![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
samsomTitle: Take My Hand
Author: Samsom
Pairing: C/A
Summary: Five instances of connection.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Another unfinished ficlet on my hard drive finished! Whoot!
~~
The first time Angel takes her hand, she’s unaware.
Her mind is trapped under an assault, unable to see or hear anything but all the pain and terror the world offers.
He tightens his grip regardless, impressing upon her his determination to save her, to bring her back. Even if she doesn’t comprehend.
And he does, so that when he squeezes her hand again, hours later, she feels the cool touch of his palm pressing against the back of hers as he tangles their curled fingers.
She squeezes back, and gives him a smile.
~~
The next time he touches her hand, his face is battered, like her feelings, and when his fingers slide under her palm, she pulls away, and lets him know it.
His face falling into hurt lines is the hardest thing to walk away from, but it would have been worse to stay.
Not for him, of course, but for her.
~~
When he pulls back from the hug, she experiences a moment of disappointment.
When she tries to step back from his embrace, he laces his arms around her waist and hangs on, and her disappointment changes to exhilaration like a lump of coal into a diamond, shinging bright and indestructible.
When she leans over to tell the others he’s back, he holds her within the circle of his arms and she feels safe in a way she hasn’t felt since before he fired her.
When he presses his palms against hers and laces their fingers together, she feels like she’s on the verge of an undiscovered country well within the familiar borders of their friendship.
She smiles back up at him right before the others rush over, and squeezes his hands as he holds hers, answering his unspoken declaration with one of her own.
~~
Her hand is light.
Her hand heals.
It takes the poison from his soul; replacing it with a little of the love he’s been so horribly denied in his life so far.
It’s not a mother’s love, but its close.
When he bows his head and cries against her breast, she looks up past him and sees his father gazing down at them, fingers pressing into the banister.
She can’t touch him right then, but the smile she gives him is as reassuring and as loving as if she laced their hands together and squeezed.
It’ll all be alright.
~~
She feels his touch, lost in the void as she is. Feels him as he takes her hand and kisses the back of it.
She hears his whisper in her ear, about love and sacrifice, and wants to nod and tell him she understands. Even when she doesn’t.
She wants to yell at him for his choices, and tell him he’s playing into evil’s hands.
Most of all she wants to take him in her arms, lace their fingers together again, and tell him how sorry she is.
For not being strong enough to fight back.
For the pain to come.
Most of all she wants to tell him how sorry she is for not telling him how much she loved him when she had all those chances.
She hopes there will be one more chance.
For now she can only lay with her eyes closed and feel his love in every kiss he presses against her palm, and wish she could squeeze back.
Just a little.
~~end~~
Author: Samsom
Pairing: C/A
Summary: Five instances of connection.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Another unfinished ficlet on my hard drive finished! Whoot!
~~
The first time Angel takes her hand, she’s unaware.
Her mind is trapped under an assault, unable to see or hear anything but all the pain and terror the world offers.
He tightens his grip regardless, impressing upon her his determination to save her, to bring her back. Even if she doesn’t comprehend.
And he does, so that when he squeezes her hand again, hours later, she feels the cool touch of his palm pressing against the back of hers as he tangles their curled fingers.
She squeezes back, and gives him a smile.
~~
The next time he touches her hand, his face is battered, like her feelings, and when his fingers slide under her palm, she pulls away, and lets him know it.
His face falling into hurt lines is the hardest thing to walk away from, but it would have been worse to stay.
Not for him, of course, but for her.
~~
When he pulls back from the hug, she experiences a moment of disappointment.
When she tries to step back from his embrace, he laces his arms around her waist and hangs on, and her disappointment changes to exhilaration like a lump of coal into a diamond, shinging bright and indestructible.
When she leans over to tell the others he’s back, he holds her within the circle of his arms and she feels safe in a way she hasn’t felt since before he fired her.
When he presses his palms against hers and laces their fingers together, she feels like she’s on the verge of an undiscovered country well within the familiar borders of their friendship.
She smiles back up at him right before the others rush over, and squeezes his hands as he holds hers, answering his unspoken declaration with one of her own.
~~
Her hand is light.
Her hand heals.
It takes the poison from his soul; replacing it with a little of the love he’s been so horribly denied in his life so far.
It’s not a mother’s love, but its close.
When he bows his head and cries against her breast, she looks up past him and sees his father gazing down at them, fingers pressing into the banister.
She can’t touch him right then, but the smile she gives him is as reassuring and as loving as if she laced their hands together and squeezed.
It’ll all be alright.
~~
She feels his touch, lost in the void as she is. Feels him as he takes her hand and kisses the back of it.
She hears his whisper in her ear, about love and sacrifice, and wants to nod and tell him she understands. Even when she doesn’t.
She wants to yell at him for his choices, and tell him he’s playing into evil’s hands.
Most of all she wants to take him in her arms, lace their fingers together again, and tell him how sorry she is.
For not being strong enough to fight back.
For the pain to come.
Most of all she wants to tell him how sorry she is for not telling him how much she loved him when she had all those chances.
She hopes there will be one more chance.
For now she can only lay with her eyes closed and feel his love in every kiss he presses against her palm, and wish she could squeeze back.
Just a little.
~~end~~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-11-29 09:00 pm (UTC)Just a little.
It's just... perfect.
*melts*
no subject
Date: 2008-12-01 04:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-29 11:32 pm (UTC)You know, A/C is such a very natural progression in AtS; I get them; I really do....
no subject
Date: 2008-12-01 04:17 am (UTC)Believe it or not, I didn't tune into the pilot looking to ship C/A, even as much as Cordelia was always my favorite character, but by s2, I was just loving their relationship. And love doesn't always happen so suddenly, it can grow as a natural progression of friendship. Which I hoped I showed. So thanks. :D
no subject
Date: 2008-11-29 11:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-01 04:33 am (UTC)Oh, and that eyefucking they were doing when Cordelia told him he wasn't alone....?*swoon*
Oh! Oh! And he's totally obsessed with her breasts! The necklace, his perfect day dream? Tell me that boy doesn't fantasize about leaving her in the clutches of some monster just long enough for her clothes to get shredded.
*stops and breathes*
Where was I going with this?
Oh yeah. Thanks, I love their touches too. :D