lucetilogs | There'll be trouble when the kidz come out

There'll be trouble when the kidz come out

Who: All remaining draftees
What: Zombies! Zombies! Zombies!
When: The 29th to 31st
Where: Vaskoth
Summary: Please read here for event information
Rating: B for BRRAAAIIIINSSSS

On the 29th, the Malnosso announce over the radios that the power cap will be lifted to a full 100%. Carol broadcasts a message.

On the 30th, the Malnosso declare Vaskoth completely lost. Those with radio access will discover that the enclosure is to be bombed.

On the 31st, survivors will have one last chance to evacuate or try to find the cure. 3PM is do or die.

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The sound she made raked across him, and for moment, it seemed so simple. Somehow so simple, to think of death like this, like a choice. That was the burden of proof of just how wrong everything was, of how much things had broken. Maybe that would be okay, for him, dying on his own terms rather than someone else's. She wanted him to live. But he couldn't do that while she died. And it was so simple. Simple and devastatingly painful.

He beheld her with earnest eyes, and for once, for once--the need for words he didn't know how to express was not forced down. She needed him to comfort her, and he needed to fulfill that to hold onto the thin branch upholding them. A sad, sorrowful smile crossed his lips, because he knew what was in her heart. She wanted him to survive. She didn't want him to die because of her. But she didn't want to be alone when that time came either.

And he would be there.

Heat stung at his eyes as he reaches out, slowly, taking both of her hands in his. Hands that had done so much to take care of him, hands that were trembling in the wake of her pain. Hands that would become increasingly difficult for her to use.

"I was wrong," he admitted quietly. "I couldn't make it a week without you."

There were so many things Pepper wished she could say when Tony made that quiet admission.  So many words that filtered across her mind, from a smart-assed I told you so to an insistent Yes you can, so go, to a fervent Thank you, thank you, stay.  But the fragility of her body and the emotions all choked her, made it hard for her to even breathe, much less speak.  Tears flowed down her cheeks, staining the mask she wore, and there was too much, far too much inside that couldn’t get out even if she screamed.

But he took her hands, and she squeezed hers tight, knuckles white from the force of the grip.  It hurt her to hold him that hard, maybe hurt him too, but she didn’t care.  She needed him, the strength he showed, the promise that she wouldn’t have to be on her own through this.   She needed him to understand somehow, and he did.  He understood her, saw right through the surface into her core, and accepted everything she couldn’t ask without hating her for it, or thinking less of her.

He didn’t want to die either.  He just wanted to live with her too much not to.

Her grip on his hands intensified as tears rolled down her cheeks, tears he was forbidden to touch, but he wanted still to do anything in his power to take away the hurt that caused them. But he'd been over this so many times since it all started. He couldn't fix this. He couldn't take it away. The pain was always there, present, taking up so much space between them that it made him suffocate.

He wanted to take her mind off it, ease it, help it pass as they would wait for the advent of a cure or the knell of death. He wanted so badly to bring her some measure of peace, of happiness in what could be their final hours. He wanted to show her, to tell her, to do anything he could, when it was clear he could no longer save her the way he knew how--

He thought of the beach.

"I told Billy that it didn't really matter who else was around. Two people dancing only have eyes for each other."

"So you dance the world away, and forget anyone else even exists. That's what you're saying?"

It didn't cross his mind how out of place it was. How ridiculous it might seem, silly, fanciful, when she was already in such physical pain and it wouldn't fix anything. But who knew how much longer she'd be able to walk? When would they reach the point of no return? He didn't have the answers.

But this felt right. More than that--it felt necessary. It was something he could do, any maybe it would be small, insignificant. But it was something.

So he rose from his chair, fingers wound tightly around hers as he gave them a gentle tug.

She had no idea what Tony intended when he pulled her up. But she went anyway, too broken and weary to resist even if she had wanted to--and Pepper didn't. Wherever Tony went now, wherever he was she wanted to be there with him. In an existence consumed by ceaseless agony and hunger, as her body broke down from the inside out, the one thing she had to hold onto was him.

Pepper tried to stop the tears, because she wanted to lean into him. If she could keep from crying long enough to dry her face, she could press against him, close her eyes and just stay there.

But Tony had something in mind. Pepper hadn't figured out what, not yet, but she could still follow his lead.

He hoped she would let him lead her, and continue to do so - that's what the basis of a dance was, wasn't it? A simple lead and follow. Give and take. His next actions were simple, direct. He could tell she hadn't quite caught on to what he was doing yet, but she would.

When one hand slid from hers to her waist, and he pulled her closer and lifted their other joined hands to their side, she would know.

Maybe it wouldn't work. It wouldn't help, and she'd break down into sobs again as her body wracked her with pain. But he had to try. And no matter what, he'd be there to put her back together again. Whenever and wherever this road ended.

He met her eyes determinedly, keeping himself from trembling even though it was the easier option. He was so tired. He was so fatigued. But this mattered more than any of that, and when he spoke, his voice carried that, too.

"Dance with me?"

She did indeed know, recognized the positioning for what it was, although Pepper still stared at Tony in confusion for a moment. Then their eyes met, and Pepper got it, truly understood just what Tony was trying to do. As tired as they both were, as worn and weary, he wanted to give her a moment like they one they'd had before.

"But it only works when you're dancing with someone special."

Her eyes still water, but not with the same sorrow as before. Only Tony. Only he could find a way to make her smile in the middle of this hell, and Pepper placed her hand on his shoulder.

It would hurt. She already knew from walking just how much movement made her ache, and Pepper probably couldn't keep up even a simple dance for very long. Maybe Tony couldn't either, because she could see in his face just how wrecked he was too. But for however long it lasted, they would dance, just the two of them together, to try and forget the world.

He moved slowly as he started to lead, knowing this would be preciously brief considering the state she was in. With their joint suffering that seemed unrelenting and endless, they had to make this count. They had to make this a different kind of infinite, a separate entity from how infinitely everything had gone wrong. They needed their own moment, to be close together and let everything else fall away, because what they had ahead of them was bleak and nearly hopeless. There was so much worth despairing about, so much to fear and regret. But it didn't have a place in this moment, because then, right then: it was only them.

A simple truth remained, and he felt it beat steadily as he led her in their slow, subdued dance, growing stronger with every moment he held her close. They were together. And they would stay so, come what may, hell or high water, rain or shine, pick-your-idiom. That was what made the difference, that was what would make it worth it in the end. That was the unmovable foundation. He could feel it in her warmth, her slightly tremulous hands and her heart beating against his. He could feel it in everything in that moment.

And that's when he knew exactly what he needed to say.

He leaned closer to speak to her ear, as his voice hitched with emotion - and this time, he didn't hold it back. He didn't coat his words with flourishes and embellishments to hide their real meaning, he didn't dress them up to make them appear less than what they were. He didn't know why the words had been so difficult for him to say, even as his heart fluttered as they rose to his tongue. It was simple. It was true. It was necessary; it had been for a long time. He'd found ways to make excuses before, ways to naively protect himself from complete and utter openness, but not this time. And not ever again. Because she deserved to hear him say it, over and over and over again, until he was out of breath.

"I love you, Pepper."

It came without fanfare in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. But those simple words were brimming, trembling with emotion from lips that found them foreign. And it was absolutely right.

Absolutely, completely, infinitely right.

She wanted to focus only on him.  The man who held her in her arms and her heart in his hands, who insisted on living with her and dying for her.  But the ever-present pain cut off that avenue of escape, even as he moved both careful and slow, tried so hard to make this something that would take her mind away from her body, from the virus that was eating her alive and made her yearn to do the same in turn.  Even as he held her close, in a wonderfully sweet, intimate way, that instinct was there, coiled and screaming in her gut, demanding she turn her head just so and rip out a chunk of his flesh with her teeth.

She hated it.  She hated how this infection ruined so many things dear to her.  She hated how people looked at her because of it, with sympathy and sadness, so much sadness, because in every set of eyes she saw the same messages written in perfect clarity:

I’m sorry.

You’re dying.

It’s my fault.  I should have been there.  I should be able to do something now.

I can’t.

But Pepper refused to let it have this.  Tony was willing to give up his life for her comfort, to sacrifice himself not so she could live, but so she could maybe have whatever form of peace was still left for her at the end.  And now he danced with her, tried to take her out of her body and to better places, where she had forgotten to wear her deodorant and danced with her boss in front of everyone she worked with, or where there really had been no one but them, moving to the crash of waves nearby.  So she curled her fingers against the fabric of his shirt, closed her eyes to hide the way she ached, and danced.

She wasn’t the only one trying to find peace.  Their suffering was intertwined, and so were their relief and their happiness.

He leaned close, enough for Pepper to feel his warmth, the quickening beat of his heart, and despite everything she felt safe.  It couldn’t last, but she clung to the moment, needing everything she found within it.  There was a brush of breath on her ear, not quite enough to tickle, and Pepper had just started to debate whether it was worth saying anything over when he spoke.

And oh, the words he said.

Everything froze:  her breath, her heart, and Pepper herself.  She missed a step before she remembered that, right, they were dancing.  But wasn’t it understandable, considering what he just said?  She was already replaying it, over and over in her head, barely able to believe that he’d said it.  I love you, Pepper.  I love you.

A kiss on the cheek was the closest she could come to the affection she wanted to show; she still wore her respirator, always did, to keep Tony safe.  But maybe the shape and the warmth of her lips through the material would be enough, until either they were killed or she was cured, and she could kiss him the way she truly wanted.

And in case it wasn’t?  There was something else she could add that might help.  Spoken just as softly, with a voice marred by pain, but still filled with joy:

“I love you too.”

Edited 2012-11-02 16:29 (UTC)

He could feel the warmth of her lips through her mask, his heart still thundering in his chest. He'd said it. He'd finally said what he should have so long ago, and he wished it hadn't taken him as long as it had, that he stood on the threshold of losing her before he found a way to say it. He made a promise to himself, then: that when this was all over - whatever that entailed - he wouldn't ever hold himself back from saying it again. She deserved so much better than that.

I love you too.

And just like that, she spoke the same words back to him, ones he'd read over and over in her letter; it was something else entirely to hear her say them out loud. His lips managed to turn up as he responded to her words the same way she had and pressed a kiss to her cheek. He wanted to do this right, to tug away her mask and kiss her properly and forget reason, but he knew how badly she wanted to keep him safe, and even if that seemed futile now, a simple but sincere kiss on the cheek would have to do.

He realized, then, somewhere between their confessions and their brief, happy moment, he'd stopped leading. He was still, and his hands moved from her waist and her hand to the sides of her face. He met her eyes purposefully, before leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead, too.

Nothing had changed, not in the grand scheme of things. She was still dying, the sky was still dark, he was still falling apart, and the bomb was still coming. and yet? Everything had changed, on a quantum level that was shared so intimately between them. They had each other, and knew exactly what was in the other's heart.

She smiled brightly enough that it showed in her eyes, raised her hands to cover his as he kissed her forehead. Nothing had changed, but everything had for them, in a way that was beautiful beyond words. He'd finally broken through that self-protective wall, let Pepper see what she had known was there, but had never been given permission to view. It was a single point of light in forever dark days, something she could hold onto through whatever came, because there would be an after, and they would be together.

But moments were by their nature brief, and Pepper had pushed herself as far as her body would allow. She could only ignore the pain for so long before she braced against Tony, trembling as it burned through her all the more strongly for having been denied.

He could feel as she started to tighten and tremble, the signs of her pain manifesting themselves again in nasty ways. It made his stomach turn, and he hated that it ended the only moment of peace they'd had since this whole ordeal began. But he felt less hopeless as he wrapped his arms around her to guide her back towards the bed, a lofty feeling still hovering in his chest.

In a sense, at least it was a good thing there was an end in sight. Another day, and they would know their fates. And beyond that? Well.

They knew one thing they could absolutely count on.

One way or another, things would end tomorrow. Even that was more of a promise than Pepper's had since the infection set in. She still hoped for a cure, of course, because the price they'd pay without one was so high--but an end, even a horrible one, was welcome in a way.

An end meant they could move to after.

With Tony's help, Pepper laid down in her hospital bed. She didn't want him to go far, to completely lose the contact between them. So she held onto his hand, still able to keep her fingers tight around his.

He settled back in that old-familiar chair, fingers linked with hers with no intention of going anywhere. At all. They would be just like this - through the pain, through the strife and through the promise of an end - two people, connected by something unbreakable, something infinite.

They would make it through this together. And that made all the difference.

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There'll be trouble when the kidz come out

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