Eight Seconds

By Gabi-hime (pinkfluffynet )

A/N: More delicious HW angst featuring Gabriel and Duriel. Duriel is Ali's 3 forever. Second verse, same as the first – .org

Summary: Eight seconds of Gabriel's life that will chase her through the rest of her lifetimes.


There are times when all the words you know like 'thank you' and 'be careful' and 'I love you' tumble out of your mouth like pieces of a puzzle that doesn't fit together any more, and suddenly there are no words that matter, no words that mean anything, just his hard angles against you with the ring on your finger glinting new minted like a drop of snow from heaven. And suddenly it doesn't matter any more that it's the only thing you're wearing.

Only it does because you're suddenly shy, even though you've never been shy before, not in the hundred thousand times this has happened in your head, and he's there, and you wonder what he thinks of you, bare slip of a woman all curled up against herself like a fawn, doe eyes and doe feet, nervous, so nervous because you know what this is about, have known what this has been about for the longest time, but have never really known until now, with his eyes on you, burning into you like a coal lantern that's been left on too long.

And then he's there, picking you up like a parcel on his doorstep, tense and coiled, like he is before he goes out, like he is before he comes back home, smelling of blood and death, and all you can think of is how fast you're breathing and how loud your heart is beating, a thousand times a second, and you throw your arms around his neck, because that's where they belong, have always belonged, and you can feel the healed over scars on his back, can feel the little bits of bone and feather that marks him as the same as you.

And then he kisses you, and there's nothing else in the world except his hand in your hair and the catch of your breath in your throat. You've kissed before. You've been kissed, but never like this, like the dawn is empty and everyone else in the world is dead except the two of you, and it doesn't matter because two is the largest number you can think of, is the largest number that you need.

He's all angles and you're all soft, and you can remember falling out of the greenwood tree when you were seven years old. You broke your wrist then. Something else breaks now and it hurts like something inside doesn't belong there, but you bear it, despite the tears forced from your eyes because you know that it does, have always known that it does since your life began when you saw him the first time years ago.

And it's like paradise and it's like hell and it's like neither because you don't know either one and your hands seem so unsteady and you've bent yourself into a shape that you've never been in before, didn't know was possible, and you cry, but it's not from the hurt of it this time, but like the long tired victory call of a battle you've been fighting inside for eons, and you seize up, no longer in control of anything that should belong to you, blessing that it's over, cursing that it's gone, and then you're so still, feeling the silence all around you loud like thunder that deafens you.

And you open your eyes, and he's looking at you like he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. You make the decision for him and laugh, because even though your days are lined in blood and the bones of the people you once knew, eight seconds of happiness makes it worth bearing.