Twin Lights... Mama's coming
*A/N* Wow, that update took long. I'm really sorry, I have math this semester and passing the damn class is going to be a HUGE challenge (I'm doing badly as is even if I'm actually doing my homework! *gasp*) So no one beat me please. I'm trying. :) enjoy
PG-13 for some swearing
The policemen were cold soldiers. Christian was standing near the babies' room talking to them, running his hand through his messy black hair. His eyes were red and puffy, his lips cracked. He looked half-crazed with worry.
Harold and Marie were in the entrance, holding each other tightly. They rushed to the garret once they heard the news. They weren't crying yet; Satine assumed they were still in shock.
She didn't know if she liked this numbness better than the full-fledged panic attacks Christian kept having. She expected herself to break down, but she couldn't feel. She was frozen, sitting in the corner of the sofa.
Absently, Satine rubbed her arms and realized that a blanket was covering them. She distantly remembered Christian putting it around her shoulders when he helped her to sit down. Wasn't that a dream?
There they were, the cold policemen, the panicking father, the helplessly distraught grandparents, and the numb mother. The scene was surreal. She didn't remember blinking recently. She forced her eyes closed to see if they still worked. No tears came.
The absence of tears made Satine feel like a selfish bitch. **My children are missing dammit! Why won't it sink in? Why can't I cry?**
Christian ran his hand through his hair once more. He didn't hear her. Maybe she hadn't thought anything at all. Maybe she was dead. It was more comforting than knowing she didn't feel for her missing children.
***
"Satine?"
Her eyes opened, but she didn't remember making her eyelids move. Maybe they were never closed. Christian was blurry in front of her.
"Satine, come to bed."
Satine was curled up in the corner of the sofa, ever still. At some point during the day, she had curled into a ball and cowered under the blanket. The day was a blur. Memory gaps haunted her, but only for a moment. What else could be taken away from her? Time and memory had no meaning now.
When she didn't respond, Christian gently touched her shoulder. "Please Satine," he begged, "come to bed." He didn't want to sleep alone. She didn't blame him. But the difference was she didn't want to sleep at all. **I'm numb remember? I'm the ice queen, trapped by her own weapon. I can't move.**
He kissed her forehead and retreated. He hadn't heard her plea to be held.
A single tear rolled down her cheek and lost itself into her tangled red hair. But her eyes never closed.
***
Satine was still in her corner after three days. Had it been that long? She laughed inwardly, as if it was a private joke. She smelled, there was no use denying it. She hadn't eaten since... it had been three days. Two was too short and four was too long. What was she thinking about again? Oh yes, the food. Maybe it was sleep.
She didn't remember sleeping. Maybe she had, maybe she hadn't. It was all one great fucking mystery. The old news were that she didn't care.
She remembered hearing Christian cry in their bedroom. It was torture. She wanted to go to him so badly, her body ached when it battle relentlessly with her mind. Her heart went out to him, her mind was an icicle. Eventually she let her heart cry too. But her eyes were always dry.
"Satine?" Christian had tried every night to snap Satine out of her stupor. Maybe this was the fourth night? Hell, who cares?
**He does** she told herself. Did Christian feel her mental battle?
"Lying here won't make it better..."
**Finding my children will. The fucking incompetent policemen won't find them.**
"They will come back to us, but you need to take care of yourself too."
**I need them.**
"Come with me..." It was more like a pleading question than a request.
**I'll find them. Tonight.**
Satine blinked and moved her head slightly so she could see her lover. Her muscles were stiff from not being used. Christian nearly cried with relief, and he might have, if his tears weren't exhausted.
He helped her to her feet and hugged her fiercely. He didn't even care that she hadn't washed in four days. "I can't lose you too..."
Christian led her to their bed and lay her down gently. After tucking her in, he slipped under the covers, and with one arm draped over her stomach, fell into a deep sleep.
Satine couldn't sleep. She knew what she had to do. Christian was snoring now, good. She lifted his arm slowly and slipped onto the floor. She wrote him a note by hand, fearing the noise of the typewriter would be too loud.
And she was gone into the night.
*A/N* Wow, that update took long. I'm really sorry, I have math this semester and passing the damn class is going to be a HUGE challenge (I'm doing badly as is even if I'm actually doing my homework! *gasp*) So no one beat me please. I'm trying. :) enjoy
PG-13 for some swearing
The policemen were cold soldiers. Christian was standing near the babies' room talking to them, running his hand through his messy black hair. His eyes were red and puffy, his lips cracked. He looked half-crazed with worry.
Harold and Marie were in the entrance, holding each other tightly. They rushed to the garret once they heard the news. They weren't crying yet; Satine assumed they were still in shock.
She didn't know if she liked this numbness better than the full-fledged panic attacks Christian kept having. She expected herself to break down, but she couldn't feel. She was frozen, sitting in the corner of the sofa.
Absently, Satine rubbed her arms and realized that a blanket was covering them. She distantly remembered Christian putting it around her shoulders when he helped her to sit down. Wasn't that a dream?
There they were, the cold policemen, the panicking father, the helplessly distraught grandparents, and the numb mother. The scene was surreal. She didn't remember blinking recently. She forced her eyes closed to see if they still worked. No tears came.
The absence of tears made Satine feel like a selfish bitch. **My children are missing dammit! Why won't it sink in? Why can't I cry?**
Christian ran his hand through his hair once more. He didn't hear her. Maybe she hadn't thought anything at all. Maybe she was dead. It was more comforting than knowing she didn't feel for her missing children.
***
"Satine?"
Her eyes opened, but she didn't remember making her eyelids move. Maybe they were never closed. Christian was blurry in front of her.
"Satine, come to bed."
Satine was curled up in the corner of the sofa, ever still. At some point during the day, she had curled into a ball and cowered under the blanket. The day was a blur. Memory gaps haunted her, but only for a moment. What else could be taken away from her? Time and memory had no meaning now.
When she didn't respond, Christian gently touched her shoulder. "Please Satine," he begged, "come to bed." He didn't want to sleep alone. She didn't blame him. But the difference was she didn't want to sleep at all. **I'm numb remember? I'm the ice queen, trapped by her own weapon. I can't move.**
He kissed her forehead and retreated. He hadn't heard her plea to be held.
A single tear rolled down her cheek and lost itself into her tangled red hair. But her eyes never closed.
***
Satine was still in her corner after three days. Had it been that long? She laughed inwardly, as if it was a private joke. She smelled, there was no use denying it. She hadn't eaten since... it had been three days. Two was too short and four was too long. What was she thinking about again? Oh yes, the food. Maybe it was sleep.
She didn't remember sleeping. Maybe she had, maybe she hadn't. It was all one great fucking mystery. The old news were that she didn't care.
She remembered hearing Christian cry in their bedroom. It was torture. She wanted to go to him so badly, her body ached when it battle relentlessly with her mind. Her heart went out to him, her mind was an icicle. Eventually she let her heart cry too. But her eyes were always dry.
"Satine?" Christian had tried every night to snap Satine out of her stupor. Maybe this was the fourth night? Hell, who cares?
**He does** she told herself. Did Christian feel her mental battle?
"Lying here won't make it better..."
**Finding my children will. The fucking incompetent policemen won't find them.**
"They will come back to us, but you need to take care of yourself too."
**I need them.**
"Come with me..." It was more like a pleading question than a request.
**I'll find them. Tonight.**
Satine blinked and moved her head slightly so she could see her lover. Her muscles were stiff from not being used. Christian nearly cried with relief, and he might have, if his tears weren't exhausted.
He helped her to her feet and hugged her fiercely. He didn't even care that she hadn't washed in four days. "I can't lose you too..."
Christian led her to their bed and lay her down gently. After tucking her in, he slipped under the covers, and with one arm draped over her stomach, fell into a deep sleep.
Satine couldn't sleep. She knew what she had to do. Christian was snoring now, good. She lifted his arm slowly and slipped onto the floor. She wrote him a note by hand, fearing the noise of the typewriter would be too loud.
And she was gone into the night.