Haven: Hands
Her breath is as heavy as the thick white rope that binds her sweaty, shaking hands. She struggles against thick rope that doesn't give, her hands aching and her petite form spent beyond exhaustion.
The glass shard is a reminder of the fragility of her own life, of the man who threatens her death. Her life is as delicate as the glass shard as it slices mercilessly against her skin and dark crimson gushes forth on her hands, which stains the white rope that binds them.
I can do this, she thinks. I can get out of here.
A rush of pain surges through her as her hands continue to bleed profusely and tears run down her cheeks. She briefly allows herself to daydream as an escape from the pain and, in the next moment, her eyes snap open as she realizes she had lost consciousness. Keeping her body still, she listens. She listens for the threatening footsteps of her abductor.
She listens for the footsteps of the man she wants most. Of the person whose hands she wants on her face, whose hands she wants to hold her close. Of the man who speaks few words, but whose hands speak volumes in their comforting touch as if their tender caress says, Everything is going to be okay.
Later, she finally sees him and moves towards him. Her arms wrap tightly around his neck and his warm, comforting hands wrap in a gentle and soothing embrace around the small of her back as she cries tears of relief into his shoulder.
The undeniable pleasure of his reassuring hands finally gives her the answer she needs.
Fin.
Author's Notes: Title and summary comes from a quotation by Sylvia Plath. This is the fourth time Emily Rose has brought me to tears with her performance. I don't usually write Audrey/Nathan (even though I am a fan of the pairing), but I wanted to pair Audrey's psychological interiority with her physical, visible bloody hands and sense of relief she feels when Nathan finds her in Episode 301. Her tears and bloody hands moved me and the Audrey/Nathan hug was just perfect. Hopefully I did some of the darker psychological moments justice.