The Coming Storm
A/N; This oneshot is loosely based on an episode of Bones. Some elements are the same, some are similar, but what happens at the end is mine. Hope you like it! Please review!
He was asleep. Her gentle, careful, steps didn't cause him to stir, her soft, contented, sigh didn't provoke him to move, even as she gracefully slid into the bed beside him he didn't wake. The room was pitch black, the moon nonexistent tonight, casting no unearthly glow, giving no light to the shadows, pure blackness. She couldn't see him, couldn't see his chest rise and fall with even breaths, couldn't see his peaceful face as he slept, she could hear him though, without having to strain her ears she could hear the soft hiss of breath that escaped from between his teeth. She could feel him, without touching him she could feel the heat his body created beside her, she could feel the warmth he gave off penetrating deep in her bones, feel the protectiveness he carried within him whenever she was around.
She wanted him.
Tentatively reaching out, her fingers hovering barely an inch above the warm flesh of his arm, she held her breath and waited. Her big eyes flicking to the spot she knew he rested in, waiting, wondering if he could feel her, hoping he wouldn't stir. Gently she lowered her hand, lightly grazing over the skin of his arm. The feel of the smooth flesh and thin hair under her finger tips allowed her to release the breath she'd been holding, slowly, carefully, silently.
Growing bolder, she lightly moved her fingertips slowly, just so they grazed over his skin as tenderly as possible. At her gentle caress he finally stirred. Her fingers stopped at his breathing became more laboured, she resisted the urge to pull her hand away as she waited for him to fall back into the oblivious bliss she had nearly stolen from him.
It didn't take long.
In less than five minutes his breathing evened out once again. She waited another moment to be sure he was in fact still asleep before continuing her movements. She moved her fingers only to place her palm face down on his toned chest. The palm of her hand slowly moved in long strokes over the flesh of his chest. She knew if she continued he wouldn't stay asleep for long, but she wasn't going to stop. Waking him from his slumber would be forgiven later. She began drumming her fingertips in time with an imaginary beat as her hand continued moving slowly across his chest. A smile came to her pale face as he released a contented sigh. She still couldn't see him but she could feel his lips curve into a grin.
In a rapid movement her eyes wouldn't have been able to catch even in the sunlight his hand flew up to his chest and caught her by the wrist.
"What are you doing love?" His sleepy voice asked.
She blushed in the darkness. It seemed even the covering of the night sky couldn't quell the embarrassment at being caught. With a sheepish grin she looked where she assumed his face would be, his eyes were still closed.
"How did you know it was me and not some stranger?" The curiosity was evident in her tone.
"I've been with you long enough to know your touch." Was his answer.
Of course he would know her touch, the feel of her fingers. The way her flesh seemed to glide over his own. After five years of marriage he should know these things, just as she would know them had their roles been reversed tonight.
"How long have you been awake?" She frowned.
She not only knew his touch but also his ways.
She knew he wasn't the type to lie there and let her have her way as long as she wanted, but he also wouldn't reveal he was awake right at the beginning and spoil her fun. He'd let her play, but only until it suited him.
"Long enough." Was all he said.
She didn't have to see it to feel the smirk his thin lips curled into.
She rolled her eyes in the blackness before blindly leaning over his heated body and gently pressing her lips to his own. As she felt his lips respond to hers she pulled away, smirking. His arm curled around her back and pulled her closer to his chest, pinning her to his body, refusing to release her. Her amber eyes flicked to the side she gave him a frustrated look that softened the moment his mercury eyes opened and looked into her own.
"You love me?" It wasn't meant to be a question.
The look in his steel eyes changed to something she'd never seen before. It was questioning, more than questioning... astounded, nearly appalled that she would ask such a thing. She didn't bother to correct herself though, instead she chose to see how this would play out.
His eyes blinked a few times, washing away the last bit of sleep that clouded his mind. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked into her eyes. Her heart fluttered at the intensity of his gaze, her body nearly shaking from having to hold herself back from kissing him again.
"Of course."
An inaudible sigh escaped past her lips.
"How much?" She asked playfully.
A strange glint flashed in the very corner of his eye.
"I can't exactly explain that." He admitted after a moments contemplation.
She pouted.
"Let me show you." He whispered into the darkness.
Her lips curved up into a smile.
"I thought you'd be too tired."
"Never too tired."
The moment those words left his tongue he firmly grabbed her hip, flipped them, and settled between her legs. Limbs got tangled in the task of removing clothing, lips touched every inch of skin they could reach, fingertips caressed and clawed at each other.
The darkness in the room didn't lift, but the fire between the two blazed brighter than the sun, the heat from their bodies kept them warm, the love in their gazes kept them safe. They were young in body, but had seen the world and thought they'd made it through the worst. They were naive.
The air outside remained still, calm, unchanging, but a storm was brewing. Could the couple feel it? The electricity in the air stirred, spiking to it's highest point, but they only felt each other, only noticed the friction caused by their bodies, and ignored the static surrounding them.
No clap of thunder, no strike of lightning. The sky didn't part and send down it's destruction as a warning of the coming storm. No, the first warning of this storm wasn't any typical natural cause. It was a knock.
Tap tap tap.
She stirred in the tangled sheets, refusing to open her eyes.
Knock knock knock.
She groaned and willed the person to go away, leave her to her much deserved sleep.
Knock knock knock knock.
"Alright. I'm coming!" She called angrily.
Without opening her eyes she rolled out of bed and reached for her robe. The person who had disturbed her sleep knocked again. Her teeth ground together angrily but she walked to the door nonetheless, opening it a crack she saw a stranger standing there. Not a stranger, but two strangers.
"What is it?" She asked without bothering to be polite.
"Miss, we have some news, may we come in?" One of them asked.
She blinked her eyes and looked closer at the pair. They seemed official. Both were male, one very large with a round face and slightly pink cheeks, and the other average size with defined features and a receding hair line. As their question sank in she turned her head and looked at the mess behind her.
"Actually I'd rather you didn't." She said pushing the door closed a little more.
The pair exchanged a glance before nodding.
"Well, the thing is..." The one cleared his throat, his tone and face very solemn. The other just seemed anxious to get out of there, looking around the porch and stealing glances at his watch every few seconds.
"It's about your husband." The one who seemed ready to leave finished.
Her brow creased and her lips turned down into a frown.
"What about him?" She asked nervously.
"There's been an accident." The large man said.
Her heart stopped.
Blood was still pumping through her veins, rushing through her at an alarming rate, but her heart wasn't beating, it had stopped dead.
"What kind of accident?" Her voice shook.
Neither man answered her.
"Is he okay?" Her limbs were numb at this point, her body had grown cold, like ice, like the dead.
"I'm sorry."
Tears welled in her large amber eyes, she shook her head repeatedly as if that would change things. This couldn't be. It must have been a mistake. He was fine! Fine! This was a sick joke. He couldn't be gone. She didn't lose him, he was still here. She repeated these lines over and over in her head, but she knew. Deep down she knew these words to be true. She could feel it in her bones, her heart. The usual warmth she'd felt when thinking of him was gone, replaced with a cold knife that penetrated deeper into her than she could imagine.
The men said something else, but her ears couldn't pick up the sound, her lungs seemed to contract, she couldn't breath. Still shaking her head she closed the door on the strangers and dropped to the floor.
The tears finally escaped, pouring down her cheeks, staining the pale flesh. She cried out in pain more unbearable than a physical wound. They say emotional pain isn't the same as physical pain, but they're wrong. She could feel this pain. In her heart, her mind, her soul, her bones, her skin, everywhere. All she was was pain. All she felt was pain. The air surrounding her was filled with nothing but pain. Pain so indescribable, so impossible to put into words all she could do was cry out into the still air.
She awoke clawing at the sheets. Her cheeks were dry where the tears had fallen. Her eyes still glassy and painful. She could still cry, she'd never run out of tears. Her husband was dead. Gone from this world. Never to return. No matter how many times she heard this it still caused crippling pain.
And she'd heard it many times before. Every night, in dreams such as the one she'd just awaken from. Every night for a year she'd heard the same words. Felt the same pain, the same bliss and pleasure of their last night together before he was stolen away from her. She'd always remember that night. Her mind wouldn't allow her heart to let it go. Every night she'd dream of her last moments with him, it'd be a blissful dream. And then it would change, it would darken with the first knock of the storm, until it turned completely black, until the blissful feeling she'd experienced earlier would fade to nothing only to be refilled with the pain their words had caused.
Every night she'd dream of a storm.
Every night it'd come for her.
Every night it'd try to warn her.
Every night she'd ignore it.
Every night the storm would win.
The first hint of the storm was not a thunderclap, was not a jolt of lightning, was not the sky opening to deliver it's destruction. It was a knock.