Take My Breath Away
a Primeval fanfic by phoebenpiper for emilyjay on her birthday
...
For the first time in her life, Emily was truly terrified.
Naturally, there had been many times when she had been frightened. Ethan threatening her with her own dagger. The first time she'd encountered a creature through the gateway. Her wedding night.
Yet in each of those circumstances she had been able to do something to push past the fear. Anger, curiosity, obstinacy - all those qualities her mother constantly insisted were unbecoming to a lady - those were what had gotten her through.
But none of those could help her now.
Though it was not as if she had not tried. From the moment she had awoken into the darkness, she had attempted to free herself. She had strived with all her might to move the stone lid covering what was certain to become her own tomb, kicking and scrabbling till her fingers were raw and her knees and shoulders were bruised, but it had all been for naught. She had also cried herself hoarse, even knowing no one would hear, knowing how empty the cemetery had been , the cobwebs and dust a silent testimony to the fact that nary a soul had been inside this mausoleum in years. As expected, no one had heard her, no one had come. So now there was nothing left to be done but lie here in the dank darkness, letting her fear overwhelm her as she waited for death to come.
This was not how she had envisioned her own end. Ever since she had gone through that first gateway, she was certain her death would be swift, no doubt by some deadly creature or another. That was why she had spoken back to Ethan, asking why he did not simply kill her here, now. It was not that she thought him incapable of such cruelty - on the contrary, she knew precisely the sort of damage he could inflict. Yet at that moment she had no longer been frightened by the prospect of sudden death.
Even as a child she had often dreamt of it, her nightmares filled with terrible accidents such as being struck by a runaway horse-and-carriage. Of course, she was well aware that that might have actually happened, too, had Lord Merchant not by chance been there that day to sweep her out of harm's way. It had all happened so quickly, Emily had barely had time for fear as she was confronted with the galloping deathtrap; she had been far more frightened to face her father's wrath that evening, knowing that she would not have been in danger had she but listened to her mother. Yet she had barely been disciplined, a fact which confused her and made her linger in the corridor afterwards, listening. She overheard her mother saying it was truly the hand of Providence, for certainly God had had a purpose in making their only daughter so headstrong and insolent, and such a chance meeting with an heroic, titled, single young man could not have been mere accident. Her father, although not eager to credit the Almighty with such forethought, had nonetheless been suitably pleased with the encounter and was eager to establish a rapport with the young man as a potential future suitor.
Yet even as a girl of ten, Emily had noticed that neither of her parents had seemed to acknowledge, nor even much care, that she had been in mortal danger. This had not, however, come as a great surprise to her and had only strengthened her conviction that death, when it came, would be sudden and forsaken.
But that which she now faced was not sudden enough to her liking. Lying here, knowing each minute that passed meant less air, knowing each breath would become more and more difficult, knowing there was nothing more to do but make peace with her Creator - no, this was definitely not sudden enough.
If only she had not awoken, if only she had slipped away in her sleep, never having to face eternity in this manner. But the knock on her head she had taken whilst struggling with Ethan had not been severe enough to keep her asleep till the end...or perhaps God had simply not felt she deserved to get off so lightly. Perhaps this was what she deserved, after such a life of willful disobedience, to be forced to come face to face with her own mortality.
Yet Emily somehow did not feel a sense of guilt. When she thought back on her life, on all the choices that had led her to this solitary death, she had few regrets. Perhaps most in her situation would have wondered what life would have been like never having gone to investigate the golden light, yet Emily did not bother, for she knew exactly the life she would have led. Although Henry was not unkind, she knew there was no love between them, and her life, had she stayed, would have gone much the way of her mother's. Therefore she had had nothing to lose in satisfying her curiosity when the shimmering gateway had appeared. But that had been almost three years ago now, and her former life with Henry seemed something of a dream to her. Did Henry still think of her, she wondered, or had he, too, moved on? Would he somehow sense when she took her final breath? Would her mother feel some maternal twinge at her passing? Or was Emily too long gone for anyone to even care?
Matt might have cared, she suddenly realised, thinking of the kind gentleman whom she had just met yet only knew by his first name. She had felt a true connection with him, perhaps because he had trusted her in an instant, though she had done nothing to deserve such trust. He had seemed genuinely concerned about her plight, profoundly interested in helping her. And how had she repaid his kindness? By trying to steal away the first moment she could.
"I guess we still have some work to do on this whole trust issue," he had said. Yet everyone she had ever put trust in had failed her. Her parents. Henry. Even Charlotte had now left her. However, deep down, she felt as if Matt were someone she might have trusted, had circumstances been different.
But by now he would've already come home to find her gone. No doubt he had not even noticed she had taken one of those devices from his flat, those he claimed helped others find him. No, he certainly had just found her gone without a trace, inevitably assuming she had merely left without a word, as she had meant to do that morning.
That, it seemed, was her only regret. To have not had a chance to properly thank him, to have not told him how much his kindness, his assistance, his trust had meant to her, here in this foreign London so far from home.
It was for this that she finally said a simple prayer. She asked not for her own life to be spared, nor for Ethan to be punished - she asked only that Matt find it in his heart to forgive her. She realised she did not much care what others thought of her, but for some reason she did not want this honourable man to think unkindly of her when she was gone.
After her simple prayer into the darkness, she tried to calm her thoughts. Yet as she had often felt trying to sleep on the eve of a grand party, she simply could not still her mind. Instead, every sense felt suddenly heightened, aware that these were the last she would ever know. The bitter cold of the hard stone slab beneath her. The dank, musty odour of dust and death. The salty taste of the gag mixed with her own tears. The distant sound of a rusty metal hinge squeaking.
Emily's eyes popped open at this last, suddenly awake to the sounds outside. She could now hear what sounded to be stone scraping against stone - the adjacent tomb perhaps, where Ethan had placed Charlotte's ashes? Was someone near? Had someone come? She almost thought she heard someone calling her name, though it was certainly her imagination, brought on by lack of air, for who could know she was here? Yet she was overwhelmed with a renewed sense of hope. Perhaps this need not be her end. Perhaps she could be saved.
For the first time since she'd awoken in this tomb, her body was racked with hysterical sobs. She had been so certain that no help would come, that she was truly alone here, but this sudden ray of hope illuminated her darkness, making her suddenly desperate to live, crying out as loudly as she could, struggling to be heard.
And suddenly rescue was upon her. The scraping of the stone lid above her. A sliver of light. Matt's face.
It was as if her prayers had been made manifest. She had merely asked for his forgiveness, yet he had done oh so much more.
"You came looking for me," she gasped, astonished, as Matt freed her from her bonds.
"Yeah," he replied, as if there had never been any question that he would do so.
She threw her arms about him, holding him close, never wanting to let him go. He had sought her out; he had not abandoned her to this cruel fate. And in saving her from this lonely, solitary death so far from home, this trustworthy, kind, handsome man had truly taken her breath away.
...
THE END
Happy birthday, Em!