Author: Nora [remember_nomore/simply_shiny]
Pairing: Lindsey, Tara
Prompt: 47 - Heart
Word Count: 830
Authors Note: No idea where the surreal-ness came from, I don’t argue with my muse; I know better.
Note: I know I am abusively late with this, you know how I work and my stupid muse kept flashing this gorram picture in my head and wouldn’t give me the right words to write it… Sheesh.
That was the last word to slip from his lips; it was an accusation and nothing more. It wasn’t a plea to some higher god for mercy or his soul. That was claimed and no sooner than his body would be cold that the reaper would be at his feet.
He wasn’t going to hell. That was the price you pay for signing away your soul for all that glitter and gold. You didn’t get to go anywhere; you never get to have that peace. You were owned just as you owned your clients… Karma is a bitch.
She heard that whisper as it tapped her eardrums like butterfly wings. It caused her to brush her hair behind her ears like she did so often when she was still made of beating flesh.
Images flashed before her eyes and it was faster than you could blink that the blinding whiteness faded to black. It wasn’t like the credits rolled at the end of a movie – her final bow was months before – but it was the stark change of scene that blinded her.
Her dress flowed to her ankles, even in the lack of air around her, as she looked around the tattered room. The smell of blood was so strong in her nose that she couldn’t help but touch the scar over her heart to make sure it wasn’t wet.
The room was cloaked in heavy silence, not even the scurry of mice could be heard. She felt out of place, like a light-bulb in a field or as a young girl used to tell her ‘like white shoes after Labor Day…out of place.’.
“Hello?” she whispered, as if the walls would crumble from her breaking the silence. Her own echo answered her as she scanned the room for signs of… something.
With bare feet she walked through the room, the scent of blood becoming stronger with each step. She wanted to run, but there was an eerie calm that kept her feet moving forward.
Her foot stopped sharp at the feel of something cold and hard; she looked down, seeing her toes had come into contact with nothing more than a leather boot. Eyes moved over tattered jeans smeared with sweat and what looked like green blood; a large belt buckle was partly covered by a stripped shirt.
It was a compelling need to kneel at this man’s side as her eyes fell upon the bullets in his chest; one mirroring her own. The lifeless look on his face only made her wonder if that was the same death mask she wore that day.
Gentle hands moved up to his wounded chest and as if her fingers were a curious child they had found their way around the bullet in his heart; then the one in his stomach. The muted sound of metal echoed the walls as she stared at the man; reaching up with blood stained fingers to brush the hair from his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she mouthed, unsure what to say to this unknown man. She didn’t know why she was here or who brought her here; all she knew was that it wasn’t right for someone to die alone or to be left alone to rot among the rubble of some deserted place.
Lindsey felt fire in his chest that spread to his toes, the pain forcing him to open his eyes. He swallowed hard and held his breath, hoping the pain would subside; out of habit he inhaled sharply before realizing that it was no longer necessary.
Confusion filled his body, his hand reached up to the holes in his shirt, feeling the heat from them long before spotting the white figure kneeling by his side.
The look on her face must have mirrored his own, a mixture of shock and fear. Lindsey shifted; using his right hand to lift himself to sit better, his hands pressing down hard over what he thought was rubble.
Bullets. Two bullets.
“How…” Thickly he swallowed, his vision turning from blurry to sharp clarity as he stared at the pieces of metal that took his heartbeat.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, brushing her hair away from her face. “They stole your heartbeat and I…”
Lindsey looked at her incredulously as she spoke, trying to read and figure this strange ‘girl’ out. The devil takes on many forms and he might have known more than anyone ever did about Wolfram and Hart, but he still had a lot to learn when it came to employees and clientele.
“Are you the reaper?” his voice was still hoarse as he stood on shaking knees, trying not to bleed on her white dress; his mother’s voice was echoing in the back of his head as if to remind him of his manners.
“No, salvation… I think.” Tara spoke softly, extending her hand out to him. “I’m not sure how I got here; but I don’t think I can leave without you…”