![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
helsinkibabyTitle: out there somewhere (burning up the night)
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: The Following
Pairing: Mike Weston/Debra Parker
Rating : PG
Spoilers: AU for the season finale.
Disclaimer: The Following and it's characters are the property of Fox and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Mike goes looking for Debra. Again.
Notes: For the fan_flashwords "lost and found" challenge - loose interpretations are allowed, because this is the definition of! Inspired by the Brooks and Dunn song "Lost and Found"
He makes it home early - well, early for him, it is Friday after all - but he's still not surprised when he opens the door to an empty house. He can sense it the second he walks in and if he was a romantic he'd say it was something about the arrangement of air molecules being different when she's not there.
But he's not a romantic - well, he is, but he's acutely conscious that certain types of purple prose are a little too Joe Carroll like and he's not bringing any memories of that monster into his house, not if he can help it.
They have enough memories to deal with as it is.
He closes the door behind him, walks through the house to confirm what he already knows. There's a small smile on his face as he sees the gleaming countertops, the breakfast dishes clean and dry, stacked on the shelf. The rest of the rooms are just as clean, Debra putting some of her restless energy to good use. He teases her sometimes, that he doesn't know what he'll do with himself when she goes back to work and sometimes she even smiles. Not often though, because it's the elephant in the room - what does a career woman do when her career terrifies her?
Debra might not be here but Sam is, and that makes him pause, makes him purse his lips in a frown. Some days when he comes back here and finds her gone, it's because she's taken Sam out for a walk. They usually come back in good time, Debra with flushed cheeks, Sam panting and going straight for his water bowl. Sometimes, days like today when he's home early, he walks to the park, finds them.
But if Sam's here, there's only one place Debra will go.
He mutters a word that would have his mother washing his mouth out with soap, turns on his heel and walks back the way he came. Grabbing his keys, he locks the door behind him, shoves his hands into his pockets and walks down the street, taking the path he knows Debra would have taken.
The heavy wooden door opens easily, a blast of noise and warm air hitting Mike square in the face. The Friday on the way home from work crowd are already there but he sees Debra straight away, sitting on her own at the bar. For just a moment, he lets himself pretend that the last few months haven't happened, that they're just two people at a bar after work on Friday, starting a weekend of idle togetherness. She's still as beautiful as ever, even if there's a fragility, a sadness there now that wasn't there a few months ago. Not for the first time, he wishes he'd never heard the name Joe Carroll.
There's a glass of whiskey in front of her, and it doesn't look like she's had much from it, if any at all and Mike takes that as a good sign. He walks to her, slides on to the stool beside her but he doesn't speak, waits for her.
It seems like he's always waiting for her.
"You're home early."
He chances a glance to his left, sees that she's not looking at him, is instead staring into the glass. He shrugs, even though he knows she won't see it. "Friday," he says simply and he hears her chuckle without humour.
"I lost track."
Mike looks at the glass in front of him, raises an eyebrow. "Really."
That has Debra looking up at him, head snapping around sharply. It's a glimpse of the old Debra, the one from before and he's glad to see it. "This is my first drink," she tells him and from here, he can see it's full. Still, there's that word - first. She realises what she's said at the same time he does and she shakes her head, looks down. "You know that's not what I meant."
"Do I?" The questions surprises him as much as her but once the words are out, more follow. "I don't know what to think any more, Deb. I mean, I know... I know... that this was never going to be easy." She'd told him about her past, about her upbringing, but only after she'd woken up terrified, a man's name on her lips that was for once not Carroll related. There was a lifetime of trust sides there already, he knew, and the Carroll case, the related traumas, had only made her more distrustful, more reserved. Everyone had said to give her time, and he'd known to do that, but he's starting to get scared that time is only making things worse, that he's losing her a little bit more every day.
The Havenport woods had been scary enough, but this slow slipping away is like death by a thousand cuts, far more painful.
"I know the case made everything worse," he continues. "But Deb... Ryan almost drank himself to death after the first time... he's trying to do it again now. I don't want you doing the same thing."
She looks amazed. "I'm not Ryan, Mike," she tells him and there's only one word he can respond with.
"Yet."
Debra's eyes flash and she swallows hard, looks down at the glass and her hand tightens around it, knuckles turning white. "That's not fair," she says but there's no conviction in her tone.
"Deb, I love you. You know I love you. And I know it freaks you out when I tell you that, which is why I don't. Because I spend half the time we're together afraid you're going to bolt. But I feel like I'm losing you... like you're leaving me a little bit at a time. And I know what it's like... to think that I've lost you." He closes his eyes for just a second and just like that, he's back in the woods, kneeling on the ground with her body, still and cold and white, in front of him. He shivers, opens his eyes when he feels her hand close over his wrist.
He can't remember the last time she touched him first.
He meets her eyes, sees tears there. "I love you too," she tells him and it's rare enough for her to say those words that they still make him smile, even now, even like this. "And I know what I've been doing... and I don't want to, Mike, I don't... but I just..." Her voice trails off and she's staring up at the ceiling, shaking her head as one tear escapes and slides down her cheek.
That's the most honest she's been with him in weeks, maybe ever, and it gives him heart, gives him hope. "We can get through this, Deb," he says, and for the first time in a long while, he finds himself believing it. When Debra looks at him though, it's with eyes that are filled with doubt and he reaches out his hands, takes hold of hers. "I promise, Deb... I'm not going anywhere."
Debra looks at him for a long moment, then slides off the bar stool, but never lets go of his hands. "Let's go home," she says simply and he stands, smiles at her.
"As long as I've got you," he says, "I already am."
So maybe he's just proved to her he's a romantic, but the prose wasn't that purple and it makes her smile at him like he's found the answers to questions he didn't even know she was asking. They're both lost, he realises now, both trying to flounder their way through the wake of the Carroll case, but when they're together, they are found somehow.
It's not perfect, not yet. But for now, it's more than enough.
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: The Following
Pairing: Mike Weston/Debra Parker
Rating : PG
Spoilers: AU for the season finale.
Disclaimer: The Following and it's characters are the property of Fox and no copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Mike goes looking for Debra. Again.
Notes: For the fan_flashwords "lost and found" challenge - loose interpretations are allowed, because this is the definition of! Inspired by the Brooks and Dunn song "Lost and Found"
He makes it home early - well, early for him, it is Friday after all - but he's still not surprised when he opens the door to an empty house. He can sense it the second he walks in and if he was a romantic he'd say it was something about the arrangement of air molecules being different when she's not there.
But he's not a romantic - well, he is, but he's acutely conscious that certain types of purple prose are a little too Joe Carroll like and he's not bringing any memories of that monster into his house, not if he can help it.
They have enough memories to deal with as it is.
He closes the door behind him, walks through the house to confirm what he already knows. There's a small smile on his face as he sees the gleaming countertops, the breakfast dishes clean and dry, stacked on the shelf. The rest of the rooms are just as clean, Debra putting some of her restless energy to good use. He teases her sometimes, that he doesn't know what he'll do with himself when she goes back to work and sometimes she even smiles. Not often though, because it's the elephant in the room - what does a career woman do when her career terrifies her?
Debra might not be here but Sam is, and that makes him pause, makes him purse his lips in a frown. Some days when he comes back here and finds her gone, it's because she's taken Sam out for a walk. They usually come back in good time, Debra with flushed cheeks, Sam panting and going straight for his water bowl. Sometimes, days like today when he's home early, he walks to the park, finds them.
But if Sam's here, there's only one place Debra will go.
He mutters a word that would have his mother washing his mouth out with soap, turns on his heel and walks back the way he came. Grabbing his keys, he locks the door behind him, shoves his hands into his pockets and walks down the street, taking the path he knows Debra would have taken.
The heavy wooden door opens easily, a blast of noise and warm air hitting Mike square in the face. The Friday on the way home from work crowd are already there but he sees Debra straight away, sitting on her own at the bar. For just a moment, he lets himself pretend that the last few months haven't happened, that they're just two people at a bar after work on Friday, starting a weekend of idle togetherness. She's still as beautiful as ever, even if there's a fragility, a sadness there now that wasn't there a few months ago. Not for the first time, he wishes he'd never heard the name Joe Carroll.
There's a glass of whiskey in front of her, and it doesn't look like she's had much from it, if any at all and Mike takes that as a good sign. He walks to her, slides on to the stool beside her but he doesn't speak, waits for her.
It seems like he's always waiting for her.
"You're home early."
He chances a glance to his left, sees that she's not looking at him, is instead staring into the glass. He shrugs, even though he knows she won't see it. "Friday," he says simply and he hears her chuckle without humour.
"I lost track."
Mike looks at the glass in front of him, raises an eyebrow. "Really."
That has Debra looking up at him, head snapping around sharply. It's a glimpse of the old Debra, the one from before and he's glad to see it. "This is my first drink," she tells him and from here, he can see it's full. Still, there's that word - first. She realises what she's said at the same time he does and she shakes her head, looks down. "You know that's not what I meant."
"Do I?" The questions surprises him as much as her but once the words are out, more follow. "I don't know what to think any more, Deb. I mean, I know... I know... that this was never going to be easy." She'd told him about her past, about her upbringing, but only after she'd woken up terrified, a man's name on her lips that was for once not Carroll related. There was a lifetime of trust sides there already, he knew, and the Carroll case, the related traumas, had only made her more distrustful, more reserved. Everyone had said to give her time, and he'd known to do that, but he's starting to get scared that time is only making things worse, that he's losing her a little bit more every day.
The Havenport woods had been scary enough, but this slow slipping away is like death by a thousand cuts, far more painful.
"I know the case made everything worse," he continues. "But Deb... Ryan almost drank himself to death after the first time... he's trying to do it again now. I don't want you doing the same thing."
She looks amazed. "I'm not Ryan, Mike," she tells him and there's only one word he can respond with.
"Yet."
Debra's eyes flash and she swallows hard, looks down at the glass and her hand tightens around it, knuckles turning white. "That's not fair," she says but there's no conviction in her tone.
"Deb, I love you. You know I love you. And I know it freaks you out when I tell you that, which is why I don't. Because I spend half the time we're together afraid you're going to bolt. But I feel like I'm losing you... like you're leaving me a little bit at a time. And I know what it's like... to think that I've lost you." He closes his eyes for just a second and just like that, he's back in the woods, kneeling on the ground with her body, still and cold and white, in front of him. He shivers, opens his eyes when he feels her hand close over his wrist.
He can't remember the last time she touched him first.
He meets her eyes, sees tears there. "I love you too," she tells him and it's rare enough for her to say those words that they still make him smile, even now, even like this. "And I know what I've been doing... and I don't want to, Mike, I don't... but I just..." Her voice trails off and she's staring up at the ceiling, shaking her head as one tear escapes and slides down her cheek.
That's the most honest she's been with him in weeks, maybe ever, and it gives him heart, gives him hope. "We can get through this, Deb," he says, and for the first time in a long while, he finds himself believing it. When Debra looks at him though, it's with eyes that are filled with doubt and he reaches out his hands, takes hold of hers. "I promise, Deb... I'm not going anywhere."
Debra looks at him for a long moment, then slides off the bar stool, but never lets go of his hands. "Let's go home," she says simply and he stands, smiles at her.
"As long as I've got you," he says, "I already am."
So maybe he's just proved to her he's a romantic, but the prose wasn't that purple and it makes her smile at him like he's found the answers to questions he didn't even know she was asking. They're both lost, he realises now, both trying to flounder their way through the wake of the Carroll case, but when they're together, they are found somehow.
It's not perfect, not yet. But for now, it's more than enough.
