| Subject: This I Offer 7/10 |
Author:
Athena4
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Date Posted: 19:19:08 03/05/02 Tue
In reply to:
Athena4
's message, "This I Offer" on 14:58:36 03/03/02 Sun
Madeline had slept fitfully after Ryker left the room, feeling vague comfort from the warmth of Paul’s body next to hers. But now, the same warmth was suffocating.
Slipping out from under his arms, she slid to the edge of the bed, seating herself so she could watch him sleep. He groaned slightly, his body shifting position to accommodate his now empty embrace – but he didn’t wake. It was probably for the best. She wasn’t really in the mood for talking.
Sighing, she wrapped her arms around her knees, staring across the darkness at his now still form. They’d done it. Paul’s aggression had been deemed worthy of Ryker’s organisation. But could they ever get back what they had?
Madeline could feel the fragile trust they’d built slipping away, could feel her subconscious building up the mental barriers that he had worked so hard to break down. And yet there was nothing she could do about it. She’d tried to force them away, struggled to convince herself that it was only a mission – part of her knew that. But the other part, the child that had been hurt so many years ago, the small part of herself that she had kept hidden until Paul came into her life, could only feel the pain.
She’d felt every moment. She could remember every touch. She could still feel the sting of his hands, the pressure of his body on hers.
Raising a hand, she ran it down her cheek. It wouldn’t discolour much, but it pained her nonetheless. A ghost injury to remind her of what had occurred. And there would be other bruising, other reminders.
Paul stirred in his sleep, his arms reaching out for her across the pillows. She hugged her legs tighter, unconsciously pulling herself further away from his outreaching hands. Catching herself, she swore under her breath, loosening her grip.
Once again, he didn’t awaken, settling back into the pillows and an even deeper slumber. She turned her attention to his face, studying it as he slept. He lay peacefully, but his forehead was creased in worry, his lips curved into a small frown.
He’d tried to be gentle with her. He’d known that his actions would speak louder than his words. But there was only so much he could have done. She knew that; and she knew that he had tried.
She also knew, deep down, that he hadn’t wanted to hurt her; physically, or emotionally. She could see it in his face now, and she had seen it then. But it was still a promise broken, a promise shattered by Adrian’s whim.
Death can’t hurt me as much as you can.
It seemed like years had passed since she’d said those words, and yet their truth was becoming glaringly obvious. Tears ran down her cheeks, landing on her knees before continuing their journey down her bare legs. Could she ever let him in that close again?
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