[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

[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.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

"That sounds like a good plan." After the walk, some hot chocolate would be great. Lydia held her breath a little waiting to see how he liked the muffins.

[heroslayer]

He took another bite after he'd finished the first, this one bigger, and offered her a closed-mouth smile. Considering the fact that he was now all but devouring the muffin, it was probably safe to assume that the muffins were good, despite the fact that he said nothing to that effect. He'd get there in a moment, after he'd finished this one but before he started on another.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia chuckled at the way he was digging in, and took it as a good sign. She finally took a bite, herself, and sighed, pleased. They were better than edible, they were actually good, which for her first attempt was something she was going to take as a win.

[heroslayer]

"They're pretty good, right?" he mumbled around a mouthful of muffin. Not that he had any doubts, but he wanted her to agree with him, to admit that she'd done something well, since she so often seemed so convinced she had so few talents.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

"They are," Lydia said, with a pleased smile, though she blushed a little at having to agree. It was hard to praise herself, but she couldn't really demur. "I'm glad you like them."

[heroslayer]

"I told you I would." Mostly. He'd said that anything she could come up with would be better than anything he could have, and he'd been right. Very right. This was much better than some of his rather pathetic attempts at cooking.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

Lydia shot him an amused look at that, remembering well what he'd said, but she wasn't going to argue, either. "Maybe I'll try a few more things..." They didn't need to eat quite so much take out.

[heroslayer]

"Like what?" He wasn't opposed, just curious. Home cooked food would be a welcome change as long as she didn't start making tuna fish sandwiches constantly, as his mother had.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

"I don't know?" She said with a shrug and a laugh. "Stir frys? Those seem pretty simple--just chop and cook and stir until they're done, and add sauce. Maybe some casseroles or something..."

[heroslayer]

"Think you could make quiche?" Those seemed relatively simple as far as he understood them, and they seemed relatively versatile. She could make them for breakfast, so they didn't get tired of her muffins or his own waffles, assuming he felt possessed to cook, or she could make them for lunch or dinner. It was all a matter of what she put in them, as far as he knew, and quiche sounded almost as good as hot chocolate did right now, for some reason.

[thepainted-lady.livejournal.com]

She nibbled on her lower lip, considering, then gave a cautious nod. "Maybe. If I bought the crust at the store. I don't think I feel up to tackling a pie crust."

She'd always heard Carol say how hard they were.