|Colours of Silence
Author: xfmoon PM
A little something about what has to be done in order to go back. A tag to 'The Crimson Hat'Rated: Fiction K - English - Patrick J. - Words: 812 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 09-22-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8547364
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: I'm feeling kinda productive at the moment, which is weird, 'cause I'm usually not. Someone must have doped my muse with adrenaline.
Disclaimer: I only own the weird stuff hidden in the corners of my mind, and there are no rights to The Mentalist in there.
Spoiler: There's a little hint of the season 4 finale 'The Crimson Hat,' in there, but seriously if you haven't watched it yet, get moving 'cause season 5 is just around the corner.
For months he hadn't heard things clearly. Everything was a distant whisper of foreign tongues. He felt trapped. And alone. Surrounded. Like he was right now. Surrounded by silence. Not a single noise. The only sound was the occasional sound of the sheets every time she shifted beneath them. They were both half naked. He felt misplaced, unease. It had been all wrong. But it was what had to be done, it was necessary, a means to an end. He had gone through the motions, acted his part. And now? Now he lay awake. Waiting. It was her move.
He was staring at the ceiling, expecting it to come crashing down at any moment. But nothing happened. Nothing but silence. It was deafening. He closed his eyes trying to picture his escape, but all he could see was two lust filled hazel orbs staring back at him. He opened his eyes again. What had he done? He turned ever so slightly looking over at her. She was lying with her back to him. Cascades of dark hair covered the pillow and hid her face from him. She could be somebody else. Anybody really. But he could only think of one he wanted it to be. She would turn and look at him, and her eyes would be kind and ocean green. But she didn't. And so he took to gazing at the ceiling again.
Time passed. Thoughts scattered. And he drifts off to sleep, strained from the preceding physical activity. Blue eyes welcomed him to the land of dreams. They were familiar and nonjudgmental. At one time filled with love, but at the same time so utterly sad. He followed, like the good little soldier he was. Deeper and deeper they went. Through all the colours. Blue turning purple and orange, melting into brown and grey, then black, pitch black. The uneasiness crept back, filling him with despair and regret. The canvas turned a deep and crimson red. The colour horrifies him. He moves along quickly. Through shades of yellow and white until he stops at green. He can't move any further. It's the end of the line. He made it through. Then the colours start fading, crashes into each other and blends together creating a world of swirling nuances. Moving past him at great speed, parading in front of him and to the sides, above and below, everywhere and as far as he can see. He stares at it in amazement. A feeling of happiness grows in him, bursting to get out, to be free. He sees a clear green stroke amidst the mixed swirls. It begging's him to follow it and he does. It speeds up. He grabs at it, his hand going through the other colours like water, not leaving behind any trace in its wake. He captures the green and it transform into a string, he's holding it tight, letting it lead him further, deeper. It goes so fast he's flying now. His feet lift off the ground effortlessly. His body becomes weightless. He slowly dissolves. Is absorbed by the colours. He feels at peace.
He blinks, then closes his eyes again. Seeing white outlines of different seize boxes falling down behind his eyelids like blocks in Tetris. He reluctantly opens his eyes fully and is met with a pair of bare legs. She's cooking, has her back turned to him. Wearing his shirt. As long as she stands like this he can imagine her being someone else, her dark hair helping the illusion part way. But then she turns and the bubble bursts.
She reveals herself in words, not knowing that her dark seductive eyes have already told a story he didn't wanted to listen to. He throws her out. As he closes the door a sense of victory embraces him and he smiles. It's time. He can go back now. He can go home.
A/N: Okay just to clear something up, I'm not on some kind of acid trip, I swear. I don't see colours swirling around when I'm awake or sleeping for that matter!
All in all this turned out a little weird, I think, I don't know what my initial intentions were, but this is how it ended up. Take it or leave it!