Hourglass (PG-13)
Posted: Sat Jan 17, 2009 11:12 pm
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine.
AN: This is set during Love Lasts Forever, and probably is going to remain a one-shot (edit: There is an indirect sequel, called Red). ConCrit is very, very highly appreciated. Please do tell me what you liked, what you disliked, and anything else that pops to mind.
Hourglass
The air tasted acrid; too much gunpowder and anguish tainted even the breezy air in the park. Josh’s blood mixed with the earth and Beth’s tears mixed with his warm flesh, with his sweat. Mick could barely swallow.
What day is it? Josh had asked. Mick had done everything he knew and many things he didn’t. Silver necklace scorching his fingers, tie and cigarette lighter, field tourniquets, they couldn’t hold forever; Josh’s consciousness and memories already trickled away from him to mingle, sticky and sweet, with the little insects and pebbles and leaves on the ground beneath him. When Mick finally swallowed he felt that familiar ache deep inside his stomach, like a fist curling in his gut. He fought for life, his hands and fingers wanted to save Josh as his mouth wanted to taste the blood from Beth’s small warm, trembling hands. He wanted to lean forward and lick her until she was clean and it was him the one who was red.
It was only for her sake that he tried to save Josh. It was only ever for her.
Josh’s heart stopped and as Beth breathed moments into Josh all Mick could think was, Forgive me, Beth. I tried. But his hands never failed at their count and his muscles exerted no more pressure than needed. Mick could break spines and reach inside a ribcage for a heart and throw a man across the room with a single thrust but he didn’t crack a rib or bruise Josh’s sternum; for those few moments Mick had the control he always craved and never had. Except with Beth. For her he gentled his touch and skimmed her skin so softly, a whisper of touch, sweet and singing.
But then Josh’s heartbeat stopped and something inside Mick lurched and he believed he knew what would come next. Mick’s fingers slipped and bruised.
Blood still dripped gently. There wasn’t a heartbeat anymore to drive it out into the air but it still smelled so God damned good, better than any blood had smelled since the scorching desert, when he put his mouth on Beth’s wrist and drank from her, titillated and invaded until he felt her hot gasps on his neck.
Those precious seconds passed; he stopped pumping air into the corpse. That word… that word hurt and gave him pause, forced him to think when that was the last thing he wanted to do. But he thought. He wished he could want Josh to live, but all he could desire in those trickling minutes were Beth and blood.
And for the fucking sun to fade. Christ, but it burned. Josh was gone and Beth was alive and alone and Mick thought that maybe that burned her more than the harsh sun burned him.
She fought, of course. She fought for Josh. She didn’t know how not to, so she looked up at Mick and said, You can still save him. Turn him, he’ll live. Please. For me.
She couldn’t know what she was asking for. That was what he thought and that despair was what she heard when he spoke. She couldn’t possibly know. But instead all he said was, He’s human, Beth. This is what happens. His hands were red and held out in front of him like an awful display and Beth’s heart-wrench hurt him more than bullets or glass digging into his flesh, more than shrapnel exploding in bits of flesh and cherry red pain. But he could still smell the blood.
He had asked himself, how does an immortal handle immortal feelings? He supposed he would have the answer soon enough.
A million seconds in his mind, none so fleeting that he couldn’t quite catch them. Coraline, dark hair and darker eyes and hungry red soul. Her fingers wrapped around his skin and heart. Her blood in his. He had said to her, I’ll love you forever. Forever? she had asked. Even then, Mick thought, she knew and so she asked.
His mother. The endless women he had bedded after the War. All he remembered from them were the shapes of their hips and the feel of their soft breasts and hard nipples.
The pain in hangovers and the worse pain of memories he had burned away with every orgasm, with every swallow of cheap whiskey and rasp of blade.
Little Beth. She had been all milk teeth and golden hair and fear when he first met her. Those big blue eyes had been his independence two decades ago. This day they would be his shattering if he let them.
Turn him, he’ll live. Please. For me.
Mick leaned over Josh. He could hear the ambulance, so close, closer and closer each passing heartbeat. No time for him to think, no time for him to shake Beth and tell her exactly what her lover would become if he did this easy thing. No time to kiss her. But she had asked and even as the sun and thirst scorched him, reached in with hard fingers and raked his deepest little caves with burns, he made a choice.
For you, Beth.
It didn’t even hurt to slice his arm open, and Josh drank his blood, of course. Josh didn’t refuse, couldn’t refuse, because in the end, even the corpses drank deep. Anything at all for a week more to live; hell, anything for five more minutes. And just a little drop of his blood would slide deep inside and pervade every organ and cell until all but the scraps of humanity were shredded.
Mick closed his eyes and vaguely thought, I’m sorry Josh. I wish you would die but she can’t wish the same thing. Beth can’t… I can’t lose her. She loves you, man.
Mick drew his arm back and Josh opened his eyes. Ice blue sky and ice blue eyes and deep blue bruises on his chest, they already began to fade. Mick hated that color suddenly, as years past he had grown to despise the color red.
His fingers were folded neatly, gently, but he couldn’t feel them there, very much as if they weren’t attached to him anymore. His hands moved out of their own accord and took his knife, pressed dirty palms against edge and squeezed.
Mick had always wished he could die easily but he knew he would never get that dream. Beth shivered besides him but he couldn’t touch her anymore. She had those fucking blue eyes and she was looking at him, waiting for him to do something, anything, even whisper her name, touch her hand, for God’s sake look at her, but all he could do was grip the knife tighter and feel the metal cut again, and again, as he healed and cut, healed and cut.
Josh breathed in deep and licked his lips for more blood. His ice blue eyes turned to Beth and Mick had the answer to his questions finally.
For you, Beth.
For you.
AN: This is set during Love Lasts Forever, and probably is going to remain a one-shot (edit: There is an indirect sequel, called Red). ConCrit is very, very highly appreciated. Please do tell me what you liked, what you disliked, and anything else that pops to mind.
Hourglass
The air tasted acrid; too much gunpowder and anguish tainted even the breezy air in the park. Josh’s blood mixed with the earth and Beth’s tears mixed with his warm flesh, with his sweat. Mick could barely swallow.
What day is it? Josh had asked. Mick had done everything he knew and many things he didn’t. Silver necklace scorching his fingers, tie and cigarette lighter, field tourniquets, they couldn’t hold forever; Josh’s consciousness and memories already trickled away from him to mingle, sticky and sweet, with the little insects and pebbles and leaves on the ground beneath him. When Mick finally swallowed he felt that familiar ache deep inside his stomach, like a fist curling in his gut. He fought for life, his hands and fingers wanted to save Josh as his mouth wanted to taste the blood from Beth’s small warm, trembling hands. He wanted to lean forward and lick her until she was clean and it was him the one who was red.
It was only for her sake that he tried to save Josh. It was only ever for her.
Josh’s heart stopped and as Beth breathed moments into Josh all Mick could think was, Forgive me, Beth. I tried. But his hands never failed at their count and his muscles exerted no more pressure than needed. Mick could break spines and reach inside a ribcage for a heart and throw a man across the room with a single thrust but he didn’t crack a rib or bruise Josh’s sternum; for those few moments Mick had the control he always craved and never had. Except with Beth. For her he gentled his touch and skimmed her skin so softly, a whisper of touch, sweet and singing.
But then Josh’s heartbeat stopped and something inside Mick lurched and he believed he knew what would come next. Mick’s fingers slipped and bruised.
Blood still dripped gently. There wasn’t a heartbeat anymore to drive it out into the air but it still smelled so God damned good, better than any blood had smelled since the scorching desert, when he put his mouth on Beth’s wrist and drank from her, titillated and invaded until he felt her hot gasps on his neck.
Those precious seconds passed; he stopped pumping air into the corpse. That word… that word hurt and gave him pause, forced him to think when that was the last thing he wanted to do. But he thought. He wished he could want Josh to live, but all he could desire in those trickling minutes were Beth and blood.
And for the fucking sun to fade. Christ, but it burned. Josh was gone and Beth was alive and alone and Mick thought that maybe that burned her more than the harsh sun burned him.
She fought, of course. She fought for Josh. She didn’t know how not to, so she looked up at Mick and said, You can still save him. Turn him, he’ll live. Please. For me.
She couldn’t know what she was asking for. That was what he thought and that despair was what she heard when he spoke. She couldn’t possibly know. But instead all he said was, He’s human, Beth. This is what happens. His hands were red and held out in front of him like an awful display and Beth’s heart-wrench hurt him more than bullets or glass digging into his flesh, more than shrapnel exploding in bits of flesh and cherry red pain. But he could still smell the blood.
He had asked himself, how does an immortal handle immortal feelings? He supposed he would have the answer soon enough.
A million seconds in his mind, none so fleeting that he couldn’t quite catch them. Coraline, dark hair and darker eyes and hungry red soul. Her fingers wrapped around his skin and heart. Her blood in his. He had said to her, I’ll love you forever. Forever? she had asked. Even then, Mick thought, she knew and so she asked.
His mother. The endless women he had bedded after the War. All he remembered from them were the shapes of their hips and the feel of their soft breasts and hard nipples.
The pain in hangovers and the worse pain of memories he had burned away with every orgasm, with every swallow of cheap whiskey and rasp of blade.
Little Beth. She had been all milk teeth and golden hair and fear when he first met her. Those big blue eyes had been his independence two decades ago. This day they would be his shattering if he let them.
Turn him, he’ll live. Please. For me.
Mick leaned over Josh. He could hear the ambulance, so close, closer and closer each passing heartbeat. No time for him to think, no time for him to shake Beth and tell her exactly what her lover would become if he did this easy thing. No time to kiss her. But she had asked and even as the sun and thirst scorched him, reached in with hard fingers and raked his deepest little caves with burns, he made a choice.
For you, Beth.
It didn’t even hurt to slice his arm open, and Josh drank his blood, of course. Josh didn’t refuse, couldn’t refuse, because in the end, even the corpses drank deep. Anything at all for a week more to live; hell, anything for five more minutes. And just a little drop of his blood would slide deep inside and pervade every organ and cell until all but the scraps of humanity were shredded.
Mick closed his eyes and vaguely thought, I’m sorry Josh. I wish you would die but she can’t wish the same thing. Beth can’t… I can’t lose her. She loves you, man.
Mick drew his arm back and Josh opened his eyes. Ice blue sky and ice blue eyes and deep blue bruises on his chest, they already began to fade. Mick hated that color suddenly, as years past he had grown to despise the color red.
His fingers were folded neatly, gently, but he couldn’t feel them there, very much as if they weren’t attached to him anymore. His hands moved out of their own accord and took his knife, pressed dirty palms against edge and squeezed.
Mick had always wished he could die easily but he knew he would never get that dream. Beth shivered besides him but he couldn’t touch her anymore. She had those fucking blue eyes and she was looking at him, waiting for him to do something, anything, even whisper her name, touch her hand, for God’s sake look at her, but all he could do was grip the knife tighter and feel the metal cut again, and again, as he healed and cut, healed and cut.
Josh breathed in deep and licked his lips for more blood. His ice blue eyes turned to Beth and Mick had the answer to his questions finally.
For you, Beth.
For you.
.
Going to find your semi-sequel now!!!! 
Love this story; it's just as gorgeous and chilling every time.