This Mess We're In (Jack/Sam)
Jan. 31st, 2005 02:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
owlbeerDon't ask where this came from because I have no idea. One minute I was listening to the very cool P.J Harvey song 'This Mess We're In' and the next I was writing this. It has little context and uses second person narration, which are both strange but that's the way it came to me.
Title: This Mess We're In
Fandom: Without A Trace
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Rating: PG-13 at most
Length: Approx 500 words
Warnings: Second Person Narration and Character Death.
--
This Mess We're In
You feel her heartbeat through your fingertips. It’s getting weaker.
The events leading up to this point are blurred. Blurred because of the sketchiness of your memory, or because of the tears you think you have in your eyes, you’re not really sure. You don’t really care how you got here, just that you’re here now, and that she won’t be in a couple of minutes. She won’t hold on. She’s strong, but some things can even beat back to will power of Samantha Spade. Four bullets to the chest apparently.
You’ve called for back up. You’ve called for helicopters, but they’re too far away. You want to believe they aren’t, but you know otherwise.
You’re trying to stop the bleeding. Your hands pressed down on the shirt your tore from your back. There’s far too much blood. You can see in her eyes that she knows it too.
You didn’t think a face could get that pale. You’ve seen people drying before, even people you knew, but this is different This feels like a part of you is dying too.
She’s slipping away from you and while you know only seconds have passed since it happened, it feels like someone has jammed on the slow motion button on his or her remote.
You only barely hear the sound of footsteps behind you, running.
Her eyes are starting to slip closed. She hasn’t said anything. She’s tried to a couple of times, but she hasn’t been able to force her vocal cords to comply. You know you’ve been talking to her, but you don’t really know what you’ve been saying. Later people will tell you that you were telling her to hold on, that she could get through this. Apparently you could lie to her even when she was dying.
She’s about to go. Her breathing is too shallow and the grip she had on your arm is getting weaker. Too weak. You have never liked to think that anything about her was weak. A weaker person wouldn’t have survived this long.
Her eyes flitter open. The last act of strength she can muster. She seems to want to say something, but as before it’s not working. You lean closer to her mouth. You think you hear the word ‘love’ on her breath, but you can’t be sure. Even thinking about it afterwards, remembering it in your dreams, nightmares, you still will never be sure.
Your tears are falling on her face. You whisper in her ear the words you’ve never said to her. Not because you’ve never had a chance, you’ve had plenty of chances and not because you haven’t wanted to, because you’ve always wanted to, but because you were afraid.
‘I love you, Sam.’
You keep holding her close as she finally lets go.
When someone pulls you away, a paramedic by the look of the insignia on his jacket, you hear someone else comment that despite the circumstances, she looks like she died, if not happy, then in peace.
You hope so. Even though part of you still doubts it.
--
Can you hear them
The helicopters
I'm in New York
No need for words now
We sit in silence
You look me
In the eye directly
You met me
I think it's wednesday
The evening
The mess we're in
I just wanna say
Don't ever change now baby
I'd thank you
I don't think we will meet again
And you must leave now
Before the sun rises
Above the skycrapers
And the city landscape comes into view
Swell on my skin
Oh
This mess we're in
'This Mess We're In' - PJ Harvey (feat Thom Yorke)
--
Now. I really have to get to bed because I actually have something to do tomorrow.
Title: This Mess We're In
Fandom: Without A Trace
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Rating: PG-13 at most
Length: Approx 500 words
Warnings: Second Person Narration and Character Death.
--
This Mess We're In
You feel her heartbeat through your fingertips. It’s getting weaker.
The events leading up to this point are blurred. Blurred because of the sketchiness of your memory, or because of the tears you think you have in your eyes, you’re not really sure. You don’t really care how you got here, just that you’re here now, and that she won’t be in a couple of minutes. She won’t hold on. She’s strong, but some things can even beat back to will power of Samantha Spade. Four bullets to the chest apparently.
You’ve called for back up. You’ve called for helicopters, but they’re too far away. You want to believe they aren’t, but you know otherwise.
You’re trying to stop the bleeding. Your hands pressed down on the shirt your tore from your back. There’s far too much blood. You can see in her eyes that she knows it too.
You didn’t think a face could get that pale. You’ve seen people drying before, even people you knew, but this is different This feels like a part of you is dying too.
She’s slipping away from you and while you know only seconds have passed since it happened, it feels like someone has jammed on the slow motion button on his or her remote.
You only barely hear the sound of footsteps behind you, running.
Her eyes are starting to slip closed. She hasn’t said anything. She’s tried to a couple of times, but she hasn’t been able to force her vocal cords to comply. You know you’ve been talking to her, but you don’t really know what you’ve been saying. Later people will tell you that you were telling her to hold on, that she could get through this. Apparently you could lie to her even when she was dying.
She’s about to go. Her breathing is too shallow and the grip she had on your arm is getting weaker. Too weak. You have never liked to think that anything about her was weak. A weaker person wouldn’t have survived this long.
Her eyes flitter open. The last act of strength she can muster. She seems to want to say something, but as before it’s not working. You lean closer to her mouth. You think you hear the word ‘love’ on her breath, but you can’t be sure. Even thinking about it afterwards, remembering it in your dreams, nightmares, you still will never be sure.
Your tears are falling on her face. You whisper in her ear the words you’ve never said to her. Not because you’ve never had a chance, you’ve had plenty of chances and not because you haven’t wanted to, because you’ve always wanted to, but because you were afraid.
‘I love you, Sam.’
You keep holding her close as she finally lets go.
When someone pulls you away, a paramedic by the look of the insignia on his jacket, you hear someone else comment that despite the circumstances, she looks like she died, if not happy, then in peace.
You hope so. Even though part of you still doubts it.
--
Can you hear them
The helicopters
I'm in New York
No need for words now
We sit in silence
You look me
In the eye directly
You met me
I think it's wednesday
The evening
The mess we're in
I just wanna say
Don't ever change now baby
I'd thank you
I don't think we will meet again
And you must leave now
Before the sun rises
Above the skycrapers
And the city landscape comes into view
Swell on my skin
Oh
This mess we're in
'This Mess We're In' - PJ Harvey (feat Thom Yorke)
--
Now. I really have to get to bed because I actually have something to do tomorrow.
