Title: Seasons In Color
Author: ScullyAsTrinity
Category: Angst??? I guess???
Rating: PG-13 bordering on R.
Notes: This fandom can't die. So, I felt the need to rekindle my Matrix fiction. Here we go, we'll start off small.
Summary: All he could taste was ash and wintergreen.
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He wasn't sure where the heat was coming from but it pounded against his body, beat down on him relentless. For a moment, he gave in and moaned, moaned loudly. The flames lapping at his skin, scorching him unlike anything he had felt before.
Everything smelled faintly of old oak and maple and stung with the intensity of salty water. Sand rushed against his face, lacerating the skin and making him cringe. A breeze brought him through the onslaught and he was surrounded by ash and lava and death.
All he could smell was the sugary sweet scent of a confectioner. All he could taste was the wasted remnant of summer sun.
Seashells broke under his feet and crabs walked around and over him. A boardwalk was in view and then under him and a beer and his college girlfriend in his hands. The condensation from the Corona bottle rolling down to cool his hands, turning into snowflakes and falling to the ground. The lime in the neck of the bottle crawled up and squirted his girlfriend in the eye and she fell down into a black hole of antifreeze.
Gasoline and grease filled his nostrils.
A volcano in the distance, screaming at him. His feet connected with burning coals but his brain barely registered the pain. Red, orange, yellow and black, rising up and curling in the atmosphere to come back down and smother everything. A barren wasteland.
And there, in that fire, he was reunited with her. Only for a moment, for a second, for a breath. It was all fire.
And it uttered ice, pure frost consumed him. His inside below zero, cracking and creating crystal lines through his eyes, lungs, his skin. He could skate all over himself he was so smooth with cold. His surroundings were gray. They were gray and blue and white and he slid through them, crashing through miles of snow and breathing in the scents of winter.
A sled underneath him, speeding down and endless hill, trees and woodland animals stationary as he moved faster and faster downward. Wet flecks pricking his cheeks and chapping the skin there. Eyes tearing, and saline running down his cheeks to land on the goose down jacket he was wearing.
And then the garment was gone and stiff branches tore at the pale skin of his chest, drawing hot red blood that trickled down his abdomen and stained the pristine snow and angry color. The ground churned and swallowed him, the sled slipping from underneath.
Then smoke, a cool, bright smoke cascading over his flesh, leaving residue in his hair, turning from ink black to fine gray. It was there, in that room, that her phantom lips collided with hers, pulling all of the color out of the world and into her. She burned of cold and passion. It wasn't his complete desire but he kissed her back with all of the pigment that was in him.
And the cold sweat that he encountered when he awoke was from her head, her body, so he clung to her and shielded her from the cold.
All he could taste was ash and wintergreen.