Emily (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2006-09-19 11:04 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2006-09-19 11:04 pm
Stella/Maka - Fine Red Lines
Fandom: CSI:NY
Title: Fine Red Lines
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iluvroadrunner6
Rating: FRT
Characters: Kaile Maka/Stella Bonasera
Prompt: Stella Bonasera / Kaile Maka / scars
Content Warning: femslash, Spoilers for "All Access."
Summary: In reality, they were only fine red lines.
Author's Note: Written formyherodrowning. This is my first attempt at femslash, so any concrit would really be appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS.
In reality, they were only fine, red lines.
Fine red lines that ran across the tops over her fingertips. Taken out of context, if a person walking down the street had seen them, they might have figured the woman in front of them was prone to paper cuts or absent-mindedly cut herself while chopping food. Out of context they were just scars on her hands. Signs of a klutz or an embarrassing moment. Out of context, no one would ever guess what they really meant. Contrary to popular belief, they don’t see brusies and cuts and think battered woman. They don’t the red lines for signs of what they really were. They think positive. Like to look on the bright side. Think if they ask about them, they’ll laugh it off and recount some tale about a clumsy episode in the kitchen. In context, however, it was an entirely different story.
In context, they were the visual reminders of a memory that neither of them could seem to let go of. Not while those red lines were there. It haunted the owner of the scars like a bad dream, and it broke her lover’s heart because no matter how hard Kaile tried, there was nothing she could do to erase it. She couldn’t turn back time, she couldn’t erase the memory from Stella’s mind, the only thing she could do is hold her when she saw the pain reach her eyes, and try to distract her from the fine red lines on her hands.
It wasn’t as though Kaile didn’t have her own scars. But the physical outweighed the emotional in this case. Sure, there was a nice jagged line down her arm, but she wasn’t betrayed by someone she loved. She wasn’t attacked by someone she knew. No trust was compromised, no hearts were broken. She was just stuck in physical therapy until she could use her arm again. It healed over time, and she had it back.
But there really isn’t any therapy for emotional scars. There really isn’t anything that can miraculously earn back trust, and there isn’t an exercise to heal a broken heart. Only time could really fix that, and while Kaile was willing to give Stella all the time in the world, she wasn’t so sure that Stella knew where to even let the healing process begin. All she can do is be there, and hope that Stella can find her way to wherever that place may be.
All Kaile can do is be there when she wakes up in the middle of the night, to find the other side of the bed empty, and the warm body that’s supposed to be next to her sitting at the window, staring not out the city below her but at her fingers, fingers that are steadily tracing their way over the thin red lines that decorate them, like war wounds a soldier stares at, feeling the horror of the battle and the screams of their comrades as they fell around them. Only what Stella hears is Frankie’s voice, degrading her and demoralizing her, and the guttural, animal sound he had made when he had launched himself over the railing to tackle her and the sound of the gun shot as it left the muzzle of the gun in her hand and lodged itself in Frankie’s chest.
All she can do is go over to her, and entwine her fingers in Stella’s, giving her fingers something to do other than trace over old memories she tries too hard to forget, and all she can do is hold Stella to her chest and whisper sweet nothings and hope that some day, sometime, there might be a night where Stella would be able to sleep through it, and not wake up in the middle of it from the nightmares that haunt her.
Nightmares that are all too real when she sees those fine red lines.
Title: Fine Red Lines
Author:
iluvroadrunner6Rating: FRT
Characters: Kaile Maka/Stella Bonasera
Prompt: Stella Bonasera / Kaile Maka / scars
Content Warning: femslash, Spoilers for "All Access."
Summary: In reality, they were only fine red lines.
Author's Note: Written for
myherodrowning. This is my first attempt at femslash, so any concrit would really be appreciated.Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY. They're owned by CBS.
In reality, they were only fine, red lines.
Fine red lines that ran across the tops over her fingertips. Taken out of context, if a person walking down the street had seen them, they might have figured the woman in front of them was prone to paper cuts or absent-mindedly cut herself while chopping food. Out of context they were just scars on her hands. Signs of a klutz or an embarrassing moment. Out of context, no one would ever guess what they really meant. Contrary to popular belief, they don’t see brusies and cuts and think battered woman. They don’t the red lines for signs of what they really were. They think positive. Like to look on the bright side. Think if they ask about them, they’ll laugh it off and recount some tale about a clumsy episode in the kitchen. In context, however, it was an entirely different story.
In context, they were the visual reminders of a memory that neither of them could seem to let go of. Not while those red lines were there. It haunted the owner of the scars like a bad dream, and it broke her lover’s heart because no matter how hard Kaile tried, there was nothing she could do to erase it. She couldn’t turn back time, she couldn’t erase the memory from Stella’s mind, the only thing she could do is hold her when she saw the pain reach her eyes, and try to distract her from the fine red lines on her hands.
It wasn’t as though Kaile didn’t have her own scars. But the physical outweighed the emotional in this case. Sure, there was a nice jagged line down her arm, but she wasn’t betrayed by someone she loved. She wasn’t attacked by someone she knew. No trust was compromised, no hearts were broken. She was just stuck in physical therapy until she could use her arm again. It healed over time, and she had it back.
But there really isn’t any therapy for emotional scars. There really isn’t anything that can miraculously earn back trust, and there isn’t an exercise to heal a broken heart. Only time could really fix that, and while Kaile was willing to give Stella all the time in the world, she wasn’t so sure that Stella knew where to even let the healing process begin. All she can do is be there, and hope that Stella can find her way to wherever that place may be.
All Kaile can do is be there when she wakes up in the middle of the night, to find the other side of the bed empty, and the warm body that’s supposed to be next to her sitting at the window, staring not out the city below her but at her fingers, fingers that are steadily tracing their way over the thin red lines that decorate them, like war wounds a soldier stares at, feeling the horror of the battle and the screams of their comrades as they fell around them. Only what Stella hears is Frankie’s voice, degrading her and demoralizing her, and the guttural, animal sound he had made when he had launched himself over the railing to tackle her and the sound of the gun shot as it left the muzzle of the gun in her hand and lodged itself in Frankie’s chest.
All she can do is go over to her, and entwine her fingers in Stella’s, giving her fingers something to do other than trace over old memories she tries too hard to forget, and all she can do is hold Stella to her chest and whisper sweet nothings and hope that some day, sometime, there might be a night where Stella would be able to sleep through it, and not wake up in the middle of it from the nightmares that haunt her.
Nightmares that are all too real when she sees those fine red lines.
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but i take it they you liked it?
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