Guess who's back? I am. :) I'm so happy, cuz I got really good feedback on this from my IRL Betas. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I own nothing save the words on this page.
It was a strange sensation.
To remember what emotions feel like, yet not have them.
Remembering the feel, yet not feeling.
She figures it's natural - to lose her emotions after suppressing them so long. It was inevitable.
She figures you loose your mind a little after too.
The world is cold and grey, all the color draining out of life. Days blur into weeks and years until she never knows what day it is. People come and go, their faces that were probably once recognizable becoming foreign and strange to her. But somehow through all the bleak, he's always there - always in her memories and showing up so suddenly that it makes her blink.
He's standing at her doorway now, appearing as suddenly as she expected, extending a calloused hand to her. She blinks up at him and his soft smile - this smile is reserved only ever for her and she pulls her lips upward in response.
It's almost heartwarming - almost.
As he slips his hand in hers, she wonders vaguely how long he would be able to put up with an emotionless person. it must be like having a block of wood as a friend, she thinks humorlessly. But then again, she thinks, as he intertwines their fingers and leads her down the sidewalk (to the park! he says), no one ever really tried. They'd all given up long ago.
He's her anchor, she muses, looking up at him. Walking side by side, she notices he's nearly a whole head taller than she is. (When'd he get so tall?) He catches her staring and flashes a bright smile causing her to return one of her own to him, which made him grin even more and tug her faster towards the park swings, which, he claims, one can never get too old for.
They both sit on the black curved plastic, swinging ever so slightly, as he talks up a storm, filling in the silence she keeps ever-so-close. She doesn't talk anymore either. After all, she says, well, thinks. Why voice your opinion when you haven't got one? He stops after a while, and having nothing left to say, stands up and starts pushing her. At first she's startled; she nearly falls off - clearly not expecting the strong, warm hands that push against her back. He laughs at her, and she wrinkles her nose at him in response, along with a gentle kick to the gut as she swings backwards towards him. Her subtle playfulness eggs him on, and he moves around to her front after he thinks he's pushed her high enough.
"You wanna jump off?" He asks. She blinks in response. "I promise I won't let you fall."
And she jumps.
He hadn't expected it, but as she let go of the chains, he rushes underneath her - arms outstretched and catches her.
Well, tries to, anyways.
They land in a heap on the bark, and he laughs it off, even though she can see that it currently hurts to.
She's still lying on top of him, their face inches apart. From the look on his face, she can tell that he decides he likes their current position, as he puts his hands behind his head and smiles up at her.
"You like the view from up there, Rae?" He grins, as she blinks and forces a grin of her own before getting off of him.
They walk home, ceaseless chatter - from him of course - once again filling the air as he leads her home. As they reach her house, he asks for her keys, which she digs out, and he opens her door, kisses her hand before saying, "Good night, Rae. See you tomorrow."
The weeks continue on like that, with him showing up on her doorstep at exactly two in the afternoon everyday; he never misses it.
She gets used to his constant presence.
She doesn't mind - he keep her sane, at least, as close to sanity as she can get.
Most days he brings her to the park, and they sit on the swings waiting until the stars come out. Other times, he has his car and he takes her places around town - the mall, the movies, to her favorite - well, used to be favorite - restaurant.
Two o'clock on the dot - a knock, a warm smile and a day of adventuring, as he calls it. His gaze is always filled with adoration- adoration that she can't return.
And everyday he watches her, she knows he notices that she's not getting better.
Once, she sat at her window and stared out at the rain. She hadn't known how long she'd been staring until she woke up in the hospital three days later.
Another time, she found herself wandering down an unknown street in the middle of the night. It took an hour to remember how to use the payphone, and about another thirty minutes to try and remember his number.
She's been admitted to a mental hospital, but the visits never stop.
So her days aren't that grey, and a little bit of color has been painted into her dull life. He's there, and she knows he's there and it's comforting - the white washed walls and white rooms make her uncomfortable. When he leaves, she always wonders if he's figured out that she couldn't give him anything back - being emotionless and now, clinically insane.
But he never stops coming. Even after she's deemed unfit to go out, he still comes, bringing board games and cookies to munch as she beats him at checkers.
Even after losing her mind, she's still smarter than him. She used to make fun of him for that, she thinks, memories of her younger days blurry in her mind.
Her room is carpeted, so they play the games that he brings on the floor. He laughs as she takes his last pawn, clearing his board of all the pieces and winning for the third time in a row that day. He looks at the clock and sighs; she knows he has to leave. She puts the little figures back into their box as he gets up, planting a kiss on her forehead. She leans into him as he kisses her - it's the only way she knows to let him know she cares.
He stands up, brushing chip crumbs from his dark jeans as the loud speaker announces the end of visiting hours. He picks up the box of pieces and the board, pecks her on the cheek with a smile, and says, "See you tomorrow, Rae." , before walking out and closing the door behind him.
She stands up, brushing of her pajamas as she goes to lay down on the bed, anticipating tomorrow. She sleeps then gets up and ready in the morning - pulling on a dark blue dress that he bought her over her head. The material swishes around her knees; she's worn it once before, a while ago, and he said that it was his favorite dress on her.
She sits down on the bed and waits for two o'clock.
He doesn't come.
Maybe its wrong, she thinks.
The big hand is on the six and the little hand is on the three before the door opens. She turns - expecting to see him, arms full of goodies and excuses for his tardiness - but is greeted with a nurse wearing jade colored scrubs.
Just like his eyes, she muses. The nurse walks over and sits next to her on the bed, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. At least it's the nice nurse, and not the cranky old doctor who seemed to get annoyed by just looking at her.
The nurse sighs, before delicately explaining that there was accident and you won't be getting your daily visit from Mr. Logan because it was him.
She blinks - the nurse's hand suddenly gone from her shoulder, much like the color from her world. She stares at the door where the nurse had just disappeared behind.
She hasn't changed out of the blue dress when they come to pick her up to go see him. She stares out of the window of the car, watching the raindrops gently pelting the glass.
It was a strange sensation, indeed.
Not to have emotions.
But the tears fall freely now as she looks down at the big wooden box into the face of the man she should have loved.
I probably should have warned you that this is sad. I'm back to writing angsty fics once more. But don't worry! More is soon to come. Especially since the CW Club is back in session. Please tell me if there's any grammar/spelling mistakes! :)
Whether it's flames, compliments or neutrality. Review, please.