Hi guys, this is a new style of writing I'm trying out. The second voice. I'd appreciate your thoughts, good or bad.
The story is post UR, just before John sets out to the wormhole. Right, here goes....
Strange Relationship
By
Angel
XXX
You've kept your distance. Stayed out of her way. It doesn't seem to be enough though. She has assigned herself as your very own personal bodyguard, complete with glue. May as well be elastic, because you keep bouncing back to her. You've told her to get her story straight, to come back then and you'll listen. But truth be known, it's her that isn't listening this time.
You can summon a wormhole in an instant, understand the mechanics, feel the sensations, yet you cant read her. She no longer speaks your language, the language of wormholes.
And so, you find yourself in the chamber of command, looking out on the horizon, consciously willing yourself not to think of the impeding wormhole. It's there, you feel it. And yet, you fear it. The voice you hear isn't Harvey, it's your inner soul, and you fight it, knowing that it will take you to a place your not willing to go. Yet.
You hear the footsteps behind you. No need to turn to see who will be standing there. The atmosphere has dropped, or is that your imagination? You turn anyway, the need stronger than the realisation. And you're in trouble. She is wearing that look. You make a conscious effort to keep your eyes on the floor, but you still feel the look. It's that 'What can I say to entice a conversation' one. The one she has been plying you with since she came back.
You keep you're eyes on the floor, the wall, anywhere. And you hope. A word that doesn't come as lightly as it did a lifetime ago.
The tiniest rustle of paper makes you look up, not to her face. That would be dangerous. The rustle gets louder and your eyes are drawn to the sound.
You eye the book in her hand. Your book, his book. Doesn't matter, that's not what's holding you there. It's the look in her eyes. Pleading. You almost wish she would go back to being the old Aeryn. The tough, kick ass chick you fell in love with. Are still in love with. You have come to realise the roles have been reversed. She is now the one seeking out your emotions, your conversations.
The book is open, her thumb brushing over a single word. Her eyes still begging as she tries so very hard to sound out the letters. And your feel your heart cracking with each stretched syllable.
"T, tr, tru.. "
You look down and shake your head. This isn't good. It isn't time. She tries again and looks from the word to you. It makes you want to scream. Laugh. Cry. You don't want to tell her the word, don't want to teach her your *other* language. That was his job.
"Please?" She asks you.
And you shake your head.
No.
"Okay" the word is out before you can stop it. A simple word but its rewarded with a haunting smile. She doesn't understand what she's doing to you. Or maybe she does, because the smile widens and she steps forward into your personal space.
You step back and she stops. Eyes back on the book. You look down, draw a breath and begin.
"Trust"
She nods and point to the next word.
"Aeryn."
She smiles and repeats it, "Trust Aeryn" and goes on to the next word.
You shake your head. She is asking for more than you can give. More than she can take. But she is greedy. She wants to know what it says. What he wrote about her. Does she think you're the same person? Would write the same words?
No.
She understands you well, but not well enough. Everything has changed, yet remained the same. You might as well have written the words. You could take them out of context, skip a few, and flick the page. But that would be cheating. You've been cheated enough. So has she.
She stretches out her free hand, cups your chin and forces you to look at her. Mistrusted eyes meeting trusted ones. You nod. She won't go away until you read the whole page. You don't want her to anyway. She has the right to know what has been written. It's about her after all.
You take another breath, pull the book from her hand and sit it on the table. Motion for her to come forward, and you point at each word while you read. Just like you did with your kid sister when she brought her first book home, eager to read what was inside.
It's a list. A simple list of words. You go back to the first line and your heart cracks some more as she reads the words, just like your sister did. Slowly, sounding them out. The result is the same. The little words come easy from practice, or being taught. You feel the pride. You feel the love that was once forgotten. She has learned. And she has done it for you.
" Gun, sun" She falters then reads the new words, "Trust, Aeryn" She stops, looks up at you expectantly. The smile on her face a stark contrast to the tears in her eyes. "He, he never got to teach me the rest.."
You don't let her finish. Don't want to know what interrupted the lesson, so you point to the next word. "Constant"
"Constant" she repeats dutifully. Her eyes searching out the next word.
You take a deep breath; "Love" You don't understand. You can read schematics, wormholes, some alien concepts, but you don't understand this. You know what it says. Your pretty sure she does too. And you wonder who is teaching who.
"Forever" You say and close the book more violently than you intended.
She jumps back slightly. Reaches for the book and holds it close to her heart. She smiles again and whispers, "Thank you."
You return the smile, "Your welcome." And stop the 'anytime' from slipping out. Because it won't be anytime. Not anytime soon. You turn back to the portal view. It's nearly here. It will appear soon and you suddenly feel claustrophobic in the big room.
You turn quickly, grab your helmet and begin to walk away. Her voice is hollow as she talks to your back. "Where are you going?"
You stop, half turn, because to turn all the way would prove fatal. "To get a closer look at the wormhole" It's easier to talk about them. She is smiling. You know that without looking. And you answer her next question, "It will be here soon." And you feel her nod.
You walk out of the room, allow yourself to lean against the wall. Support in any form gives you comfort now. And you smile. Not a happy one. A knowing one. She will be watching. She will allow the glue to stretch. As long as she can see you, she will feel safe. You know that, because you feel the same way.
Trust; a two way street. Trust in her to watch your back. Trust in yourself not to change the plan. Modify, maybe, because that way she can't contain you. Maybe you need a new plan of attack. You want her gone, you want her back. But you keep pushing, and she keeps pulling you back.
End
All reviews welcome *g*
The story is post UR, just before John sets out to the wormhole. Right, here goes....
Strange Relationship
By
Angel
XXX
You've kept your distance. Stayed out of her way. It doesn't seem to be enough though. She has assigned herself as your very own personal bodyguard, complete with glue. May as well be elastic, because you keep bouncing back to her. You've told her to get her story straight, to come back then and you'll listen. But truth be known, it's her that isn't listening this time.
You can summon a wormhole in an instant, understand the mechanics, feel the sensations, yet you cant read her. She no longer speaks your language, the language of wormholes.
And so, you find yourself in the chamber of command, looking out on the horizon, consciously willing yourself not to think of the impeding wormhole. It's there, you feel it. And yet, you fear it. The voice you hear isn't Harvey, it's your inner soul, and you fight it, knowing that it will take you to a place your not willing to go. Yet.
You hear the footsteps behind you. No need to turn to see who will be standing there. The atmosphere has dropped, or is that your imagination? You turn anyway, the need stronger than the realisation. And you're in trouble. She is wearing that look. You make a conscious effort to keep your eyes on the floor, but you still feel the look. It's that 'What can I say to entice a conversation' one. The one she has been plying you with since she came back.
You keep you're eyes on the floor, the wall, anywhere. And you hope. A word that doesn't come as lightly as it did a lifetime ago.
The tiniest rustle of paper makes you look up, not to her face. That would be dangerous. The rustle gets louder and your eyes are drawn to the sound.
You eye the book in her hand. Your book, his book. Doesn't matter, that's not what's holding you there. It's the look in her eyes. Pleading. You almost wish she would go back to being the old Aeryn. The tough, kick ass chick you fell in love with. Are still in love with. You have come to realise the roles have been reversed. She is now the one seeking out your emotions, your conversations.
The book is open, her thumb brushing over a single word. Her eyes still begging as she tries so very hard to sound out the letters. And your feel your heart cracking with each stretched syllable.
"T, tr, tru.. "
You look down and shake your head. This isn't good. It isn't time. She tries again and looks from the word to you. It makes you want to scream. Laugh. Cry. You don't want to tell her the word, don't want to teach her your *other* language. That was his job.
"Please?" She asks you.
And you shake your head.
No.
"Okay" the word is out before you can stop it. A simple word but its rewarded with a haunting smile. She doesn't understand what she's doing to you. Or maybe she does, because the smile widens and she steps forward into your personal space.
You step back and she stops. Eyes back on the book. You look down, draw a breath and begin.
"Trust"
She nods and point to the next word.
"Aeryn."
She smiles and repeats it, "Trust Aeryn" and goes on to the next word.
You shake your head. She is asking for more than you can give. More than she can take. But she is greedy. She wants to know what it says. What he wrote about her. Does she think you're the same person? Would write the same words?
No.
She understands you well, but not well enough. Everything has changed, yet remained the same. You might as well have written the words. You could take them out of context, skip a few, and flick the page. But that would be cheating. You've been cheated enough. So has she.
She stretches out her free hand, cups your chin and forces you to look at her. Mistrusted eyes meeting trusted ones. You nod. She won't go away until you read the whole page. You don't want her to anyway. She has the right to know what has been written. It's about her after all.
You take another breath, pull the book from her hand and sit it on the table. Motion for her to come forward, and you point at each word while you read. Just like you did with your kid sister when she brought her first book home, eager to read what was inside.
It's a list. A simple list of words. You go back to the first line and your heart cracks some more as she reads the words, just like your sister did. Slowly, sounding them out. The result is the same. The little words come easy from practice, or being taught. You feel the pride. You feel the love that was once forgotten. She has learned. And she has done it for you.
" Gun, sun" She falters then reads the new words, "Trust, Aeryn" She stops, looks up at you expectantly. The smile on her face a stark contrast to the tears in her eyes. "He, he never got to teach me the rest.."
You don't let her finish. Don't want to know what interrupted the lesson, so you point to the next word. "Constant"
"Constant" she repeats dutifully. Her eyes searching out the next word.
You take a deep breath; "Love" You don't understand. You can read schematics, wormholes, some alien concepts, but you don't understand this. You know what it says. Your pretty sure she does too. And you wonder who is teaching who.
"Forever" You say and close the book more violently than you intended.
She jumps back slightly. Reaches for the book and holds it close to her heart. She smiles again and whispers, "Thank you."
You return the smile, "Your welcome." And stop the 'anytime' from slipping out. Because it won't be anytime. Not anytime soon. You turn back to the portal view. It's nearly here. It will appear soon and you suddenly feel claustrophobic in the big room.
You turn quickly, grab your helmet and begin to walk away. Her voice is hollow as she talks to your back. "Where are you going?"
You stop, half turn, because to turn all the way would prove fatal. "To get a closer look at the wormhole" It's easier to talk about them. She is smiling. You know that without looking. And you answer her next question, "It will be here soon." And you feel her nod.
You walk out of the room, allow yourself to lean against the wall. Support in any form gives you comfort now. And you smile. Not a happy one. A knowing one. She will be watching. She will allow the glue to stretch. As long as she can see you, she will feel safe. You know that, because you feel the same way.
Trust; a two way street. Trust in her to watch your back. Trust in yourself not to change the plan. Modify, maybe, because that way she can't contain you. Maybe you need a new plan of attack. You want her gone, you want her back. But you keep pushing, and she keeps pulling you back.
End
All reviews welcome *g*