AN: This is a response to a song prompt submitted to me by a tumblr anon. for the song "The John Wayne" by Little Green Cars. You should check it out. It's really pretty. I had to take a little break from writing the past month so this is my attempt at getting my rhythm back. I hope you like it. It's basically a post-ep for Flowers For Your Grave.
So It Begins
He finally leaves. Finally manages to drag his body from the spot where he stood rooted to the ground, unable to move for what felt like forever as he watched her walk away. Watched the curve of her hips swing from side to side, those long legs, that amused smirk playing across her face before she turned to go. Before she turned him down with a flash in her eyes and a bite of her lip. He can still feel the ghost of her breath against his ear as she whispered those four words. You have no idea.
And he really doesn't. It's not like him to be so entranced by a woman, to be rendered so utterly speechless in a moment. This hasn't happened in such a long time, maybe ever if he's being honest with himself. And he doesn't understand it. Doesn't understand why out of all the women he's ever encountered, she's the one to have this effect. But oh, it'd be so easy to fall for this woman with her beauty and wit, her complete ability to shut him down and spur him on all at once. This woman who makes his heart race and his words falter because no matter what he says she's giving it right back and it's so incredibly sexy.
She's an array of contradictions, quiet and reserved, but there's a fierceness laced underneath, a drive, a passion that burns within her. It's deep and it's probably mistaken or written off as part of the duties of her job by those less intrigued by it, by her. He's observant though. He didn't miss the falter in her gaze, the way her hands tightened slightly against the table, and the hint of moisture in her eyes when he spun the story he believed was hers. His attempt at deciphering her mysterious history, the only logical path he could conceive that would lead her to this point. He didn't miss the stutter in her breath before she responded, played it off like a pro, turned back to the job in front of them. He also couldn't mistake the way his own heart sank just a little at the realization that he'd struck a nerve. He's only just met her and already the thought of her pain needles at him, makes him want to take back the words that almost brought tears to her eyes.
He just needs to make sense of it. He needs the story. Her story. He needs the details to fall into place because there's something about this woman that draws him in, makes him want...more. He can't even place what he wants but he knows he wants more of whatever it is, more of her. She's a challenge and he's never backed down from a challenge.
So few things in his life have felt complete, so few of the details have aligned that sometimes he feels like he's living in halves. One parent, one mystery. One daughter, two failed marriages. He doesn't know if he needs to define the other halves but sometimes his mind just aches to fill in the missing pieces. To finish the story.
Because he's a contradiction too. He's drawn to the order, the symmetry of the words, the chain of events that make it all fit together. He wants to pin it all down yet, he doesn't want to limit the possibilities. He wants to imagine the long shot, the dream, the magic that he's so rarely found in life but longs to believe in. He's determined to find it does exist, that a spark doesn't have to burn out, that there's a hope and a wonder that never fades. Something new. And there's something about Kate Beckett that makes him feel like with her the possibilities would be endless.
His mind is spinning, working at a thousand miles an hour as he sinks into the chair and starts his computer. The compulsion to write is both thrilling and terrifying. It's been months since he's written. Longer since he's felt the words building inside him, pressing to escape. She may have turned him down but he can't stop thinking about her. Can't stop composing the sentences in his mind. He's got to get the words out. For the first time in ages he finds himself at his desk, fingers flying over the keys of his laptop, creating a new character. Searching for the answers he doesn't yet have. Answers that he's suddenly determined to find.
He won't let her walk away. Won't let her shoot him down. Not when all he can see when he pauses for a moment, closes his eyes, is the green and gold flecks of her irises. The color as much of an enigma as she. He could get lost in those eyes. He already is.
And she thinks she knows him, thinks she's already narrowed him down to the carefully perfected persona his agent and publicist have created for him over the years. And yes, maybe he's played along, even enjoyed the spoils of that lifestyle. But he also knows what it's like to be alone, truly alone beneath it all, the shine and the glamour. He suspects that all of her biting remarks, all her adherence to rules and procedure, her complete disdain for his playfulness are really just her way of compartmentalizing.
The thought of that makes him sad and for some reason he feels the need to prove her wrong. He feels the need to show her that it doesn't have to be that way. That even though the world is cold and cruel, that part of her world has been even crueler than he can understand at this point, there's also excitement and fun.
As he continues to pour out page after page, he realizes he has no choice. Staring up at him from the screen is something special, something different, and something so full of promise that he can't abandon it. There's something about her that has inspired this, inspired him, and he's selfish enough that he won't just let it go.
He knows it's dangerous, knows that she's probably going to hate him even more than she already does (if that's possible). He also knows that really she's right, it's he who has no idea, he who is throwing himself into her world, a world where he can easily see himself getting crushed by this woman who already stirs up something in him he's never quite felt before. Something that would be so easy to give in to. But he's made up his mind. No turning back now.
He pulls up his contact list without another thought.
"Bob? Hey! It's Rick, I need to ask you a favor…"
And so it begins.
Thoughts?