Spoilers: Well, you kinda need to know what happened in "Germ Theory"
and Ur.. the one where Claire and Darien attempted monkey-luv under the tarps.
With the D/C shippiness. Actually, this could TECHNICALLY be an original
story... kinda.
Archival: Go ahead! Take! Take! Take!
Anyway...
Notes: Okay, okay, so I'm unable to title with anything but a 'B'
word. I'm consistent, at least, right? ;) Again, this is D/C, but
only in a VERY VERY strange way. It really didn't turn out like I
thought it would, but when does a story ever?
***
Burn
by A.j.
***
I woke with the taste of him on my tongue and the feel of his hand on
my belly.
But when I opened my eyes both were gone, leaving me with nothing but
images both imagined and real. And as I opened my eyes to the harsh
brightness of the morning sun, another piece of my fractured heart
cracked.
The loss of his hands was so acute, it was physical. My breath caught
at it, my eyes wide and unseeing.
It had been warm there, in my dream world. Wonderfully, gloriously
*warm*. Fingers alternating between supple and course, protectively
cupped my abdomen. His heat cradled me, drawing me into that deep
private place existing only between lovers.
I never knew my mind could be so vivid. Or have such dramatic recall.
The dreams don't come often. If they did, it's doubtful I would remain
sane. Sane. What irony.
Madness. Great folly. The loss of inhibitions. The way of the damned.
So many descriptions for an exact definition. The phrase is used so
loosely. "I must be mad for having done that..."
God, how true. How incredibly, tragically true.
I never realized, before, how incredibly restrained I am. I guess I
never thought about it. I followed my little routines but played when
I felt I needed to. I never even sensed that I was missing anything. I
was content.
Complacency is the root of all ills. I'd heard that before. I'd just
never believed it.
Free. That's the only way to describe it. The madness. Complete and
utter freedom from everything. Contention of thought, action, and
movement. Twice in this life, I have tasted it. The sheer dizzying
glory of falling and knowing there is nothing below to catch you. And
both times, HE has been at the center. A focus. A magnate.
And both times, he's been there to catch me when I finally hit the
ground.
How strange it is to know that someone will be there for you, even as
he is falling. Strange but so amazingly peaceful. What a dichotomy. So
threatened but so safe. And safety... What a rare commodity.
But that is what he's always offered me. Even now when we can't quite
look each other in the eye, he hands it out. Safety from myself.
Shielding from the yearning that our lives can't grant us fulfillment
to.
Oh, I know. How can I not? It is there, that knowledge that if given
the chance we would both jump. Fly again in that heady gravity of our
madness. For it is addictive, you see. So incredibly strong. And I
know now... Oh, god do I know, he craves the loss of control just as
he mourns it.
Rationality, sanity... both are the reality we are born to. His were
taken away through the most brutal of choices. Trust yourself and your
ability to survive, or trust your brother and his ability to care for
you. Bless him for trusting, for reaching. And damn Kevin for failing.
Damn me for perpetuating the chain.
My own leaps into the unknown were both of my own fault and creation.
I stripped myself of that coating, and now I must live with the
consequences. This realization does not make my burden lighter, nor
his less important. We are just different, as man and woman have been
since the beginning of time.
I am an Eve to his Adam. I chose, he followed.
And now, we are both exiled from our garden. Sent to wander the
desolate planes of our worlds, we come only occasionally upon spots of
color; of cliffs from which to dive.
I envy him his ability to let go. And his ability to hang on. Given
the chance... the choice... I would run. I would fly. I would fall.
Because he would catch me.
So all I have are these dreams. These interruptions in my sanity.
Times when I can fall and be caught without repercussion or pain, and
when he can fly with me high into the sun.
He is Icarus, I Daedlus. Both obsessed with release and drawn so
dangerously towards the fire. Alone we will perish, but together...
Together we will burn.
So I lie here, shaking with need and desire, feeling what is left of
my cracked heart break, his taste on my tongue, and pray for both the
strength to hold on... and let go.
-fin-
and Ur.. the one where Claire and Darien attempted monkey-luv under the tarps.
With the D/C shippiness. Actually, this could TECHNICALLY be an original
story... kinda.
Archival: Go ahead! Take! Take! Take!
Anyway...
Notes: Okay, okay, so I'm unable to title with anything but a 'B'
word. I'm consistent, at least, right? ;) Again, this is D/C, but
only in a VERY VERY strange way. It really didn't turn out like I
thought it would, but when does a story ever?
***
Burn
by A.j.
***
I woke with the taste of him on my tongue and the feel of his hand on
my belly.
But when I opened my eyes both were gone, leaving me with nothing but
images both imagined and real. And as I opened my eyes to the harsh
brightness of the morning sun, another piece of my fractured heart
cracked.
The loss of his hands was so acute, it was physical. My breath caught
at it, my eyes wide and unseeing.
It had been warm there, in my dream world. Wonderfully, gloriously
*warm*. Fingers alternating between supple and course, protectively
cupped my abdomen. His heat cradled me, drawing me into that deep
private place existing only between lovers.
I never knew my mind could be so vivid. Or have such dramatic recall.
The dreams don't come often. If they did, it's doubtful I would remain
sane. Sane. What irony.
Madness. Great folly. The loss of inhibitions. The way of the damned.
So many descriptions for an exact definition. The phrase is used so
loosely. "I must be mad for having done that..."
God, how true. How incredibly, tragically true.
I never realized, before, how incredibly restrained I am. I guess I
never thought about it. I followed my little routines but played when
I felt I needed to. I never even sensed that I was missing anything. I
was content.
Complacency is the root of all ills. I'd heard that before. I'd just
never believed it.
Free. That's the only way to describe it. The madness. Complete and
utter freedom from everything. Contention of thought, action, and
movement. Twice in this life, I have tasted it. The sheer dizzying
glory of falling and knowing there is nothing below to catch you. And
both times, HE has been at the center. A focus. A magnate.
And both times, he's been there to catch me when I finally hit the
ground.
How strange it is to know that someone will be there for you, even as
he is falling. Strange but so amazingly peaceful. What a dichotomy. So
threatened but so safe. And safety... What a rare commodity.
But that is what he's always offered me. Even now when we can't quite
look each other in the eye, he hands it out. Safety from myself.
Shielding from the yearning that our lives can't grant us fulfillment
to.
Oh, I know. How can I not? It is there, that knowledge that if given
the chance we would both jump. Fly again in that heady gravity of our
madness. For it is addictive, you see. So incredibly strong. And I
know now... Oh, god do I know, he craves the loss of control just as
he mourns it.
Rationality, sanity... both are the reality we are born to. His were
taken away through the most brutal of choices. Trust yourself and your
ability to survive, or trust your brother and his ability to care for
you. Bless him for trusting, for reaching. And damn Kevin for failing.
Damn me for perpetuating the chain.
My own leaps into the unknown were both of my own fault and creation.
I stripped myself of that coating, and now I must live with the
consequences. This realization does not make my burden lighter, nor
his less important. We are just different, as man and woman have been
since the beginning of time.
I am an Eve to his Adam. I chose, he followed.
And now, we are both exiled from our garden. Sent to wander the
desolate planes of our worlds, we come only occasionally upon spots of
color; of cliffs from which to dive.
I envy him his ability to let go. And his ability to hang on. Given
the chance... the choice... I would run. I would fly. I would fall.
Because he would catch me.
So all I have are these dreams. These interruptions in my sanity.
Times when I can fall and be caught without repercussion or pain, and
when he can fly with me high into the sun.
He is Icarus, I Daedlus. Both obsessed with release and drawn so
dangerously towards the fire. Alone we will perish, but together...
Together we will burn.
So I lie here, shaking with need and desire, feeling what is left of
my cracked heart break, his taste on my tongue, and pray for both the
strength to hold on... and let go.
-fin-