brickbybrick | [closed; take a chance 'verse au branch 1] oh good god here we go again

[He's a wolf, they whisper about him, and you know what they say about wolves.

Officially, he doesn't exist. If you asked anyone in a position of authority about rumors going around about a new, ruthless hitman in town, they'd ask you what you were talking about. Officially, he's only an urban legend, and there are parties interested--no, invested in making sure it stays that way.

Unofficially, well. He's called the Red Wolf. He's garnered a reputation in the short time he's been active (six months, never misses), and there are rumors swirling around the city about him, about who he is.

No one tells him. He's programmed not to know, just to obey, just to be the best weapon there is.

But even the best have flaws.

He's crouched down on the highest building, looking down the scope. The mayor of the city, huh? Should be easy. Security seems rather lax around her, which is strange for someone so high-profile, but no matter. It makes things easier for him.]

[Half a year has come and gone but she hasn't stopped looking for him. Despite protests from her father, she's given up most of her security detail, sending them to all corners of the country to look for Robb. In the meantime, she does her job as best she can. He helped her to seize this throne. She owes it to him to govern well. It hurts her to smile though. When she does smile, it does nothing to hide the sadness in her eyes. She barely sleeps or eats. Her gowns and skirt suits hang on her frame as they would on a coat hanger. She's gotten so frail. It seems she's living merely half a life without him.

To her credit, the city is flourishing. Her work consumes her. When she's managing city affairs, she can push the pain to the back of her mind for a little while. It all comes surging back when she's alone though. In the beginning, she would cry herself to sleep. By the end of the first month, she had no tears left. Most nights would be spent staring at the ceiling while lying in the bed they shared. Sometimes she rolls to his side of the bed, smelling his shampoo on the pillow. When the cleaning lady saw fit to clean her apartment on her father's orders, she was inconsolable.

You changed them. You weren't supposed to change them...

She sleeps on the couch most nights now, remembering how they'd fallen backward into it as they danced, how they had shared their first kiss with him pinned beneath her on the cushions. When she gets up this morning, she goes through the motions like an automaton. Showering, getting dressed, putting on her make-up to hide her eyebags.

She doesn't eat breakfast anymore.

It's been almost two years since I last made breakfast for someone.

It'll be an eternity before she makes breakfast for anyone again.

Her speech has already been practiced and memorized. She's ready to deliver it for the inauguration of the new bridge. Upon arriving at the site, her staff is quick to seat her until it's time for her to go up at to the podium.]

[She's up on the podium, talking about something for the good of the city, and--and he hasn't pulled the trigger yet, hasn't put a bullet through her head like he's supposed to. He doesn't know why, but there's a ghost of a time he can barely remember holding him back. (the scent of her hair reminding him of blue winter roses--)

Later, he'll wonder if it helped, somehow. But when he pulls the trigger, for once he isn't looking to kill. For once, he's looking to miss.

The shoulder. No vital organs there, and she'll have enough time for someone to get her to the hospital.]

[The silencer on his firearm leaves the shot mostly muffled but it finds its mark and she crumples to the floor of the stage. It's like all the air's been knocked out of her. For a second, she wonders if some unseen force has shoved her down and sent her hurtling backwards. Her head hurts from hitting the floor and it's the first sensation that registers. It takes awhile for her to feel the pain in her shoulder. Turning her head, she can see red staining her skirt suit despite the blurred edges around her vision.

Is this how it ends? Will I see him again?]

[The bullet hits.

(I'm not losing you.)

He feels like all the air's been knocked out of his lungs, when he sees her crumple to the floor of the stage, and maybe the panic's what does it for him. Maybe it's what starts a steady trickle of--of something in his head, he isn't sure. Or maybe it started earlier, when he saw her on the stage.

Either way, there's a dam in his head that has just cracked.

They'll tell him to complete it, he knows. They'll tell him to finish the job, and that he's never been known to half-ass one, that he shouldn't start now or else. They'll tell him to go to the hospital, make sure she goes quietly.

But what they'll tell him is different from what he'll do, when he gets there.]

[She fades in and out of consciousness, seeing glimpses of the past paired with cold reality. Closing her eyes, she finds herself laughing in a dream, dancing with him on the night of her 26th birthday party, holding him and not wanting to let go.

Robb, I...

Pain jolts her back into waking but her vision is murky. She sees a team of surgeons hovering over her, faces hidden behind masks of cloth that leave their words of reassurance muffled. There's an IV drip connected to her arm and an oxygen mask helping her breathe as sleep takes her once more.

Mrs. Stark, I'm so sorry. I should never have invited him.

Seven hells. He'd have been hurt if you hadn't. He was going to ask you to marry him that night. Asked me for my ring. Child, he wouldn't want to see you like this...

When she wakes to glare up at the flourescent light in her room, she can't find the strength to shake her head despite the desire to. Silly boy. I didn't deserve you. Falling into slumber again, she drowns in her memories, seeking someone to pull her from the waves.]

Edited (redundancy) 2013-04-02 12:54 (UTC)

[He stands at the foot of her bedside when he sneaks in. Make sure she goes quietly, they had said, but he thinks he won't let her go at all. There's--There's something in his head, something that's just out of his reach, and he needs--he needs to talk to her. He needs to know.

He shouldn't do this. He should be doing his job, slip in, help her along, slip out like nothing happened, but he can't. He should just slip out, but something's frozen his feet to the floor.]

Can you hear me? [It comes out hesitant, afraid. Afraid of what, exactly?]

[Sleep had become something she dreaded since his disappearance. Though she craved dreamlessness, she would always end up with the most vivid visions. Closing her eyes for the night meant taking a gamble. Sometimes, sleep would be kind in its cruelty. It would take her back to her happier days with him, remind her of the sound of his laugh and the way he had smiled at her. She'd wake up hoping to see him beside her only to be reminded that he was gone. For a few blessed moments she'd think all would be well but then she'd awaken and it would all be ripped from her.

Those weren't the worst ones though. There were nights where he'd come to her, beaten and bloody and wounded. He'd stare at her with cold vacant eyes, pointing an accusatory finger of gnarled bone and rotting flesh.

For a king will fall, and shatter like a mirror, and none can save him from the darkness that awaits to swallow his soul. None but one.

The prophecy's a constant echo and she hears his voice saying it despite how his dead lips don't move.

Every time she woke from her dreams, she woke with a heavier heart. The drugs dripping into her veins now keep her sedated but the dosage has been slightly lowered, allowing her to gain some consciousness when she has the strength.

Her heart is weak. She lost quite a lot of blood.

The murmurs of a doctor explaining her condition in layman's terms to a visitor. She remembers a redheaded blur by her bedside, stroking her hair. That was hours ago though...

Can you hear me?

It sounds so much like him. Did the Stranger send him to take her?]

Mm...

[The drugs are keeping her in a haze but she offers a sound of acknowledgement though she's too weak to open her eyes. Anyone who came upon her had to admit that she made for quite a pitiful sight. Her long brown hair is fanned out on the pillow under her head, framing her pale face. The color's mostly gone from her lips and cheeks, leaving them to take on an almost grayish hue. She's not wearing an oxygen mask anymore but her breathing seems shallow at best. There's not as much flesh on her bones as when he last saw her. If she had been healthy, the shot likely wouldn't have had such a drastic effect but the stress of the past few months had left her weak.

All it takes is a single breath to snuff out a dying candle.]

Edited (wording and then i decided to add stuff idek) 2013-04-02 13:53 (UTC)

[She can hear him.

He's not sure how to feel about it. Hell, he's not sure he should feel anything about it at all. He's only here to kill her, quickly and quietly, and whatever this is--it shouldn't be stopping him. He shouldn't be talking to her at all.

But he can't not talk to her, just like he can't kill her. And...gods, what is he supposed to say? I'm sorry I tried to kill you? There are so many questions in his head, all of them having something to do with the widening crack in the dam and the memories flooding in.

(do you trust me?)

Gods, she looks so...so pale. Like someone on their way to the grave already. It'd be a mercy to send her on her way.

But he can't.]

I don't know what to say that would make things better. Gods, I--I don't even know why I want to, but I'm starting to figure it out.

[Hearing his voice sound so sad and confused makes her heart ache. No, it's not his fault he was taken from her. It's not his fault she's lying here. Why are all his words so tinged with regret? She wants to open her eyes but she doesn't want this to be just another dream. If she opens her eyes, he might not be there. She'll be back to being without him. If this is a dream, she wants to drown in it just a bit longer. She wants to listen to him, to feel like he's really there.]

Don't go.

[The two words are uttered in a weak hush. Her voice sounds so strained. It sounds like a stranger's even to her own ears. Talking is costing her a lot of strength but, even if he's not really there, she wants to speak to him.]

[He wants to, but his feet are frozen to the floor, and he can't bring himself to end her life, even if it would be merciful.

His memories are a jumble, and they don't--they don't make any sense at all. It's frustrating and infuriating, but somehow talking to her makes him feel just a little better about all this.

And against his instincts, against what he's supposed to do, he pulls up a chair beside her bed and slides into it.]

I'll stay if you wish me to.

[Do you make a habit of stealing other people's wishes, sir?

She hasn't wished for much in her life. All she wanted was for loneliness to leave her. And for a while, it did. He came along and banished the emptiness from her life. She should have known that it was far too good to last. Maybe people aren't meant to have that measure of happiness.

When she hears the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor, she chalks it up to her mind playing tricks again. If this is a trick, she wants to keep playing the fool.]

I wished for you.

[(Your wish for the sake of everyone else's.)

The funny thing about wishes is that sometimes, they don't turn out the way you want them to. Sometimes they're twisted and broken somewhere along the way before you get them. The gods can be cruel like that, he's found.

He's starting to remember, and for the first time in six months, he feels a pang of regret.]

I'm sorry I'm late.

[The sound of his voice comforts her, keeps her from completely sinking into the darkness under her eyelids. She wants to see him but she doesn't want him to vanish with this dream once she wakes. Fear and weakness keeps her from seeing if he's really there. She wants to reach out and touch him but she doesn't know if she can muster enough strength to lift her hand.]

There's a first time for everything.

[Now's not the time to be joking but it seemed apt. She wants him to stop sounding so sad. There's a slight smile playing on her grayish lips, urging him to see that she's fine.]

[There's so much that he shouldn't be doing, here and now, and so much that he should be doing instead of sitting at her bedside, but he's long past the point of caring. Instead, he reaches out, hesitant and afraid, to place his hand over hers.]

I'm here now.

[His hand serves to warm the coldness in her bony fingers. She can feel the roughness of his callused palm on the back of her hand and she wonders if it could possibly be real. Is he here? Alive and beside her? Has he truly come back? Fear's kept her paralyzed until now. Her eyelids flutter a bit as she tries to force herself to banish the darkness. The light in her hospital room is almost blinding so she has to squint, trying to adjust. The edges of her vision remain blurred but she can make out the shape of a man at her bedside. She doesn't have to see clearly to know it's him. She knows how to look with her heart.]

I missed you.

Edited (wording again) 2013-04-03 05:35 (UTC)

[She can't see it, but he's smiling, just a little. It's a sad one, tinged with regret. He's missed her, he thinks.]

I missed you too.

[It's a struggle to move the hand she has under his but she manages to interlace their fingers somehow. If she's going to lose her life now, at least she managed to see him one last time. This isn't how she wants to die though. She wanted to die old and surrounded by her children and grandchildren with him. She wanted to die after him so he wouldn't know the pain of loss.

Not like this.]

I didn't stop looking. Your mother told me...the ring. You shouldn't have.

[She can feel the life seeping out of her with every word even as she desperately clings to life, clings to him by curling her fingers around his hand.]

[What ring? he wonders for a moment, then sucks in a breath when he realizes what she means.

He'd kept it. He hadn't known what it was, but the ring's always been a comfortable weight in his pocket, one of the few things that he kept secret. (Would we still remember each other?)]

Gods, I--I was going to marry you, wasn't I? [It's all he can do not to break down, with all the memories flooding in and fitting into place.]

[His reaction is strange. Confusion? No, that couldn't be. Perhaps his time away from her changed his mind. In her clouded judgment, that makes sense. She had let him be taken from her. Who knew what they might have done to him? She had failed to protect him.]

I expect you've changed your mind. It's all right.

[It hurts to move but she forces her head to turn so she can face him.]

I'm so sorry I failed you.

No, I haven't. And you haven't failed me, either.

[I let you down, I'm sorry, goes unspoken, but it's there in his voice, in the way it shakes and trembles.]

[As much as she wants to argue with him, she knows she should save her strength. Arguing with him goes nowhere. Such a stubborn silly boy. They had dared to hope for so much on the night he was taken. They had acted like they had nothing to lose and paid a steep price. But now? Now she truly has nothing left to lose.]

In a garden. I want to get married in a rose garden.

[Delirium's taking hold, offering her some semblance of bliss as her blurry eyes start to go dark.]

We'll be so happy.

[Her breathing's growing labored and each word's coming out slightly choked.]

I should have told you every day. How I felt... You made me so happy.

We will.

[Oh, gods. Don't go, don't go, don't go. It's a frantic mantra in his head, as he holds on to her, as if he can somehow keep her from slipping away if he doesn't let go.]

I--I think I knew already.

[Of course he did. He knew how to read her like a book. She feels his grip on her hand tighten even as her fingers start to slacken. She doesn't want to go. She'll linger on for as long as she can, resisting the darkness as it threatens to swallow her whole.]

The best part of me was the part that loved you.

Don't--gods, we'll get married. You'll be safe, and I'll stay for as long as I can.

[Just please don't go.]

[As much as she wants to believe him, she knows it's not going to happen.]

And I'll love you for as long as I can.

[Though it can't be for much longer.

Blackness takes her vision and her eyes no longer see.]

Robb, it's gone dark... Winter... It's cold.

[Cold and cruel. The Stranger's come to embrace her, stealing both clarity of sight and mind.]

[It fits, the dam crumbling away entirely, and he can't--gods, there's so much that he's done and so much blood on his hands that he wonders if he even deserves that, but then she mentions winter and--no, no no--]

Elle--[the name bursts out of him, scared and frightened and desperate]--hold on, you'll be fine, you're going to be okay--

[I'm sorry I broke my promise.]

[Her eyelids grow heavy, covering her unseeing eyes. It's peaceful in the dark and his voice is growing faint. She wants to stay, wants to be with him so very much. She can feel a slight burning on her chest. The weight of the crown's lifting with the shallow rise and fall of her breathing.

He'll be whole, yes. She hasn't failed him in that.

With the last of her strength, she smiles as her entire body goes slack, leaving the heart monitor to wail the ceasing of her heart.]

[No. No, no, no.

Her body goes slack, hand slipping from his, and all he can think of is, no, no, no, just stay--

He doesn't even know what possesses him to surge forward, and seal her lips with his. A last, desperate attempt to bring her back, perhaps, to get her to stay just a moment longer, selfish as it is.]

[They never tell you what it's like to be between life and death. Her body's given out but her soul's still lingering in her flesh and bones, clinging to it, trying to urge her back to life. It's time to go. The bond's been cut. She shouldn't be here anymore.

The cold's supposed to have seized her, dragged her down into the dark. Something's pulling her back though. She can feel warmth thrumming through her veins, flowing into every part of her. What is this...]

[He breaks away for a moment, stares down at her, and--oh. It's possible he looks like a mess, doesn't he, not holding back the tears and pleading, just pleading for her to stay.

He bends down again, presses his lips to hers, not caring if anyone bursts in to see them. Wake up.]

[The heart monitor starts registering a faint pulse and she can feel sensation coming back to her limbs. There's a warm softness pressing against her mouth, breathing life back into her. Her lips quiver and she finds the strength to move them, kissing her savior. Is this the afterlife? No, that would have meant an end to pain. The pain in her shoulder, the concussion in her head... She can feel it all so distinctly. His tears fall to her eyelids just as she opens her eyes.]

Robb...

[In the distance, she can already hear the sound of medical staff rushing to her room. She doesn't care. Kissing him again, she lets their tears mingle.]

Elle, oh gods... [He lets his fingers tangle in her hair and holds on, I'msorryI'msorryyou'resafeyou'reokayI'llstay. He can hear the medical staff coming, and he knows he should leave, but he doesn't care.]

[It hurts when he moves her but she bears it. The sedatives and the injury to her shoulder make her unable to embrace him but she kisses him back as best she can. When the doctors and nurses burst through the door, they freeze only for a moment before one burly male nurse steps forward to pull him away from her. Using all the strength she can muster, she raises her voice.]

You will let him go right this minute or my father will hear about it.

[She holds her breath, hoping they'll heed her. Fortunately, they do, and the nurse releases him. The other medical staff simply buzz around, checking her vitals, trying to be as inconspicuous about it as possible.]

Edited 2013-04-20 12:39 (UTC)

[He stands there, stunned for a moment as the medical staff buzzes around her, before one of them asks him, more politely to wait outside.]

Yeah. [He gives her one last worried glance before he steps out of the room to wait.]

[In time, she'll ask for him again but the sedatives are lulling her to sleep. Will this all be a dream when she rouses? If so, she'd rather not wake.

He was here. He was real. He brought me to life.

He needs to go see his family, yes. He should go see them now. She'll be here. She'll wait. What's a few more hours after half a year?]

[closed; take a chance 'verse au branch 1] oh good god here we go again

actually using the icon journal for once

this is good and you should feel good

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

DAMMIT SELF

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

AND THEN I EDIT THIS TO CHANGE OUR TRAJECTORY

AWWW YEAH

no subject