He lost hope

by Furrytoaster

And one day when they'd both danced in the middle of an empty parking lot clasping empty bottles of Johnnie Walker and she slipped and told him about the burden of her family and how disgusting the serum was, he decided he would take on her burden and numb all the pain she felt. One-Shot.

The first time he saw her was when she was in her element, and he was out of his.

He'd run his fingers down yellowed volumes, a deep scowl taking residence upon his features as the unfamiliar putrid scent of old books and mothballs attacked his nostrils. He'd never been to this library. Actually, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been in any library for more than ten minutes. But that was because he hadn't bothered during finals week before. His father would give him a slap on the wrist for failing just about everything and send him back to Harvard, which welcomed him (and the generous donation or new wing his father offered) back with open arms. But this time when his father had called him into his study and given him the old lecture on the honor of being a Harvard man, it was in a foreign, cutting tone that indicated that he wouldn't be expressing his generosity towards his alma mater anymore. He'd realized that he would have to bring it, or risk pissing off his father, a man that no one in their right mind would want to piss off.

After plucking a few books with titles that were seemingly relevant to the stupid history class he'd been required to take, he settled himself at an empty table tucked away in a corner behind some half empty shelves, and wore his scowl like a gas mask to shield himself from the toxic company of his fellow students. (Not that anyone would want to talk to him if he hadn't been scowling. It's just that this way they knew that he didn't want to talk to them either.

So when she stumbled into the seat across from him, all auburn curls and long lashes and perfectly shaped lips that spread into an easy smile upon seeing him, his scowl fell right off his face and he looked around to make sure there were no cameras, no jeering upperclassmen, no laughing athletes who were attempting to pull a prank on him. That the beautiful girl holding more books than he would ever read was smiling at him, not at some jock who was standing over his shoulder ready to beat him to a pulp. That she was a real person, and not some figment of his imagination. And when he was sure that she was indeed smiling at him, he smiled back.

When she rested her jewel-toned eyes on his and asked him in her confident, clear tone if he wanted her to explain the Spanish conquest of the Inca Empire to him, he quickly accepted her offer, and blushed when she apologized as a lock of her hair brushed against his arm. He listened to hear speak for four hours, mesmerized when her perfect face was wrought in concentration and when she nodded encouragingly as he asked her a question. He could've listened to her speak forever, but alas his time with her was cut short as she slipped into her leather jacket and apologized because her boyfriend was coming to pick her up.

But he saw her again the next day, when she quizzed him on the Battle of Cajamarca, and the next when she showed him pictures of the Ransom Room and laughed her intoxicating laugh when he asked her what was so special about a little Peruvian shack.

She was nothing like him at all. She was intelligent and funny and kind and beautiful. She was the sun in human form, and she could light up anyone's day with a few words and a peal of laughter. She could make him forget that he was stupid and clumsy and not destined to accomplish great things like his father never ceased to remind him. She could make him feel special and important and so, so happy. That's why every time he saw her holding hands with that amber-eyed exchange student from Oxford, he wanted to hit something. Vikram Kabra didn't deserve her. Not that anyone could ever deserve her. She was way out of his league. She was way out of everyone's league.

So when they broke up and he found her sobbing into her perfectly finished homework, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, fireworks exploding in his ears as his entire body burned with awareness of her presence. He almost died when she kissed him back, and when he asked her if she would like to go out some time, and she said yes, he replaced his signature scowl with a grin, and he strived to make her laugh in the way that only she could make him laugh.

And one day when they'd both danced in the middle of an empty parking lot clasping empty bottles of Johnnie Walker and she slipped and told him about the burden of her family and how disgusting the serum was, he decided he would take on her burden and numb all the pain she felt. She didn't want to numb any of his pain however, as a few weeks later, as the semester ended, she broke up with him, her pink cheeks streaked with guilty tears and her green eyes downcast as she explained to him how he was scaring her, how she regretted telling him about her family, about how she thought he was perfect and he didn't need some evil concoction to make her want him because she already did. He screamed at her that he was doing this for her, that he would push away his family and his education for her, and that he loved her and that she didn't understand what it felt like to be in love with someone who was so much better than you.

She didn't understand what he said, and the grins that came so easily to him no longer did when he heard she graduated early and went to Istanbul for some job or something. He left school and he looked for her for years, all the while doing research to help her with her family problems, so when he found her in Boston one day making someone else laugh, a diamond on her finger, he turned his back on her, and all of a sudden, he couldn't feel anything anymore.

When she died, he felt a mixture of the deepest, darkest grief, and satisfaction that vengeance had been served. As the darkness coiled around him, squeezing him tighter and tighter with each passing day, he put on a blinding grin once more. There was not a second he wasn't mourning her, and despite the fact that he had married some bland woman (who never made him laugh), he still loved her.

And so he attempted to become the most powerful person on the planet, blinding people with his newfound charm and his easy smiles, thinking that maybe he could deserve her if he was great enough. He built skyscrapers and libraries and an empire so great maybe she would see how accomplished he was. He tried to become a part of history, hoping she would notice him. But in the end, when he was foiled, when his daughter and her daughter and the other children made him look like the fool he was, he cried.

Because in the end he'd lost hope.

...

Gah well this didn't turn out exactly how I wanted it to. It's a bit confusing to read (I'm sorry), and it's not like really great writing, and I'm pretty sure there are a ton of errors, but it was fun to write. I've always wondered about the relationship between Pierce and Hope, and I kind of wished that they'd gone into it a little more in the books. Anyways, I FINISHED MISSION HINDENBURG AND OK NO SPOILERS BUT THE END OF CHAPTER SIX WHAT I CALLED IT I KNEW I KNEW I KNEW IT AND ALSO CARIAN IS STILL REALLY GROSS REGARDLESS OF IAN'S INVOLVEMENT WITH AMY. But anyway, thank you so so much for reading, and I'd love it if you guys reviewed :) (I'm sorry the title is also kind of stupid I'm really bad with titles and things okie bye) (And also who liked the subtle Hope/Vikram there cause I'm really into that and if anyone is reading this could they please write some ok thank you 3)