why she was being like that. Then I remembered, we hadn't actually spoken in ages, not since I got back with Carrie, not since her idiot boyfriend had had a go at me.
What was I doing, why was I calling her? I didn't need her. "Nothing, it doesn't matter." My tone was harsh as I tried to get rid of her without alerting her to what was wrong.
Unfortunately, she knew me too well. "Danny...What's wrong?" Worry crept in to mingle with the annoyance in her voice. She didn't want to have to deal with me, especially after before, but was worried as to why I would be calling her.
I tried to think of a way to reassure her that everything was alright, but my mind was stuck on the thought of the dead body lying in the next room. So my mouth automatically took over. "You don't have to worry, you know, 'bout me and Carrie. She's dead... I thought you might like to know." Then I hung up before I had to listen to the false sympathies that she would no doubt wish to express.
It wasn't until the sound of my voice died and the deafening silence of the room rang about me that I realised just how much I needed her. My feet started to collapse about me, and I made no effort to hold myself up, letting myself fall to the floor and sob noisily into the carpet, desperately trying to overcome the hideous silence.
When Danny phoned me, I was annoyed; partly because I was in the middle of running some priority checks for Division which would have to be restarted, but mostly because I was angry at him. We hadn't spoken in over a month, not since he had found out that I was sleeping with my boss. His words, not mine.
He had left me in tears, and Tony had been fuming when he had found out. So now there was this huge rift between me and my family, all because my brother couldn't deal with the idea that I wanted a life of my own.
And I had let that annoyance creep into my voice, dominating my line of thought until his words broke through, and I was left pressing the phone into my ear, just listening to the tone.
Carrie was dead? I had spent hours sitting in my office at Division, meticulously planning every aspect of her death. But she was actually dead? Somehow, I just didn't know how to react.
Not even thinking, my feet led me to the last place I should have been going; up those awful stairs that separate us and into his office, my mind still completely blank.
I hated her so very much, I wanted her to die, preferably slowly and painfully. But she was actually dead? And I was completely unable to identify, let alone deal with, the rush of emotion that ran through me.
His eyes met mine as I entered his office, completely forgetting to knock. I turned around to close the door, and it was then that I cracked, hot tears storming down my face.
As I turned the lock, I pressed my face into the darkened glass, not quite able to comprehend why I was being like this. I mean, it was ridiculous, I didn't even like her.
I didn't hear him finish up on the phone or cross the room to me, but I did feel his arms touch mine, softly, gently, somehow conveying his every thought.
Not needing to say anything, I turned around and buried myself into him, his warmth burning away everything. Somehow, he sensed what I needed his fingers finding their usual spot in my hair as he pulled me closer to him, not saying anything.
Then, almost hungrily, with a passion that if I had been thinking straight would have reminded me of the first time I kissed him, I pulled his mouth onto mine, needing to feel him. I didn't care that this was his office, that he was my boss, that we had agreed that we wouldn't do this, not at work. I just needed him, needed something real, needed anything to take away the emptiness that was gnawing through me.
And just like before, it took a moment to register with me that, despite everything, despite all the reasons we shouldn't be doing this, he is kissing me back.
It took a while for me to regain my composure, by which point his point his shirt had been discarded somewhere in the office and mine hung open about me. His fingers are gently brushing my tears away as I lose myself in his eyes, his breathing just as heavy as mine. For a moment, the sensation of his fingers brushing against my cheek overcomes everything, but then my over-analytical mind kicks in. Sighing slightly, I did what I should have done originally I pressed my face into his chest, letting the tears stream.
It took another long while for this to stop, and all the while he just held me, listening to my tears, but not trying to stop them or interrupt me. When I had re-gathered enough of myself to feel embarrassed about doing this here, I pulled back from him, my arms wrapping themselves about me as I bit down slightly on my lower lip, a habit I've picked up from him.
Normally, I would have been have been amused by the tear stains streaking his chest, but they didn't even register as I sought reassurance in his eyes. I trust him, I mean, he's Tony, I've known him forever, but even so, its not been that long, and I'm not really the most confident person in the world.
But I needn't have worried, looking back at me was the same warmth that I had fallen for in the first place, a slightly teasing smile, and a piercing look of worry. I held his gaze for a moment, trying to put a coherent response together in my head.
"Carrie..." My voice sounded so small, so far away. I started again, "Carrie's dead..."
It wasn't until I saw understanding flicker through him that I understood the sickening ache inside of me, guilt.
As I saw the rush of questions surface in him, I raised my fingers to his mouth. I couldn't deal with them, not now. It had only been a month since I had had to watch so many of my friends die, I hadn't come to terms with those yet, and there was no way in hell I was ready to discuss this, not even with him.
"I have to go and see my brother...He was there." Tony hates Danny, but he couldn't argue with this. Danny's unstable, and I couldn't handle it if anything was to happen to him.
Tony regarded me for a minute, I suppose he doesn't want me to have to go through this alone. But eventually he nods, shooting me a sad smile.
I feel myself nod back at him as I straighten myself up so that I'm ready to continue the pretence that we play with the office, despite the fact that its incredibly obvious just how deeply I've fallen for him.
Doing up the final button on my shirt, I took a very ragged breath as I prepared to walk back out and face the my brother.
Tony left his seat on the edge of the desk, his fingers settling on my shoulders as he told me, "Everything's going to be OK." I nodded at him, not believing, but appreciating the sentiment.
Seeing this, he kissed me softly, giving me the confidence to walk towards the door and unlock it. As I was about to open it, I heard his soft tones whisper, "I love you."
A smile crept onto my face, he hadn't said that before, but somehow it seemed to fit.
Not needing to turn around, but rather wanting to, I whispered, "I love you so much" as I spun around.
I watched that slow, awkward smile slip onto his face, impeded only by his teeth biting slightly on his lower lip, and felt mine do the same.
With that, I forced myself to turn around and walk down those same awful stairs, knowing that hell faced me with my brother but equally knowing that I was going home to his apartment, and that it was going to be alright.