Stained-Glass Heart: Epilogue
By: E.R.M
He opened his eyes. Everything was white, depthless and blank. He was someplace, but yet, not. There was no beginning or end, no walls, no anything. It was nothingness. He was increasingly distressed. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could see or analyze. Not even an obtuse mark on the not-wall to comfort him or occupy his mind. He couldn't hear his footsteps, his breathing or any sound at all. It was like being in an isolation tank, deprived of all senses, except there was no hope of escaping, no possibility of change. He began to panic. It was only thing he could hold to, the slicing panic and horror in his chest.
He tried to figure out where he was. He couldn't. He tried to figure out who he was. He couldn't. The only thing he knew is that he was alone, utterly alone.
Then he heard something, a breath, a slight noise barely audible. He turned. There was a girl, or rather a young woman standing there staring at him. She was wrapped in a brilliant green dress, her bright red hair trailing down her back like flames. He sighed in relief. The girl's presence gifted him with depth perception, a sense of direction and a flood of new things to his mind. The colors of her clothing and hair, the pale facets of her skin, the shape of her body and the patterns of her respiratory system brought relief from the terror of sameness.
The girl looked a bit frightened of him now that he had returned her gaze. She seemed as if she didn't know whether to run away or approach him. He also noticed that she didn't seem to know where she was either. For some reason he wanted to comfort her, make her feel secure rather than lost. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, hold her and tell her everything was okay.
This confused him. He had never been a caring man, nor one to make any contact with people. This girl defied his normal laws of conduct and his code of life. 'Odd.' He thought.
He walked towards her and offered his hand.
The girl took a step back. She was tentative, cautious, and defensive, even. She looked over him, the contours of his face, his slender form and towering stature. Her green eyes seemed to penetrate his mind and soul, peering into his deepest thoughts and wishes. She paused a moment, deeming him acceptable, and placed her hand in his.
As she stepped forward, a long stroke of a violin penetrated the quiet. He took her waist. With every movement the music grew more layered and detailed. Sweet vibrato filled the air and cascades of notes fell as they danced. The music seemed to be coming from her, like speech, but with much more meaning than petty words. Somehow, he understood this language. He knew what every sound, rest and accent meant. He understood her. The music wove around them pulling them closer and making every moment more intimate than the next. He was suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss her.
He pulled her forward and pressed his lips to hers. Behind the kiss, her eyes and face filled with surprise. The music grew stronger as she fell into his arms. He weaved his fingers through her tousled hair, his other arm still wrapped around her waist. She was holding him by the shoulders for support, as she was on the tops of her toes, stretching to reach his face. They both pulled away with joyous grins on their faces. He was lost in her eyes, alight with happiness. She loved him and he her. Suddenly, she coughed blood into his face.
The music stopped. The only sound that could be heard was her sputtering coughs and gasps for breath.
She collapsed to the ground. He did not care about the red being sprayed on his skin, only her. He held his love, his eyes searching in desperation for the problem. Terror filled her eyes as she struggled to stay coherent. She silently mouthed 'Please'. There was nothing he could do.
The blood started pouring from her eyes ears and mouth. The thick scarlet was diluted with the tears streaming down her face. It pooled around her head, matting her hair and saturating her dress. She tried to reach her hand up against his face but was too weak to hold it there for more than a second. He grabbed the delicate fingers and held them there for her.
She was fading. She was struggling to keep her eyes open and her skin was paler than the white that was their prison. Her breathing was shallow and occasional. He felt wet roll down his cheeks. 'Please don't leave me.' He pleaded in his mind. 'I beg of you!'
Suddenly her hand went limp under his and her breathing ceased. He frantically felt at her neck begging soundlessly for a pulse. He found none. Her eyes were no longer filled with the brilliant personality that they once contained. He held her, rocking back and forth. She was gone. His light had burnt out and now he was in the dark. Alone. For all of eternity. The darkness closed in on him.
"ELIZABETH!" Sherlock darted up in his bed, screaming. He was breathing rapidly, his blood pounding in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He clutched his knees, sobbing. The nightmares had found him again. They tortured him whenever he slept, mocking him with the horrors of his life that he had longed to forget. His mind was filled with her now and there was no stopping the flood of memories. He buried his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth," He whispered, "Please forgive me."
