Disclaimer: I don't own Red Eye
Betraying Hands
Five minutes to go. Just five. I can make it. I can. I can stick this out. Do not move. Don't even do it. I can do it. I can do it. I swear I can do it.
Sweat beads on her brow. She stops the incessant drumming of her fingers on fine linen to swipe at it.
Disgusting. This heat is horrible. I want to get into some air conditioning. I want to go inside. Yes, I should just get up and go inside. Shit, no. I'm staying here. I've got to. I can do it.
She doesn't realize it, but her hand has displaced her long auburn hair on one side, creating a very mussed wave. Her nervous hand now occupied itself playing with the fine silver locket around her throat. A gift from him. A tell-tale heart.
The iced tea before her on the table is sweating in the late afternoon heat. A drop of cool condensation drips down the outside, pools briefly at the base of the glass, before soaking into the table cloth. Her eye follows it, then another. She swipes her hand across the glass, like her forehead, leaving a path through the moisture.
He's late. He's never late. Not once have I had to wait on him. He knows. Shit! He has to know. Why is he late? Shit, I should leave.
It was true, he's never once been late for a meeting. He is steady, rhythmic, precise. He is how she set her watch. His arrival, 3:45pm Monday afternoons at this bistro, 3rd outdoor table from the entrance, is like clockwork.
He will sit down across from her, surprising her because he moves so gracefully, and smile. He will look around him, and then look around again for the waiter. He'll move the distracting centerpiece to the right, so he can look into her eyes, admire her face. He'll reach for her hand, apologize for being late, even though he isn't. Lisa is early. Lisa is always early, he- he is on time.
She taps her watch. Triple checking. She gets out her cell phone and checks the displayed time. She doesn't check to see if he's called. They never speak outside their meetings. Even during their time together, speech isn't a priority. There is so much that can't be shared, so they don't waste time trying.
They only share what they can of themselves.
I can't do this.
The words sneak into her thoughts. Their effect on her resolve is devastating. Convincing herself took everything she has- now it's unraveling.
He will reach for her hand, and she will smile, because she knows he likes it. She knows he loves her, in his way. And she knows there is a part of her that will always be his. Always be skewed enough to love a man who's twisted scars complement her own. Complete her own.
We were so careful. This can't happen. I can't do this. I can't. I won't.
She had tried to convince herself it's for the best. That it isn't what her heart is telling her it is. But there is that part of her that disagrees, and it won't be ignored. She quickly shoves back her chair, throwing bills to cover her drink, not caring if they land on the table.
I have to get out of here. Oh please don't come. Please, please! He knows!
Hot tears begin to well in her eyes as she rushes away from the bistro, only to be stopped by a shout. Her head sinks into her nervous, nervous hands as she recognizes the voice. She turns and he come to her. Gripping her hands and pulling them from her wet face, he tilts his head in that way he has and examines her distress.
No! I can't do it!
His eyes meet hers. He sees the sadness there, and something else. She doesn't want him to see, so she grabs his face and kisses him with all the intensity of her feelings for him. But her lips can't sustain it, and it soon becomes a sad tearful embrace. Almost a goodbye. He senses it and objects.
She tries to push him away.
But she can see the glint on the roof.
Oh no I can't I can't I can't please forgive me I can't I won't
So, she returns to his arms. She won't betray him, but They have her hands tied.
She won't give Them the chance to get him, not without her.
As she looks at him, sadness and apology in her eye, he understands. He understands in a way that no one else can, and holds her tighter, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then her lips. Her betraying hand clutches in his hair.
The muffled sound of a silencer cannot break the kiss.
A/N: This is just a bit of freewriting I did. I didn't have a plot in mind, I just wrote and this is what came out. It made me rather sad, actually, the way it ended. I recognize that there's no explanation of the L/Jness nor will I give any, it's a one shot, and fiction- deal. That being said, I found it really interesting how plays-with-stars; interpretation of it differed from mine. I didn't write Lisa as pregnant, but looking at it I can see how that could be inferred. I think that's cool so tell me if you saw something else in it! Thank you plays-with-stars for your help and opinions!!!
Comments, questions, constructive criticism?? I'll answer if you review for me :D!