First off, thanks to all the lovely reviews from last time - you absolutely
made my day.
Kenzie - coming from someone as talented as you that meant a lot - I'll certainly wear that standalone crown with pride.
TaylorWise - again, given the standard of your own writing, your words mean a great deal. Hope this chapter also pleases you.
So here you go - the second standalone in my series. I'm gotta say I'm not sure about this one, it's proved quite hard to write, but I'm going to post it anyway.
As usual, any reviews greatly appreciated :-)
*****
Wonder Number Two - Faith
*****
"Oh please, that is so lame!"
I stop dead in my tracks through the ambulance bay, looking at him in complete shock. He's feigning innocence like I've never seen before.
"What?!"
It's almost too hard to resist.
Almost.
"I can't believe you're using that as an excuse."
"It's true isn't it?"
I regain my step enough to nudge him off balance, laughing softly. I haven't seen him all day - he left at 10am, two hours before our shifts were due to start. I didn't ask where he was going, although I know it had something to do with his mother who has decided to visit this week.
When I eventually got up at 11, I decided to take a shower before work only to find that there was no hot water left.
"You're telling me that the reason behind you using so much hot water was. . . "
". . . you. Being the morning person that you are - you got me all sweaty so I needed a shower."
I hate people finishing my sentences.
Then again, he doesn't count as "people" anymore.
"Yeah, a shower, not a swim. . . and if that's the way you feel about the way I wake you up then maybe I'll stop."
He leans so that our faces are almost touching.
Hello, John Carter.
"I didn't say that. . . I guess I'll just invite you to share my 'swim' next time."
Please do.
"Yeah, that may be the only thing that's going to let you off the hook with this one."
Grinning, I lean in for a kiss.
It's deep, sensual, and has the ability to go much further than it should on a street kerb.
Which is why I break away, moving to his left ear to speak in a low voice.
"Take me home."
He smiles, taking my hand and kissing it lightly.
We make our way to the El station, filling each other in with details of our respective days.
A day spent in the same place, with the same people, and yet both our shifts have been completely different.
I love this.
Regular, everyday activity that seems so little but means so much.
He doesn't even let my hand go when we get to the ticket turnstiles. It's a game we play sometimes. One of us will walk one way, the other takes another path, and we try to overcome obstacles in our route without breaking contact - namely lampposts, doors, turnstiles. . . the list goes on.
The symbolism of the game isn't lost on me - two people trying to make it through barriers that get in their way, fighting to keep contact with each other.
Someday we'll manage the larger scale equivalent as well as we play the game.
We're getting there.
Reaching the platform, I notice him shivering slightly.
I wrap my arms around his waist from behind, surrounding him with my heat.
"Better?"
He leans his head to the side and our eyes meet.
"Much."
Smiling, he bends his head down to meet mine, making our noses touch
We stay this way on the platform for a while, enjoying the peace. When you work in a place as hectic and as noisy as County General, you come to learn that silence at times really is golden.
Our still reverie is shattered by the noise of a train approaching in the distance. Undeterred, I don't move my arms from around his form - if anything I hold on tighter.
I can just about see the right side of his face tighten as he smiles again.
A tiny detail in the vast complications of life that just lights up my world completely.
How he does that, I'll never know.
But I'm so grateful.
As the train doors open, I reluctantly drop my arms. He must sense this as he reaches for my hand, leading me into the last carriage.
It's empty.
I suppose that's what you get for ending shifts at midnight.
Still, I'm not complaining.
I've had to share him with patients and other staff members all day, it's about time I got to him to myself for a while.
He sits in an individual seat on his left, and I don't hesitate in climbing onto his lap, wrapping my hands around his neck for balance.
Or so I believe.
Time and time again, I reach out to him, leaning on him. And yet I won't admit, especially to myself, that I need him.
I won't do that yet.
But I know that given time, there's a distinct possibility I will.
Soon.
His voice interrupts my thoughts, the same smile now moving into his words.
"There's 29 other seats in here, you know that, right?"
I look at him pointedly, and begin to make a move off his knees.
It's not even a split second later when I feel his strong arms pull me back down. Cupping my face lightly, he captures my mouth in a soft kiss. I pull away after a while, set on answering his comments.
"Something's attracting me to this one."
We stay that way for a while, wrapped up in each other.
I've waited all day for this, and he doesn't disappoint.
He never could.
Suddenly, the train jerks to a stop. I look out of the window, expecting to see a platform, or the name of a station.
There's nothing of the sort.
"What the. . . "
Carter's questions are cut off by the loudspeaker, informing us that due to minor technical difficulties, the train will remain still for the time being until it's possible to continue.
As if on cue, the lights in the train switch off, plummeting us into darkness.
The only thing that's illuminating our surroundings are the lights of the city below.
I don't like this.
I wrap my hands around him even tighter, eliciting a slight giggle from him.
"It's just a minor fault. We'll be out of here in no time."
"I hope so."
I don't loosen my grip at all. Instead I snuggle closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder, pressing my lips to his neck. In turn, he moves his hands lower, circling my stomach with one whilst rubbing my lower back with the other.
I'm hit by how instantly safe he makes me feel. I'm in the dark, on a broken down El train, in an empty carriage - but in his arms I feel protected.
He's all I need.
I swivel round in his lap, to face the window, looking towards our only source of light - a remote one at that.
"Wow."
He turns to look at me.
"What?"
I make myself comfortable again, nestling deeper into his body.
I can't get close enough.
"When I was small, I used to creep into Eric's room, which had a much better view than mine, and sit for ages. . . looking at the lights, the stars, the traffic. It was peaceful somehow - like no matter what you're going through, everything still carries on."
My voice trails off as I continue to stare at our environment.
After a bit, I speak again to ask a question that's been playing on my mind somewhat lately.
"What do you think it is that makes the world go round?"
I move my gaze from Chicago to Carter. He seems bemused by my question, so I try and explain further.
"I don't mean scientifically. I mean. . . something must make people want to live. Something must make them want to carry on, to survive, to develop - otherwise they wouldn't."
He's quiet for a while, pondering my query.
I look back towards the city.
It's one of the few things left in life that continues to amaze me.
So many people, each one with a different life. Different stories to tell, different pasts, presents and futures. No one knowing what's going to happen next, but carrying on nevertheless.
"Faith."
His voice startles me somewhat, and I turn once more to look at him.
"Faith?"
He pauses before carrying on.
"My grandfather once taught me a song about how money makes the world go round. It's one of the most obvious things that divides people - into classes, into groups. . . a form of measuring your worth. Gamma, on the other hand, completely disagreed with him."
That smile reappears, fond memories of his Grandmother filling his mind.
"She believed it was love. Something natural, something simple - either you have it, or you don't. Either you feel it, or you don't. You can't push it, you can't force it, and you certainly can't fake it. It's pure, and she thought it had the ability to make or break people."
Again he pauses. I remain still, his dialect seeming to precious to disturb. My eyes are still fixated on the glow below us.
"In many ways she was right. But personally, I think it's faith. Belief that no matter how many bad things occur, things will get better. Knowing that your live can improve, certainty that even if everything goes the opposite direction to the way you want it to go, one day things will turn 180 degrees and you'll be back on track."
He seems so sure of this, as if it's something that he's thought about numerous times before.
"It's something you have, it's something you loose, and it's something you regain. But deep down, whether they feel it constantly or not, I think that everyone knows that no matter what happens. . . things are going to be OK."
And its at that moment that I realize what he's basing this on.
Us.
He's shocked me slightly, and yet encouraged me to consider this myself.
Do I have faith? I ponder this for a while. It's obvious that I have something, given all I've got through in my years. But I don't think I'd call it faith. . . it wasn't that certain.
It was more like hope, I guess. Not knowing, but wishing.
But as for us. . . that's a different matter. He's told me time and time again that he's drawn to me. . . it's not something he can explain, but it's something that he can't see ever not happening. He's there for me to lean on, he's there for me to laugh with, he's there for me to cry with. . . he's there for me to just be with. No matter what I need, he's there.
No, I'm not as open as he is with my feelings. I don't openly declare my cares, and I don't always tell him what I'm thinking.
But that doesn't mean I don't feel, care and think, because I do.
I feel more for this man than I let myself believe just yet.
I care more about this man than I let myself believe just yet.
Far more.
I know my answer.
Raising my head, I look him straight in the eyes, telling him what he needs to know - what he deserves to know.
"We're gonna be OK."
Even in the dark I can see his face light up, coming closer to mine. His response is gentle, and yet completely clear.
"I know."
I wrap my arms around him in a hug, and I feel his head lower onto my shoulder.
I have faith in you, John.
What's more, I have faith in us.
Unexpectedly, my surroundings suddenly light up. Within seconds we're moving again.
We stay in each other's arms, without even a flinch.
There's nothing that could make me want to move right now.
Unfortunately, our stop arrives, and I realize I have to move unless I plan on a long walk home.
I rise off his lap, offering my hand to him with a grin. He takes it, and I lead him off the train. This time its him who walks behind me, wrapping his hands around me in complete imitation of my actions earlier.
He speaks tenderly, his lips running along my neck.
"Take me home."
Kenzie - coming from someone as talented as you that meant a lot - I'll certainly wear that standalone crown with pride.
TaylorWise - again, given the standard of your own writing, your words mean a great deal. Hope this chapter also pleases you.
So here you go - the second standalone in my series. I'm gotta say I'm not sure about this one, it's proved quite hard to write, but I'm going to post it anyway.
As usual, any reviews greatly appreciated :-)
*****
Wonder Number Two - Faith
*****
"Oh please, that is so lame!"
I stop dead in my tracks through the ambulance bay, looking at him in complete shock. He's feigning innocence like I've never seen before.
"What?!"
It's almost too hard to resist.
Almost.
"I can't believe you're using that as an excuse."
"It's true isn't it?"
I regain my step enough to nudge him off balance, laughing softly. I haven't seen him all day - he left at 10am, two hours before our shifts were due to start. I didn't ask where he was going, although I know it had something to do with his mother who has decided to visit this week.
When I eventually got up at 11, I decided to take a shower before work only to find that there was no hot water left.
"You're telling me that the reason behind you using so much hot water was. . . "
". . . you. Being the morning person that you are - you got me all sweaty so I needed a shower."
I hate people finishing my sentences.
Then again, he doesn't count as "people" anymore.
"Yeah, a shower, not a swim. . . and if that's the way you feel about the way I wake you up then maybe I'll stop."
He leans so that our faces are almost touching.
Hello, John Carter.
"I didn't say that. . . I guess I'll just invite you to share my 'swim' next time."
Please do.
"Yeah, that may be the only thing that's going to let you off the hook with this one."
Grinning, I lean in for a kiss.
It's deep, sensual, and has the ability to go much further than it should on a street kerb.
Which is why I break away, moving to his left ear to speak in a low voice.
"Take me home."
He smiles, taking my hand and kissing it lightly.
We make our way to the El station, filling each other in with details of our respective days.
A day spent in the same place, with the same people, and yet both our shifts have been completely different.
I love this.
Regular, everyday activity that seems so little but means so much.
He doesn't even let my hand go when we get to the ticket turnstiles. It's a game we play sometimes. One of us will walk one way, the other takes another path, and we try to overcome obstacles in our route without breaking contact - namely lampposts, doors, turnstiles. . . the list goes on.
The symbolism of the game isn't lost on me - two people trying to make it through barriers that get in their way, fighting to keep contact with each other.
Someday we'll manage the larger scale equivalent as well as we play the game.
We're getting there.
Reaching the platform, I notice him shivering slightly.
I wrap my arms around his waist from behind, surrounding him with my heat.
"Better?"
He leans his head to the side and our eyes meet.
"Much."
Smiling, he bends his head down to meet mine, making our noses touch
We stay this way on the platform for a while, enjoying the peace. When you work in a place as hectic and as noisy as County General, you come to learn that silence at times really is golden.
Our still reverie is shattered by the noise of a train approaching in the distance. Undeterred, I don't move my arms from around his form - if anything I hold on tighter.
I can just about see the right side of his face tighten as he smiles again.
A tiny detail in the vast complications of life that just lights up my world completely.
How he does that, I'll never know.
But I'm so grateful.
As the train doors open, I reluctantly drop my arms. He must sense this as he reaches for my hand, leading me into the last carriage.
It's empty.
I suppose that's what you get for ending shifts at midnight.
Still, I'm not complaining.
I've had to share him with patients and other staff members all day, it's about time I got to him to myself for a while.
He sits in an individual seat on his left, and I don't hesitate in climbing onto his lap, wrapping my hands around his neck for balance.
Or so I believe.
Time and time again, I reach out to him, leaning on him. And yet I won't admit, especially to myself, that I need him.
I won't do that yet.
But I know that given time, there's a distinct possibility I will.
Soon.
His voice interrupts my thoughts, the same smile now moving into his words.
"There's 29 other seats in here, you know that, right?"
I look at him pointedly, and begin to make a move off his knees.
It's not even a split second later when I feel his strong arms pull me back down. Cupping my face lightly, he captures my mouth in a soft kiss. I pull away after a while, set on answering his comments.
"Something's attracting me to this one."
We stay that way for a while, wrapped up in each other.
I've waited all day for this, and he doesn't disappoint.
He never could.
Suddenly, the train jerks to a stop. I look out of the window, expecting to see a platform, or the name of a station.
There's nothing of the sort.
"What the. . . "
Carter's questions are cut off by the loudspeaker, informing us that due to minor technical difficulties, the train will remain still for the time being until it's possible to continue.
As if on cue, the lights in the train switch off, plummeting us into darkness.
The only thing that's illuminating our surroundings are the lights of the city below.
I don't like this.
I wrap my hands around him even tighter, eliciting a slight giggle from him.
"It's just a minor fault. We'll be out of here in no time."
"I hope so."
I don't loosen my grip at all. Instead I snuggle closer to him, leaning my head on his shoulder, pressing my lips to his neck. In turn, he moves his hands lower, circling my stomach with one whilst rubbing my lower back with the other.
I'm hit by how instantly safe he makes me feel. I'm in the dark, on a broken down El train, in an empty carriage - but in his arms I feel protected.
He's all I need.
I swivel round in his lap, to face the window, looking towards our only source of light - a remote one at that.
"Wow."
He turns to look at me.
"What?"
I make myself comfortable again, nestling deeper into his body.
I can't get close enough.
"When I was small, I used to creep into Eric's room, which had a much better view than mine, and sit for ages. . . looking at the lights, the stars, the traffic. It was peaceful somehow - like no matter what you're going through, everything still carries on."
My voice trails off as I continue to stare at our environment.
After a bit, I speak again to ask a question that's been playing on my mind somewhat lately.
"What do you think it is that makes the world go round?"
I move my gaze from Chicago to Carter. He seems bemused by my question, so I try and explain further.
"I don't mean scientifically. I mean. . . something must make people want to live. Something must make them want to carry on, to survive, to develop - otherwise they wouldn't."
He's quiet for a while, pondering my query.
I look back towards the city.
It's one of the few things left in life that continues to amaze me.
So many people, each one with a different life. Different stories to tell, different pasts, presents and futures. No one knowing what's going to happen next, but carrying on nevertheless.
"Faith."
His voice startles me somewhat, and I turn once more to look at him.
"Faith?"
He pauses before carrying on.
"My grandfather once taught me a song about how money makes the world go round. It's one of the most obvious things that divides people - into classes, into groups. . . a form of measuring your worth. Gamma, on the other hand, completely disagreed with him."
That smile reappears, fond memories of his Grandmother filling his mind.
"She believed it was love. Something natural, something simple - either you have it, or you don't. Either you feel it, or you don't. You can't push it, you can't force it, and you certainly can't fake it. It's pure, and she thought it had the ability to make or break people."
Again he pauses. I remain still, his dialect seeming to precious to disturb. My eyes are still fixated on the glow below us.
"In many ways she was right. But personally, I think it's faith. Belief that no matter how many bad things occur, things will get better. Knowing that your live can improve, certainty that even if everything goes the opposite direction to the way you want it to go, one day things will turn 180 degrees and you'll be back on track."
He seems so sure of this, as if it's something that he's thought about numerous times before.
"It's something you have, it's something you loose, and it's something you regain. But deep down, whether they feel it constantly or not, I think that everyone knows that no matter what happens. . . things are going to be OK."
And its at that moment that I realize what he's basing this on.
Us.
He's shocked me slightly, and yet encouraged me to consider this myself.
Do I have faith? I ponder this for a while. It's obvious that I have something, given all I've got through in my years. But I don't think I'd call it faith. . . it wasn't that certain.
It was more like hope, I guess. Not knowing, but wishing.
But as for us. . . that's a different matter. He's told me time and time again that he's drawn to me. . . it's not something he can explain, but it's something that he can't see ever not happening. He's there for me to lean on, he's there for me to laugh with, he's there for me to cry with. . . he's there for me to just be with. No matter what I need, he's there.
No, I'm not as open as he is with my feelings. I don't openly declare my cares, and I don't always tell him what I'm thinking.
But that doesn't mean I don't feel, care and think, because I do.
I feel more for this man than I let myself believe just yet.
I care more about this man than I let myself believe just yet.
Far more.
I know my answer.
Raising my head, I look him straight in the eyes, telling him what he needs to know - what he deserves to know.
"We're gonna be OK."
Even in the dark I can see his face light up, coming closer to mine. His response is gentle, and yet completely clear.
"I know."
I wrap my arms around him in a hug, and I feel his head lower onto my shoulder.
I have faith in you, John.
What's more, I have faith in us.
Unexpectedly, my surroundings suddenly light up. Within seconds we're moving again.
We stay in each other's arms, without even a flinch.
There's nothing that could make me want to move right now.
Unfortunately, our stop arrives, and I realize I have to move unless I plan on a long walk home.
I rise off his lap, offering my hand to him with a grin. He takes it, and I lead him off the train. This time its him who walks behind me, wrapping his hands around me in complete imitation of my actions earlier.
He speaks tenderly, his lips running along my neck.
"Take me home."