SUMMARY: Susan's father watches her after her mother's death. Companion to
'And Still.' Written after I post this to the DarkB5Fic list at
yahoo!groups, and was challenged by Adi.
Really quick, written-in-fifteen-minutes fic, that I'm not sure how I feel about. I may do some more work on it at some point, but it's a start right?
For Adi with her challenges and cheeky grins. : ) D'ya like?
Bones and Moonbeams
***************************
He watches her when she's sleeping.
He goes to great lengths to avoid her during the day, but at night, he can't tear himself away from her bedside and he listens to her breathing, slow and easy.
In, and out.
In – and out.
In – and out.
In –
A pause, a twitch and shuffle. A small, almost silent sigh and then
In – and out
In – and out.
In –
They sit around the dinner table, three people, three plates, nothing to say. Or rather everything too say, too much to say and not a word between them because sometimes silence is better. Her brother, eating quickly, mumbled excuses, leaving the table, the house, the world. Her untouched plate, her long, unwashed hair around her bowed head like a curtain, a wall, an impenetrable fortress.
But she has her mothers eyes and he thinks, perhaps, it's better this way.
When she sleeps, she sleeps with her eyes closed, hair still loose, in bedsheets she hasn't changed in weeks. She breathes easily and he sees her chest move up and down up and down, her face illuminated by moonbeams and starlight, her stark thinness impossible to avoid beneath the pale sheets.
In – and out
In – and out.
In –
He locks himself in his study, pretending he still has work to do, though they've put him on indefinite leave, fully paid, of course. They offered him psychiatric treatment, though he refused. Counselling then? Therapy? Maybe for the children? They might benefit, there are benefits, it can be worth it, and all free of course, tax-payers money, you're a good man, we're so, so sorry about your loss.
He wonders what she dreams about, if she dreams at all.
He counts the ribs through the skin, through the thin sheets and sighs in despair. Maybe he should talk to her about it, maybe he should take up his bosses offer of therapy for her, maybe he should leave and never come back.
In – and out
In – and out.
In –
He's vaguely aware that the school year has started, that Susan isn't going, though Ganya is, that he doesn't really care, though, perhaps, he should. They spoke briefly about it one day, over the washing up.
"Hasn't school started yet?"
A nod.
"Are you not going?"
Shake of the head.
A pause.
"Won't they make you?"
Shrug.
"What about your friends?"
Another shrug, and she turns to put the plates away in the cupboard under the counter. The movement stretched the skin across her back, almost translucent over the polished, lumpy bones of her spine.
In – and out
In – and out.
In –
Perhaps it won't matter if they live the rest of their lives in limbo. It might even be safer. Each of them in little bubbles, floating around the house, occasionally bumping into each other, with all the force of a feather. He can see them sometimes, late at night, after too much vodka.
Perhaps she won't eventually hate him for keeping her in that limbo with him, for not having the strength to pull either of them out of the vacuum that seemed to have invaded the house after –
In – and out
In – and out.
In –
Really quick, written-in-fifteen-minutes fic, that I'm not sure how I feel about. I may do some more work on it at some point, but it's a start right?
For Adi with her challenges and cheeky grins. : ) D'ya like?
Bones and Moonbeams
***************************
He watches her when she's sleeping.
He goes to great lengths to avoid her during the day, but at night, he can't tear himself away from her bedside and he listens to her breathing, slow and easy.
In, and out.
In – and out.
In – and out.
In –
A pause, a twitch and shuffle. A small, almost silent sigh and then
In – and out
In – and out.
In –
They sit around the dinner table, three people, three plates, nothing to say. Or rather everything too say, too much to say and not a word between them because sometimes silence is better. Her brother, eating quickly, mumbled excuses, leaving the table, the house, the world. Her untouched plate, her long, unwashed hair around her bowed head like a curtain, a wall, an impenetrable fortress.
But she has her mothers eyes and he thinks, perhaps, it's better this way.
When she sleeps, she sleeps with her eyes closed, hair still loose, in bedsheets she hasn't changed in weeks. She breathes easily and he sees her chest move up and down up and down, her face illuminated by moonbeams and starlight, her stark thinness impossible to avoid beneath the pale sheets.
In – and out
In – and out.
In –
He locks himself in his study, pretending he still has work to do, though they've put him on indefinite leave, fully paid, of course. They offered him psychiatric treatment, though he refused. Counselling then? Therapy? Maybe for the children? They might benefit, there are benefits, it can be worth it, and all free of course, tax-payers money, you're a good man, we're so, so sorry about your loss.
He wonders what she dreams about, if she dreams at all.
He counts the ribs through the skin, through the thin sheets and sighs in despair. Maybe he should talk to her about it, maybe he should take up his bosses offer of therapy for her, maybe he should leave and never come back.
In – and out
In – and out.
In –
He's vaguely aware that the school year has started, that Susan isn't going, though Ganya is, that he doesn't really care, though, perhaps, he should. They spoke briefly about it one day, over the washing up.
"Hasn't school started yet?"
A nod.
"Are you not going?"
Shake of the head.
A pause.
"Won't they make you?"
Shrug.
"What about your friends?"
Another shrug, and she turns to put the plates away in the cupboard under the counter. The movement stretched the skin across her back, almost translucent over the polished, lumpy bones of her spine.
In – and out
In – and out.
In –
Perhaps it won't matter if they live the rest of their lives in limbo. It might even be safer. Each of them in little bubbles, floating around the house, occasionally bumping into each other, with all the force of a feather. He can see them sometimes, late at night, after too much vodka.
Perhaps she won't eventually hate him for keeping her in that limbo with him, for not having the strength to pull either of them out of the vacuum that seemed to have invaded the house after –
In – and out
In – and out.
In –
