A/N: Dear Ennui Enigma – I am not sure if I have done this piece justice, because I am always filled with doubts about the final product. I dedicate this chapter to you because you pushed me in my writing. I hope I met your challenge and this is what you imagined.
Dear JAL – thank you for holding my hand and inspiring me daily!
Sorry – longish definition, but it is necessary.
Sensation
sensation – noun – 1. the consciousness of perceiving or seeming to perceive some state or condition of one's body or it's parts or of the senses; an instance of such consciousness. 2. an awareness or impression (created sensation of time passing; a sensation of being watched). 3. a a stirring of emotions or intense interest, esp. among a large group of people (the news caused a sensation) b a person, event, etc. causing such interest.
The wind blew through his dark curls and he stood as steadily as he could. The wind and emotions buffeting and tearing at him, both trying to push him over the edge, before he was ready.
A good gust and down he would go.
But not before he said goodbye.
Please let him say goodbye.
He was remembering their last night together before everything came undone. Not last night, which was only an impression of escaping, running and hiding. And fear. Fear that he wouldn't be able to pull this off.
No, he was thinking of their last night. Together.
John sprawled below him upon the sheets. The sensation that he floated and hovered protectively above him with the cinnamon resonance of angel wings, wings that guarded and sheltered. He locked eyes and refused to let John glance away. Both knew it was becoming desperate. Between Moriarty's plan and the media he was being torn apart by the wolves, left to rot in the sun.
No longer the media's darling. No longer safe from Moriarty's madness.
Desperation filled the air, bitterness and the taste of salt left them aching, not knowing what might be coming next and if it would rip them apart. Not knowing if there were any other instances.
He enveloped John in kisses and caresses, kisses that clamored with need and caresses that heightened awareness and drove John from fevered pitch to the honeyed silences between cries and moans.
Touches lingered afterwards, the velvet undertone of murmurs, both refused to sleep and neither wanted to be the last to let go.
And in the now, here, on the roof, the final moment. This was his last gift, this decision, and he would give this gift gladly, though it was wrapped in pain and sorrow.
He had spoken truths by saying he was on the side of the angels, not one of them, but like an angel he would fall and alone, wander the Earth, denied Heaven.
He held out his hand and touched nothing, but he could feel the texture of John's anguished reach.
Goodbye, John.
He tossed the mobile, spread his arms and with the leap of faith, fell, to the sound of wings.