![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kricketstitle; rating: hell, that'd screw up any kid, r
fandom, pairing; count: the killing, holder/linden (and a tiny little bit of ray seward); ~2820
notes: belated birthday fic for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ozmissage; spoilers for 3.08 and 3.09.
"Get out of the way, Sarah!"
It's Stephen's voice, her name on his lips, but she's panicked and her heart pumps full of fear and pity and the unmistakable feeling of kinship and she calls out again, just one tiny voice against the crowd. She feels so small, this tiny barrier between her would-be saviors and this man who moments before held a gun to her head, who knelt beside her and prayed, asking forgiveness for all the things that resonate so deeply within her. The thing is, Sarah's never really believed in any kind of god; but in that moment, she understands.
Holder's gun is raised, a single point of reference in the sea of bullets aimed their way, and of all the thoughts she could cling to, buzzing around in her head, the one that shines the brightest is the image of Jamie Wright; one moment he's standing there and the next he's sullying the newly elected Mayor Richmond's nice clean carpet, and Holder's heart forever, and she knows she can't let that happen again. But the pastor takes his hands from his pockets and then it's over.
They're leading him away and Sarah stands tall for a minute, as tall as a person as slight as she can stand. But it doesn't last. She's on her knees and Holder's there beside her, as ever; a steadying hand, a powerful force, pulling her out, pulling her away. She opens her mouth and a ball of air comes out and she realizes that she's breathing again.
She's someplace else.
-
She smiles.
She smiles and takes two glasses from the cabinet and that's when Holder relaxes. It wasn't on the ride back to the precinct, it wasn't watching her hold her ground in the debriefing, it wasn't until this moment, her grin soft, her face tired, all of her fear and tension gone.
He didn't realize he'd been holding his in until he lets it go.
-
Stephen keeps checking his phone, and Sarah finds herself wanting to throw it out the window.
Just for one night maybe she can let this case go. And then she laughs a little, because the man who brought it to her doorstep is sitting right across from her, and the case she's carried with her all this time is splayed across the table, in all its grisly detail, somehow tangled up in all of this.
No. She's not gonna be able to let this one go. Not until it's finished.
"What?" Holder asks.
"Nothing," she tells him. "Just... hell of a day."
He doesn't grin, but he nods and steals a piece of chicken from her plate, shoving it into his mouth. "You got any milk?" he says, muffled.
-
He takes the file and he tells himself that he's gonna leave her in her quiet little house, on her quiet little island, safe and sound and snug as a bug, all that shit. But he's turning the nob to the front door, to his exit, and he stops, calls out.
"You gonna be okay alone?" He hears her moving close behind him, leaning against the wall, just like that first day he came back to her.
"I've got hot water and a spare bedroom," she says. All casual-like. Like it ain't no thing. Like she's doing him a favor or something instead of the other way around.
Maybe she is.
Holder grins, looks at her.
She shrugs.
"Fresh linens?" he asks.
"What do you take me for?" she says, lets that smile out again.
Just barely.
-
Holder's strong. He's got those long legs of his and running has never been a problem for him. But when he hears Sarah calling his name like that?
All he can think is:
I can't breathe.
I can't breathe.
-
A second later, she almost feels guilty for giving Joe Mills what was coming to him. She hears Holder on the phone calling for back-up, and she leans against the wall, her throat still tight, still struggling to get the air in and out.
He's next to her then, and he's saying something to her but his voice is muffled over the sound of her heartbeat. over the sound of her breathing, he clamps one hand over her shoulder, and brings the other to her chin, lifting it a little so he can examine her face.
"Motherfucker," Stephen whispers, snarling toward Mills, who sits bloodied, back against the wall, his hands secured behind his back.
Sarah closes her eyes.
-
"Just come over here. Please, Holder." Sarah's voice rings in his ears and in his gut he knows.
But maybe...
Maybe.
He opens the trunk, and that one flicker of hope inside himself he held for Bullet rushes out of his lungs.
Gone.
He stumbles away from the car, and Sarah goes after him. He's on his knees and vomiting into a trashcan, away from the crowd, down an empty corridor. Empty, save for Sarah and himself.
She's shushing him, one hand running through his hair at the back of his neck. Humming that motherly sound of comfort. One that Bullet never got to hear as she lay dying, or maybe.... fucking ever.
He closes his eyes, sees red.
"Come on, Stephen," she says, brings him back, brings him out of it. "I've got you."
-
Sarah shows up at his doorstep and she doesn't even knock, just lets herself in and slips beside him; this tiny little thing that is tougher than she has any right to be, that he fears every day will break. Like Bullet, like his sister when he went and destroyed it all, like everything in this goddamn world.
But she doesn't.
She almost did once. Almost let everything come crashing down.
But he got her out that time.
That time.
This feels like some kind of payback. Like some kind of debt owed.
So when he leans in, asking for something from her that maybe he has no right to, that maybe changes everything, and she holds him at bay, presses her forehead to his to keep from connecting, he is ashamed. He sobs for the girl he could have saved, for the kid who had nobody but him and still got turned away, who he ignored when she needed him the most.
He sobs for himself.
And Sarah stays, despite how twisted things just got between them, because she knows what it's like to be abandoned, what it does to a person. And Stephen knows it too.
Bullet knew that more than anybody.
It's the one thing the three of them have in common.
The one thing they'll never be able to shake, no matter how hard they try.
-
Skinner wants to celebrate.
Celebrate?
He doesn't even pause to consider the implications of Joe's alibi, to think about Ray. And he wants to celebrate? All Sarah can think about is how many hours until an innocent man hangs.
She tells him no thanks, watches him walk away.
Wonders how it's possible for one person to care so little.
She's walking to her car, pocketing the rings after checking them out officially with the evidence clerk. Morning's coming soon, and she doesn't have much time. She barely notices Holder, not noticing her, as he heads inside the precinct.
She goes after him.
"Holder," she says, and he turns to her, half sideways. "I'm heading out to talk to Seward..." she digs in her pockets for the rings, to show him that there's still a chance. After all. But Holder doesn't look at her, and in her haste she realizes that she failed to notice his bloodied and bruised knuckles.
She grabs his injured hand, and Stephen flinches.
Too close.
Too soon.
"What happened?"
And there are tears in his eyes. Again.. "I fucked up," he mutters, peeling off, away from the entrance where a pair of night shift beat cops are laughing as they exit, heading home for the day. Linden walks with him, but he's too fast, and she has to struggle to catch up.
"Stephen," she says his name. "Look at me."
He does. And God, she's never seen him look so bad.
"Tell me," she insists.
-
And for just about the third time in less than twenty-four hours, it's Sarah who's saving him.
He was going to go in there and throw his badge and gun on the desk.
Resign.
No preamble. No explanation. Just go. Just like him.
"Look," she says. "I may have given him a lot of shit, but Reddick obviously cares about you. He knows you're hurting. I doubt he'll say anything."
"But his wife," Holder says. "His daughter." And he thinks about them, how scared they were. How he's the one responsible for inflicting that pain.
Sarah smiles. Easy. "They'll let it go," she assures him. And fuck, for whatever reason, he believes her. And she knows it.
"You shouldn't be here," she says now. "Go home. Shower up. Ice that hand. Sleep." She rattles off the list of commands like second nature, and while Stephen's not big on authority, there's something about the way she says it that puts him at ease. "I'll drive you?"
He smiles and it's half-hearted, not quite empty, but only just.
"You're my ride, Linden."
-
It doesn't work.
Ray doesn't recognize the rings. And Sarah even offers him an out, almost tells him flat out to lie.
But he doesn't.
And she should have known all along. Ray Seward is not that kind of guy.
"You think he did this?" he says. "You think he killed all those girls? Killed Trisha?"
And Linden looks him in the eyes, and she leans forward, as close to the glass that she can get, whispers, "It's your last chance, Ray. Your only chance."
And that's enough of an admission to him.
"No," he says. Simply. Finally. His voice shaking with the word, with what it means.
She doesn't beg, or try to change his mind, only hangs her head in silence.
Ray watches her, his eyes red around the rims. It's not hard to imagine why.
"Detective Linden?"
She looks up.
"Thank you," he says. "For trying to save me."
And that's when Sarah loses it. She's not really the losing-it type, but there, sitting in front of a man who would rather die than have his last act be one of a coward, a liar, a man that she unwittingly helped to put away, and she finally breaks down.
Ray sits with her until the guard tells him his time is up.
He's out of time.
-
Holder's leaning against her car when she gets to the parking lot. He's showered and cleaned up, in street clothes. A pair of sneakers, a light gray t-shirt, and dark gray warm-up pants.
"Caught a ride with one of the rookies on duty today," he offers an explanation. "Only went to the station to turn in some paperwork," he promises. "Pinky swear." And then, "...saw Reddick. You were right. You're always right."
"Good," Sarah says, takes in a shaky breath, handing him the keys.
Finally, Holder remembers why they're both here. "How'd it go in there?" he asks.
Linden closes her eyes.
-
Stephen drives her home and curses himself when an attempt to turn on the radio catches the tail end of a report on Ray's impending hanging.
"In just a few short hours, sometime after dusk, the state of Washington will hang Ray Sewa..."
"Shit." Holder catches it too late, fumbling with the dial for a second too long. "Sorry," he offers.
Sarah barely notices.
"Can you take me home?" she says.
Holder glances over at her, shoes kicked off, knees folded up under her chin.
"Sure," he says. "Anything you need."
-
Sarah naps for the rest of the afternoon.
When she wakes up, she finds Stephen on the front porch.
"You're still here?"
"Left my car at the station this morning, Remember?"
She nods.
"Besides, your stalker stopped by with these." He holds up a bouquet from Cody, obviously hand-picked. "I told him to get lost."
Sarah takes them, throws them in the bin just off the walk.
"Come inside," she says. "Looks like it's gonna storm."
-
"I'm out of smokes," he tells her, later.
"It's okay," she says. "I really don't like to smoke in the house... too much."
-
Turns out she was right about the rain.
They sit inside, together on the couch, mirror images of each other, watching the clock, listening to the thunder.
"Getting to be about that time," he says.
"Stephen don't," she says. "I can't."
"Just wanna be sure you're gonna be okay," he says. "This? It's happening." And just like that, the fear that she's gonna break creeps up again. But in actuality he doesn't know if she's even the one he needs to be worrying about. The weight of what happened to Bullet just a day ago hit him hard and fast, and now he's cleaned up and has food in his belly and it almost doesn't even seem real to him. Like he's holding something back. Because he has to.
For her.
"I know it's happening, Holder. You don't have to tell me." And suddenly it's back to business again.
"Do you? Cause, I'm no expert, Sarah, but.... sure don't seem like you do."
"God," she says, and this time it's her that's leaning across him, asking for something she's got no right to. "Will you shut up?"
-
So, she's letting this happen.
Again.
But it doesn't feel like again, Stephen's mouth on her collarbone, him dragging her upstairs.
This feels like something new.
They fall into the bed, the one she shared with Cody -- and, metaphorically she supposes, with Rick, and with Skinner too -- and she swears out loud. "Fuck." Because damn. If ever there was an unhealthy cycle, she's in it now. And she knows better.
Holder traces the scar over her eye, the one on her chin. "Shouldn't have let that happen," he mumbles before kissing her again. And he's warm and heavy on top of her, and she tugs at his shirt, pulling it over his head.
"You didn't," she says before they reconnect again.
This isn't all about her, she knows, but she's okay with that.
And so is he.
-
God she's so tiny.
And she doesn't cry out when he moves inside her, but she does bite down on his shoulder, almost hard enough to hurt. Damn, Linden, he thinks it, but doesn't say it.
She's stronger than he ever gave her credit for, that's for sure. And he knows somewhere, in the back of his mind, that this isn't all about him.
But he's okay with that, because when he traces his fingers down her sides, and her breath catches in her throat, she whispers, "Stephen."
Stephen.
-
Somewhere in the state of Washington, Ray Seward is standing on a platform.
-
In the morning, when they wake, Ray Seward is dead.
In the morning, when they wake, Rachel Olmstead is just a memory.
Sarah kisses Stephen's bare shoulder and heads for the shower, careful not to wake him. Later, downstairs, dressed and ready for her run, Holder's following her out the door, pulling his t-shirt over his head, leaning down to tie his gray sneaks.
"Hold up, Linden," he says. "I'm coming with you."
"You think you can keep up?"
Neither of them says what the other's thinking.
That today is not just any day.
Today's just the first day after.
The first day without a time limit.
The first day they can relax.
-
Holder does keep up, but barely. Linden knows these woods and trails like the back of her hand, and she leads him down all her favorite paths, and then toward the water, where she always goes on the days when she needs to clear her head.
She sprints ahead, and he falls behind.
Fuck, she's fast.
And so it goes.
They stop at the water's edge, and Sarah looks like she's barely broken a sweat when Stephen comes up behind her, his hands on his knees, catching his breath.
"Damn, girl," he says. "You sure you're a smoker?"
Linden actually laughs then. Full-bodied, no sign of exhaustion. Not even one of his best. He's almost disappointed. But he reaches for her anyway, brushes her hair back, kisses her again.
He wasn't sure he was going to.
After all, maybe last night was a fluke. But she leans into him, one hand resting on his chest, the other clutching her water bottle.
"Alright," she says, breaking away from him. "Back to the house."
"Already?" he calls.
"Come on," she shouts, far away now. "We've got work to do."
-
They're just animals now, running through the woods.
Nothing but flaws and fears and past mistakes.
Future failures.
Weaving through the trees.
-fin
fandom, pairing; count: the killing, holder/linden (and a tiny little bit of ray seward); ~2820
notes: belated birthday fic for
ozmissage; spoilers for 3.08 and 3.09."Get out of the way, Sarah!"
It's Stephen's voice, her name on his lips, but she's panicked and her heart pumps full of fear and pity and the unmistakable feeling of kinship and she calls out again, just one tiny voice against the crowd. She feels so small, this tiny barrier between her would-be saviors and this man who moments before held a gun to her head, who knelt beside her and prayed, asking forgiveness for all the things that resonate so deeply within her. The thing is, Sarah's never really believed in any kind of god; but in that moment, she understands.
Holder's gun is raised, a single point of reference in the sea of bullets aimed their way, and of all the thoughts she could cling to, buzzing around in her head, the one that shines the brightest is the image of Jamie Wright; one moment he's standing there and the next he's sullying the newly elected Mayor Richmond's nice clean carpet, and Holder's heart forever, and she knows she can't let that happen again. But the pastor takes his hands from his pockets and then it's over.
They're leading him away and Sarah stands tall for a minute, as tall as a person as slight as she can stand. But it doesn't last. She's on her knees and Holder's there beside her, as ever; a steadying hand, a powerful force, pulling her out, pulling her away. She opens her mouth and a ball of air comes out and she realizes that she's breathing again.
She's someplace else.
-
She smiles.
She smiles and takes two glasses from the cabinet and that's when Holder relaxes. It wasn't on the ride back to the precinct, it wasn't watching her hold her ground in the debriefing, it wasn't until this moment, her grin soft, her face tired, all of her fear and tension gone.
He didn't realize he'd been holding his in until he lets it go.
-
Stephen keeps checking his phone, and Sarah finds herself wanting to throw it out the window.
Just for one night maybe she can let this case go. And then she laughs a little, because the man who brought it to her doorstep is sitting right across from her, and the case she's carried with her all this time is splayed across the table, in all its grisly detail, somehow tangled up in all of this.
No. She's not gonna be able to let this one go. Not until it's finished.
"What?" Holder asks.
"Nothing," she tells him. "Just... hell of a day."
He doesn't grin, but he nods and steals a piece of chicken from her plate, shoving it into his mouth. "You got any milk?" he says, muffled.
-
He takes the file and he tells himself that he's gonna leave her in her quiet little house, on her quiet little island, safe and sound and snug as a bug, all that shit. But he's turning the nob to the front door, to his exit, and he stops, calls out.
"You gonna be okay alone?" He hears her moving close behind him, leaning against the wall, just like that first day he came back to her.
"I've got hot water and a spare bedroom," she says. All casual-like. Like it ain't no thing. Like she's doing him a favor or something instead of the other way around.
Maybe she is.
Holder grins, looks at her.
She shrugs.
"Fresh linens?" he asks.
"What do you take me for?" she says, lets that smile out again.
Just barely.
-
Holder's strong. He's got those long legs of his and running has never been a problem for him. But when he hears Sarah calling his name like that?
All he can think is:
I can't breathe.
I can't breathe.
-
A second later, she almost feels guilty for giving Joe Mills what was coming to him. She hears Holder on the phone calling for back-up, and she leans against the wall, her throat still tight, still struggling to get the air in and out.
He's next to her then, and he's saying something to her but his voice is muffled over the sound of her heartbeat. over the sound of her breathing, he clamps one hand over her shoulder, and brings the other to her chin, lifting it a little so he can examine her face.
"Motherfucker," Stephen whispers, snarling toward Mills, who sits bloodied, back against the wall, his hands secured behind his back.
Sarah closes her eyes.
-
"Just come over here. Please, Holder." Sarah's voice rings in his ears and in his gut he knows.
But maybe...
Maybe.
He opens the trunk, and that one flicker of hope inside himself he held for Bullet rushes out of his lungs.
Gone.
He stumbles away from the car, and Sarah goes after him. He's on his knees and vomiting into a trashcan, away from the crowd, down an empty corridor. Empty, save for Sarah and himself.
She's shushing him, one hand running through his hair at the back of his neck. Humming that motherly sound of comfort. One that Bullet never got to hear as she lay dying, or maybe.... fucking ever.
He closes his eyes, sees red.
"Come on, Stephen," she says, brings him back, brings him out of it. "I've got you."
-
Sarah shows up at his doorstep and she doesn't even knock, just lets herself in and slips beside him; this tiny little thing that is tougher than she has any right to be, that he fears every day will break. Like Bullet, like his sister when he went and destroyed it all, like everything in this goddamn world.
But she doesn't.
She almost did once. Almost let everything come crashing down.
But he got her out that time.
That time.
This feels like some kind of payback. Like some kind of debt owed.
So when he leans in, asking for something from her that maybe he has no right to, that maybe changes everything, and she holds him at bay, presses her forehead to his to keep from connecting, he is ashamed. He sobs for the girl he could have saved, for the kid who had nobody but him and still got turned away, who he ignored when she needed him the most.
He sobs for himself.
And Sarah stays, despite how twisted things just got between them, because she knows what it's like to be abandoned, what it does to a person. And Stephen knows it too.
Bullet knew that more than anybody.
It's the one thing the three of them have in common.
The one thing they'll never be able to shake, no matter how hard they try.
-
Skinner wants to celebrate.
Celebrate?
He doesn't even pause to consider the implications of Joe's alibi, to think about Ray. And he wants to celebrate? All Sarah can think about is how many hours until an innocent man hangs.
She tells him no thanks, watches him walk away.
Wonders how it's possible for one person to care so little.
She's walking to her car, pocketing the rings after checking them out officially with the evidence clerk. Morning's coming soon, and she doesn't have much time. She barely notices Holder, not noticing her, as he heads inside the precinct.
She goes after him.
"Holder," she says, and he turns to her, half sideways. "I'm heading out to talk to Seward..." she digs in her pockets for the rings, to show him that there's still a chance. After all. But Holder doesn't look at her, and in her haste she realizes that she failed to notice his bloodied and bruised knuckles.
She grabs his injured hand, and Stephen flinches.
Too close.
Too soon.
"What happened?"
And there are tears in his eyes. Again.. "I fucked up," he mutters, peeling off, away from the entrance where a pair of night shift beat cops are laughing as they exit, heading home for the day. Linden walks with him, but he's too fast, and she has to struggle to catch up.
"Stephen," she says his name. "Look at me."
He does. And God, she's never seen him look so bad.
"Tell me," she insists.
-
And for just about the third time in less than twenty-four hours, it's Sarah who's saving him.
He was going to go in there and throw his badge and gun on the desk.
Resign.
No preamble. No explanation. Just go. Just like him.
"Look," she says. "I may have given him a lot of shit, but Reddick obviously cares about you. He knows you're hurting. I doubt he'll say anything."
"But his wife," Holder says. "His daughter." And he thinks about them, how scared they were. How he's the one responsible for inflicting that pain.
Sarah smiles. Easy. "They'll let it go," she assures him. And fuck, for whatever reason, he believes her. And she knows it.
"You shouldn't be here," she says now. "Go home. Shower up. Ice that hand. Sleep." She rattles off the list of commands like second nature, and while Stephen's not big on authority, there's something about the way she says it that puts him at ease. "I'll drive you?"
He smiles and it's half-hearted, not quite empty, but only just.
"You're my ride, Linden."
-
It doesn't work.
Ray doesn't recognize the rings. And Sarah even offers him an out, almost tells him flat out to lie.
But he doesn't.
And she should have known all along. Ray Seward is not that kind of guy.
"You think he did this?" he says. "You think he killed all those girls? Killed Trisha?"
And Linden looks him in the eyes, and she leans forward, as close to the glass that she can get, whispers, "It's your last chance, Ray. Your only chance."
And that's enough of an admission to him.
"No," he says. Simply. Finally. His voice shaking with the word, with what it means.
She doesn't beg, or try to change his mind, only hangs her head in silence.
Ray watches her, his eyes red around the rims. It's not hard to imagine why.
"Detective Linden?"
She looks up.
"Thank you," he says. "For trying to save me."
And that's when Sarah loses it. She's not really the losing-it type, but there, sitting in front of a man who would rather die than have his last act be one of a coward, a liar, a man that she unwittingly helped to put away, and she finally breaks down.
Ray sits with her until the guard tells him his time is up.
He's out of time.
-
Holder's leaning against her car when she gets to the parking lot. He's showered and cleaned up, in street clothes. A pair of sneakers, a light gray t-shirt, and dark gray warm-up pants.
"Caught a ride with one of the rookies on duty today," he offers an explanation. "Only went to the station to turn in some paperwork," he promises. "Pinky swear." And then, "...saw Reddick. You were right. You're always right."
"Good," Sarah says, takes in a shaky breath, handing him the keys.
Finally, Holder remembers why they're both here. "How'd it go in there?" he asks.
Linden closes her eyes.
-
Stephen drives her home and curses himself when an attempt to turn on the radio catches the tail end of a report on Ray's impending hanging.
"In just a few short hours, sometime after dusk, the state of Washington will hang Ray Sewa..."
"Shit." Holder catches it too late, fumbling with the dial for a second too long. "Sorry," he offers.
Sarah barely notices.
"Can you take me home?" she says.
Holder glances over at her, shoes kicked off, knees folded up under her chin.
"Sure," he says. "Anything you need."
-
Sarah naps for the rest of the afternoon.
When she wakes up, she finds Stephen on the front porch.
"You're still here?"
"Left my car at the station this morning, Remember?"
She nods.
"Besides, your stalker stopped by with these." He holds up a bouquet from Cody, obviously hand-picked. "I told him to get lost."
Sarah takes them, throws them in the bin just off the walk.
"Come inside," she says. "Looks like it's gonna storm."
-
"I'm out of smokes," he tells her, later.
"It's okay," she says. "I really don't like to smoke in the house... too much."
-
Turns out she was right about the rain.
They sit inside, together on the couch, mirror images of each other, watching the clock, listening to the thunder.
"Getting to be about that time," he says.
"Stephen don't," she says. "I can't."
"Just wanna be sure you're gonna be okay," he says. "This? It's happening." And just like that, the fear that she's gonna break creeps up again. But in actuality he doesn't know if she's even the one he needs to be worrying about. The weight of what happened to Bullet just a day ago hit him hard and fast, and now he's cleaned up and has food in his belly and it almost doesn't even seem real to him. Like he's holding something back. Because he has to.
For her.
"I know it's happening, Holder. You don't have to tell me." And suddenly it's back to business again.
"Do you? Cause, I'm no expert, Sarah, but.... sure don't seem like you do."
"God," she says, and this time it's her that's leaning across him, asking for something she's got no right to. "Will you shut up?"
-
So, she's letting this happen.
Again.
But it doesn't feel like again, Stephen's mouth on her collarbone, him dragging her upstairs.
This feels like something new.
They fall into the bed, the one she shared with Cody -- and, metaphorically she supposes, with Rick, and with Skinner too -- and she swears out loud. "Fuck." Because damn. If ever there was an unhealthy cycle, she's in it now. And she knows better.
Holder traces the scar over her eye, the one on her chin. "Shouldn't have let that happen," he mumbles before kissing her again. And he's warm and heavy on top of her, and she tugs at his shirt, pulling it over his head.
"You didn't," she says before they reconnect again.
This isn't all about her, she knows, but she's okay with that.
And so is he.
-
God she's so tiny.
And she doesn't cry out when he moves inside her, but she does bite down on his shoulder, almost hard enough to hurt. Damn, Linden, he thinks it, but doesn't say it.
She's stronger than he ever gave her credit for, that's for sure. And he knows somewhere, in the back of his mind, that this isn't all about him.
But he's okay with that, because when he traces his fingers down her sides, and her breath catches in her throat, she whispers, "Stephen."
Stephen.
-
Somewhere in the state of Washington, Ray Seward is standing on a platform.
-
In the morning, when they wake, Ray Seward is dead.
In the morning, when they wake, Rachel Olmstead is just a memory.
Sarah kisses Stephen's bare shoulder and heads for the shower, careful not to wake him. Later, downstairs, dressed and ready for her run, Holder's following her out the door, pulling his t-shirt over his head, leaning down to tie his gray sneaks.
"Hold up, Linden," he says. "I'm coming with you."
"You think you can keep up?"
Neither of them says what the other's thinking.
That today is not just any day.
Today's just the first day after.
The first day without a time limit.
The first day they can relax.
-
Holder does keep up, but barely. Linden knows these woods and trails like the back of her hand, and she leads him down all her favorite paths, and then toward the water, where she always goes on the days when she needs to clear her head.
She sprints ahead, and he falls behind.
Fuck, she's fast.
And so it goes.
They stop at the water's edge, and Sarah looks like she's barely broken a sweat when Stephen comes up behind her, his hands on his knees, catching his breath.
"Damn, girl," he says. "You sure you're a smoker?"
Linden actually laughs then. Full-bodied, no sign of exhaustion. Not even one of his best. He's almost disappointed. But he reaches for her anyway, brushes her hair back, kisses her again.
He wasn't sure he was going to.
After all, maybe last night was a fluke. But she leans into him, one hand resting on his chest, the other clutching her water bottle.
"Alright," she says, breaking away from him. "Back to the house."
"Already?" he calls.
"Come on," she shouts, far away now. "We've got work to do."
-
They're just animals now, running through the woods.
Nothing but flaws and fears and past mistakes.
Future failures.
Weaving through the trees.
-fin
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no subject
Date: 2013-07-26 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-07-27 08:21 pm (UTC)Here's to not screwing it up! :)
Thank YOU!