Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just play in the sandbox.
During the daylight Shizuru's mask is almost perfect. Cool, collected, amused – she dispenses her smiles freely, carelessly. Perfectly.
No one can pretend while they're asleep.
The truth is that not even I could tell you what she looks like behind that facade. In the darkness, shadows take the harsh lines of her face and gentle them. They are soothed to a point where not even my eyes could pick them out - if I was hypocritical enough to invade her privacy. She prefers the mask and I respect that. Once I would have believed that if one pretends hard enough, then eventually masks become real.
That would have been before Shizuru, and the night time.
I will have to wake her soon as it is cool, and the sheets are damp with her sweat.
The irony never fails to prickle me - that now it is I that lie awake and watch. A quiet figure, propped upright, studying her shadows. A painful watch – did she ever think so? The shallow movements that can be picked out - jerky and graceless - distressed. That breathing which mixes intermittently with harsh sounds – frustrated, angry, fearful sounds. Not moans, or passive whimpers, but sounds made by defiant damned; them who fight hopeless war.
My arms are wrap around my knees as I watch her; stillness contrasting motion. To touch her right now would be cold comfort indeed, a selfish wish, so I do not.
Soon she will quiet and I will wake her. We will get up, strip the sheets, and replace the blankets. There will be light, and masks, and silence. Silence is the only gift I can give her, and the only gift she will accept: Shizuru prefers to pretend I don't know her dreams. She believes if she pretends her mask enough eventually it will all become real.
I do not believe so anymore. I have the night time.
Authors Note: This was written in response to a conversation I had with a few ex-serviceperson buddies about the ways our partners deal with, not to put to fine a point on it, night times. I grovellingly apologise for the slightly dark nature of the thing... it took on a life of its own.
Responses are welcome... (please?)
