milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Rachel told Mel to get some sleep. So Mel slept. And she told her to eat. So she's eating. At a table in the middle of the bar, Badge pinned to the holster on her thigh, she's tucking into a mound of pancakes, liberally covering in bacon and syrup.

Dinah offered her shapes, she went for shapes. Everything she had.

Except for turtles. That's just wierd.

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Yeah, she was expecting that reaction as well. She doesn't look up at him, wiping syrup from the plate with half a turtle.

"I mean, I know you're not happy with the situation, but it's there now, and I'm gonna need help dealing with it."

"Question should be am I happy, should be are you happy..."

Maybe some of that is lost in the chewing...or maybe he just didn't say it loud enough.

*There may be somebody watching this conversation.*

*He's probably far enough away not to be noticed, though.*

Probably.

Especially as Mel isn't watching anyone, but concentrating on dismembering a turtle.

It's worryingly cathartic.

"I've got her now," she repeats. "I have to deal."

Mike watches her hands, and can't help but wonder who is in control of them at that particular moment.

He doesn't immediatly respond, but rather continues to watch. Eventually he nods, but is unsure of what else to say. What else can he say, really?

She continues to rip the turtle into tiny pieces. Slowly, methodically. They just sit in silence for nearly a minute, and all the time the batter is torn up.

"I'm scared."

"i know. me too.
I'm not giving up on you. Don't think for a minute that I'm giving up or that I'm going to go somewhere. Okay?"

"Good.

"'Cause Rach thinks I'm gonna needya. I mean, I do, but she thinks you're gonna hafta help me. A lot.

"And I can't stand hiding it from you."

"i know"

It takes a lot of will power on his part to not add the But that now lingers in the air between them. But, that thing you're accepting into yourself wants to destroy you. It will destroy you. You and everyone. Do you not see that? Or is it that It won't let you see that?

"I'll do what I can to help.
...
What can I do to help?"

"I don't know...." Mel starts, because she doesn't know how she's going to get rid of it, and she is going to...

"But firstly..."

A hesitant pause. She doesn't want to ask anything of him, and she's sure he hates this...

"Can I show you?"

"Uh...show me what?"

She still hasn't looked up at him, and now she restsing her head on her hand, propped up by the elbow on the table.

That turtle's really suffered now.

"Since I've come back, I've been hiding from you. Every time we touched, I've had shields up, both ways. I don't think I've ever felt less connected to you."

Even in Hell, she felt that she knew what he would be feeling.

"I just want to show you, is all."

Why does he get the feeling that soon he's going to be sharing quite a bit with that torn up breakfast turtle?

He tears off the leg of one of his Turtle-cakes but does not eat it. Instead he palms the bit of pancake bringing that hand under the table. With his fingers he forms the dough into a ball, and very systematically rolls that ball between his fingers over and over.

His other hand reaches out towards her.

"Okay. You know I'm always here for you."

"OK."

Mel squeezes his hand in hers, and in the process covers his fingers in fat and syrup.

And vaery gently, very slowly, she does what Arithon decribed as putting a window in those walls, letting Mike in. Letting him see how sacred she is, how painful it is to have the Phoenix living in her, how marvellous and awesome it all is. And how much she loves him. That's stronger than anything. Her intense love for him, how it fills her, floods her emotions. And maybe, just maybe, strong enough to quench the flames.

Oh god, she loves him, and she needs him in this. Rachel was right: he's the one that's going to keep her alive.

He concentrates on the dough. On rolling the dough. On feeling it move between his fingertips. But eventually, the power of her emotions gets the better of him, and he drops the bit of pancake to the floor.

His hand grips hers and his knuckles whiten with strain.

Watching him, all the time watching him because she dare not go into his mind, she pulls away slightly. First empathically, and then her hand starts to relax open.

The high emotional volume begins to fade as she begins to disengage. Mike's hand trembles, as he slumps back into his chair.

"hoo boy."

Biting her lip, she doesn't stop lookgin at him, and reaches to brush hair away from his face.

"Love you."

"love you"

Mike reaches up to wipe at his eyes with the syrup covered hand. Only, he doesn't know it's syrup covered...and procceeds to syrup cover his face as well.

"Ack! I think I glued my eyes shut!"

She giggles softly, and leans towards him to kiss the syrup off his eyes.

"You OK?"

"Forced to a life of blindness because of the evil forces of pancakery."

Mike's face is scrunched up, and his arms begin to gently flail.

She kisses softly, and very gently and wetly, she licks his eyelids, moving as she does so to sit on his lap.

"S'OK, there's not a lot to see."

"says you."

"Yeah," she sasy, between cleaning off every last bit of syrup from his eyelids and continuing to cover his face in kisses.

"Says me."

He opens one tentative eye, hoping with all hope that what he sees will be Mel looking back at him.

"it's going to be okay. i promise."

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slayer_fray - 2006-01-17 23:47 (UTC) - Expand

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