This was loosely inspired by the song "Eyelids" by PVRIS. (in case you wanted a song to listen to while reading...)
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She lays her head down on the thin, old pillow and it isn't long before she feels the warmth at her back, the strong arm wrapping around her and she feels herself take in a deep breath. The air fills her lungs and her senses, the musty air around her replaced by the scent of the woods and leather and just a hint of cigarette smoke. She lets her breath out in a soft sigh just as she feels his own breath against her neck and she swears that this is the most she has been able to breathe all day.
It was always better at night.
"Yer too cold, Greene," she hears him mutter, his voice rough and soft both at the same time, and his arm tightens around her.
"I'll be alright," she whispers, wanting to raise her hand up and interlock it with his but she refrains, memories of the last time she tried flashing in her mind.
"Gotta find ya somethin' warmer to wear." he insists, ignoring her words.
"I'll keep an eye out," she murmurs, snuggling deeper into the mattress.
He makes a noise behind her, a disgruntled hum that hints at his annoyance but he keeps his arm around her, his chest at her back and she knows that as long as he is there, she will be just fine. She takes in another deep breath, tries to ignore the way his scent seems to have faded and fights against the weight of her eyelids. She couldn't sleep just yet, it wasn't time. She knew she could resist, if only for a few moments. She needed to feel him beside her, to push away the nightmares that she knew would not come when she was asleep but rather, when she would wake up with the sunrise.
The nights were better but they weren't perfect. Once she gave into the sleep pushing closer, once she began to dream, she knew he would sneak away and she wasn't ready for that yet.
She couldn't say goodnight.
As if he could hear the war raging inside her she heard his voice again behind her, quieter than before and she knew it wouldn't be long now.
"Ya need sleep Beth."
She simply shook her head, gasping slightly when she felt his hand drift up and smooth down her hair, his touch light as a feather.
"C'mon girl, ya know you'll be alright. Got the place locked up tight."
"S'not what I'm worried about," she mumbles, so quiet she wonders if she even spoke at all but she knows he could hear her.
"No?" he questions and she feels her lip quiver.
"Once I fall asleep, you'll be gone." she all but whimpers.
His arm returns to her waist, his hold limp.
"Ain't goin' no where, girl." he says and she almost believes him.
"Promise?" she whispers, her eyes slipping closed without her control.
She doesn't get a response and she takes in another deep breath, feeling a tear slip down her cheek as she smells nothing but the cold, dark air from the cabin. She still continues to fight it though, trying to hold on tight to the small semblance of light she can still feel, that haunting warmth at her back. Just as she slips away into unconsciousness though she feels it, that chill seeping into her bones just as she feels him being torn away from her again and she shivers as she hears his voice one last time.
"I ain't even here at all, Greene."
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Sometimes when she is just beginning to regain consciousness, still holding on to the cusp of sleep she swears she can still feel him, that warmth at her side and the weight of his hand in her own.
It's only for a moment though.
Until the sun rises and she wakes up alone.
She always wakes up alone.
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She doesn't know how long she has been on her own - her only form of time keeping being in the form of the too cold nights and the too early mornings. She knows it was warm out though when she first left the hospital, the only thing to her name a small bag of supplies, a loaded hand gun and an all too familiar red bandanna wrapped around her wrist. She tries not to think too much about anything anymore except the signs she finds, the signs she follows. The signs she likes to imagine he has left for her.
She knows he hasn't but she likes to dream.
She likes to dream of a time where he didn't leave her behind, where they weren't torn away from each other. Where she didn't do something reckless and stupid and lose everything all over again. A time where the phantom weight against her palm in the mornings was more than just an imagination.
The days were long but night came both too soon and not fast enough. She knows it doesn't make sense, knows that her mind is still jumbled up and trying to heal and she knows that those times when he comes to her, once the sun has set and the dark has taken over that he isn't actually there.
She likes to dream though.
So every night she faces her fears and drifts asleep because she knows he will be there, waiting for her.
Every night she dreams of him.
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One day she stumbles across a man. He has dark skin and dark eyes and he seems almost as surprised to see her as she is to see him. She doesn't know him but she recognizes a kindness in his eyes. That doesn't make her lower the gun in her hands though - even if the only weapon she can spot on him is a rather large walking stick.
"Are ya alone?" he asks her, a smile twitching at his lips as he lifts his hands up, showing her he means no harm.
"No," she answers immediately and she doesn't lower her weapon.
He nods, obviously not believing her but not pushing her either.
"Do you think maybe you can help me out?" he shifts the conversation and she tenses when she sees him reaching for his belt.
He gives her another smile though and displays the crumpled up piece of paper at her.
"I seem to have gotten lost." he explains and then holds the paper out to her. "I'm hoping to make it to D.C."
Warily she finally lowers the weapon and steps closer to him. She keeps her guard up, ready to defend herself at any moment as he slides the paper into her palm. She unfolds it to discover that it is a map, a route trailed in red in the center but that isn't what immediately catches her eye as she scans lower, seeing the message scrawled at the bottom.
She hasn't realized she had spoken the name aloud until the man in front of her speaks again, his voice surprised.
"You know Rick?" he questions and she nods and then looks up at him.
He looks at her and she knows he is looking at the scars on her face, the ones that tell a story without her having to.
They venture on together, somehow a partnership forming without words and that night she dreams of blue eyes looking back at her, a pair of faded angel wings leading in front of her, waiting for her to catch up.
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She hears the voices before she sees them, the soft baritone of Morgan instantly familiar while the scraggly roughness of another is not. She keeps her steps quiet as she spots the man in front of her, hiding against the tree, staying back in case things were to go wrong.
She doesn't even hesitate to slit his throat and then continue closer to where she knew Morgan had been preparing a fire, waiting for her to return with the squirrels that were now dangling around her waist. She puts her knife away and pulls the compound bow - a miracle find her and Morgan had discovered a few weeks back after taking shelter in an old hunting cabin - off her back, positioning it in her arms as she continues to creep closer, still not making a sound.
She sees the moment things turn south but she allows Morgan to handle it, only stepping out once the other man is lying on the ground, unconscious. She doesn't mention the other man she had taken care of in the woods and he turns away when she unsheathes her knife again, crouching down at the man now sprawled in the grass. She knows how he feels about all life being precious but these men were not good people and he knew better than to try and fight her on it.
"We're gettin' close," he says, beginning to pack up their things, breakfast forgotten for the moment.
She hums as she picks up her own bag. "Still just as lost as when ya first found me." she points out, smiling at him over her shoulder.
"I have a good feeling," Morgan says then, shrugging his shoulders and she hears him chuckle at the small snort that escapes her.
She doesn't mention that she too feels it, felt it when she woke up that morning, the scent of cigarette smoke lingering in her senses longer than it usually did but she tries not to think too much on it.
She knows better than to hope.
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It was at Morgan's insistence that they make their way toward the car that was currently being swarmed by Walkers, an undeniable sign that something living was inside.
She stays back, her bow raised and her eyes intent on the scene in front of her as Morgan makes his way through. Her other senses were also on high alert, taking down the occasional walker as she watched Morgan open the door and she once again raised her bow, anticipating the events of coming across other people.
For a moment, she believes she is once again asleep, that she was still dreaming. But those angel wings she sees in front of her are not from any dream and she knows all too well that she was awake. She can remember the way he had slipped away from her again this morning, just as she tried to hold onto his hand tighter.
The crossbow sags in her arms as she stares, the men having a conversation - not having noticed her and Morgan not having drawn attention to her - and she catches snippets, something about a safe place and walls and it isn't until the crossbow actually slips from her hands, clattering to the ground that the three men turn toward her.
She sees his eyes widen, that blue that she had dreamed about now staring back at her, no longer just a dream inside her restless mind.
His own crossbow lowers and she takes that as her cue and she is running before she even realizes it, crashing against his warm chest and she feels his strong arms around her and she takes in a deep, shuddering breath.
The scent of cigarette smoke fills her senses and she smiles.
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It's later, after a lot of tears and shocked voices and screams and cries and she is exhausted and she finds herself in another bed, this one warmer than the last one she had slept in and as she settles against the pillow she takes in a deep breath, the scent of the woods and leather and cigarette smoke once again surrounding her.
She feels a blanket being draped over her and she reaches out to catch his hand as he begins to pull away.
"Please stay," she whispers.
"Ain't goin' no where, girl," he responds, the bed dipping against his weight.
"Promise?" she breathes, her eyelids too heavy to stay open.
"Promise." his rough voice murmurs and this time when she feels that heat against her back, and that strong arm wrap around her, she doesn't hesitate to pull his hand into her's, locking her fingers tight around his.
That night, she doesn't dream at all.
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idk...I've had PVRIS's album on repeat for the last few days and this just kinda popped into my head. I have an idea for a part two based on the song "Ghosts" (also by PVRIS) but I'm not sure when I will be able to post it...
Thoughts? Reviews? Would anyone be interested in a second part?
**ALSO: Just a heads up if you follow any of my other stories...I will try to update Fighter again but I am leaving for a week long trip this Tuesday and will not have computer access in that time so my apologies for the wait!