A/N This seems to be the theme of the day. It's really Angsty but there is a resolution. PS, for someone who typically shies away from romance, there's a hint of it in here if you squint ;o)
Disclaimer: I own nothing (other than a set of identical "Jane" teacups...which I'm willing to share so he can have one again).
Time
Ten years is a long time to be focused on one thing he knows but what else is there? He's too determined or possibly too scared to answer that question but maybe there'll be time for that, after.
He doesn't remember much about the moment itself but he recalls the moment after, deciding whether to end it right there on the grass by the pond but his mind goes back in time and he hears her words as if she were standing in front of him: "I think you'd choose life."
So instead, he calls her like he said he would if he were dying and he knows part of him died with the monster's last breath. Hopefully it was the darker side that had perished. Only time would tell.
It was supposed to be different, but as a fugitive he finds he has endless time marooned thousands of miles away from anyone worth spending it with. He waits, and passes the time writing all the things he wished he had the courage to say in person. It's only when he really looks at the old man sitting at the bar that he realizes it's time to go home.
He counts the trees as they drive him to his new prison though this one he goes to willingly because she will be there. When he finally catches his first glimpse of her, he's sure he must have gone back in time because she looks more stunning than he can remember. He gathers her in his arms and vows that this time he'll do things differently.
Intentions are easier said than done and even though she has chosen to stay despite all the times he has let her down, he still can't seem to find the words to voice his feelings. Instead, he reverts to the familiar, getting himself into messes and forcing her to fix them.
He pretends not to notice at how she keeps glancing at her watch or when she applies an extra layer of makeup near the end of the work day. As she leaves on her second date of the week with another man, he wonders what it would be like to spend his free time with her.
The phone rings as he is dozing on his new old couch, the one he had spent so much time insisting he needed. The Asian on the other end says, "You need to get down here. There isn't much time and she's asking for you."
On this evening, he will wonder if time is the greatest gift or the cruelest torture as he pulls into the parking lot. The flashing lights are disorientating but he finds the familiar face of his teammate who shows more emotion than he's ever seen on the man's face.
"Man in a red pickup had too many drinks, confused the gas for the break and pinned her to the pole. She's conscious and talking, asking for you. They've given her drugs for the pain. They won't know what kind of damage has been done until they pull the truck away but…"
He doesn't need to hear the rest. The library of endless knowledge he has stored in his brain over time tells him that the human heart can pump several liters of blood per minute around the body or out if there's a large enough breach. Additionally, most people have around 4 or 5 liters of blood total. A quick calculation confirmed how little time that would take.
"If you wanted me to barge in on your date, all you had to do was ask." He tries to lighten the mood as he takes her hand. It takes every skill within him to keep it together. Focusing on her fluttering pulse beneath his fingertips helps but he won't be able to keep up the facade forever.
She half laughs, half chokes, a splatter of crimson makes everything all too clear as the seconds tick on far too quickly. "Please don't make me laugh."
"I don't know what else to do." He admits, as two tears finally break the dam that has been steadily building.
"Promise me you'll live, take one day at a time."
"I don't think I can make that promise, not this time."
She squeezes his hand though he can feel it weakening by the second. "Please." It's her one request, and she knows if it's her last then just maybe he'll listen.
He nods for her sake as a paramedic injects something into her arm. A sedative he explains as they prepare to move the truck.
"I love you." He whispers the words he has failed to speak until now but then realizes the time for confessions has passed. She is blissfully unconscious.
The regular beeping brings him out of his twilight zone-type stupor. The rational side of him knows that time continues outside the four walls of the small room but in here, things slow to the speed of the heart monitor and the arsenal of equipment keeping her alive.
The doctor tells them it is up to her. The more time she remains unresponsive, the less her chances of ever waking. One week turns into two and by the end of the third, he stops begging her to wake up. Instead, he tells her it is okay to let go if she isn't going to get better with time. He realizes it's the first unselfish thing he's ever said to her.
Her brothers make the decision for her after another week of no change. It's the first time since they were children that they aren't arguing. Together, they designate a time and the doctor arrives promptly to assist them in turning off the machines.
He refuses to be there. He's had enough of a hand holding her back in life and refuses to take any part in ending it. Instead, he sits outside and watches the clock. Minutes tick by as the time approaches the end for her and in turn, for him as well. Eventually, it is passed time and he wonders if it is over. Surely his heart would have stopped too. Then again, these things can take time.
Her brothers emerge as a group. They don't stop to chat but one, the only one he knows personally stops to tell him the news. "She's still fighting." Apparently, today wasn't her time.
Slowly, her physical wounds heal though she shows no sign of waking. He remains a constant vigil counting the moments and vowing to make up for them if he gets the chance.
It's a warm day in spring when something finally changes. The familiar noises of the monitors speed up, seeming to speed up time itself. He is alarmed at first until a nurse reassures him that this is a good sign. She is waking up.
The first thing she sees is the large foil frog balloon dancing on the ceiling of her room. Then he is there, smiling down at her for the first time in nearly two months. She wants to ask him why he is crying but she finds her voice isn't working properly. Instead, he leans down and places a kiss on her forehead. "About time."
Eight days later he wheels her down the path towards the ocean. She's regaining the strength to walk a little each day. The sun is setting and he is reminded of the last time he was with her like this. He has so much to make up for.
"I have something for you, two somethings actually."
She looks up at him hopefully and he reaches out his hand, placing something in her palm. She eyes the warn metal in awe. "Are you sure?"
He smiles and pulls gently at her elbows, encouraging her to stand. "It was time." With that he cups her face and washes any further doubt she may have away with the hunger in his lips. The moment encompasses everything they have been through; the pain of the past, the hopefulness of the present and gift of a future once thought lost.
As they pull away, he stares into her emerald eyes and thinks about the plans he already has for them; of the fireside dinner he made reservations for earlier that morning, the other, newer metal band he has tucked away for safe keeping. He knows he should wait but it has been over twelve years after all. He has a feeling she'll agree that they've waited enough time. If not, he'll be patient. This time was theirs and nothing was going to ruin it.
Fin