Set Fire to the Rain
"They say there's linings made of silver, folded inside each raining cloud."
Ingrid Michaelson; 'Are We There Yet?'
You're home now, but you're tired.
Exhausted, really.
The past week has been impossibly hard; harder than anything you've ever experienced before in your life.
You've struggled. You cried, you died, you killed.
Of course, you didn't really die, no matter what others may have believed. Yet, in a peculiar way, it feels like you did.
Nothing's the same anymore. You're not the same man, you realise that. How could you be after ... everything?
There was a point when you thought you'd never make it home.
When that gun was so close that you could smell the scent of burning metal, see right down the dark hopeless void of the barrel, hear the heavy breathing of the man who was pressing his foot to the wound on your leg; that was when you thought that your time on this Earth had come to an end.
You hadn't expected to get the chance to turn the tables on the man, to make him the vulnerable one on the floor.
You sit and roughly clench your fist, hiding the fingers that pulled the trigger once, twice, three, four, five times.
A knock at the door pulls you from your melancholy stupor and you wonder who it is this late at night. You've only been home for a few hours and you would quite like to sleep.
Not that you think you'd be able to sleep even if you did get the chance.
You sigh as you get to your feet. A weary sigh that doesn't even convey half of the despair that you're suffering.
A flash of confusion crosses your face upon opening the door and discovering who's on the doorstep.
"Nikki," you say, surprised, stepping back to let her in. "What are you-?"
But before you can even finish the question, she's thrown her arms around your neck and is hugging you tightly.
Your arms close around her waist and you bury your chin in her shoulder, relishing in the familiar warmth of her presence.
You don't say anything, nor are you in any hurry to break the hug and end the physical contact that you find so reassuring.
You take comfort in the fact that neither is she.
"I realised I haven't given you a proper hug since we got you back," she whispers, and it's the first time it really registers with you just how difficult it's been for her, too.
She thought you were dead. As far as she was concerned, you were gone. You try and imagine how you'd feel if the situation were reversed, but it's too painful so you stop.
You pull back slightly, not far enough to separate your bodies, but just enough so that you can look at her.
She's also exhausted, you notice instantly. There are dark shadows under her tired eyes, an evident lack of colour in her cheeks, and only half of her hair is still in its loose bun at the back of her head.
You extract an arm from her waist and gently tuck a curl behind her ear.
"A hug could have waited, as nice as it was," you tell her. "What did you really come here for?"
She's silent for a moment, avoiding your enquiring gaze. You don't push her, knowing that after everything that happened, whatever she has to say isn't going to be easy.
"I needed to check that you were still alive," she mutters eventually, so quietly that you almost miss it.
You sigh as you force her to look at you. It shocks you, just how much despair and pain, and something else you can't quite place your finger on, is shining in her eyes.
"I'm here, and I'm staying," you say, trying to muster as much certainty as you can to your voice. "I promise you, Nikki."
"When ... when I thought you were dead, I-" Her voice cracked and broke.
You tug her close again, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Shh. It doesn't matter anymore," you whisper.
"Yes it does," she says instantly, pulling completely away from you and stepping back.
Every fibre of your being protests at the absence of physical contact, and it's all you can do not to grab her and hold her again.
She walks through your dark apartment until she reaches the window and gazes out of it over the sleeping city.
"When was the last time you slept properly?" you ask her gently as you follow and stand beside her.
"For God's sake, Harry!" she explodes suddenly, whipping her head round to look at you.
She needs to yell and scream at you, you know that. After what you put her through, she has every right to throw all that she's got at you.
"Leo and I thought you were dead!" she shouts. "I thought that I'd lost you forever!"
"I know, Nikki," you tell her quietly. "I'm sorry."
"So you keep saying!" she yells, glaring at you. She holds your gaze for a moment before giving in with a sigh. She sinks onto the sofa, her elbows digging into her knees as she places her head in her hands.
You approach her cautiously, not entirely sure whether she's still angry at you or not.
She looks at you, and she looks more tired than ever.
"Sorry," she says softly, stretching out her hand. You tangle your fingers through hers and she pulls you onto the sofa beside her, leaning her head against the top of your arm.
"Ignore me," she says wearily. "I should be asking how you are."
"I'm fine," you lie, summoning false bravado.
"No you're not," she contradicts. "Neither of us are 'fine'."
"No, maybe not. But we will be, right?"
She removes her head from your arm and your eyes lock. "Yeah."
Your eyes narrow. "What's wrong, Nikki? You have to tell me or I can't help you."
You have your suspicions, but despite what you've been through, you're too scared to voice them. So instead you play ignorance and wait for her to explain so that you can be sure.
She sighs and looks down at her knees, picking at a loose thread in the sleeve of her top. "When Leo rang me and told me that-" her voice cracks and it takes her a moment to compose herself again, "told me that you were dead, my world fell apart."
You almost say you're sorry again, but then you remember her reaction last time you apologised and you close your mouth.
"All I could think," she continues slowly, "was that I had left it too late."
This is it. That moment. You've waited years for it to come, yet now it's here you're petrified.
"Too late for what?" you ask, although you both know the answer.
"Too late for us," she explains anyway. "Too late for there to be an us."
There's a silence; a silence that presses against your skull, yet you're unwilling to break it by saying what neither of you want to hear.
"I'm not ready," you whisper, and your heart feels like someone's wrenching it from your chest when you see her crestfallen face. "Not after Anna and the baby and..."
"I know," she says with a sad nod.
"I need more time," you tell her, almost desperately. "Just give me some more time. Please? Because I want to be ready. More than anything in the world, I want to be ready to be with you."
A tear tumbles to her lap and she looks you right in the eye. A small smile graces her beautiful features. "I'm not going anywhere."
You bring your thumb to her cheek and softly wipe away the tears that are falling. She leans into your touch and you want nothing more than to gather her into your arms, but you know that wouldn't make things any easier.
"I just need time," you tell her again, trying to reassure her that one day, one day the pair of you will have your happily-ever-after.
There's a minute or two of silence, where neither of you do anything but gaze at one another.
"You also need sleep," she says eventually, getting to her feet and heading towards the door. You follow her, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.
Her hand is already on the latch when she turns and smiles at you. "I'll see you at work tomorrow. If you're feeling up to it."
You know her too well, and you know that she's trying to get things back to normal, but you don't want them to go back to normal. You need her to know that from now on, things will be different.
So you grab her hand and pull her flush against you, before pressing your lips to hers in a soft and gentle kiss.
It's over in ten seconds, yet it holds the promise of a future.
"Goodnight, Nikki," you whisper.
"I'm so glad that you didn't die," she mutters.
"So am I," you tell her honestly, brushing a blonde curl away from her face.
Her lips are caught in a quiet smile that doesn't seem to want to disappear. "I'll see you tomorrow," she says.
"Yeah, you will," you assure her.
It only takes a second for her to slip out of your apartment and disappear from sight, leaving you stood in the semi-darkness already missing her presence.
Nothing's the same anymore. You're not the same man. You know what you want now, and you know how to get it.
All you have to do is be ready.
So I've been struggling to write something like this, revolving around 'Bloodlines', for a while, but apparently it takes staying up until nearly three in the morning to make it work. I'm now exhausted, so that's all I've got to say really. I hope you like it and I apologise for any possible typos that may occur as a result of the time. ;)
Charlotte
xxx