Title: The Tension between Stillness
Author: Nat
Summary: He can't understand why he's so angry at her, even though she's the only one that can still look him in the eye.
spoilers for conversion
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He can't understand why he's so angry at her, even though she's the only one that can still look him in the eye and hasn't tried to keep him at arms length. She's the only one that sat with him each night in the infirmary while the blue finally faded.
"God dammit Elizabeth. I could have killed you!"
He likes to think he's angry at her because he taught her better, or at least taught her something about protecting herself. But really he knows that deep down, he isn't angry at Elizabeth, he's angry at himself. He's angry at himself because he almost killed her (and maybe a little bit angry at her because she almost let him.)
She blinks. Stares. Then looks away.
He watches as her eyes close and she lets out a shaky breath.
But then suddenly she's looking right back at him. Her eyes pierce through his and at this moment he could swear that she was peering down into his soul. That electric green gaze pins him to the spot and he regrets ever raising his voice at her, but he won't move, not now. Not when she's standing there in his quarters, staring at him like this, and he's finally not blue anymore (so he knows that she's not staring at him because of that) so it must be something else.
But she still hasn't said anything.
He likes to think it's because she did know better, but he knows (god he knows), that the real reason she's so quiet is because they have an unspoken commitment to each other and for Christ's sakes he almost turned into a frigging bug.
If it's possible he thinks he might be falling a little bit more in love with her because she looked at him, not the blue monster he was turning into, but actually at him and even after he hurt her, she still looked at him.
He knows that she's sporting one hell of a bruise on her neck and that it'll most likely be there for the next week but he has yet to see it. She's kept it well hidden - not that she has to try hard; they're still standing in his dimly lit quarters.
Suddenly he has an overwhelming urge to see the bruise that he put on her. That he made. Stepping closer to her, he reaches up and he can't help but feel proud of her when she doesn't even flinch. Elizabeth just stands and watches him, knowing this is something he has to do.
His fingers gently make contact with the side of her neck, the exact opposite of when he touched her last time. His thumb brushes against her throat as he moves in closer, his other hand reaching up and moving under her chin to tilt her head back softly so he can get a good look at the bruise.
He tries not to cringe when he spots the colorful mark that wraps around her throat. He wants to apologize to her, but he knows it's just a waste of time because she doesn't want to hear it. So instead he lets his fingers work over the bruise with such tender care, hoping that she'll feel just how sorry he is.
On impulse he bends down and places a soft lingering kiss against the abused skin. He hears her sharp intake of air and he feels her heart thumping in her chest, her pulse racing.
She stays perfectly still but her eyes have fluttered shut again, and he knows that this time, it's different. The whole room has taken on a different feeling. This is different from just the routine checking up on each other after those life or death situations they find themselves in so often. This is more, more than either of them expected to feel.
He feels like he should say something to her, anything but for the life of him he can't think of anything to say that doesn't involve an apology. Her skin is warm under his fingertips, making it hard for him to think.
Instead, he leans down and kisses the bruise again, but this time a little more to the right and he lingers longer, letting his tongue brush against her skin, tasting her.
Suddenly he has the overwhelming need to kiss her. Not maul her, or an 'I could tear your clothes from your body right here' kiss. Just kiss her and god, he hasn't wanted to just kiss a girl since the fifth grade. But he's noticing that with Elizabeth, he wants to do a lot of stuff that he never really did or cared about with any other girls, because he wants her to be forever and the whole nearly-killing-her situation made that much more clearer to him.
When he pulls back, her eyes are open and she's staring at him again. Her eyes are so big and so luminous, that he thinks it's quite possible he might fall into them. Those green sparkling orbs pull him in and all he can think is that he really wants to kiss her.
So he does.
It's soft and slow and everything he wanted and needed it to be. He can feel Elizabeth practically melt against him, and he knows by that she's not in any hurry to end the kiss anytime soon.
He moves his hand to the back of her neck, and runs his fingers down the length of her spine, stopping at the base. Flattening his hand against the small of her back, he draws her closer to him, not so that they're both so squashed together that you don't know where one begins and the other ends, but just so their bodies mold together enough to feel her warmth. Because, god, this is what he needed, this human contact with somebody, after spending a week in the infirmary with everybody staying at arms length, just incase he suddenly turned blue again.
It feels good.
He feels almost human again.
His other hand has found hers of its own accord, and their fingers are laced up together, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
And this is it he thinks, this is his reward for not killing anyone (that's if he looks on the positive side); having Elizabeth, soft, warm and inviting, pressed up against him like this because this is exactly the home remedy that he needed.
He pulls her a little closer and lets the warmth seep through him, and sighs all content into the kiss because finally everything is the way it's suppose to be.
He's angry because he had no control over his actions, and it took every ounce of will and determination he had to release the grip he had on her throat and let her fall to the ground, and if he's stripped of his self control, what is it that he has left?
fin