Disclaimer: I don't own "Thank You." Dido does. Unfortunately, I don't own Gundam Wing, either. Only this songfic belongs to me.
A/N: Although I planned on getting my "With Arms Wide Open" fic up here next, this one just screamed out at me to write it, right now, at 1:51 AM on Christmas Eve morning. (Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Radical Ramadan, to copy Carver.) As I prepare to write this I have no idea who the characters will be. I'll start out with only pronouns, then go back and fill in names and other distinguishing features afterwards. Heh, let's hope this one'll turn out all right, cause under these circumstances I'm not sure if anything I write right now will turn out all right.
PS- Lyrics are in italics, fic is in regular type.
Thank You
Lyrics by Dido
Fic by Kawaii Lizard
She walked into the kitchen, her bare feet slapping lightly on the white linoleum floor. Pulling her terry cloth white robe closer to her shivering body, she put the tea kettle on the stove and sat down at the table to wait for the water to boil. The rain drummed against the window behind her in a steady, strangely drowsy pattern. It must have begun to rain during the night, for yesterday had been bright and clear.
She glanced at the microwave clock. 5:08. Damn these early meetings! They couldn't schedule them for eight or nine, could they? No, they all had to be at seven. Seven o' clock in the freaking morning, when she could barely keep her eyes open.
A shrill whistle interrupted her gloomy thoughts and she absently poured herself a cup of tea. Waiting for it to brew, she headed towards the bathroom to turn on the shower. As she stood beneath the lukewarm water she thought about the day ahead and what it might entail for her tired mind.
The water did little to rejuvenate her body, so she grumpily dressed and went back to the kitchen.
My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all
Cursing herself for taking too long in the shower and letting her herbal tea get cold, she threw some things into her briefcase. She didn't have time to make a new cup; she was in a hurry as it was. She paused in front of the hall mirror only long enough to see if the bags under her eyes were very noticeable. Unfortunately for her, it looked like she'd been punched twice each.
The morning rain clouds up my window, and I can't see at all
And even if I could it'd all be grey, but your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad
In the mirror she could see, over her shoulder and on the wall behind her, a picture of him. He was smiling- a pure, genuine smile, not one of his forced ones that she'd put up with all too often. She imagined him there next to her, telling her that everything would be all right, that the day wouldn't be all that bad. If only he really were here...
Not only could she see his picture in the mirror, she could see the clock as well. Even though it was backwards she could tell what it read. It told her that she had less then ten minutes to get down the street to the bus stop before the 6:00 downtown bus came by on its last run before rush hour. Rush hour. How she wished she didn't have to be at that blasted meeting 'til then!
I drank too much last night, got bills to pay, my head just feels in pain
Rain dripping off of her long tresses, she remembered the hell that was called Sunday night. The bills remained stacked on the counter, exactly as she had left them, when she and her friends left to go get drunk at the bar down the street from her apartment building. As the women wallowed in their beer and misfortunes all thoughts of Monday morning's meeting had been forgotten. All thoughts of bills were pushed aside. All that she could think of was when and where and how, but, strangely, never why.
Who would care if she left? No one would mind, or even miss her, except for perhaps her friends, but her friends had husbands and children at home and good, satisfying jobs; they were more then preoccupied in their own lives to care much about hers.
No one was there to greet her when she came home at 2:30 in the morning. No one had bothered to tell her that she needed at least four hours of sleep to be fully functional in the morning. No one had told her that the bus schedule had changed.
I missed the bus and there'll be hell today, I'm late for work again
And even if I'm there, they'll all imply that I might not last the day
A steady stream of curses escaped her lips when she arrived at the bus stop to find the bus fifteen minutes gone. The few passerby who were actually up and about gave her quizzical looks before they continued walking. She was a semi-prominent figure in society, but with her hair matted about her and her beige dress suit soaked all the way through she was almost unrecognizable.
She cursed the bus schedule for changing on her. She cursed the incessant downpour. She cursed the cab driver who barely spoke a word of English. She cursed her cell phone as it rang, starting off softly and quickly getting louder. She was about to curse the person on the other end of the line- that is, until she heard who it was.
And then you call me and it's not so bad, it's not so bad and
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life
Push the door, I'm home at last and I'm soaking through and through
She thought that the rain couldn't get any worse. Boy, was she wrong. A day that has started out as miserable had just gotten worse and worse, just like the rain, as it wore on. When she left the office after a day filled with meeting after meeting about this pacifist nation and that military threat, she began to doubt any chance of her ever making it through the night to awake the next morning. The last thing she needed that day was to open her apartment door and see a man sitting in her living room.
Then you handed me a towel and all I see is you
But, alas, there he was, yellow towel in hand. He stood and walked to her, wrapping the towel about her shoulders and retrieving the briefcase from where it had tumbled to the floor as her hands went to her mouth in shock and amazement.
And even if my house falls down now, I wouldn't have a clue
Because you're near me and
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life
Her mouth hung open in astonishment; his curved into a sly smile. When she had spoken to him that morning he had said he was considering taking a vacation to pay her a visit. He never said that he had already done so, though, and would be waiting for her at her home!
In a sudden surge of emotion she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. Not knowing what to do, he hesitantly put his arms around her as well and held her close, comforting her. She cried and cried, eventually becoming so weak with tears that he had to carry her to the couch and lay her down.
Still the heaving sobs wracked at her slight frame. It was then that he noticed her extreme thinness, pale face, and huge eyes. For once they were not a steely blue-grey. They were a genuine blue, like the sky on a summer day. His own baby blues smiled down at her as he laid her head on his shoulder, whispering soothing words all the while.
The tears subsided. The sobs quieted. The rain outside trickled down to a steady drizzle, a drastic change from the never ceasing downpour they had experienced all day long. The silence was peaceful, calming, soothing... He gently moved her head from his shoulder, positioning it so that he faced her directly. Her eyes flitted about his face for a moment, drinking in all of his features while he saw only her eyes.
Quietly, almost inaudibly, she spoke.
"Thank you, Quatre. For everything."
"I'm glad you're feeling better, Dorothy." He kissed her lips lightly, and she smiled before drifting off to sleep. "And you're welcome."
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life.
A/N: So, what did you think? I had been planning on using either Dorothy or Relena for this, and as I wrote I decided that it felt more like Dorothy would be going through this type of a day. I've been listening to "Thank You" for the last hour or so as I wrote this, and now I doubt I'll ever be able to get it out of my head. Please R&R, for I'd love to see what people think of this!
A/N: Although I planned on getting my "With Arms Wide Open" fic up here next, this one just screamed out at me to write it, right now, at 1:51 AM on Christmas Eve morning. (Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and Radical Ramadan, to copy Carver.) As I prepare to write this I have no idea who the characters will be. I'll start out with only pronouns, then go back and fill in names and other distinguishing features afterwards. Heh, let's hope this one'll turn out all right, cause under these circumstances I'm not sure if anything I write right now will turn out all right.
PS- Lyrics are in italics, fic is in regular type.
Thank You
Lyrics by Dido
Fic by Kawaii Lizard
She walked into the kitchen, her bare feet slapping lightly on the white linoleum floor. Pulling her terry cloth white robe closer to her shivering body, she put the tea kettle on the stove and sat down at the table to wait for the water to boil. The rain drummed against the window behind her in a steady, strangely drowsy pattern. It must have begun to rain during the night, for yesterday had been bright and clear.
She glanced at the microwave clock. 5:08. Damn these early meetings! They couldn't schedule them for eight or nine, could they? No, they all had to be at seven. Seven o' clock in the freaking morning, when she could barely keep her eyes open.
A shrill whistle interrupted her gloomy thoughts and she absently poured herself a cup of tea. Waiting for it to brew, she headed towards the bathroom to turn on the shower. As she stood beneath the lukewarm water she thought about the day ahead and what it might entail for her tired mind.
The water did little to rejuvenate her body, so she grumpily dressed and went back to the kitchen.
My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all
Cursing herself for taking too long in the shower and letting her herbal tea get cold, she threw some things into her briefcase. She didn't have time to make a new cup; she was in a hurry as it was. She paused in front of the hall mirror only long enough to see if the bags under her eyes were very noticeable. Unfortunately for her, it looked like she'd been punched twice each.
The morning rain clouds up my window, and I can't see at all
And even if I could it'd all be grey, but your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad
In the mirror she could see, over her shoulder and on the wall behind her, a picture of him. He was smiling- a pure, genuine smile, not one of his forced ones that she'd put up with all too often. She imagined him there next to her, telling her that everything would be all right, that the day wouldn't be all that bad. If only he really were here...
Not only could she see his picture in the mirror, she could see the clock as well. Even though it was backwards she could tell what it read. It told her that she had less then ten minutes to get down the street to the bus stop before the 6:00 downtown bus came by on its last run before rush hour. Rush hour. How she wished she didn't have to be at that blasted meeting 'til then!
I drank too much last night, got bills to pay, my head just feels in pain
Rain dripping off of her long tresses, she remembered the hell that was called Sunday night. The bills remained stacked on the counter, exactly as she had left them, when she and her friends left to go get drunk at the bar down the street from her apartment building. As the women wallowed in their beer and misfortunes all thoughts of Monday morning's meeting had been forgotten. All thoughts of bills were pushed aside. All that she could think of was when and where and how, but, strangely, never why.
Who would care if she left? No one would mind, or even miss her, except for perhaps her friends, but her friends had husbands and children at home and good, satisfying jobs; they were more then preoccupied in their own lives to care much about hers.
No one was there to greet her when she came home at 2:30 in the morning. No one had bothered to tell her that she needed at least four hours of sleep to be fully functional in the morning. No one had told her that the bus schedule had changed.
I missed the bus and there'll be hell today, I'm late for work again
And even if I'm there, they'll all imply that I might not last the day
A steady stream of curses escaped her lips when she arrived at the bus stop to find the bus fifteen minutes gone. The few passerby who were actually up and about gave her quizzical looks before they continued walking. She was a semi-prominent figure in society, but with her hair matted about her and her beige dress suit soaked all the way through she was almost unrecognizable.
She cursed the bus schedule for changing on her. She cursed the incessant downpour. She cursed the cab driver who barely spoke a word of English. She cursed her cell phone as it rang, starting off softly and quickly getting louder. She was about to curse the person on the other end of the line- that is, until she heard who it was.
And then you call me and it's not so bad, it's not so bad and
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life
Push the door, I'm home at last and I'm soaking through and through
She thought that the rain couldn't get any worse. Boy, was she wrong. A day that has started out as miserable had just gotten worse and worse, just like the rain, as it wore on. When she left the office after a day filled with meeting after meeting about this pacifist nation and that military threat, she began to doubt any chance of her ever making it through the night to awake the next morning. The last thing she needed that day was to open her apartment door and see a man sitting in her living room.
Then you handed me a towel and all I see is you
But, alas, there he was, yellow towel in hand. He stood and walked to her, wrapping the towel about her shoulders and retrieving the briefcase from where it had tumbled to the floor as her hands went to her mouth in shock and amazement.
And even if my house falls down now, I wouldn't have a clue
Because you're near me and
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life
Her mouth hung open in astonishment; his curved into a sly smile. When she had spoken to him that morning he had said he was considering taking a vacation to pay her a visit. He never said that he had already done so, though, and would be waiting for her at her home!
In a sudden surge of emotion she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. Not knowing what to do, he hesitantly put his arms around her as well and held her close, comforting her. She cried and cried, eventually becoming so weak with tears that he had to carry her to the couch and lay her down.
Still the heaving sobs wracked at her slight frame. It was then that he noticed her extreme thinness, pale face, and huge eyes. For once they were not a steely blue-grey. They were a genuine blue, like the sky on a summer day. His own baby blues smiled down at her as he laid her head on his shoulder, whispering soothing words all the while.
The tears subsided. The sobs quieted. The rain outside trickled down to a steady drizzle, a drastic change from the never ceasing downpour they had experienced all day long. The silence was peaceful, calming, soothing... He gently moved her head from his shoulder, positioning it so that he faced her directly. Her eyes flitted about his face for a moment, drinking in all of his features while he saw only her eyes.
Quietly, almost inaudibly, she spoke.
"Thank you, Quatre. For everything."
"I'm glad you're feeling better, Dorothy." He kissed her lips lightly, and she smiled before drifting off to sleep. "And you're welcome."
I want to thank you for giving me the best day of my life
Oh just to be with you is having the best day of my life.
A/N: So, what did you think? I had been planning on using either Dorothy or Relena for this, and as I wrote I decided that it felt more like Dorothy would be going through this type of a day. I've been listening to "Thank You" for the last hour or so as I wrote this, and now I doubt I'll ever be able to get it out of my head. Please R&R, for I'd love to see what people think of this!