[Mad Muses] November 1.3 - Iris Murdoch Quote (for heroslayer)

[thepainted_lady]

"Love is the difficult realization that something other than oneself is real." ~ Iris Murdoch

She was going to die.

This wasn't exactly news, given it had happened once already, but the follow up was one she hadn't really considered, even though she'd seen proof of it in her trailer that night she didn't like to dwell on.

He wasn't.

The two sentences rolled around in her head as she stood in the kitchen mixing up batter for muffins because she couldn't stand to just sit staring out the window at the cold winter waves beating on the empty shoreline anymore. She was going to die. He wasn't. It could be strung together as one sentence and the horrible implications became all the more clear. She was going to die, and he wasn't.

After the cold reaches of the darkness she liked to dwell on even less than that night, she would have thought the contemplation of her own mortality would be the far more upsetting of those two propositions. He'd expected her to hate him for it, or feared she would grow to, but when she thought about it, all she felt was this ache that caught at her throat and twisted up around inside of her making it hard to breathe.

She was going to die, and he wasn't. Someday, someway, despite all of her promises, and no matter how hard she tried not to...she was going to leave him, just like everyone else had. Her own body would betray her, and him, and she'd simply...cease to be, and he'd be alone. The little fears and vanities that reared their heads in the back of her mind, the will-he-still-want-me-when-I'm-not-as-young-and-pretties and the how-could-he-stay-if-I-get-old-and-sick-at-the-ends, faded under the lines of pain at that.

She didn't want to leave him alone, didn't want to leave him to watch the centuries stretch out in front of him in a string of loss or loneliness. The fact that Claire might be there was hardly a consolation, and one she dismissed. The fact that he might fall in love again...to what end? To lose love again, as well? That hurt, too, both personally, and for him.

She was crying again, as she had the night before, though it wasn't for the same reasons this time. The fear that had lingered wasn't really gone, but it wasn't at the forefront of her mind. Pain for him, for what he'd go through without her, for knowing that he had to live with that everyday...it left her gasping a little for air, and clinging to the counter until her knuckles were white.

She was going to die, and he wasn't. That meant she had to find a way to make every day he did have with her count, so he'd never doubt in all those years to come that he'd been loved. No matter what anyone else had done, or would do, no matter what happened or what he faced after she was gone...she wanted him to know that and have that as a surety. For as long as she had, he'd be loved, he'd have a home. They'd have a life, and by god, it would be a good one. No regrets. No looking back. No doubts. No second-guessing. No more what-might-have-beens.

She wiped her tears and gave the batter a vicious punch with the spoon. She wasn't exactly sure where to start, but making muffins to rival Mrs. Comey's waffles seemed to be as good as anywhere, even if she was still figuring out the cooking things after years of not. If she was going to die, and he wasn't, she didn't want to waste any more of their precious time on tears.

Comments

[heroslayer]

Humming, he flashed her an amused look. Cooking was not his forte -- he could do waffles and soup from a box and that was about it -- and he was more than willing to let her knows as much. "Anything could be better than me trying. I'd probably set the kitchen on fire or whatever."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia laughed a little bit, giving him a sideways glance. "We should take a class or something before we burn the house down..." She'd known how to do it all pretty well, once. Lord knew her father hadn't ever cooked. But years of not doing it had made her pretty rusty beyond the basics. "It'd be nice to be able to do some fun things."

[heroslayer]

"Maybe." He wasn't sure how he felt about taking cooking classes -- not when Peter had told him once about a future version of him who thought he was Mister Mom, right down to the ridiculous apron -- but he didn't want her to think he expected her to do all the housework. Nor did he particularly want her to. He wanted to avoid any potential tuna fish sandwich situations if he could.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She picked up on the fact that it wasn't something he was particularly excited about, if not completely against, either, and shrugged a little with a small smile. "Just an idea."

[heroslayer]

"It'd be something to do, at least." And something he could think about, as he doubted she needed to know whether or not it was something they were going to do right this second. For now, he was content to shrug the idea off and tighten his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her hair.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She leaned back against his chest more, closing her eyes and smiling a little at his kiss. It was warm and familiar and the scent of the batter baking and turning into muffins was starting to seep out of the oven into the kitchen air. "We have been a little lacking in those," she admitted. Sometimes it was a little odd after a life so full of shows and traveling and constant movement as the carnival had been.

[heroslayer]

"Kinda, yeah."

He had no real problem with that, though -- not when he hadn't had one free moment in the last few years -- but he wouldn't mind having something to do. Just so long as whatever it was didn't involve being around other specials. He'd been good enough around Lydia and Amanda, but he didn't entirely trust himself not to attack some random stranger on a bad day, regardless of whether not he could bring himself to actually kill them.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She glanced over her shoulder at him, hesitating a little bit, then giving him a smile. "I went ahead and signed up for a couple of classes to try and get my GED...they shouldn't take too much time, though." With her newfound desire to eke out every possible moment with him, she didn't want to be away even for something like that, though she realized they couldn't live utterly on top of each other or they'd suffocate.

[heroslayer]

He raised his eyebrows, catching that instant of hesitation and not quite understanding it. They'd talked about this before, her getting her GED, so why did she seem so wary of going through with it now? Still convinced that she'd grow bored with him in time in spite of his work in front of the mirror earlier -- maybe she already was, maybe she'd decided it wasn't worth it but was afraid to break any news of leaving to him, even if it was only for a few hours a day for a class for now -- he lowered his eyebrows, nodding. "Sounds good."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

His worry flickered through touch, and she shifted in his arms, turning into him more. Winding her arms around his neck she lifted up to kiss him softly but surely. "I don't like the thought of being away from you, even for a little while," she murmured against his lips. But she hated feeling so...helpless and useless in the outside world. And she wanted to set a good example for her daughter. How could she tell Amanda an education was important, if she didn't demonstrate it on some level?

[heroslayer]

Sylar muttered an apology and looked away, frowning. Sometimes he really hated the fact that he could see into him like that, not liking his insecurities pushed back at him even if they were in the form of reassurance, but at least she wasn't lying. She meant what she said. For now.

"It's good that you're going back, though." He meant that, too. As much as he still feared that it eventually might become an excuse to get away from him and his agelessness, it was good that she wanted to better herself and that she had the time for it now.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She ran her fingers along his jaw, trying to get him to look back at her, though she didn't force the it. She leaned in to brush a kiss along his jaw, nuzzling there a little bit.

"I just...want to be able to feel like I'm...not a burden, you know?"

[heroslayer]

"You're not," he promised, turning his head to steal a kiss from her. As often as he had said that and as much as he believed it, however, he understood her need to do something.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia tilted her head to return the kiss, smiling a bit against his lips, and rested her fingers lightly against his jaw. He meant what he said, and that helped. She just wasn't used to not doing anything, after so long of being part of something so organic as the carnival. Fortune telling during tourist season was all well and good, and she enjoyed it, but she wanted to at least expand her horizons.

[heroslayer]

He pulled away after a moment, but he didn't stray far, his arms tightening around her, his forehead coming to rest against hers. He watched her in silence, briefly, then asked, "What do you plan on doing afterwards, anyway?"

He couldn't imagine her with a nine-to-five job -- not that he doubted she was capable of it, he just couldn't imagine any of them playing desk jockey and pretending they weren't different. Her, himself, Amanda -- anyone with an ability, really. It was too mundane, too boring, when even though his opinions on how to go about it had changed, he still believed they were all destine to do something great. He didn't understand how Peter did it, juggling a real profession and his true nature, even if he'd found ways of mixing the two, and he had no desire to see Lydia try the same.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

That was a very good question, and she gave him a wry smile and shrugged a little bit, not pulling back, staying close instead.

"I have absolutely no idea. I mean...I didn't really even have much of a career dream when I was a kid." Most children did, she supposed. They were encouraged to think about what they wanted to be when they grew up. That hadn't really been the case in her house. "For right now, I just want to say I have the equivalent of a high school education? After that, I don't know."

She couldn't see herself doing anything mundane, or in an office. She'd go crazy. Already, the whole staying in one place bit was seeming...odd.

[heroslayer]

It was almost a relief that she didn't want to run off and join the workforce immediately, and he hummed a bit, stealing another quick kiss from her. "You'll have time to think about it later. I was just -- just wondering if you had any ideas."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

"No, none," she reassured him, feeling that flicker of relief in the kiss. Her fingers brushed through his hair one more time before she did ease out of his arms, though not before she kissed his cheek, and brushed a lingering touch over his shoulder as she pulled away. The fragrant scent of blueberries and baking muffins was filling the kitchen, reminding her of her original plan to make him breakfast. That meant juice and coffee and needing the butter out, as well.

She gave him a little smile as she moved to the fridge, getting out the juice and butter, setting them on the counter. "I really did enjoy the fortune telling last summer. I mean...I know a lot of people didn't really understand it, but I loved what I did at the carnival."

[heroslayer]

"You could always keep doing it. Open a shop or something, rather than just hanging out on the boardwalk, waiting for tourists."

True, she probably wouldn't do as good a business after the sight-seers had gone for the season -- and it wouldn't be putting her diploma to any good use -- but he'd seen plenty of psychic places in New York, and they always managed to stay afloat during the off season. She'd manage and she'd be able to continue doing something she actually enjoyed. It still seemed like a vaguely mundane existence to him, but if that was something she wanted, he wouldn't argue.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She tilted her head, considering the idea, teeth worrying at her lower lip with her teeth for a moment. Casting him a sideways glance she let her mind wander back to a night sixteen years before, one she didn't think on often, then shifted to fill the coffee pot, still thinking, before moving back to lean against him.

"Would it be dangerous to show people things, the way I did there, do you think? Instead of just the cards? Would they think it still a trick, now, knowing what they do...?" Claire had complicated things significantly.

[heroslayer]

"I don't know." He pressed his lips into a thin line, considering it. It didn't seem to take him too long to come to some sort of conclusion and he shrugged, wrapping his arms back around here when she returned to him. "As long as you didn't let them see your tattoos, they might not figure it out. You could play it off like a seance or something. Just take their hands and read them like that. Tell them that your consulting the spirits or something while you did it."

People wouldn't suspect anything if they didn't see her tattoos. Out of the closet or not, people could assume every so-called psychic in the whole country was special.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She tucked her head to his shoulder, fingertips fiddling with his buttons as the coffee pot started making little popping sounds indicating it was heating up the water. It was a comforting sound, homey, even if one that she associated with here rather than the carnival which still was "home" somehow in her head.

"Before I had the tattoos...there was a night...I didn't really know what I could do, then. I just felt things, you know? But Edgar and I had been screwing around, riding rides, not really doing much useful, and we decided to play a prank on the fortune teller. We took her crystal ball. We were just messing around with it later, but I was holding it, and when we looked into it...it was the first time that part of my power manifested. I mean...it's not just the tattoos, I can use. Edgar saw what he wanted most in the crystal. And so did I."

[heroslayer]

"You could do something like that, then." He rested his head on top of hers lightly, and slipped a hand up into her hair to comb his fingers through it. "Even with what Claire did, most people would think it was a trick. Smoke and mirrors."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She nodded a little, careful not to dislodge his head or hand. "It's something to consider, at least. I just...miss helping people, I suppose. Even if they never realized I was, on any real level."

[heroslayer]

"You sound like Peter," he told her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Not that that's a bad thing. He just -- he's the same way."

Of course, Peter was the type to jump in the middle of things, to actively help, but it was still the same concept. One he found he liked despite his contempt for hero-types up until recently. Funny what being trapped in your own head for years on end could do for your opinions on things. Funny what being saved by someone like that could do.

"I'm not sure I could do it." Not that he didn't want to -- there was something to be said about playing the good guy, the feeling that came with it as good as, if not better than, being the villain -- he just hadn't quite worked out how to be that person on his own. The few times he'd managed to save the day, he'd had someone behind him, pointing him in the right direction. Angela, as much as he still hated her, Peter at the carnival, and so on. He was directionless, possibly no better than the people he'd hunted for years, and now that he thought about it, it was almost frustrating. How the hell did Peter do it? He made a face at the thought.