Lost in the rain }} Ever

[rumour]

Consciousness was but a mere memory by the time Ever lifted her from the shower, a semblance of factuality devoid from her current reality. Her half sleep seemed to skip parts of time – one minute she could feel the warmth of the water on her skin, the next she was aware of goospimples rising on her arms and legs. Pain and ache ebbed and flowed between these two states, forgotten in unconsciousness, in the peace of blackness and devoid of sound where in waking it was ever present, but soothed by the swipe of soft cotton, gentle fingertips and the murmur of a voice she recognised and clung to.

It was this voice that pulled her back again, her eyes stirring beneath her closed lids, though she didn’t catch what was said. The brief imprint of his lips on her skin made her smile, and Rumour curled into him, stealing and sharing warmth as needed, taking comfort in the closeness of his skin, the rhythm of his heart beat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It was a lullaby to the exhausted and defeated girl, and this time she slipped fully into sleep.

Though a deep sleep, one her body and mind needed to begin the repair of the worst of the damage, it was far from peaceful. The fox in her dreams – the large part of herself that she had denied for the greater part of her life, embodied itself in her dreams and chased her. Some night’s she chased the fox, other night’s she was the fox, and tonight was one of these nights. But tonight the fox was being chased by a wolf, a panther, a bear – an ever shifting ever changing monster, teasing her with the ease of its fluidity when she was trapped in her small, frail and defenceless body. It bit at her and it spat at her, and she relived the torture of the night in animal form, whimpering in her sleep and clutching at Ever’s skin, quiet weak movements that barely hinted at the terror of her nightmares.

After waking once for a single moment, she clutched at Ever’s arm, afraid that he was gone. Afraid she had never left. Afraid that the blackness she found herself within was not even life, but purgatory itself. The warmth of his skin however assured her otherwise, and once more she closed her eyes. This time the darkness that claimed her was tranquil, devoid of foes and evil, devoid of terror. A few hours of restfulness that the other was so sure she deserved, even if Rumour believed the complete opposite – even if she believed every laceration, bruise and wound, every moment of dream filled terror was deserved.

She wasn’t sure how long she slept, nor did she have any way of knowing. She couldn’t see the light filtering through the curtains, could not tell the difference between light and dark. It was part of her condition that had slowly worsened... immediately after the accident she had been able to see colours. Now? She was lucky to get even flashes in her dark world. What she was aware of however, was that this wasn’t her bed. For a second she tensed, not remembering where she was or how she had gotten there. But with waking came the pain of her injuries, and the memory of what happened and she relaxed when she realised it was Ever’s breathing she could hear next to her.

With no small effort, she lifted her hand to her face, rubbing her eyes and wincing at the pain this produced. Great. She knew what that meant . Gently, she examined her face with her fingertips, the softness of her cheeks that indicated fractured bones, the tender way her nose felt, the bump on it’s ridge, more pronounced now than the last time it had been broken. She couldn’t bear to do it anymore, to count her injuries this time, and she let her hand fall back to her chest, curling once more into the comfort and safety of the man laid next to her, ignoring the world and the inevitability of her situation.

Soon she knew, she would have to go home. Soon the sleep fatigue would fade and the full extent of her pain would return with one wrong move. For now however, she clung to the relative indifference of dull aches and ignorance.

[Ever Goodman]

There would be no sleep for Ever tonight. At least not purposely, anyway. He knew she was safe from him here, but far from being out of harms way. Her body was not a wonderland, but a battlefield; riddled with adversaries that could kill her as surely as any weapon. His fists. That man’s fists were the worst kind of weapon. God he wanted to murder than man. Tonight.
And Ever struggled with the fact that his decision to let her sleep instead of racing her to the hospital was purely selfish. He couldn’t fathom the thought of parting from her warmth; not even for a moment as the doctors and hospital staff tended to her injuries. He figured for now holding her close would keep the fissure inside her from coming apart, as well as his heart from breaking any more than it already had.

Instead of resting Ever watched the gentle ascend and collapse of Rumour’s chest while she breathed after thankfully she had given in to sleep. Every so often Ever would lean his face close to hers and close his eyes; brushing his lips against her parted one to feel the barely there exhale. To make sure she was still breathing…

And when her dreams became fitful, and Rumour thrashed lightly and whimpered and clung to him, the young man held her tighter, willing the fox to end the chase, if it was the fox at all. She always dreamed about that wily little creature but never had she seemed so frightened of the nightly vision. Ever clenched his jaw and debated waking the woman so that maybe she could slip back into a dreamless sleep. Rest was what she needed and what she would not get if all forty winks were haunted by hallucinations that made her shift and cry.
But she seemed to stir herself awake; clinging to Ever’s bicep as if he might be trying to escape. He curled her body more into his and reached the arm across to smooth her hair behind her ear, whispering to her that he was right where she’d left him.
“I’m still here Rumour…I’m never leaving…” And he bent to press his lips to her brow, where a fine sheen of dampness had followed the night terror.

She eased back into sleep not long after this ephemeral waking and he followed reluctantly; by mistake. One second he was looking at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table that read 3:00 am. Thinking that she would likely sleep better now, and longer, he had to force himself not to slip out then, and make his way to her house. To take care of what so obviously needed to take care of. There was no doubt in his mind that Rumy would go back; eventually. Perhaps if he showed the old man the light Rumour would be going back to a changed man. A father.

He wasn’t sure when he’s closed his eyes or how long he’d slept, but when Rumour curled her body around his the man’s dark russet eyes came open to daylight through the veneer blinds. Laid on his back, Ever shifted a little, pulling the arm that had been under his neck out to wrap across her lithe frame.
His voice was husky from sleep when he said, “Maybe the fox was always running away for a reason. Maybe she was trying to get you to follow her. I think you finally did, Rumour.”
And he smiled; a real, satisfied smile. He was so fucking proud of her.

[rumour]

The first indication Rumour got that the man she had pressed and curled herself against was awake was the subtle shift in his breathing and his arms moving to wrap around her skin, to pull her closer. Not that she believed she could get any closer than she was now without actually laying atop him. Her head already lay on his shoulder, her body pressed along his side. Evers fingers on her own skin made Rumour shiver and she lifted the hand curled at her breast to his chest, shifting her fingers until her palm lay over his heart. The soft thud against her fingers was comforting as she lay with her eyes closed.

She opened them finally when he spoke, tilting her head slightly to look up at him. Her words came out raw and whispery, affected by sleep, pain, and the need for a drink. ”What?” It was a strange question perhaps to ask given what he had said, but her still muddled mind was confused. ”Why? Fox? Was.... was i talking in my sleep again?” She shifted, sitting up and wincing as the movement caused pain in her ribs, at another pain in her side. Reaching across herself, her fingers came away from her skin wet and her brow crinkled. Reality was returning, and with it came the realisation that she should probably listen to her pain for once instead of ignoring it for favour o not appearing weak to the man who loved to take her strength from her. But Ever wasn't that man... was he?

If nothing else however, her wounds kept her mind from other things. It was something to focus on, something to cling too where Ever had been that pillar the night before. If she could do that... focus on one thing at a time rather than trying to work everything out and she felt like she could function without falling apart. With that in mind, and the pain in her side, Rumour twisted her head to look at him. ”Have you got a... a sewing kit? I think... i don’t want to get..... ” She frowned, not sure just what she was asking as her fingers went back to the wound.

This wasn’t the first time Rumour had stitched herself up, even blind. The stitches were never neat, the scar always wonky, but it was better than going to the hospital. It was better than the questions and the police that always came up to her room to check on her. Better than the constant stress of a hospital she couldn’t stand, and just recently she had been there far too much. ” H... How bad is it?” She asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

[Ever Goodman]

He always opened his mouth when he shouldn’t have. Ever’s blithe smile faded as soon as the revelation had escaped his parted lips, for he knew how the clandestine woman worked hard to keep her secrets inside; even from him. Rumour often complained about that fox stealing what should be her peaceful hours and leaving her tired and bemused upon waking, so why when it was obvious from her tossing and turning during the night did he have to go and mention that wily creature now? As if it was something beneficial to her?

He mirrored her slow movements, easing up against the headboard and twisting slightly to face her. Ever’s chocolate eyes were caught as usual; in her far-away crystalline stare. He was the fly ever caught in the glittering web. And he never wanted to escape.
But it was inevitable that those russet orbs would fall to her fingertips, tracking the movement of those digits to her wound and coming away with a scarlet tinge. Ever gasped, and his eyes widened; a strangled moan fleeing from those parted lips as he saw the extent of the tear in her side and how the sheets were stained in various shades of red to rust. The man was frozen in place for a moment, the guilt he felt for allowing her injuries to bleed out so much when he could have done more consuming him so that he could barely blink let alone move his limbs or answer her.
The request for a sewing kit succeeded however, and the quiet moan that had escaped him before echoed again, this time much more audibly. The thought of such rudimentary care sickened him; an image of a gleaming needle pushing through her pliable skin raising the bile in his throat.

Ever shook his head, lifting a shaking hand through his hair as his eyes sought out the drawer across from the bed where he knew what she asked for lived in a neat little pouch; generously provided by the motel. Next to it lived a bible, and neither the sewing kit nor the tomb had been touched since his arrival. But where there was panic thinking about the young woman stitching her gaping wounds a sudden calm washed over him and Ever’s eyes dropped to his own body, where various scars riddled his tawny skin.
He brought a palm up to his chest, stroking the rigid skin of his pectoral muscle. He dropped the fingertips to another place on his arm where the skin had once been flayed open and then resealed. There must have been twenty of them that he could see; old injuries and scars that had long since healed and meshed with the flat skin that surrounded it. He could do it for her. He had done it before.

Suddenly springing into action Ever went to the wash room and collected a towel which he dampened in the sink. He quickly returned to his partner in crime and brushed it over her fever damped forehead before gingerly placing it against her side. “Hold this for me baby. I’m gonna’ fix you.” Ever purposely ignored Rumour’s inquiry, finding he couldn’t confess that it was worse than he’d ever seen. Leaving her side once more, the amnesiac hunter found the sewing kit as well as a bottle of pain pills. They were left over from Rumour’s last trip to the doc and there weren’t many, but it was better than nothing. Along with the kit and the pill, Ever grabbed a bottle of whiskey that had been collecting dust on the bedside table and dumped all of it on the bed. The first thing he did was unscrewed the lid and take a quick sip to calm his nerves, passing it to the bleeding woman whom he had sat next to. “You’ll need some of this.” He told her evenly, trying to detach himself from the situation lest he find he couldn’t do drag the needle through her skin. Shaking the bottle of pills, he dropped them into her other hand. “Take one or two of those with the swallow, Rumour.”

Once directions were given the young man broke open the kit, trying three times to thread the needle before actually succeeding. His hands were steady but his mind was erratic; alternating between seeing Rumour sitting there before him in the dawn brightened room to somewhere dark and distant; when he had done this once before.

Plucking a lighter from the bedside table Ever held the flame against the silver needle, finally lifting his gaze to his best friend. “Rumy…this is gonna’ hurt like hell…but…just trust me?”

[rumour]

Rumour was left to her own devices, to silence as Ever began to move about. Her eyes followed the sound of his movements as she held her side. The wound at least no longer gushed but weeped, the slow flow of crimson from her skin not immediately dangerous, the stains on the sheets from nothing more than prolonged exposure rather than dangerous amounts of bloodloss. Still, her eyebrows raised when he called her baby – it was not something he had called her before, but for now she let it pass, putting it down to her still foggy mind. It was always kitty, thanks to her failed tree climbing escapades, or Foxy thanks to the tattoo that curled itself along her side and across her back, decorating her skin. It was with a wince that she traced the wound in her side, hoping that it did not cut into her ink. For the woman who had not seen herself in eight years, it was perhaps the one thing she could be truly vain about.

Closing her pale eyes when she felt the damp towel pressed against her forehead, she kept them closed as she did what he asked, pressing the light, wet fabric against her wound with a grimace. She had no way of knowing if he could do what he said he was. She had stitched herself up once before, after watching closely a nurse stitch a wound in her foot gained from stepping on glass, but it had been crude and poorly done. She knew however, from that night spent learning what each other looked like, that he had his own scars. Numerous scars.

Taking the pills as they were pressed into her hand, Rumour nodded and took them, swallowing the whisky with a grimace as it burned trail down her throat and into her belly. Knowing indeed that it was going to hurt, she gulped the amber fire liquid once more before handing the bottle back, rubbing her throat with her free hand. She could hear the lighter in the background, the soft hiss of the gas and flame, and she could guess at what he was doing – the idea needless to say did nothing to make her feel any better about the whole thing. No stranger to pain, that did not mean that Rumour enjoyed it. When possible, she would much prefer to simply avoid it.

”Ever... ” She reached out with her hand to grasp his forearm, opening her eyes once more to search for his face in her eternal darkness. ”Ever... I trust you. Only you. ” She told him, the seriousness in her voice mimicking the words. Her trust, her feelings towards the man in front of her, who had refused to be pushed away despite her best efforts, were the very reason Rumour had found herself outside his door last night.

Closing her eyes once more, Rumour released her arm and instead curled her fingers in the sheets around her, lifting her arm out of the way and across herself. She gritted her teeth in ready-ness for the piercing pain she knew was about to come, but even she had not anticipated it. It drew a pained gasp from her lips until she sunk her teeth into the metal of her tongue bar, twisting her hand in the fabric at her side. Despite herself, Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, forced down her cheeks as she squeezed her lids together, dampening her dark lashes.

For Rumour, it didn’t end soon enough. She loosed her grip on the bedclothes only once the needle had stopped moving and the thread had been tied off. The whisky and pills churned in her gut and she lay down, suddenly dizzy as she breathed heavily through her mouth, the combined mixture of the two keeping her eyes closed and tugging at her consciousness, encouraging the numbness of sleep.

[Ever Goodman]

This calm had come out of no where. It had taken the young man in its powerful grasp and held him steady; the engrained actions from days forgotten seeping through his limbs and guiding them with practiced swiftness and control. Even when the whiskey bottle was passed back to him and the amnesiac lifted it to his lips to absently swallow the spicy amber liquor he did not stray from the task at hand. The needle caught a bright orange glow on its tip and he knew it was ready for her smooth olive skin.
Ever’s usually careless face was a mask of emptiness. Somehow, forced back into a mindset that only existed in dreams now the young man focused on the angle at which he held the materials in his hand and the length and position of the wound instead of the sounds Rumour would make as the sharp point pierced her side.

But her hand on his bicep chased that stalwartness away in less than a second; the words that slipped from Rumy’s lips gripping the pounding organ in his chest as sure as a tangible vice. Once again his gaze was locked in that crystalline web of her eyes and a groan of grief fled from between his parted lips.
He had come to believe what she said though he had been denying it for weeks. The shift that had taken place in their fucked up relationship was something that he hadn’t been able to ignore. It had left him wanting; needing more, but to hold on to his sanity as well as the woman he cherished Ever had forced his wishes to the wayside. It was best for them both.

Now though, lost in her empty, searching eyes and her expectant face Ever felt his heart breaking. He was going to lose her. He had finally caught her, but somehow he knew that he would have to let her go.

“Rumour…” The young man wanted to say something, anything. He needed to tell her all those things he had only whispered lying next to her while she slumbered. Ever wanted to confess that she had been wrong. Love wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t damaging. It was true and it gave you the kind of strength that was flowing through him as potent as an electric charge. It was not a poison, but an emotional surge.
“I love you.” He finally whispered, and pressed a feverish kiss over her mouth that left him drained when he forced himself to pull away. It was as if he had breathed all the life and strength into her.

And then to bracing himself for what he had to do the young man bent over her lithe form, eyes narrowed in concentration as he pushed the needle into the pliable skin around her injury. Each time the pointed tip penetrated the sensitive membrane Rumour would loose a quiet whimper from her throat. Each time it sliced into Ever’s soul as deep as a sword. The tears that begun to leak down her paling cheeks could have been acid on his skin. His own cheeks burned and became damp and he realized he was weeping quietly as well.

When the deed was done the forgetful male felt so tight in the chest it was impossible to breathe. As tenderly as he could Ever helped Rumour lay back into the gentle embrace of the mattress and pulled the covers up around her trembling body.
Pushing her sweat dampened hair away from her closed lids he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing his own eyes and praying his simple doctoring was enough.
“Sleep now, Kitty.” He told her while his mouth was still pressed against her head, and twhen he rose above her Ever just watched; hoping she would listen to him, for once.

[rumour]

Those three words stole the very breath from Rumour chest, and for a moment she was non-responsive to his kiss until the very end, instinct taking over a she kissed him back for those last few lingering seconds. The girl hadn’t realised her eyes had closed until she came to open, wishing for not the first time in her eight years of blindness that she could see the man whose face lingered near hers, so close she could still feel the heat of his skin, the soft, feather like touches of his his breath across her cheeks. But then that two as gone, and Rumour was left in the somewhat catatonic inducing throes of her mind, and the reeling effects of those three words.

They were words that had lead men into war and brought entire empires crumbling to the dusty ground on which they had been built. They were words that were nothing more than inadequate adjectives thrown together by humanity that had no true grasp of what those feelings really meant. Those three words that were too small for the immense emotion that they stood for. They were nothing. Meaningless. And yet... they held so much power within their syllables, enough to make the girl on the bed question her entire life. Her entire purpose. They were words that Rumour had spent half her life seeking to hear and the other half running from, deciding that they were deceitful. Nonsensical. Not meant for her. Words that she could not bring herself to return, despite the way her heart leapt around in her chest.

Pain was her saviour then, the pain of the needle stitching her skin back together, one hand repairing the wound another had made. Any life, any strength he had given with his lips, that had not been stolen from her already, was now leeched by the simple action of healing, and when it was finally over Rumour was glad for the help to lay down, the hands that pulled the sheet over .trembling skin. She felt cold and she felt sick, and at the same time she felt so very warm. She trembled beneath those covers and closed her eyes as the lips once again made contact with her skin.

Had she imagined what he had said? Was it part of a feverish hallucination brought on by infection? Was she in the hospital with enough drugs being pumped into her system to make her eyeballs float? She had no idea. But... if it was real, then she must surely be ill. She did not feel that need to run. She did not feel the need to flee back to her home and cut Ever from her life, to never see him again. Unlike with Oregon, she did not feel the need to hit him and call him stupid, to beg that he never say that again, to force him to admit to his mistake, wrought by feverish nights in the same bed..

She felt none of these things, and perhaps that was the most scary part.

Closing her yes, she did as he asked for a change and let the drowsiness brought on by drugs and alcohol tug her slowly into sleep. Before she slept however, before she sunk into the land of dreams, where the white fox with the blue eyes lay in waiting, she slipped her arm from beneath the covers and found Ever’s hand, lacing their fingers and squeezing until the went limp, and unconsciousness had claimed her.

[Ever Goodman]

Ever’s chest was suddenly ablaze. He hadn’t even been aware he was holding his breath as he watched the flutter of Rumour’s eyelids and the slight parting of her lips when she breathed in and out. Her hand had found his and finger’s became intertwined; Ever held onto it desperately, like a lifeline to shore and he were adrift in the ocean.
Had she comprehended what he’d told her in those final moments before she let unconsciousness claim her? Would Rumour wake before he and sneak away like she had so vehemently threatened him oh so often? The man refused to let those things he could not help weigh his mind, for the thought of her injury was enough weight to drown him.

When he was sure she was long succumbed to exhaustion Ever slipped out of bed. He perched on the bottom edge and lit a coffin nail, hot-boxing it a matter of moments. He lit another and reached for the bottle of whiskey that had been used as anesthesia before, taking a long pull that succeeded in little more than wetting his dry throat and mouth. He took another and other, and set it back on the bedside table; realizing getting drunk was not going to save him. Only one thing would.
He was pulling on a pair of jeans and a crumpled tee-shirt before he comprehended what he was doing, and a heartbeat later realized he was slipping into a well-worn pair of trainers and shoving his motel room key into his pocket. Bending over her Ever pressed his fevered forehead against her clammy one and said a quiet goodbye. She wouldn’t wake up for at least another few hours, and all he needed was a good ten. Moving quickly back to the door the young man cast a look back over his shoulder at her and sighed, imaging the look on her face once he confessed what he had done. What he was about to do.

Outside dawn’s light was washing the still quiet city in a pastel glow, and Ever was thankful it would still be a few hours before the morning traffic began. On foot he could usually make it to Rumour’s house in fifteen minutes, but at a dead run he made it there in less than ten.
Her father was just coming out to leave for work, and the amnesiac cursed under his breath when he realized Devlin looked as if everything was peaches and cream; like he hadn’t nearly killed his daughter the previous eve. Moving with the practiced momentum of a man trained from youth to fight, Ever had overtaken Devlin before he had time to turn the key in the car door.

The first blow caught the elder in the nose with enough force to bust Ever’s knuckles, and the second and third landed in the vicinity of the first; successfully shattering those delicate finger joints along with the cheek bone of the victim.
Immune to the pain, the forgetful ex-hunter let the anger inside him fuel the explosion of violence. Holding the older man by the collar of his shirt he landed blow after blow until Devlin had fallen into a crumpled pile on the ground beside his vehicle. It was a very good thing that Ever had no weapon on his person, because he would have killed him. The pain that this man was enduring was NOTHING of what he had caused the only person in life that would ever love him.

Trembling, bleeding, and out of breath Ever finally gave up. He left the elder bleeding on the ground there and mindlessly trekked back to the hotel. Rumour was right where he’d left her and he couldn’t help but collapse there as well, scooting as close to her side as he could without rousing her.
Oh god, what had he done? He had probably just hammered the last nail into the coffin of their doomed bond, but at least this way, just maybe she would realize he had done it for her regardless of the cost. And he would do it a million times over. Ever would suffer a thousand heartbreaks if it meant she was escaped another blow from her father.

( FIN )