A/N: 1/1. This piece is loosely based on Enya's Only Time. It takes place in mid-APO. Enjoy.
Freedom
If night keeps all your heart, how can love grow?
Can it fight its way out, into existence, into the open for all the world to see?
Or will it stay locked away, a trembling prisoner, growing weaker with time, hidden from all?
Will it break through the frozen barriers in its way, defying the darkness in which it was held for so long, only to find that it had wasted its efforts, that there was no one to receive it?
No.
Because its partner has waited, patiently for this moment of newfound freedom, this return to the golden age.
Despite all odds, love has grown stronger, fuller, wilder than ever before. The tension it was hidden under only barely served to mask it, hardly able to keep it from bubbling over, spilling out into the plain view of everyone. The tension was merely a disguise for it, under which it grew more powerful, waiting for the right time to free itself.
Love not only grew, it fomented lust. A wild, passionate, almost animalistic, clawing need for each other, one that is hardly satiated by a single round of love-making.
But the questions remain. The past still lingers.
Night keeps all your heart.
Trapped deep in a cold, dark recess where time stands still, a heart cries in anguish, cries for aid…
And receives no answer.
Alone, it wallows in self-pity, anger building steadily ready to bubble over at the slightest provocation, as the need for vengence becomes an unsoothable itch.
In the attempt to make sense of the haunting information before her, a nauseous feeling arose, bringing on tears, salty liquid clouding her sight, and confused thoughts clouding her mind.
The mere sight of the antagonist brings sharp pangs of frustration and antipathy; the heart beats faster… faster… trying with all its might to break out of its cage, to find the end of the night in which it is held prisoner.
His dark figure is nearly ominous, his face steeled in controlled anger.
“Sydney… you were never supposed to have found this.”
The pain returns, the confusion and pent-up anger along for the ride.
“You wanna tell me what happened in Whittenberg?”
“No… Actually, I don’t.”
It is Vaughn’s turn to feel pain now; pain caused by the thought that he has lost her complete trust and confidence. But was it really lost? During their time apart, the trust may have lied dormant, even diminished, but even then, it was never lost. It took time to construct the confidence between them, and it will take time to rebuild it to its full height. That’s all it ever really takes – time.
“…Then there was a page… an official request made by my father… asking for the authority to execute Irina Derevko; a request that was granted.”
He understood this information less than she did, but he was there for her, there to offer comfort, support, whatever she needed. It was as if he had never left her side, as if the time of their separation had dissolved, as if it were as it always was and always should be.
Once again, night becomes day, and the heart is freed.
~ ~
Freedom
If night keeps all your heart, how can love grow?
Can it fight its way out, into existence, into the open for all the world to see?
Or will it stay locked away, a trembling prisoner, growing weaker with time, hidden from all?
Will it break through the frozen barriers in its way, defying the darkness in which it was held for so long, only to find that it had wasted its efforts, that there was no one to receive it?
No.
Because its partner has waited, patiently for this moment of newfound freedom, this return to the golden age.
Despite all odds, love has grown stronger, fuller, wilder than ever before. The tension it was hidden under only barely served to mask it, hardly able to keep it from bubbling over, spilling out into the plain view of everyone. The tension was merely a disguise for it, under which it grew more powerful, waiting for the right time to free itself.
Love not only grew, it fomented lust. A wild, passionate, almost animalistic, clawing need for each other, one that is hardly satiated by a single round of love-making.
But the questions remain. The past still lingers.
Night keeps all your heart.
Trapped deep in a cold, dark recess where time stands still, a heart cries in anguish, cries for aid…
And receives no answer.
Alone, it wallows in self-pity, anger building steadily ready to bubble over at the slightest provocation, as the need for vengence becomes an unsoothable itch.
In the attempt to make sense of the haunting information before her, a nauseous feeling arose, bringing on tears, salty liquid clouding her sight, and confused thoughts clouding her mind.
The mere sight of the antagonist brings sharp pangs of frustration and antipathy; the heart beats faster… faster… trying with all its might to break out of its cage, to find the end of the night in which it is held prisoner.
His dark figure is nearly ominous, his face steeled in controlled anger.
“Sydney… you were never supposed to have found this.”
The pain returns, the confusion and pent-up anger along for the ride.
“You wanna tell me what happened in Whittenberg?”
“No… Actually, I don’t.”
It is Vaughn’s turn to feel pain now; pain caused by the thought that he has lost her complete trust and confidence. But was it really lost? During their time apart, the trust may have lied dormant, even diminished, but even then, it was never lost. It took time to construct the confidence between them, and it will take time to rebuild it to its full height. That’s all it ever really takes – time.
“…Then there was a page… an official request made by my father… asking for the authority to execute Irina Derevko; a request that was granted.”
He understood this information less than she did, but he was there for her, there to offer comfort, support, whatever she needed. It was as if he had never left her side, as if the time of their separation had dissolved, as if it were as it always was and always should be.
Once again, night becomes day, and the heart is freed.
~ ~
