title : requiem (1/1)
author: hillary
rated :pg-13 for suggestive adult situations.
spoilers : Through "Snowman"
classification: is this a joke? Angst. of course
distribution: please ask first.
summary : Post-ep for Snowman : Noah Hicks, offered salvation in his dreams.
disclaimer: i don't even own the laptop I am typing on. You think I own a television show? Seriously. I don't. Full credit goes to the people that do. God, I wish they would hire me for * just a day.*
A/N : this vignette is based upon the Indigo Girls " She's Saving Me" . Lyrics by E. Saliers, Album : Become You:
dedicated to : Jessica, because it is her birthday. Kate, because she is moving. Thorne, because she beta read and was touched.
* if you don't like Noah, hey, neither did I. I just got inspired *
requiem
in his dreams, she always came. cheeks flushed, eyes bright, an apology half voiced on her lips. laughing, always laughing, her fingers curling around his wrist and making him aware of his body, weighted to the floor. he kisses her, in the airport, their lips meeting without hesitation; her arms wrapping around his shoulders. she whispers that she loves him, and he repeats it, over and over and over. there is never any doubt in his dreams, never any fear.
Waking was always another story; the space beside him empty, that blank, encompassing void. Heart more bitter with every footstep, it took forever to forget her scent, an eternity to forget the way her eyes flashed when she was angry or the color of her cheeks when she was excited. He committed himself to his work during the daylight hours, erasing her smile from his memories, not wanting to recall that innocence reflected in her eyes.
Night, however, would remain the most difficult. Fists curled tightly he could not prevent the access of her memory in sleep, could not stop the soft drift of images, shadowy and dark. Leaving her had been almost impossible to do, the hardest decision he'd ever had to make, the first choice that he'd ever considered based entirely on emotion in his life. Every morning he relived the agony of separation, watching her dance away from him, the crispness of her features fading as the years passed; until she became vague: a mere recollection. No matter the vivid color of his dreams, the bleeding sentimentality of those still-fresh emotions; the sharp angles of her face disappeared from view. She was a blur, more and more unseen.
A day came when the craving was less than it had been, a decreasing ache. He woke with little regret and felt no guilt over his profession. It was with precision that he wielded his tools, with skill that he perfected his talent. Emotion had no room in his heart, it needed to be hardened as it had been before he had met her. She had made him weak- a temporary weakness, and time had made him see that. Time, so curative, had given him the perspective to step forward once again, mind clear. She came to him less, her innocence no longer endearing. Her tears, her voice pleading, her eyes bright- it no longer mattered. Her voice had even decreased to a whisper, relegated only to the worst nights, when he felt especially self-depreciating, when he craved retribution, even though he was fully aware the novelty of the concept.
And then: Vienna, a dance floor; Sydney Bristow, five years later. Same eyes with less innocence, but that same dangerous spark. His heart – solid, cold- proved flawed as it cracked. The moment her body pressed against his, hot, full lips on his own, that taste that he had spent years trying to erase from his memory- all sent a rush of emotion, long buried, into the closed chambers of his heart, vessels opening, closing. Slow pump of blood to an organ once willed into non-existence, to hibernation, to near death.
His heart. Thudding in his chest as he realized that he couldn't complete his plan, which was to kill the SD-6 agents sent to retrieve the chip. And realizing that he would now be making a series of serious mistakes, following the loping, irresistible pounding that reverberated throughout his body as he looked at her, Sydney. Sydney. Still perfect. Painfully so.
dreaming again, seeing her, beside him. in this dream he confesses everything, tells her that he is evil. " i was born with a hole in my heart" . the beautiful thing is that she understands him, covers the rectangle of fabric that stitched together and forms a pocket, feeling the rumbling mechanics of his heart. " i can fix this" she whispers, close to his ear, her voice ghostly. he feels complete; blissfully, finally complete.
He dreams with his eyes open this time, the rough hewn floor of the safehouse, her body hot on his. Her mouth – amazing, full, *giving* lips- They make love quickly, he re-memorizes her arms, her legs, the curve of her chin. The flush of heat that chases up her breasts, her neck, her cheeks. The way she opens to him, breathing ragged. When she closes her eyes to sleep he makes sure that he does not, wraps her lithe body in the semi-soft fabric and listens in the darkness. To his heartbeat, to hers. To the sound of her breathing, once frantic, now steady. For the rustle of leaves or the whirl of a helicopter.
He loves her. Useless emotion, but one he feels all the same. He cannot erase it, not this time, not after tasting her, after drinking in that sweetness that was familiar and yet changed. He'll run with her, forever if it takes them that long, for in this quiet, in this darkness, it seems worth it.
He knows he will ask her to come away with him. Knows that she will never do it, knows that he'll return to being the man he had become long before he met her. There were no loopholes, no escape route. There would be no starting over.
This is not all there is.
he must have fallen asleep, for she's above him, backlit in gold. he should never have closed his eyes, allowed himself this transgression. her eyes; big, brown, liquid. and she's crying. blood on her fingers, horror on her face. oh god, oh god.
This place. Cold floor. Aching in his stomach, but nothing, nothing to the searing heat inside his heart. Sydney – here, the disgust on her face over finding him, knowing who he truly was, knowing what he had done. Knowing what he had taken away from her, and yet…
dizzy cold stillness inside his head, making things fuzzy, less real. " i was born with a hole in my heart" he tries to tell her, tries to whisper with numbing lips. he tells her how he wanted things to be different. how he tried, he tried….but the words, they are heavy and difficult to speak. the blood on her fingers- so red.
the airport. ticket in her hand, laughing. smiling, kissing him on the lips. " did you think I wouldn't make it ?" she whispers, grabbing his hand, pulling him forward. redemption,
ghost of laughter and then the airport is missing, empty space where she had stood. " I'm a lost soul" he whispers to the void, seeing nothing but the backdrop of his eyelids, hearing the sound of her tears, the waning echo of his heartbeat.
He was dying. Conscious enough to realize that, knowing his heart was slowing: a fading sound, distant, waning noise. "come with me" she tells him, grabbing his hand from behind- a surprise. He doesn't want to turn, afraid she will disappear.
" i'm a lost soul" he whispers to her, wanting to tell her, and she squeezes his hand gently.
he turns. there is nothing. nothing but darkness, and a wide void in front of him, and all around him, the sensation of her. all around him, chasing the doubt, the fear. he feels weightless, floating, inside out.
"I'm saving you" she tells him, finding his hand in the darkness.
the end
A/N : I know, "why Noah" – why indeed. He came to me and begged for a moment. Said that he really, truly TRIED to be good. And yet…he didn't really get the chance. We ( me and Noah) would like you to listen to " She's Saving Me" by the Indigo Girls. Full credit above. It brought this story to life and some important quotes were gleaned from it. Not enough to be "songfic" per se, but definitely inspirational music for the piece.
special thanks to thorne for the beta and the praise. appreciation is not enough….
feedback is adored : aliasfanfiction@comcast.net. flames or nonsense I both laugh at and take out on my voodoo doll. beware.
" she's saving me – I don't even think she knows it. Such a strange way to show it as distant as last nights dream unraveled. She's saving me – I'm a very lost soul. I was born with a hole in my heart the size of my landlocked travels" – " She's Saving Me"