[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.

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[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.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She looked a little bemused at the idea. Then again, Peter was sort of this...near mythic figure out there in a way. She'd yet to actually meet him, so all she had were stories. He'd helped Amanda; she'd tried to call him, but hadn't quite managed it; he'd defeated Samuel; he used his powers to run around trying to save the world; Samuel had thought, once, that maybe he'd replace Joseph; he'd saved Sylar, from himself as much as anything. He wasn't a person, really, in her head, but a sort of iconic figure. So being compared to him was a little...bemusing.

"Do I?" She shifted in his arms again to reach to brush her fingertips through his hair and trail them down his cheek and along his jaw. "Not sure you could do what? Help people?" She could sense the lack of direction, but she wasn't sure of the full reason behind it, or why he felt he couldn't. She wasn't really driven like Peter or knew how he did things or why, even. "Do you want to?"

[heroslayer]

He turned his head into her fingers, brushing a kiss over them idly. "I need to do something. Taking a break from everything has been nice, but ... " He shrugged, offering her a wry smile. "I know how you feel about wanting to pull your own weight, and I know I couldn't deal with a real job. I couldn't go back to that."

Nor was he certain he could help people as passively as she intended to. He needed to be on the proverbial front lines.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

His feelings flickered through her, from lips to fingertips to soul, and she shifted a bit, uncomfortably. For all that she'd turned pretty far away from her upbringing, bits of it still floated around in her head--she'd always had a fondness for Ruth's story. Her words to Naomi seemed apropos, and mingled somewhere in the back of her head with lyrics from The Calling.

Still...where they were now was a long way from the front lines, and she'd not been anywhere near them save for the one moment that ended with a bullet in her chest. Nevermind a lack of familiarity with the world itself, outside the safety net cast by the carnival, still. She snuggled a little more into his chest, swallowing back those fears. "But this...here...it's a break. It isn't the life you want, need, even if you aren't sure what would be..."

[heroslayer]

Frowning, he shifted away from her, his fingers hooking under her jaw to raise her head to him so that he could hold her eyes steadily, seriously. "You make it sound so -- so cold. Like I don't want to be here with you and Amanda. Like you're just some sort of vacation from everything that's going on outside." He shook his head. "It's not that. This isn't ... "

Again, he shook his head, huffing out a sigh as he searched for a way to put it into his words. He cared about them. Loved her, adored Amanda. His desire to do something greater wasn't because he wanted to escape them or the life they'd made, he just needed to be in motion, needed doing something. In the last however many years and barring the prison Matt had crafted for him, he hadn't stopped once. He'd always been on the move, restless and working towards some sort of goal -- hell, even before he'd become a monster he'd always kept busy, working ridiculous hours at his shop in an effort to both keep busy and avoid his mother -- and to have everything just stop suddenly? It was strange. Wrong.

He wanted to go back to it, to having something to do, to work for, to fight for, but he wanted her there with him, at his side. He decided to point that out, assuming she couldn't see it under his skin. "I need something to do, but I need you there, too."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She frowned as well that he'd misunderstood so much and reached to brush fingers over his jaw slowly willing him to read her as she could read him.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said quietly. "I'm not leaving you. Wherever you go...I'll go with you. We'll go with you. If this isn't what you want...we'll go with you to find what you do."

She was used to being on the move, too, if in a different way, and if having a home was sort of nice, and some of what was out there scared her...he'd be there to keep them safe. She trusted that.

[heroslayer]

He relaxed a little, unaware he'd even tensed in the first place, and pressed in close again, his fingers sliding back up to her hair. "I just wanted to make sure you knew how important you were."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She wasn't sure she could quite believe that, even if she could feel it coming from him, but she wanted to more than she'd ever wanted anything, so she shifted to kiss him briefly before tugging away. "I know," she assured him, giving him a smile. "I think the muffins are done."

If distance was a defense to the half lie, she didn't do it consciously--all her hard work on the muffins going to waste would be a shame, after all.

[heroslayer]

He kissed her back softly and let her go, not letting on as to whether or not the half-lie had set off alarms in his head and more than willing to let her deflect either way. He leaned against the counter, trying to keep from being underfoot, and folded his arms over his chest. "They smell good."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

"Hopefully they taste as good as they smell," she said with a smile as she pulled them out of the oven.

[heroslayer]

"I'm sure they're fine," he promised. He flashed her a smile in return, then pushed away from the counter, turning so he could grab a knife out of the drawers. He set it down, crossed to the refrigerator to get the butter -- you couldn't have muffins without butter -- and set that down, too, next to the knife.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia gave him a smile and lost herself in the comfortable domesticity for a couple of moments, getting a basket to put the muffins in, cursing under her breath when she burned one of her fingers, getting a couple of plates. It was easy to push thoughts of leaving, of things changing, of his restlessness, of her own grief at the idea of leaving him one day through no fault of her own, away in the easy movements, and she let herself for the moment.

[heroslayer]

Sylar watched her for a moment thoughtfully, trying to decide whether or not he should explain why he'd spent all morning in the bathroom, then thought better of it. If she'd noticed and she wanted to know, she'd ask and he'd tell her then. If not, well, the subject was awkward enough to try to fit into casual conversation, and despite the fact that he'd actually made some progress, it didn't change anything. She might be less inclined to leave him now that he could at least grow physically old with her, but he'd still lose her in the end.

He frowned a bit at the thought, and turned back to the butter and the knife hurriedly in an effort to keep her from seeing it. When he felt confident enough that he'd managed to keep from looking entirely sour, he picked both up again and relocated them to the table, already preparing an argument on the off chance she'd actually noticed how dark his expression had been for an instant. If she asked, he'd just been trying to decide whether or not they would be better off at the table.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She caught the frown and wasn't sure what he was upset about. She hoped it was something small, but it was hard to tell, the way things had been. Giving him a little worried smile she moved back to his side, muffins and plates in hand.

"Everything okay?"

[heroslayer]

He made a small, affirmative noise, allowed her another smile, and nodded towards the table. "Just trying to decide whether we should be sitting at the table or not."

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She wasn't sure she bought it, but like most things, she didn't want to push right now and smiled back. "I think it'd be nice."

[heroslayer]

"I thought so, too." Which was why he'd brought the butter and the knife he'd gotten over to the table. Sort of. That would be his excuse if she asked. For now, though, he simply shrugged widely and drifted away from her, helping himself to the chair he usually sat in when they took meals at the table.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

After a moment Lydia followed him, bringing the basket of muffins and the plates, setting the basket down first then a plate at each place before taking her own chair and reaching for a hot muffin, giving him another little smile. "What do you want to do today?" It was such a banal question after the restlessness she felt under his skin, but there was a need for some sort of normalcy and she didn't know what else to say to keep from finding herself lost in tears again.

[heroslayer]

"I don't know," he answered, leaning across the table to grab a muffin of his own. He pushed his thumbs into it, ignoring the fact that it was still hot inside, and pried it apart with passing viciousness, setting it down on his plate when he finished so he could reach for the knife and butter. "Maybe we should go out or something. Take a walk on the beach."

It was still cold, true, but he'd never said anything about going near the water.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia cut her muffin open more delicately with her knife, careful of the warmth, watching the viciousness in his movements with a little concern, waiting her turn for the butter.

"A walk sounds nice. The sun's out, at least."

[heroslayer]

He slid the butter across the table to her and let his eyes drift towards the window. "It is. And if it gets too cold, we can always come back. Or find somewhere that has hot chocolate. Or something." It wasn't as though anything in town was too far from anything else, after all.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

The comments were simple, mundane even, but Lydia felt them loosening the knot in her chest. Life would go on, and he wasn't going to leave her, and it would be all right. Somehow. She gave him a smile. "Hot chocolate sounds good, even now." Which since she had coffee was possibly overkill, but it still conjured up a snugglier feel, and the thought of his arms around her and she liked that.

[heroslayer]

"I thought so." Or, well, he did now that they were talking about it and it was more than an idle suggestion. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had hot chocolate -- maybe right before the mess at Kirby Plaza? -- and he found he was suddenly craving it.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She smiled a little watching him. "That coffee shop down on the boardwalk probably has it," she suggested.

[heroslayer]

"Maybe we'll stop there first." Or maybe just stop there, get their hot chocolate and come back to the house. One or the other, though regardless he flashed Lydia a smile before taking a bite of his muffin.