Author's note: This was written for a friend of mine, who requested a ficlet as close to sappy as possible for the ship Soren/Amelia. And this is what my muse came up with. It probably did not happen, even if Soren/Amelia was an actual ship. Still, it was nice to write, and my friend said she loved it (I get in trouble when I say "liked"), so I'm finally posting it here. Please review, hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Soren, Amelia, or anyone else mentioned in this fic, nor anything to do with Underworld and its copyrights. Please, don't sue me, mean no harm or copyright infringement. Savvy?

--------------------------------------

TRUTH NOT HEARD

He looked so peaceful, lying in his bed. The wound on his temple had been bandaged perfectly, no sign of blood or a cut or even a bruise could be seen. The corner of his eyes was covered slightly, but still, he looked peaceful.

Yet the sight of the white cloth on his head, pinning down some of his hair, it almost made her sick, and she could hardly bare to look at him. The peacefulness reminded her too much of death. She had seen so much death. She did not want to look at him, to see him lying there, peaceful, silent, wounded, weak. She did not want to see him like that.

She couldn't leave him though. She could not abandon him yet, not leave him alone until she knew she had to. She did not want to see him like this, but she did not want to leave him like this even more.

"Why couldn't you have kept your place?" she whispered softly, her normally cold, blank voice gentle, almost loving. "Why did you have to approach me, touch me? Everything was as it should be, and then you came. You ruined everything. You took away all the sense of my world," she continued, her fingers reaching out hesitantly.

They dropped before reaching his skin.

"I do not know if you can hear me now," she said, her voice gaining some of its usual detachment, "but I can not gather the strength to care at the moment." Her fingers edged towards his face as she spoke, the tips brushing against his cheekbone.

His mouth twitched, and for a moment she entertained the idea that he had heard her, was waking up perhaps. But his movement was brief, and soon his body was perfectly still yet again, save for his soft breathing.

She was not supposed to care this much. She was not supposed to care at all.

But that was what he had done. Made her care. Made her crave. Made her want a normal life, made her want to forget everything and just lie with him for the rest of eternity. He had made her think about dropping her duties, her place, her life, all for him.

What made it all the worse, what made her care all the more and hate all the more, was the fact that he had not even meant to, not fully. He always did as she told, he followed her lead, he let her keep him private, make him her dirty little secret, and he had only wanted to be with her.

Not that he would ever admit.

That was something they did not do. They did not admit things, they did not confess, nor tell secrets, nor give back story or spin stories of fond memories. They did not talk. They spoke to each other, they sated their bodies, and they went on with their routines.

Amelia had never made love, until just recently. It had not even been the first time with him. She could not remember how long they had been lovers, but she did remember when it became more than just pleasure, physical lust sated. Not even a month ago.

He had come, in secret, in silence. Just as always, just as she wanted. He had come to her, and he had kissed her, touched her, just as usual. But the passion had been raw and fiery, only, it had always been that way with him.

But not with her. Something had changed, had snapped inside her. She had looked up at him when he entered the room, and she had felt something akin to joy.

His lips had brushed against hers, and she felt need.

His body had joined with hers, and she had felt completion.

Even now she did not know, did not comprehend what had happened, but she had made love to him, she had made love to him after years of having him make love to her. Because he had loved her for decades. She had tried not to love him back.

It was a welcome failure, but one he would never know of.

Or at least, that was the plan. Right now, as she gazed down at him, she was not sure she could keep it a secret. She leaned over, her lips touching his forehead lightly.

"I almost want you to hear me say this, Soren. I almost want you to hear me, maybe even wake up, confront me, make me say it loud and clear to you once you are fully conscious again," she spoke in a hushed tone, eyes soft and green. "I love you," she breathed, voice barely audibly to her own ears. "I love you, and unless you hear me now, you will never know."

She stared down at him, cold liquid burning her eyes but not falling. She kept her eyes locked on him, willing him to wake up, to move, to moan, to do something!

Nothing.

Amelia kissed his mouth softly, eyes closing. She felt wetness trailed down her cheek, fall on his lips. "I have to go," she told his prone form. "I have to go now, and I do not know if I will see you again until you wake." Her lips went to his ear. "I love you."