A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 13: Far Too Long

I realize I had fallen back asleep when my eyes open again. I'd acquired a new position in that amount of time. I'm not sure how long that was, but based on the increased amount of light glinting across the floor, it was more than an hour.

We're facing each other now; my cheek pressed into the space where his chest meets his stomach. My hand rests on the firm abs shaping his belly. The ridged surface moves in a soft, rhythmic up and down whenever he breathes. I wriggle to regain some comfort, and re-adjust my limbs. Ansem's arm is draped lazily over my waist and one of my legs is still stuck tightly between both of his. I absently finger one of his faint stitching scars.

Gurgle. It's his stomach, not mine. I take a weary peek from over the tucked folds of black sheets to see his face. He's awake, but barely; stuck on the brink of conscious and unconsciousness.

Today is going to be very a slow day. I can tell by the nausea in my throat and the frightened, aching, worrying feeling in my heart. Anxiety attacks lurk right around the corner. I press on.

I open my mouth to ask him a question (if he's alert enough). Nothing comes out because I don't know how to ask it. I inquire to myself why we do these intimate things. Like our few kisses, when the time passes, or when he gets up, it will be as if our little sleep-in never happened. At least I know I'll still be thinking about it; wanting to feel it again.

He turns over releasing an arm keeping me prisoner. He mumbles something I can't understand. With my free limb I rub the center dip in his back. If he doesn't start the day off, I will. He growls in deep irritation.

Now he knows how I feel. The least he could do was not complain.

"H-hey," I rub a bit harder. He growls louder before turning over back facing the mattress, and staring at me dead in my face. All eyes open and somewhat alert, he gives me an annoyed, lazy expression.

"Shouldn't we get up?" Ambiguously I let the side of my face settle near his underarm, a hand back on his stomach.

"Hmmm," he breathes inwardly. I can feel it rumble from his chest.

"Ansem?"

"You don't feel well," he suddenly says. That isn't a question. He reaches over a thick arm to pinch my nose.

"What makes you think that," I instinctively swat his hand away. He snags my face dodging my defense.

"Excuse me dear if I sound intrusive, but you where rather reserved yesterday. So tell me. What was it? Something about your mother?" He applies pressure to the bridge of my nose twisting it slightly. I wince and wrap my fingers around his wrist. My nose is still sore from before.

He presses a little harder when I don't say anything. Oh, I didn't have a choice.

"My- you heard what she said. My mother is looking for me,"

"And?" He opens his heavy thighs releasing my trapped leg. With one hand still placed firmly on my nose, he shifts to hover over me. He stares, his body directly above mine.

"I'm not sure whether to believe that," I turn away and cover my face with my hands. "I mean... well I-I," I choke on my words and force back a hic; force back a cry. Ansem's the last person is want to cry in front of.

He tares my palms away clasping my wrists in his large hot hands. Squinting sideways he holds his head in a curious, devious tilt. His dangling hair tickles my shoulders and chest.

"I...I don't know how I should feel. So, no. No, I don't feel too well in all meaning of the phrase," my throat closes into a hot burn making it hard to breath.

"Why?" He's analyzing my emotion through those smoldering eyes.

"It's a long story I could have avoided,"

"Avoided? Hesitate to beat around the bush. I want a better answer,"

"I don't think its any if your business,"

"I get the notion that it's all a part of why your stuck here slaving with demons," spot on. I press my mouth into a straight line.

He grins showing his teeth at my silence. "But, if you don't think it's my business I won't force the subject further,"

I nod. The rims of my eyes start to sting.

I was sent through another trusty dark corridor, but this time there wasn't any mystery. I was told where I was to go. Wonderland seems like it was years ago rather than a few months.

It's as weird and unusual as ever, and as I walked through the various doors, I was greeted with breezes of nostalgia and familiarity. I smirked sideways at the ring master get up I wore before, and tipped my top hat before my embark into deeper parts of the world. I like Wonderland, a lot. I think it's the forest, or the colors, or maybe it just reminds me if my wildest dreams.

Let's see. What did I do while I was there? I was ordered to retrieve a book while Ansem took a detour somewhere else. Other than having to vine swing a whip around a heartless' neck and suffocate it to its death, it was not as treacherous as expected. The book he wanted grew from a tree. I'd rather not go over the whole jabberwocky labyrinth. It was long and as confusing as hell to locate that jar before.

That jar.

I remember, and then again I don't.
What did Ansem ever do with that thing? I found it, handed it over, and then it was gone and out of sight.

I muse over it when I return to Hollow Bastion. I wonder where he put it. I snoop around to confirm if he is back or not. No sign of Big n' bad. I sigh and close my eyes before walking into his study. I'm so very tired. But, that won't stop me. I never got to see what was inside.

The big ass book is chucked into his office chair. I look around for a bit slowly, carefully inching objects and cabinets out of place to check behind them. No jar. I put everything exactly where it was. Puffing out another sigh I eye a bottom locked cabinet under the top of his desk and to the side. Piece of cake. I unwind a hair pin from the side of my bangs and bend down to pick the lock. Viola!

I am dastardly.

The container opens with a loud clank. What do you know? It's the jar. Before taking it out of place, I look to a window. It's already getting dark. I better make this quick. On my knees I crouch to the floor close to the desk and set the jar's asymmetric bottom upright. It couldn't be too bad. I precariously tip open the lid and peak inside. It's dark, and murky. A thick liquid sloshes against the inner ceramic sides.

I take a small whiff. An uncontrollable shiver racks my whole body as soon as my nostrils are engulfed with the sugar sweet scent. The top is slammed on and before I have a chance to knock it over. I heave a pained groan-shriek that tares my insides. My eyes roll to the back of my head. It's an unbearable pain that I wasn't expecting.

Trying to gain some self control I shove the jar back in the cabinet, and slam the door closed.

Bad idea.

Bad idea.

You sense what they can. Agony of the heart attracts heartless like sugar does to ants. You come to the source of that delicious suffering.

Ah, due time has come at its own price. The heartless lurk and prey about watching her twist and turn. Watch her fight her fate. You stare with them slightly amused. She amuses you greatly. She screams and it shoots hot arrows towards your belly. You like that. It arouses you at your core and stirs something you've never named.

"I can make it stop," you're lifting her from her bed. Cupping her face and stretching her neck from her body, you let the sheets fall from her sweat slicked skin. "You've been hurting for so long dear. I can make it go away. The darkness can," you whisper huskily in her ear.

Her body heaves and she's groaning again. It's so good you almost take your offer back.

"Make it stop, it hurts...," breathless. In so much pain. All pain. Every kind she could feel. Desire: you can feel it leaving her cold and shivering all over again. You'd heat her up. You'd make her warm again.

"Stop fighting the darkness, Phoebe. Stop making it hurt," she is crying from those pretty brown eyes.

"Ansem!" She panicking, clawing at your wrists. Trying to resist the help you know she needs.

"Embrace the darkness and give into me," your lips ghost over her cheeks.

"You'll make it stop?" She's clutching your shoulders. Holding you so close because you are the only one keeping her from falling through the floor.

"Yes," you won't cross your fingers for her. So willing. It pleases you deeply.

"Then I give in," you drag her to her wobbly feet towards your bedroom.

"I'll make you mine,"

He wants to rip her heart out right before her eyes and...

Devour it.

But he stops himself, and keeps to his word watching her fall numb with her pain.

"What do you want most?" Her voice is hard to find.

"You must know by now. Nothing good," he's running a fingertip along her jaw line. "What do you want most? Do you know?"

"Yes, I know."

"Then tell me you darkness desire. You can have it,"

"You,"

He found that unexpected.

Authors Notes:

So. Sleepy.

I can't quite describe this chapter. It's different than the others. Oh well, I was just worried about the flow. There's more to come!