Author: dark-hearted rose PM
Songfic. A young woman follows her heart, hoping to heal one scarred by his past in the process. Sequel of sorts to 'I Love You', set to Sarah McLachlan's lovely song 'Angel'. Post 2004 movie. MegErik.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Angst - Meg Giry & Erik - Words: 1,824 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 14 - Follows: 3 - Published: 11-27-06 - Status: Complete - id: 3260961
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
so, i'm really psyched that the document thing is working again! I finished this over the weekend, and i wanted to post it really bad, but couldn't... but now i'm happy!
anyway, so I decided recently that I'm going to do a series with songfics...and this is the second one (the first is "I Love You"). I think I'm going to make them able to stand alone, but they make better sense if you read them together...yeah. so. yeah. that's about it.
disclaimer: I own neither the lyrics, nor the characters. If I did, I would be filthy rich.
Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay…
I'll never tell you this, but after the fire I followed you. No, I didn't literally run after you as you slinked behind that curtain, the mob on our heels screaming for vengeance, blinded by bloodlust.
To feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day…
Instead, I followed the figurative trail you left in your wake, that of rumors and memories. The papers were consumed with the horror, the scandal of it all for weeks, and there were eyewitness accounts almost daily: those who, like I, had seen you that fateful night, so dark and beautiful; and those who, more importantly, had laid claim to having glimpsed you on the streets afterwards. I read these accounts zealously each night, going out the next day to investigate their accuracy, returning home disappointed, rarely triumphant.
Oh, beautiful release
And memories seep from my veins…
My mother, of course, disapproved of what she called my "folly". It hurt me that she considered you to be a waste of my time, and I repeatedly told her this, but what I didn't tell her was that I half feared she was right. But the only thing I could do was to continue searching; there was no one to spend time with, no one to occupy my thoughts, what with Christine gone on some extended trip with her precious Viscount, and Mother looking for work. It was infinitely clear to me that those around me were aiming to move on, to forget about everything and live as though you'd never existed; but how could I? How could I do as those around me, how could I forget when you haunted my mind constantly, your image never disappearing, your voice never wavering?
And weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight…
It was getting on towards spring, but it was still rather cold at night; so, I imagine my cheeks were flushed as I breathlessly entered the small inn on the outskirts of town one evening. I walked up to the desk. "Monsieur, I read in the paper that…"
I faltered under the curator's gaze. He said nothing, but his expression spoke volumes: I know for whom you are searching.
"Please, monsieur… I need to know if it's true."
I was afraid he would send me away, but instead he told me quietly, "See for yourself. Room eighteen."
Fly away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room
And the endlessness that you fear…
I raced up the stairs. All of my searching had finally come to a head.
The room I was looking for was the very last in the dark hallway on my left. As I walked, the wooden floorboards creaked beneath my feet. I was numb; I couldn't believe that I was here.
I stood before the door, hesitant, frightened out of my mind but more excited than I had ever been in my life. I was bombarded with a sudden burst of all sorts of emotion, and I found it hard to move. I could barely breathe. My heart was in my throat as I forced my arm to extend, my fingers to curl up, my fist to knock softly on the wooden surface of the door.
I waited. Nothing. I knocked again. Nothing. Desperate, I tried the handle, and the door opened.
Though the hall in which I stood was dark, your room was even darker. I stepped in, squinting my eyes in order to just barely make out the outlines of the furniture. I shivered; it was cold. At first I thought it was a draft, but then I realized the place had no windows.
It felt like a prison cell.
The door closed suddenly behind me, and I heard the lock click. It was then that I knew, without even seeing, that you were there.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to snoop around another person's room?" your voice hissed angrily in my ear. "What are you doing here? Planning on making a public spectacle of me, no doubt."
"N-no," I choked out. "I—I just wanted to see—"
"See what? You've already seen me unmasked. Oh, I know what it is…though I can't imagine why you'd want to see me murder again…perhaps you'd like to experience it first-hand?" you said, and suddenly your hands were around my neck.
I inhaled sharply at your touch, my mind mandating that I be frightened, but my body rebelling and magnifying everything that I had felt that night I had seen you, that everyone had seen you, by at least one-hundred-thousand.
"Please," I gasped, unsure, to this day, of just what I was begging for. "Please…"
Of your silent reverie…
My pleading seemed to strike some chord within you, because you backed away, loosening your grasp on my neck. You looked at me, merely looked, and I, unthinkingly and overflowing with emotion, stepped quickly towards you…
…and kissed you.
May you find some comfort there…
I'll never forget that first of many kisses. You were terribly inexperienced, I even more so, and at first it was very awkward. But, as the seconds marched on and our kiss deepened, my mind soon surrendered all control, allowing impulse to take over.
And everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back…
Feeling brave, feeling your arms around me, I brought my hands to rest on the sides of your face…
…proving to be a mistake as you jerked violently back, leaving me, breathing hard, colder and more forlorn than I had ever before felt in my life. I could still feel the porcelain and flesh beneath my fingertips, could still taste your lips on mine…I was a candle, sentenced to burning solely for you, yet left out, alone, in the wind.
You looked at me. "What do you want of me?" you demanded, your voice tense and unsteady, almost frightened.
"Nothing," was my immediate reply; there was no way on earth I could possibly convey everything I felt at that moment into words.
"Then, why—why did you…?"
You were alluding to the kiss. "I…I don't know…"
You keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack…
My eyes had, by then, adjusted to the darkness, and I could see you clearly. You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, and I realized that you refused—no, you simply were unable—to see the true answer to your question in the utter darkness of your mind.
I knew it would soon be too late to reach you, knew it would be too late when you retreated into your inner sanctum, back behind your walls of defense that teetered so precariously only for this moment, so I seized the opportunity. Desperate, I said, "Why don't you believe me?"
"Why should I?" you retorted, and I fought the urge to smile in triumph: I had successfully captured your attention once more.
"Why should I," you said again, "when I've lived my whole life not believing? When, each and every time I've dared, I've been betrayed, each time worse than the last?"
Escaping one last time
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees…
"It doesn't have to be like that," I whispered, tears coming to my eyes; it tore my heart in two to see you like this. "I swear, it doesn't have to be like that, if you'd only…" I stepped towards you slowly. "…If you'd only trust me."
"Why should I trust you?" you said, more venomously than ever.
"Because…" I looked up at you, tears now sliding down my cheeks. "Because…I love you."
Fly away from here…
I'm not sure what happened. One moment, you stood there, bewildered; the next, I was in your arms. We sank, slowly, to the floor, and you cried bitter tears while I held you, my back against the wall, your head resting heavily on my breast.
And the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage
Of your silent reverie…
I lost all sense of time. Hours, minutes, seconds melted together, so as to make it seem that the universe itself was on hold as you cried into me, soaking the front of my blouse, but I didn't care.
I must have dozed, for when I next came to, you were standing. I looked up at you, confused, apprehensive, but you extended your hand to me. I grasped it firmly, and you pulled me gently to my feet. Then, you kissed me.
May you find some comfort there…
Later, as we lay together on the single bed in the corner of the room, I asked, "What becomes of us now?"
You looked at me before resting your unmasked face against my neck. "We escape at dawn."
You chuckled. "No matter what you choose to think of me, Meg, in the eyes of the law I'm still considered a criminal." You lifted your head up and looked at me again, serious this time. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"I've already told you yes."
We lay in silence for a while, until I asked you, quietly, "Where will we be going?"
"Where would you like to go?"
I considered. "I…I'm not sure."
"We'll decide that tomorrow, then," you said, and you wrapped your arms around me, pulling me closer. "Now…we rest."
May you find some comfort here