Hi! So I've had this plot on a sticky note for about a year with a vague idea of a story I would like to write surrounding this one idea. Have you ever had an idea for a scene or sentence of a story and then somehow assumed you had read it. Well that's what happened here. I was convinced I had read this story, only to realize the part I remember I had had written on a sticky note buried in my desk titling it as "plot idea 2". Long story short, I am really happy I decided to clean my desk today. Please read and review!
Thanks to Magemaster who helped me try to track down the story when I thought I had read it, sorry for the wild goose chase D:
You cringe slightly, rolling the small box in your hand. You shouldn't have worried, you shouldn't even entertain the green thoughts tumbling through your head…but –like everything that has to do with this woman- you just can't help yourself.
You know she loves you, God she says it enough, shows you enough. No, this is a "you" thing. This is your issue not hers...
But as you sit in your shared room switching between pacing and sitting restlessly, you can't help but let your imagination make it into her problem. If she just didn't wear her hair like that, or smile at waiters like that, or laugh like that…damn if she just didn't act like her amazing self around anyone but you, you think you would be okay.
'That's not rational', the whispered thought is caught floating into consciousness –your rational, mature, not-crazy-jealous voice has cowered behind the insecure tirade that has been frying your brain for the last three hours. 'She didn't mean for-' But before it can finish the thought, you banish it to the back of your brain along with the old calculus equations and Warehouse handbook, as you find yourself sucked into the memory from hours before.
I had been a long week. Not just long in work hours or annoying-Pete-eating-contests, but the type of long that can only be felt when the absence of someone pulls tightly on your heart. The week starts earl, if the start of this pain can constitute it. Helena was called away with Pete on Saturday, to search for an artifact which had the ability to…well honestly you couldn't bring yourself to read the file.
You were assured it would be an open shut case, and the duo would return by Monday. As it nears Sunday evening, 8 days, 5 hours and 36 minutes since you last held her, a day since their last check in and far too many what-if scenarios, you are broken from your inner panic by the blare of the Farnsworth.
Grabbing for it quickly, unabashed by the smirk gracing Claudia's face as she moves to sit beside you, you tensely open it only to let out a sigh of relief when her beautiful face shines through the screen.
"Hello, darling" She greets you with a brilliant smile, "Claudia" she turns greeting your seatmate with a kind nod.
"Hey HG, when are you coming back? I don't know how much longer I can deal with Mopey-Myka" She finishes with a friendly nudge.
Before you can protest, because really, you weren't that bad -so what if you read The Time Machine most nights, it is an amazing book! And so what if you've been staying at the Warehouse late, you really did have a lot of paper work to finish and Pete surely would appreciate the help- Helena's voice brings a steadying breath to your lungs.
"We will be on the first flight, I assure you. Pete coaxed me into stopping at this diner on the way for –what did you call it?" She asks looking up from the screen, some mumbling could be heard which from years of experience you know if Pete attempting to speak with his mouth full, at Helena's resulting disgusted look you and Claudia cannot help but laugh. "Yes, that, be a dear, Peter and refrain from sharing your food particles with me."
Turning back to the screen with a roll of her eyes, "Claudia, write this down. Men are pigs." Some arguing could be heard muffled no doubt from food, "Honestly, they could shove a trove in front of you and you would be content!" There bickering sprouts smiles on both of your faces.
"I'm sorry; some people just don't know how to act in the presence of a lady." At her words a sharp snort and coughing could be heard, as you lock eyes with her quickly, feeling the warmth of her smirk
"You couldn't be a lady if you-" But Pete cuts himself off, just as you watch Helena transition into a smile with a raised eyebrow this time looking a little to the left of where you determine Pete must be, "Uh, hello?" Pete's voice greets
You and Claudia both lean closer to the Farnsworth as if trying to see the distraction for yourselves.
"Hello, I couldn't help but notice your accent, where is it you are from?" You can hear a man's voice ask
Helena's smile almost kills you, you know it is just for politeness' sake but something in you clenches.
" A bit outside of London." She replies, with a twitch to her smile, usually meant to end conversation and looking back to you, eye's lighting up. "As I was saying, Pete- I'm sorry?" Once again her attention was taken by the mystery man on her left.
"I was just saying, I lived there for a few months back in college, beautiful place." And you can just imagine his generic brown hair, dark eyes, and stupidly hopeful smile.
"Ah, that it is." She replies, this time nodding her head in goodbye, locking her eyes on the screen once again.
"What is it that you have there?" As the question is asked you can hear his voice grow steadily closer and suddenly you see her shift closer to the left.
"I apologize; this is my diary, what is a woman without her secrets?" Her voice is friendly –even regretful on the surface, but you can hear her annoyance rising.
"True, true. Do you mind if I sit beside you, buddy?" you hear the man ask as Helena's eyes land closer to where you know Pete to be, finally you understand. The thought that he tried to sit beside her hits you first, while Claudia's smirk and thumbs up to the screen brings to your notice that Helena had scooted to the center of the booth in order to block him.
Even as the clenching intensifies and your eyes flash, you can't help the pride you feel seeing her fast thinking and ingenuity in action.
You watch as Helena's eyes bore into Pete's requesting him to no doubt stay in the middle, but all hope is lost and her glare intensifies when you can hear the man thanking him and Pete's not so discrete cough/ pigs-help-each-other-out comment.
If you could, you seriously think you would kill him right now. Why the Hell would he help someone hit on your girlfriend?!
"So what are you guys doing out here?" The man comments, and you're beginning to really hate the brown haired, dark-eyed, no light blue eyed version of him you've conjured.
As Helena's glare never wavers, Pete is left to answer, explaining they were flown out for work.
"Ah, just as I suspected, I am doing the same. I just got back from a stint at corporate; you would not believe how demanding bosses can be regardless of how high on the ladder you are." His emphasis on "high" causes your eyes to roll and you watch as Helena's resolve is tested.
"I can only imagine." Her words are clipped and cold to your ears, but they seem to bring life to the man's.
"Well, whenever you're in town, or whenever really –we have a company jet- here's my card, Ms.?"
"Sidney. Sidney Johnston." She replies smoothly, behind the cloud of green currently forming in your mind, you can't help but recognize the name. But your half-hearted search for the connection doesn't stand up to bolt of pain that shoots through you as you watch her reach for what you assume to be the card, and instead watch her hand be pulled up and her quick flash of barely concealed discomfort, when you use your anger-abled skills to deducted her had kissed her hand.
Your body goes rigid. There's not enough blood in your body to blush properly at Claudia's worried glance due to the fact that all of it is burning in anger as it rushes to your face.
Calming your features as best you can, you feel the blood barely leave your face as you watch a retreating back practically skip away from the table, and glance back at her face on the screen to catch the tail end of what must have been a very long glare.
"As I was saying, Pete had us stop for hamburgers at a diner. Myka-" She says your name on a sigh and shoots Pete a look, to which you hear his answering "I'll be in the loo then, tell Myka not to kill me."
Taking her hint you smile apologetically at Claudia and take the Farnsworth to your room. Even through your haze of, well everything: anger and jealousy at that stupid guy's flirting, pain at her absence, jealous of Pete's proximity to her –which you know is crazy, but he can touch her right now, he better not, but he can and you can't- in spite of all this you can't help but feel the warmth of being alone with her, well as alone as you can be so many miles apart.
By the time you are situated on the foot of the bed she has turned so her back rest on the wall to the right of the booth.
She lets out a deep breath before speaking, as your eyes lock and you feel your shoulders loose some of their tension, "I've missed you."
"I've missed you too." You reply, eyes watering slightly as you see hers do the same.
Before either of you has the chance to speak again, Pete runs by saying something about an earlier flight and the possibility of Leena's cookies. Helena calmly rolls her eyes, while discretely blinking away the extra moisture, and grants you a quick smile before ending the call with a quick, yet sincere "I love you."
Leaving you to return the phrase to the blackened screen.
Had you left it at that, and been able to think of anything else for the last three hours you think you would've been able calm yourself enough to function beyond breathing and seething.
You always have had a difficulty controlling your emotions about her, why would you think anything would be different once you started openly loving her.
So you sit and you wait, tapping your feet as you sit or pacing running your fingers through your hair as you take one-two-three steps before turning around to repeat, no matter what that box stays tightly gripped or flipped nervously in your palm. You found it when your mind while your mind relentlessly played the man kissing her hand on loop.
It was right where you distantly remember placing it back in high school between your third grade spelling bee trophy and acceptance letter to Harvard in the small box of mementos you've lugged around since moving out for college.
You sit on the bed as your thoughts pull toward what the box contains, a welcome relief from the dark jealousy-filled plots running through your brain. Opening it, you trace your hand over the small ring, feeling the sharpness of the red heart shaped jewel, and the smoothness of the metal hands holding it. The small clear jewel announcing the crown is too small to feel, but you watch intently as the light from the lamp catches them.
As you stare transfixed at it imagining finally being able to put it on here, you can't help but feel this is not enough. You want to get her a diamond, a gorgeous diamond that you know won't even match a tenth of her beauty but you can try. And you want to propose, with roses, or daisies, or post-its. But you know that's not how to propose. Jealousy and anger should never prompt that, only love.
So you restrain yourself as much as possible and instead choose your claddagh ring. You've been meaning to give it to her regardless, and you can't help it if this instance reminds you too, is the excuse you've decided on.
Because if you are really honest with yourself. You just want the world to know that this amazing, wonderful, perfect woman is taken. And yours. You don't want to think the last part, you try your best not to. She is not a possession, but this is your mind so you let yourself think it, besides you long ago accepted that you will always be hers.
These are the thoughts that keep you from noticing the sound of the front door opening and steps being taken quick steps thunder into the kitchen, while even faster albeit graceful steps make their way up to your room.
Your door slowly opens and the scent of her wafts freshly into the room as it had faded slightly with her absence. You wait until she's stepped inside and nearly clear of the door before pouncing.
In an instant you find yourself moaning into her mouth as you use her body to close the door, securely pressing her up against it once it's shut. Minutes pass this way, parting only for lack of breath and even then your lips find her neck or vice versa, hands threading through hair and pulling each other impossibly closer.
Trailing your lips up her neck, up her jaw and placing a soft kiss to her ear you can't help but whisper over both of your gasps for breath, "I love you." The kiss you're pulled into nearly ends your plans for the ring tonight, but as her hands sliding under your shirt caressing your back you are shocked to not feel the slight chill of a ring and find you like the idea of the chill.
Slowly pulling back from the kiss you painfully extricate yourself from her as much as possible, yet allow yourself to keep hold of her hand.
"Come here, I have something for you." You say softly, as you watch her pout wishing you would let yourself wait at least another hour, because really…
She takes the seat beside you on the bed, her hip pressed firmly against yours as she leans back on her left arm so her shoulder is positioned behind your back as her side is completely pressed into you.
"Look- I just- After today-" You stutter out as her lips make their way to your neck. Closing your eyes to regain control you try again, "Will you wear this? It's nothing much-" You have a feeling the rest of your rambling goes unheard as she lifts her head from kissing your clothed shoulder to stare at the ring in silent understanding. A bright smile lights up her face as she holds her right hand out silently and you carefully place the ring on making sure it is the right way. Starring at it finally on her finger you can't help but bring your lips down to kiss her hand, rising to lock eyes with her as your hand plays with hers.
And after that, well let's just say coherent thought is not really your thing either when it comes to being with this woman.
Please review, tell me what you liked, tell me what you didn't, tell me what your favorite color is. I care about these things :P
P.S. The name Helena uses is a play off of Albert Sidney Johnston, which I read on ever reliable Wikipedia was one of the "most powerful images and symbols of the Lost Cause." Which the article is titled as the "Lost Cause of the Confederacy." I'm not going to pretend like I'm a history buff or anything, but that's what google gave me when I asked for names symbolic of lost causes. Cause seriously, that guy was wasting his time on Helena.