A/N- I forgot to mention that The Truth is a book I made up. The "excerpt" is from my head alone. The title is from a very funny fantasy book by Terry Prachett. This has not been beta-ed but I'm tired of having it hanging over my head. Happy Reading! R/R!
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The silence was eerie. She'd at least expected the familiar buzz of the computers, which weaved in and out of the large subterranean refuge, to break the strange quiet. But even the air was still, leaving room for only her thoughts to keep her attention.
Every night she was drawn to the far bedroom. She would walk through the same doorway and sit on the same bed.
And every night he expected her. He would flash his disarming smile and graciously welcome her into his abode. Then they would sit and talk about anything and everything, until one of them was too tired to carry on the conversation. She would then quietly excuse herself and return to her own room, to crawl beneath her sheets and watch his face float in her mind, to torture herself with her own thoughts.
It was a cruel and vicious cycle that she was powerless against.
…But resentments washed away as she neared the door. He lay stretched out on his bed, reading his tattered book.
It was the same book he read by the fountain, the same book he read at the table, the same book he read out on top of the mountain where he thought no one would look for him. She'd seen it in his subconscious. Whenever he felt safe and comforted, she knew he was wrapped up in the pages.
A smile crossed her face. He could be so adorable sometimes. Even when she was angry or bitter about what life had brought her, his face could make her relax. His voice made her grin. His smile melted her.
"What are you reading?" The sounds left her mouth without a thought.
He glanced up at her with his smooth blue eyes. The mischievous grin flashed across his face. "Just a book."
"What kind of book?" She crossed to the bed and settled into the space he cleared with his feet. His gentle smile sustained the grin on her face. It felt so good to capture his full attention. Even the prospect that he was thinking about her sent a shiver up her spine. "The Truth?" She read off the cover. "A little pretentious, don't you think?"
"No," He replied, pretending to be insulted except for a hint of laughter in his voice. "It's actually a really good book. You should read it before you decide to joke."
"Fine then. What's it about?" She laughed, interest reaching out her hand to take the paperback. "Let me guess. It's an adventure story."
"Not really." He explained, as she skimmed the back. "It's more of a self-discovery story."
Glancing up, she met his eyes for a moment. He had sat up, clearly ready to spill its content to her. She suppressed a giggle at his eagerness and tried to look serious. "I'm listening."
"It's about this guy's life in his twenties, you know, all the problems, and choices, and dilemmas."
The statement settled on her mind peculiarly. Around the others, he'd never seemed like one to think past technology and the predictability of machines. He thought of how to disarm bombs and hack into security videos. It wasn't in his character to read anything other than books about science fiction or military operations.
But past the odd feeling, she didn't feel shocked or taken aback. Alone, in this room, he spoke of family and old friends, new movies, good jokes, world news, or old memories. His thoughts were more about normal things; things that had no place in their extraordinary life. "I never took you for a realistic fiction reader, and yet, I'm not surprised."
"Maybe you know me better than you think." He took the book back into his hands.
"I guess I do."
"I like to think of it as a way of fulfilling my need for a normal life. Sort of living vicariously through a book." He ran his fingers over the faded cover, laughing to himself. Even as a chuckle, his laugh was warm, spreading a smile across her face once more. "I don't know, maybe I'm just that boring."
The laugh faded out into silence. His glare was intently on the book, his expression of contemplation smoothed across his face. Images of a man pelted her brain. A strange wave of foreign joy infected her body. The feeling was familiar, along with the immense sorrow that followed.
He was thinking about Noah. The book had come from him, his estranged father.
"Your dad gave it to you."
He glanced up at her. He seemed surprised at the observation, like he forgot who he was talking too. An amused smile crossed his lips.
"Yeah," His voice whispered hoarsely. Looking down at the book, a smile grew on his face, an embarrassed one. He cleared his throat to cover the moment of weakness. "I've had it with me since I was fifteen. No matter where I was or where he went, I had a little piece of him."
As much as he denied it, it hurt him to be unloved. Her heart went out to him. She knew his tale of abandonment and neglect as well as if it had been her own…
Because it had been her own.
Being at opposite ends of society didn't change any of the emotion involved. Of all people, she knew that feelings weren't discriminatory, not by gender, nor color, nor status. Maybe that was why he had felt so open to talk about it after the man had come back into his life, only to use him and throw him out.
In the back of her mind, she had played the same scenario over with her life. Still, she was unsure of how she would have reacted, but it would have been nowhere close to as calm as he had been. Something she marveled at about him was how much of an emotion rock he was externally. Yet, in his mind, he was such a powerhouse. Just another contradiction that defined him.
"No wonder you like it so much." She smiled at him supportively, gently motioning for the book back. "Do you have a favorite part?"
The small smile spread into a large grin. "Oh, lots of them."
"Like?"
"Page 122"
She thumbed her way quickly through the small tome, trying to ignore that he was moving closer to her, how near he suddenly was to her.
"Start with 'That night…'"
Holding the book up, she began, "That night, I didn't sleep. It was like my mind was running full speed down a strange, winding tunnel of thought, searching for some sort of answer.
"She'd asked me who I was. More importantly, I couldn't answer. I always thought I knew who I was, but my mind had gone completely blank and all the things I'd taught myself to say were gone. When had that changed?
"Around 3 AM, it finally hit me. She had changed me. Her words had changed me. Her movements had changed me. Her eyes, her smile had changed me. She questioned things I'd always relied on. She knew things I'd never hoped to find. She did things I'd always dreamed of doing. And through her, I questioned, I found, I did. I'd been opened up to a brave and strange new version of myself, broken out of the programmed, close-minded, ignorant shell I'd been enclosed into. Just experiencing her, her mind, her presence, her being, made me better."
She stopped. Every word hung in her brain with familiarity. How many nights had she spent trying to sleep after their meetings and ultimately succumbing to thoughts of him? How many mornings had she spent still thinking about a sentence he'd said? How many afternoons had she spent thinking of questions to ask him?
Why had he chosen this passage? Why had he chosen a perfect description of how she felt?
Did he know that he was a release for her? Did he know that he kept her grounded to the real world? Did he know that he kept her sane…
And yet drove her completely crazy?
She wanted to figure him out. She wanted to know why he felt the way he did. She wanted to know how he was so honest and trusting, despite the injustices of the world. She wanted to know how he was who he was, so kind, so smart, so loving.
She wanted to know how he could be so close to perfect and not even know it.
"It keeps going."
The three words broke her inward gaze and back to the moment at hand. Her eyes scanned the page. "I know."
"As I smiled up at my ceiling, I knew for the first time I was in something different. It was something indescribably amazing and strange and scary. My mind suddenly sprang free into a whole new place. It had finally met my heart and I knew I was ready."
Her heart screamed in her chest. The moment has come, it shouted, pour me out! Tell him that you need him! Tell him all the feelings I've been holding onto for so long! Please! I'm so tired of hold on to them!
"Jesse…"
She did care and she wanted to tell him.
Her eyes rose to his meeting his gaze. Her voice trailed off.
He was untouchable. The voice in her mind told her so. The same message went through her head everyday, whenever she saw him, whenever she couldn't see him.
Only in the night was that voice fainter.
She'd said herself that you shouldn't think about your teammates that way. She knew she was a hypocrite the moment it had come out of her mouth.
But it wasn't that there was any unspoken policy about team relationships. She couldn't follow through with her feelings because of her own rules.
When she sent out the immense terror to scare of the enclosing troops, he had intercepted it. His eyes, now filled with puzzlement and confusion, had been filled with a fear and torment beyond human reckoning. It was the single moment when he didn't see the same woman in front of him. The look he gave her had such horror and alarm, all directed at her. It struck her heart like a sledgehammer to see him in so much pain, and to know that she had caused it.
He didn't remember. She had had to erase the memory. He would have never looked at her the same again. But she remembered…
And it terrified her.
Her powers were growing so fast and so strong that she wondered how she was even able to contain them. That battle constantly raged in her head for control. She didn't want to hurt anyone with what she was.
The irony was that, just when she thought she was going crazy, he could make everything make sense with a smile. His charm, his sweetness, his intelligence would envelope her and make her mind clear. It reassured her that the world was still all right and she didn't need to worry.
She needed that from him.
She needed him.
She wanted him.
But she couldn't.
"Never mind." Her voice said for her. "I think I better go to bed. You know big day tomorrow."
In a heartbeat, she'd dragged herself off his bed and to the door. She'd forgot the reason she'd put up the barriers. She'd forgot why she'd put her mind in charge of her heart so long ago.
"Emma!" His voice startled her. His face was there when she forced herself to turn.
He didn't say anything, just looked contemplative as he stood over her. He cocked his eyebrows, squinted his eyes. The same look he gave complex situations in the light of day. She wondered what he was trying to figure out, what he was thinking.
The warm hand on her cheek was the first sign she registered; second was his body against hers. Only then did she recognize the lips on hers.
It had been everything she'd ever wanted, warm, sweet, passionate, exactly how she had imagined it. It felt like magic. Her stomach leapt into her throat; tears gathered at her eyes. Even as she tiptoed down the noiseless hallway, her lips and skin still tingled with excitement from his touch. If she'd ever wanted to experience true happiness, she knew that moment was her first taste.
But even with the happy pin-pickling sensation, her heart sank deep into her chest. She knew it was impossible. She couldn't get too close to anyone. She could feel the power growing in her head; she could feel her fear not far behind.
"I'm sorry, Jesse." She whispered to the sleeping man. A single tear rolled down her cheek as the bright gentle blast erased the moment, erased the touch, erased the happiness, erased the hope, erased the memory…
"So here I'm sitting in my
car at the same old stop light
I keep waiting for a change but I don't know what
So red turns into green turning into yellow
But I'm just frozen here in the same old spot
And all I have to do is to press the pedal
but I'm not"
-Aimee Mann "It's Not"