Title: Holding
Summary: Luke's thoughts on Mara and her disease
A/N: This was written when my mom had an allergic reaction (not dangerous) to her meds and went to the emergency room. She's fine now (at least allergic meds wise :p ). :)
A/N2: For kayladie, if you read this – it's not happy, but at least no one is dead!
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I hate this feeling of helplessness. But even worse, it's not just a feeling – it's true. I'm looking in at a reality I can't change. Every time you stumble, every time you have to stop because you're weary, it's burned into my mind. I'm able to push it away, force myself not to dwell on it, but your every wince brings to my mind, the pain and helplessness ripped anew, a scar that won't heal.
I try to hold you, try to hold you in my arms – you mistake it for my attempt at comforting you, but I'm also trying to comfort myself. I want to hold onto you, because as long as I'm touching you, you can't go away. You can't leave me, Mara, as long as I have a hold on you.
But you jerk away, your chin raises. I don't know if it's a desire for independence or a simple need to be miserable alone. Are you trying to ease my anguish, by holding such times, when you feel the pain and weakness in your own body, away from me? But it's only worse, Mara, when you leave me alone . . . and I see that stumble, that wince. Why won't you let me touch you?
Don't you realize it only hurts you and me, Mara? I'm your husband, and I feel every hidden moment of pain, an echo of you. I don't want an echo – I want you, even if it's in those moments of misery and pain. I want to hold you.
Even if I can't change this twisted and dark reality I'm looking in on, I want to hold onto you as long as I can. I can't keep stuffing down this pain, I can't bear to keep this distance between us. I don't care about the disease – I see only you. Only you. Every time I touch you, I'm focused on you. Not the disease, not how you have to hold my arm to walk.
Can't you lean on me? Every time you take my hand, when you let me help you sleep, that's a moment with us together. That distance between us is nothing, and I'm blessed with the aura of your presence. I know it hurts, I know you hate your weakness. I know you have things of your own you would like to shove down, as I have shoved down my own pain at your every stumble and wince, but can't we take that step away from those things which haunt us – a step towards each other?
Please let me hold you.
Fin