Disclaimer: Don't own this (simple as that!).
A/N: Hi all. This is just a little one-chapter piece that I wrote on the spur of the moment. Thanks to Brianna for beta-ing it for me and a special 'hi' to anyone from N/S shipper group. Hope you like. R&R and enjoy!!!! - Bex
"What are you afraid of Sara?"
"You're asking me this when you're the one standing on the edge of the roof?"
The girl laughs in bitter amusement. Her raven black hair is swept along in the wind behind her; stick-thin arms open as if welcoming a phantom being into an embracing and toes just teetering over the edge. "I'm not afraid to die, only to live."
"I know what you're going through," You begin gently, cautiously taking a step nearer, but freezing when the girl takes a minuet shuffle forwards.
The girl shakes her head. "You don't. Not to see someone you love - the first person in the world to think you're not a waste of space - killed like that. He made me breathe and now I'm just suffocating without him."
You consider attempting to approach her again, but decide against it. Instead you raise your palms up in front of you, as if to show the girl that everything is fine. It's up to you to persuade her out of this. Only you. "He wouldn't have wanted you to end your life."
Her head snaps to face you; for the first time you can see there're tears swelling in the ice-blue eyes and falling down the pale cheeks. "He was my life. He was the only reason I kept living." She turns away and starts to examine the world so far below again. "He stopped me last time. Talked me down. Told me how much he needed me. I need him."
"You need to take a step back, please." The fear leaks into your voice. "Please, come back for me. You're not a waste of space, you have so much to live for."
"How can I live when the pain cages me up, when life offers no freedom from the agony?" She turns her head slightly, barely looking at you over her shoulder. "I keep seeing it every night, over and over in my head. Just watching him die and not being able to do a thing about it. He died to protect our unborn baby and me. And those bastards stole our baby's life as well; I knew it when the knife went in. So tell me again Miss Sidle, what do I have to live for?" She screams through enraged tears.
You can't speak. Suddenly, all words flee you and you're rooted numbly to the spot. This is your last chance to save this girl and you can't think of a way to do it. The girl's lifeless blue orbs just paralysed you; there was no hope in them, no fear, no light, no reason. She nods slightly and whispers, "Thought not. Maybe one day you'll understand."
She closes her eyelids as is preparing for slumber and hugs her skeleton body. Then, as if time is stuck in slow motion, steps over the edge.
*~*~*~*
You wake with a start. Cold sweat drips slowly down your face and you raise a shaking hand to wipe it away; wipe away the memories that torment your mind. And you find tears staining your cheeks as well. Without a second's consideration, you grab the phone from the bedside table and hastily dial in the number you know by heart. The ringing echoes around your eardrum and you feel the same cruel anticipation gripping you. Maybe he's out?
Finally, the ringing stops and a groggy voice answers: "Hello?"
"It...It's me," You stutter, though you think that he'd probably already guessed. "C...Can....Can you come over please?"
You hate that voice. Hate how weak and pathetic it makes you sound. The one that makes him know how much you need him. You've never let anyone know that you need them. Never. Why does it still bother you that he's broken all your stupid rules of self-protection? Why does it still bother you that he might figure it out? He probably has by now.
"I'll be there soon," He promises and hangs up.
You listen foolishly to the deadline for a moment, then drop the phone back onto the hook. You slide out of bed and into the living room - grabbing a dressing gown to wrap around yourself. There you pace in front of the door; it wouldn't surprise you if this spot of carpet were now worn prematurely thin. Your eyes skitter up to the clock near by; you know just how long it takes him to get here - he's comes often enough. After that event, he'd always come to take care of you. At first he was here every day; sometimes listening to your sobbing rambles, other times watching over you whilst you slept. This routine has carried on for weeks, and for the past few days you haven't needed him - maybe because you haven't slept. But the recollections of that day have come back to haunt you. Why isn't he here yet?
There's a knock on the door; it startles you, but you're quick to open the locks. You don't even check to see who it is first. You don't need to; it's always him. His face is a mask of concern; eyes taking you in, as fingers tenderly brushes tears from you face, then linger there. You let a breath escape your lips that you never knew you were holding. Without a word, he steps in and takes your hand, as you helplessly let him lead you back to the bed.
You lay back down and he pulls the covers around your body. God, you feel so frail right now; so vulnerable. He sits down beside you, softly stroking your hair. "They won't go away Nick," You whisper hoarsely. "The dreams keep coming back. I keep seeing her- why won't they go away?"
"Shhhh," He soothes, "They will. And until then, I'm here."
"Hold me."
He complies with the request without hesitation, without questioning. You feel him glide next to you, cupping your body with his, as protecting arms wrap securely around you waist. Not a word is exchanged between you, not a sound is made. Both of you just blink into the darkness, aware of the closeness, listening to your hearts beat perfectly as one.
It's now that you understand what the girl was taking about; you need him to be there.
'What are you afraid of Sara?'
Telling him the truth. Letting him into your armour. Letting him know how much you need him. Letting your defences down and granting him the opportunity to hurt you. Letting him know the weakness, the fear, the uncertainty, and the pain. Needing him to keep going. Needing him to breathe.
A/N: What you think? Feedback is much welcomed; so hit that button now! :o)
A/N: Hi all. This is just a little one-chapter piece that I wrote on the spur of the moment. Thanks to Brianna for beta-ing it for me and a special 'hi' to anyone from N/S shipper group. Hope you like. R&R and enjoy!!!! - Bex
"What are you afraid of Sara?"
"You're asking me this when you're the one standing on the edge of the roof?"
The girl laughs in bitter amusement. Her raven black hair is swept along in the wind behind her; stick-thin arms open as if welcoming a phantom being into an embracing and toes just teetering over the edge. "I'm not afraid to die, only to live."
"I know what you're going through," You begin gently, cautiously taking a step nearer, but freezing when the girl takes a minuet shuffle forwards.
The girl shakes her head. "You don't. Not to see someone you love - the first person in the world to think you're not a waste of space - killed like that. He made me breathe and now I'm just suffocating without him."
You consider attempting to approach her again, but decide against it. Instead you raise your palms up in front of you, as if to show the girl that everything is fine. It's up to you to persuade her out of this. Only you. "He wouldn't have wanted you to end your life."
Her head snaps to face you; for the first time you can see there're tears swelling in the ice-blue eyes and falling down the pale cheeks. "He was my life. He was the only reason I kept living." She turns away and starts to examine the world so far below again. "He stopped me last time. Talked me down. Told me how much he needed me. I need him."
"You need to take a step back, please." The fear leaks into your voice. "Please, come back for me. You're not a waste of space, you have so much to live for."
"How can I live when the pain cages me up, when life offers no freedom from the agony?" She turns her head slightly, barely looking at you over her shoulder. "I keep seeing it every night, over and over in my head. Just watching him die and not being able to do a thing about it. He died to protect our unborn baby and me. And those bastards stole our baby's life as well; I knew it when the knife went in. So tell me again Miss Sidle, what do I have to live for?" She screams through enraged tears.
You can't speak. Suddenly, all words flee you and you're rooted numbly to the spot. This is your last chance to save this girl and you can't think of a way to do it. The girl's lifeless blue orbs just paralysed you; there was no hope in them, no fear, no light, no reason. She nods slightly and whispers, "Thought not. Maybe one day you'll understand."
She closes her eyelids as is preparing for slumber and hugs her skeleton body. Then, as if time is stuck in slow motion, steps over the edge.
*~*~*~*
You wake with a start. Cold sweat drips slowly down your face and you raise a shaking hand to wipe it away; wipe away the memories that torment your mind. And you find tears staining your cheeks as well. Without a second's consideration, you grab the phone from the bedside table and hastily dial in the number you know by heart. The ringing echoes around your eardrum and you feel the same cruel anticipation gripping you. Maybe he's out?
Finally, the ringing stops and a groggy voice answers: "Hello?"
"It...It's me," You stutter, though you think that he'd probably already guessed. "C...Can....Can you come over please?"
You hate that voice. Hate how weak and pathetic it makes you sound. The one that makes him know how much you need him. You've never let anyone know that you need them. Never. Why does it still bother you that he's broken all your stupid rules of self-protection? Why does it still bother you that he might figure it out? He probably has by now.
"I'll be there soon," He promises and hangs up.
You listen foolishly to the deadline for a moment, then drop the phone back onto the hook. You slide out of bed and into the living room - grabbing a dressing gown to wrap around yourself. There you pace in front of the door; it wouldn't surprise you if this spot of carpet were now worn prematurely thin. Your eyes skitter up to the clock near by; you know just how long it takes him to get here - he's comes often enough. After that event, he'd always come to take care of you. At first he was here every day; sometimes listening to your sobbing rambles, other times watching over you whilst you slept. This routine has carried on for weeks, and for the past few days you haven't needed him - maybe because you haven't slept. But the recollections of that day have come back to haunt you. Why isn't he here yet?
There's a knock on the door; it startles you, but you're quick to open the locks. You don't even check to see who it is first. You don't need to; it's always him. His face is a mask of concern; eyes taking you in, as fingers tenderly brushes tears from you face, then linger there. You let a breath escape your lips that you never knew you were holding. Without a word, he steps in and takes your hand, as you helplessly let him lead you back to the bed.
You lay back down and he pulls the covers around your body. God, you feel so frail right now; so vulnerable. He sits down beside you, softly stroking your hair. "They won't go away Nick," You whisper hoarsely. "The dreams keep coming back. I keep seeing her- why won't they go away?"
"Shhhh," He soothes, "They will. And until then, I'm here."
"Hold me."
He complies with the request without hesitation, without questioning. You feel him glide next to you, cupping your body with his, as protecting arms wrap securely around you waist. Not a word is exchanged between you, not a sound is made. Both of you just blink into the darkness, aware of the closeness, listening to your hearts beat perfectly as one.
It's now that you understand what the girl was taking about; you need him to be there.
'What are you afraid of Sara?'
Telling him the truth. Letting him into your armour. Letting him know how much you need him. Letting your defences down and granting him the opportunity to hurt you. Letting him know the weakness, the fear, the uncertainty, and the pain. Needing him to keep going. Needing him to breathe.
A/N: What you think? Feedback is much welcomed; so hit that button now! :o)