Jordan stretched. His eyes were still closed, but he was sucked up all nice and pretty in that just-woke-up-almost-still-asleep state. His shirt was gone, of course, he never slept in that. The night before he had pulled it off and threw it over the back of the foot of the bed. His boots and pants too, because who can sleep in denim and still pretend to be comfortable? Settling his shoulders back down onto the sheets, he rolled up onto his side and reached across the bed to wrap his arm back around Erin. Then... blinked his eyes open. Jordan pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders to work out some knots that refused to ever, ever go away.
"Mornin', Skirts," he said softly, pulling the blankets off of his legs and then swinging them out over the side of the bed to stand. The sound of his voice caused the englishwoman to cringe inwardly. It was easier to make her decision than to implement it, and as the seconds between his awaking and approaching neared, she knew she had to speak. Though, something was distracting her-- the falling leaves, the changing of color. It was almost ironic that this had all began with the coming of spring.
New hope-- she had called it.
And he had agreed, jumped on her bandwagon, let themselves be taken for a ride that went too hard, too fast. Moments played in her head that made her smile, a little. They were quick as a zoetrope, each picture telling the story of how they went from meeting on a darkened dock in the cool night air-- a married woman and her silly friend-- to sharing a bed at the crack of dawn. The beginning of fall.
"The leaves are changing." She said it softly, not turning from the window. A touch of something in her voice that was hard to decipher. Sadness, perhaps. Resolve, too. She sighed a little, letting a hand drop to her side. A bit of a shake to her head and then she tilted it to one side as she thought. "It's fall." A simple statement that resonated in the room, though it was almost silent.
"Yeah," another soft murmur. Barefoot, he stepped over his boots and slinked up behind her. Hands raised, fingers curled lightly around her elbows, and he pressed his lips softly against the nape of her neck, just under the fall of her hair. "Can't say I'll miss the summer. It's been a scorcher. I like fall the best."
"...yeah..." His touch shocked Erin, made her uncomfortable, unsure. She turned, suddenly, in his arms, head tilted up to look at him. Her eyes were red, and a little glassy, though it wasnt like she had mascarra all down her face or anything. Her head tilted again as she watched his face, lips pursed in what was a neutral expression. "I think I like the spring." Then she nodded in agreement with herself. In the spring this felt lie it could have worked. In the spring everything was possibility. In the spring everything was new and exciting. In the spring he was there all the time. In the spring nothing mattered. Caution was for fools. It wasn't spring anymore.
"Jordan..."
"Spring's alright," he murmured, peering down into her face. Erin suddenly had the urge to laugh. The irony. Of course he hadn't caught her analogy, her allusion, but to him so little seemed to be different. Bedhead had taken its toll upon Jordan. Tangled spikes of hair stuck out all over the place except down into his face. Eyes were open, even though their corners were matted with what crusty stuff that people call 'sleep.'
"I've missed seeing you like this, Skirts," he said, almost idly. It made Erin stiffen just a touch, at least on the inside. It weakened the resolve of the next statement. If he missed her, she was wrong, right? He loved her, then. He needed her, then. She was his rock, and it was wrong to leave him without her... His thumbs curled and slid along the outside of her elbows, and he yawned softly. But at least he had sense enough to turn his head. "Oh, sorry about that," smacking his lips together, he looked back at her, eyebrows lifted up a little bit. "What's up, Skirts?"
It was do or die. Answer or obfuscate. A moment, their first moment, really-- the first real talk. It flashed through her mind. What was once something she held in the highest regard from him. The reason she loved him, even-- it was now the reason she had to give up.
"No one should have to change you, Skirts. And you shouldn't want to have to change for anyone. That's my rule, anyway -- take it or leave it, just like it is."
Erin couldn't change Jordan. And so she decided to leave him.
"I can't do this anymore." The words had all the pain in them that it took to say them. Erin couldn't look at him when she said it. Cause then, maybe, she'd take it back. And she couldn't. The past five hours had her convinced. Her hair was in her face again, but she didn't bother to move it. She just kept looking somewhere just south of his shoulder, studying the floor behind him. There was a gouge in the floor boards she was trying to remember. It was keeping her distracted enough not to cry anymore than she already had. "I thought I could, but..." And she let herself fade off to keep her voice from cracking.
"Can't... wake... up in the morning?" Jordan did have a habit of trying to deflect bad stuff with humor. No sooner than he said it, though, did he let one of his hands drop from her arm to his own side, and he nodded slowly. She wasn't the only one who found something on the floor worth an assiduous study. When he spoke again, his voice was low. Not just soft -- faint. "What'd I do? Or what'd I not do?"
The way he said it. The tone of his voice... Erin had thought her heart couldn't have broken anymore than it already had. But it could. It took every ounce of willpower, everything she had, not to just wrap him up in her arms and tell him to forget it. Or to move the conversation elsewhere. Or to do anything but say the rest of what she had to say. But she was a strong little girl, wasn't she?
"No.. you didn't do anything... I just..." She looked back, suddenly and for a second before shaking her head. "I love you, Jordan. And it only gets... I just can't..." She closed her eyes for a long moment, raking a hand through her hair. She paused and looked back, attempting to lock eyes with him, if he let her. "Do you love me? Can you? Because if you say you can... or you do... then..." Then what? She didn't have an answer to that, because she was so sure of the answer. Erin tried to keep her face as neutral as possible. To keep the pain out of it. The indecision. "God, I dont' want to lose you, but how long can I..." There was the crack in her voice she knew was coming. "How long can I wait for you?"
"It..." Jordan Knox. He was never one to really let hide what his emotions were. In fact, one could almost say he wore them on the sleeve of his shirt that he didn't quite have on at the moment. For his own part, he looked like he had just been poleaxed. He wore his pain openly in his eyes when they met, then turned away. Just a half-turn, though. His fingers actually gripped her elbow, now, instead of just touching. A light grip. His voice was still faint. "Love. It always ruins everything." No, he didn't quite answer any of the questions she had just posed to him. But, in a way, he had. "...I'm sorry, Erin. I can't." If it were even possible to get more soft of voice.
His eyes ripped her apart. She was hurting him. Sure, she was in just as much pain-- the tearing wasn't organic, it wasn't natural, they weren't done. They hadn't followed their path to the end, worn each other out, realized they weren't meant for each other. In fact, Erin believed that they were. That they were the perfect pair. That it was all about timing.
They were too late. Or too early.
"I know. I knew." She stepped closer to him. Partically because she needed him to keep her strong, and partially because she didn't want him to see her cry. It was something she was so good at hiding from him so many times. The utter turmoil inside of her at times. She mastered it for him so many times.. but it was beyond containment. "If you could... if you even thought you could.. I'd wait forever." The admission hurt almost as much as the truth behind it. Her words were just as soft as his. Just as hidden behind the soft chirping of awakening birds and the starting of morning traffic. "But I can't get any more... " Another chance to fade away. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to, but I..." And she lost herself to the emotion for a minute, unable to finish.
Taking a deep breath, he looked back at her, and forced a smile. It was a small smile, but at least it was there. "I... I don't... I don't want you to wait. Not on me. It's alright though, Erin. I understand."
Suddenly things felt wrong. He just... he seemed to turn off. To melt away. Like it didn't matter. Or perhaps it did matter, but he wasn't going to call her back. He wasn't going to change her predicted outcome. And Erin stepped in the rest of the way. Her head hit his chest before the sob started and so it didn't make a noise. It was so quiet. So gentle. No screaming, no throwing things, no blame. Just a silent death to something that had lived just as quietly. In ballrooms and on rooftops.
Erin saw it coming all along, and she couldnt' stop herself. The warning signs, the dreams, the reluctance she fought against. And part of her was proud for bowing out like this. For being strong, taking the high road of it. Not making him do it to her. There was something more humane in her doing it to herself. Not that it hurt any less. She wasn't sure what else to say. What else there was to say. Then it came to her.
"I dont' want to. " Through broken breaths, it was whispered into his chest. "I dont' want to be a minute without you. But, that's the problem." A pause to wrap her arms around his waist. "I just can't hope anymore. The leaves are changing. Everything's changing. Dying. Ending. I can't ask you to lie to me again, and I can't hang on to my own lies."
"It's... it's always better if there's not any lying." Jordan wrapped her up in his arms, his own slipping over her shoulders to cling to her back. "I hope you find what you need, Erin. What I can't give." Turning his chin down, his lips pursed and pressed a tender kiss against her scalp through her hair. "Take care of yourself. You deserve everything you could ever want in life."
And it was like he was saying goodbye. He was saying goodbye! This was supposed to take time! This was supposed to be slow... linger. It needed to linger... she wasn't ready to just give it all up! She couldn't just let him walk away now. She hadn't said everything yet, she hadn't given him everything yet. Panic was collecting in her mind.
"This is goodby then? Forever?" Why did she sound so surprised? Why was it so devestating? It was what she asked for, but not what she expected. Not that she wanted him to beg. To hold on. If he had, that would be more false hope. More things to cling to. The kiss caused another sob to escape. Would it be selfish for her to want him to cry? Want him to feel this as deeply as she was? Even if it was, she was feeling pretty selfish. And she didn't let him go. Didn't even ease up.
"Just because I can't be your girlfriend..." The last word was choked out. Barely existed, in fact. She had never called herself that, not to him. But there was nothing to be scared of anymore. He couldn't run off if she pushed him. "But you'll always be my friend. More than a friend. You saved my life, and I won't forget it." Fingers pressed into his back, memorizing how it felt. "I'll always be there for you if you need me." It was a promise she had said many times to many people, but hadn't really meant it completely until now. "Jordan, please stay safe. Stay here. The world is a better place with you in it. You create joy out of nothing."
"Not forever," he said without hesitation. Then added, "only if you want it to be forever. It's cliche, but I still want to be friends. I can check on you. Maybe we can play that game of monopoly we never got around to doing." His smile was weak again, and he leaned back so his fingers could find her face now. "And you know I can't stay. Not here, anyway. Nadia needs me; she's out there somewhere. She saved my life, too, and as long as there's power in me to do something about it, I'm not going to let her life wither away in Technocrat hands. I... I hope you understand, Skirts."
"I do." She had meant alive. But there was no need to correct him. His resolve strengthened her resolve. And that was good for now. "Write to me sometimes, though? Just so I know..." Erin let him draw her face away from him, and tilted it to look up. It was red, teartstained. She was beautiful that way, maybe becuase it wasn't controled. Something so rare for her that it was radiant. Real. As real as the laughter when they danced, or the way she said his name when they kissed. Raw emotion from the queen of repression. "Just knowing is enough." She attempted a smile.
Erin wanted to show him she was okay. Show him this wasn't the end of her. Just an adjustment, like falling leaves, like dropping temperatures. It would all pass in time. Everything passed in time. Wounds healed. And that voice in the back of her head said it too. Hers would heal. And maybe someday, someday his would, too. And things would be different. But that was the smallest thought, hidden thought-- the one that made this okay to do. Because it didn't have to be permanent. Nothing was permanent, right? And his face was as young looking as it ever was. And his hair was cute all messed up as it was. And she wanted to take it all back. Slide back into bed and wake him with a kiss. Wake him with anything but this. But it was done now. The words said. There was nothing to undo it. Like ink poured into water, things were irrevicably changed. And maybe, just maybe, they were both something new. And maybe both better for it. But that was too much to really hope for. Right?
"Letting you go isn't the same as losing you." A quiet whisper as she searched for eyes once more.
"No. Not gone forever, that way." And leaned closer again, pressing one last, light kiss against her forehead, and used his finger that was still close to her face to wipe away a falling tear. His own eyes were glazed, as if tears might fall, but really, Jordan Knox lost most of his tears a long time ago. This... this sucked, yes. But, in a very sad way, this was also what he was used to. Love ruins everything. Every time he got close to someone, this is what always happened.
There was......a severing. Not really a cutting, but it might as well have been. Magick was the unnatural aspect of existance. Of taking willpower and forcing Reality to dance to your tune. The link between them, the Chain, the emotional bond that fed him what she was feeling, it was the unnatural part. Magick was keeping it there; magick and will. He released that will, then, allowed the Quintessence bound in it to filter away into the great Tellurian from whence it came, and the little bundle of emotions and physical sensations in the back of his mind that was Erinalle Dunbridge faded with it, like smoke.
"I'll write you. I'll even leave it where I leave it now, when I get the time." That all-too-familiar silvery bar of light appeared behind him, stretched downward, then rotated out to a view of that same couch from the night before. His arms tightened on her one more time. "Stay strong, Skirts."
The portal opened and it was real, and it was over, and she was panicking. She thought she had more time. And she didn't want to let him go. It was a cling, the last hug. It was desperation. Something came to mind, and though Erin wasn't sure what it meant, what she meant by it, she said it anyway...
"I'm not saying never, I'm just saying not now." It was that same low whisper as she started to let him go. Wanted to let him go. That was what you did when you loved someone, right? You let them go. It was just the way things were. The way they had to be. You let go and you prayed. You prayed like hell they came back. But they never did, did they? You usually just forgot it. Just let it fade away with all the other emotions you can't remember. Past scraped knees, hurt feelings. It just... died. It faded into something you only thought about on rainy days when the what if's of life came forward. The what ifs that piled up. If she hadn't done this. if she had waited, could he have come around? Why wouldn't that stop popping into her head?
"Kiss me." The words surprised even her. She wasn't sure where they came from, but once said, she agreed. Though he couldnt' feel it. Not anymore. And it was probably better for him-- not to have the pain, the guilt, the utter lonliness weighing on him. Easier for him to walk away, at least. She envied him that. "I need to remember." She never looked more like a child and yet perhaps she never looked more like a woman. She could master emotion and wield it like a weapon. That, also, surprised her.
Jordan didn't say anything at first. His eyes traveled down from hers, across her cheek to the tip of her cute little nose, then down to her lips. Finally, though, he shook his head almost imperceptibly. His voice was fainter than it had been before, almost nonexistant completely,
"Then remember the happy times, Erin. I don't want your last memory of me to be a goodbye kiss before I walk away. Remember the waltz, the tango, remember the rooftop. Even remember me trying to peak down your shirt at the Inn. Remember anything about me at all except this." He pressed his palm onto her cheek, and turned away to pull free of her arms. Boots and pants phased. In one instant, they were where he had left them. In the next, they were simply sitting on the couch through the other side of the gateway. "...Until again, Skirts."
Erin's head turned almost lightening quick to press a kiss to the palm before it moved. Gentle, it was. A last expression of just how important he was to her transfered to his palm. He let her go and she was cold. Freezing. It was more than his body heat she was losing, but the dream of happily ever after. Of more nights like the rooftop. Of watching stupid goofy movies, and flowers in her hair. The perfect life she had concocted in her mind late at night when she was hoping for him to appear. The giddiness she felt when he would appear out of nowhere and grab her.
"Stay safe, Jor. Stay alive." A hand reached out after him, as if she could stay as close as possible for as long
as possible. He was backing away and she was watching him, another tear falling. "I love you." But it wasn't spoken. Her lips moved, but nothing came out. Silent as a prayer, it would dissapear forever if he wasn't looking.
Maybe it was deliberate. Maybe he wasn't thinking. She had a few of them, so it might've just been automatic, the way he left his shirt there slung over the foot of the bed. He stepped backward, fingers sliding down her arm until only their fingers touched. There was no barrier, no appearance of water, nothing at all that seemed to seperate his motel room and her bedroom through the gateway. Another step, and that tentative touch was broken, his hand pulling back through the gateway onto his side, his bare feet sinking into the cheap, plush carpet. It wasn't lost forever. He saw it. His lips even moved into one of his ever-ready smiles, the one he usually wore when he was trying to cheer someone up or, you know, just enjoy life. A fond smile. A warm smile. An affectionate smile. But that was all.
"I know," he said softly. And, just like that, the shimmering gateway rotated out of view until it was just a single shimmering line of blue-white light suspended in the air, and then winked out of existence.
Erin crumpled from the exhaustion of it. It was hard what she had just done. Her knees buckled and she was left kneeling on the floor, hand held out to where he had just been. Now, now she would take it all back. The silence of the room. The quietness of it. The fact that she couldn't have that vauge hope of him anymore. That he would come back. Grab her in an an alley, be in her bed when she opened a door. And she would stay there for awhile. Kneeling on her bedroom floor. And remembering. Replaying every moment they had in their shorlived affair. Because that's what he left her in the end. No more tears, not yet. No yelling or ranting or even praying that it would open again right then. She just slumped back on her feet, closed her eyes and remembered.
"I'll always hold out some hope. That you'll say it. That it'll happen. It'll tear things apart eventually." Erin whispered to him.
"Something always is. " Was his only reply.
