Status: In deciding. If I get enough comments, I'll throw up another chapter.
Blue Skies Bring Tears
In The Dark Of The Night
That night Calypso dreamed of the infected running after her.
She slept restlessly, tossing, turning and tangling the blankets around her legs until the sound of the stairs groaning out a creak cut through the flash of images.
She sat bolt upright, reaching for the gun that wasn't there, blind in the darkness. She began to scramble to her feet; the lingering vestiges of her nightmare were slow to filter out, catching in the corners of her vision the like the dregs at the bottom of a wine bottle.
She coiled automatically, going still as her eyes began to adjust to the blackness, nearly lashing out when Leon's hand came down heavily on her shoulder.
"Relax," said Leon, his voice as soft as shadow, "I got your six." Leon sat next to her, squeezing her shoulder and then letting go. "You're safe, Calypso."
Safe.
Calypso felt the tension begin to uncurl from her body, pulling away from the tightness of her muscles and the rigidness of her spine, until she felt more exhausted than she ever had.
She pushed a hand through her long hair, shaking a foot in agitation as she tried to shake the fight or flight response, completely from her
"You startled me, motherfucker," she muttered, fighting to keep her eyes open; when she closed them, the images of the infected, - Blood red eyes and rotting flesh - flickered behind her eyes.
Leon didn't reply, only curled an arm around her and pulled her down, until Calypso was secured between the wall and Leon's body. She thought to protest, even might have, but all at once Calypso felt drained and alone and fucking broken in a way she couldn't articulate. She tucked her head a little and let Leon cage her in, one arm draped comfortably over her waist.
She breathed out, pushing back with an irritated grunt until Leon shifted, fitting his body more snugly to hers. It was almost like sharing a ranger grave: the closeness, the warmth, and the rise and fall of Leon's chest against her back, his breathing almost in time to her own. It felt safe in a way that Calypso hadn't felt safe for in a long time. Leon brushed his mouth against the nape of her neck, and Calypso closed her eyes.
When she slept she dreamed of Leon, and the soft way he had touched her face after her first attack. She remembered how she'd let Leon run his fingers along the edges of the cuts one of the rogue survivors left there, though she couldn't remember why she'd let him in the first place.
She dreamed about Leon's fingers, calloused and stupidly gentle, as he'd cupped her chin and leaned in to kiss the corner of her mouth, mindful of her split lip. Calypso remembered her surprise, her anger, and ultimately, her acceptance.
He'd kissed Calypso hard, the taste of blood mixed with their saliva like fucked up sanctification as she sucked on his tongue.
She slept restlessly, tossing, turning and tangling the blankets around her legs until the sound of the stairs groaning out a creak cut through the flash of images.
She sat bolt upright, reaching for the gun that wasn't there, blind in the darkness. She began to scramble to her feet; the lingering vestiges of her nightmare were slow to filter out, catching in the corners of her vision the like the dregs at the bottom of a wine bottle.
She coiled automatically, going still as her eyes began to adjust to the blackness, nearly lashing out when Leon's hand came down heavily on her shoulder.
"Relax," said Leon, his voice as soft as shadow, "I got your six." Leon sat next to her, squeezing her shoulder and then letting go. "You're safe, Calypso."
Safe.
Calypso felt the tension begin to uncurl from her body, pulling away from the tightness of her muscles and the rigidness of her spine, until she felt more exhausted than she ever had.
She pushed a hand through her long hair, shaking a foot in agitation as she tried to shake the fight or flight response, completely from her
"You startled me, motherfucker," she muttered, fighting to keep her eyes open; when she closed them, the images of the infected, - Blood red eyes and rotting flesh - flickered behind her eyes.
Leon didn't reply, only curled an arm around her and pulled her down, until Calypso was secured between the wall and Leon's body. She thought to protest, even might have, but all at once Calypso felt drained and alone and fucking broken in a way she couldn't articulate. She tucked her head a little and let Leon cage her in, one arm draped comfortably over her waist.
She breathed out, pushing back with an irritated grunt until Leon shifted, fitting his body more snugly to hers. It was almost like sharing a ranger grave: the closeness, the warmth, and the rise and fall of Leon's chest against her back, his breathing almost in time to her own. It felt safe in a way that Calypso hadn't felt safe for in a long time. Leon brushed his mouth against the nape of her neck, and Calypso closed her eyes.
When she slept she dreamed of Leon, and the soft way he had touched her face after her first attack. She remembered how she'd let Leon run his fingers along the edges of the cuts one of the rogue survivors left there, though she couldn't remember why she'd let him in the first place.
She dreamed about Leon's fingers, calloused and stupidly gentle, as he'd cupped her chin and leaned in to kiss the corner of her mouth, mindful of her split lip. Calypso remembered her surprise, her anger, and ultimately, her acceptance.
He'd kissed Calypso hard, the taste of blood mixed with their saliva like fucked up sanctification as she sucked on his tongue.
♠ ♠ ♠
Derp. Please Tell me if you like it...If you do, I'll post more.