Author's Notes: Blame the script for 3x18. There's a deleted scene where Ryan Chappelle mentions his wife that died six years before. Also blame Natalie Merchant's song My Skin for giving me an idea.
Thanks to Midge for proofreading!
My Skin
She looked down at her hands, for a moment not understanding how they could have changed so much in a few short months. The skin seemed tighter around the bones and her knuckles looked larger. Vicky turned her hand, her rings slipped off easily. She slid them back on her finger, her hand looking even stranger without them.
This is what dying feels like.
Vicky thought she would be more afraid, she was afraid, but she was more tired than anything. A weariness had settled into her bones, like the cancer that was killing her. Sleeping away a day or a week, like she had, was easy. Even when she was afraid every time she closed her eyes that she wouldn't open them again.
Now, as the medicine left her mind feeling hazy but didn't do enough to vanquish the dull ache in her body, she could sleep. The bed was warm, the house dark and it was almost silent, save for the sound of Ryan talking on the phone in the other room. Vicky tried to concentrate on the muffled sound of his voice to keep her mind focused on something. If she tried she could picture him pacing the floor, his hands moving as he talked.
She sat up in bed a little more when she heard the conversation come to a close. Vicky ran her fingers through her hair and was surprised at how long it was, almost to her shoulders. It was still thin though, even after stopping the chemo treatments. Smiling, she remembered Ryan telling her he would shave his head if she went bald. Vicky had replied that at the rate he was losing hair, he'd be bald before her. There was a brief look of surprise before he started laughing with her.
"Hey."
Vicky looked up to see Ryan entering the room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, by her, and covered one of her hands with his.
"That was work."
She had assumed as much. "They miss you."
The corner of his mouth turned up a little. "How are you feeling?"
Same as always, tired and hurting. "I'm ok."
He nodded and Vicky knew he didn't believe that. But he rarely asked twice. It had taken him so long to accept that she was dying. Even now, with the funeral plans set, he still didn't seem to believe it. She'd try to talk to him about after and he would humor her for a bit but she knew he wasn't listening.
Maybe he was trying. They hadn't argued in months. He was stubborn, as was she, and arguments were a part of their life together. Most of them were small, unimportant. The last one wasn't. She had told him that she was tired. Tired of fighting and tired of losing. The treatments weren't working. She was dying.
'You're just going to give up?'
He was stubborn, maybe moreso than she. Definitely more arrogant, Vicky thought with a smile. Ryan expected things to go according to his plans, life would bend to his will. She would get better because he wanted her to. It was just a matter of finding the right treatment, giving it enough time.
Time was something she didn't have.
Ryan leaned in and kissed her softly, still holding her hands in his. "I'm going to change and get ready for bed."
Still close, she cupped his face in her hand. Her thumb traced his jawline and the steady beat of his pulse moved beneath her fingers. Vicky kissed him, still light but lingering, not wanting to move.
"You don't have to change."
Ryan looked at her, surprised. His eyes searched hers and she knows he's wondering about the medication, how's she feeling. It's been weeks, possibly months. She's been too weak for much more than kissing. He knows this and treats her like she's fine porcelain. Untouchable. He doesn't try for anything beyond kissing and sometimes this makes her feel like she's already dead.
His lips touched hers in a soft kiss that becomes deeper. The warmth of his body, the taste of his mouth and she felt something other than pain. She felt alive.