Post by Emmi The Magical Milkshake on Nov 10, 2005 17:18:57 GMT -5
Rubble by EmilieDarklighter
Rated: G
Genre: Romance, Angst (L/M)
Summary: Mara doesn't want to be the one to crumble.
AN: This is unbeta'ed! Be kind!
AN II: This came off the top of my head. It's one of those weird things that just...comes. I hope you like!
She walked away.
She'd done it so many times before. At first it hurt, as if someone had ripped her heart from her chest. But finally, after walking, and walking, and walking...after lightyears of walking, it just didn't hurt anymore.
It hurt, that it didn't hurt. So she walked away.
She wondered if it pained him, every time she walked away. There were things--little things-- she saw that told her the answer was yes. He wasn't like her. He was...open. She was not. He seemed vulnerable, weak, at times. And she was definetly not vulnerable or weak. She hated weakness, and it hated her. It ran away from her, but she refused to be abandoned. She walked away from that, too.
Strange, that something she hated so much would be in her very nature. Ironic, even. Wasn't it her job to collapse, and his to pick up the pieces? Not the other way around? That's how it worked for normal people, she supposed. But then again, neither of them were normal--and she wasn't even a person, not really. So she went on picking up his pieces and walking away, always pointlessly wondering if it hurt him, because she knew the answer.
She fought many battles in order to stay away. Battles with her heart, and his. Battles with his eyes, and his smile, and the blasted warmth of his touch. She spends days and hours feverishly wrestling with his hand that drew back the curtain and let the sunshine spill into her eyes. There was no going back once the curtain was completely secured, so she always shut it quickly and forcefully, ignoring the dull ache that grew in his place at the back of her mind.
One day, he was going to forget. It would all be better for the both of them--he would quit yearning after what was made of stone, and she--she would have her solitude. Because that's what stone statues want, isn't it? To be left alone and untouched? Tourists, passerbys, and children destroy art, no matter how cold or how beautiful. All it really wants is to be left alone.
But he never forgot, and she ran farther every time. A new lightyear, a new parsec, a new sector. Somewhere far away, where people have the sense to remember that stone doesn't bleed. Because he--he certainly didn't have any sense at all, let alone enough to remember how things work. Situations aren't supposed to reverse; he crumbles and she picks up the pieces. He didn't seem to have the courtesy to crumble so she can be strong. Strong, strong...that is her purpose. Why didn't he understand?
But then, one day she ran so far that her destination became his doorstep. It happened by accident, but it happened just the same. Can one cross the universe and end at the beginning? He certainly seemed to think so.
She waited to pick up his pieces, watching him with burning intensity, pleading with her eyes. How dare he, stay there and do nothing?
He touched her face with his hand, and she heard the crumbling of stone.
"I knew you'd come back, Mara."
The cracking of rock.
"You helped me, now let me help you."
The shattering of a cold and bitter masterpiece.
"Let it go, Mara."
As cold stone became dust, Luke Skywalker knelt down and drew a bleeding angel from the rubble.
"Welcome home."
Rated: G
Genre: Romance, Angst (L/M)
Summary: Mara doesn't want to be the one to crumble.
AN: This is unbeta'ed! Be kind!
AN II: This came off the top of my head. It's one of those weird things that just...comes. I hope you like!
She walked away.
She'd done it so many times before. At first it hurt, as if someone had ripped her heart from her chest. But finally, after walking, and walking, and walking...after lightyears of walking, it just didn't hurt anymore.
It hurt, that it didn't hurt. So she walked away.
She wondered if it pained him, every time she walked away. There were things--little things-- she saw that told her the answer was yes. He wasn't like her. He was...open. She was not. He seemed vulnerable, weak, at times. And she was definetly not vulnerable or weak. She hated weakness, and it hated her. It ran away from her, but she refused to be abandoned. She walked away from that, too.
Strange, that something she hated so much would be in her very nature. Ironic, even. Wasn't it her job to collapse, and his to pick up the pieces? Not the other way around? That's how it worked for normal people, she supposed. But then again, neither of them were normal--and she wasn't even a person, not really. So she went on picking up his pieces and walking away, always pointlessly wondering if it hurt him, because she knew the answer.
She fought many battles in order to stay away. Battles with her heart, and his. Battles with his eyes, and his smile, and the blasted warmth of his touch. She spends days and hours feverishly wrestling with his hand that drew back the curtain and let the sunshine spill into her eyes. There was no going back once the curtain was completely secured, so she always shut it quickly and forcefully, ignoring the dull ache that grew in his place at the back of her mind.
One day, he was going to forget. It would all be better for the both of them--he would quit yearning after what was made of stone, and she--she would have her solitude. Because that's what stone statues want, isn't it? To be left alone and untouched? Tourists, passerbys, and children destroy art, no matter how cold or how beautiful. All it really wants is to be left alone.
But he never forgot, and she ran farther every time. A new lightyear, a new parsec, a new sector. Somewhere far away, where people have the sense to remember that stone doesn't bleed. Because he--he certainly didn't have any sense at all, let alone enough to remember how things work. Situations aren't supposed to reverse; he crumbles and she picks up the pieces. He didn't seem to have the courtesy to crumble so she can be strong. Strong, strong...that is her purpose. Why didn't he understand?
But then, one day she ran so far that her destination became his doorstep. It happened by accident, but it happened just the same. Can one cross the universe and end at the beginning? He certainly seemed to think so.
She waited to pick up his pieces, watching him with burning intensity, pleading with her eyes. How dare he, stay there and do nothing?
He touched her face with his hand, and she heard the crumbling of stone.
"I knew you'd come back, Mara."
The cracking of rock.
"You helped me, now let me help you."
The shattering of a cold and bitter masterpiece.
"Let it go, Mara."
As cold stone became dust, Luke Skywalker knelt down and drew a bleeding angel from the rubble.
"Welcome home."