The Line.
Song: The Line. Artist: Noah and the Whale.
Pairing: Sarah Jane/(older) Maria.
Rating: Mature. Definitely. Be warned of swear words and other bad things.
Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=shCEgPzUCo8
...
Her breath fogged the glass of the window, but Maria could still see the bright pin pricks which were the stars. The window sill was cold beneath her, made all the colder by the open window and the wind that blew through it, but she didn’t want to shut it. She didn’t want to shut out the sky. Or the universe.
She closed her eyes as the hotel door clicked open, and the realisation of what she had to do again, washed over her, accompanied by the familiar nausea and self-hatred. She shot an apology to the stars and the one who watched them, before turning away from the window and toward the man that had entered the room, trying to think of the money at the end of the task, rather than the task itself.
‘Half now and half at the end,’ she found herself saying on autopilot, as she began to undress, her hands shaking as they normally did. The usual thoughts of if only dad could see me now, or even worse what would Sarah Jane think, passed through her mind, only to be interrupted by unfamiliar hands stilling her own.
‘Allow me,’ the unnamed man insisted, before divesting her of her dress, then her stockings, and finally her underwear. He took a long, lustful look at her and Maria could see he was hard already, as he leaned over and tucked half of the money into one of her discarded shoes. As quick as any of the others, he undressed himself, before practically throwing himself at her, pinning her to the bed. The breath rushed out of her as she collided with the mattress, before being pushed out further still as his weight crashed on top of her.
Before she could breathe, before she could close her eyes and try to picture warm hazel eyes and auburn hair, the nameless man above her slid inside of her.
…
She wept as he fucked her.
…
She took the money he’d left for her from the cabinet by the door, quickly counting it, before storing it with the other half. She took a glance around the room for anything she’d left behind, not sparing a look for the man beneath the sheets, before leaving; her shoes hanging from her hand, her dignity draped over her back like a discarded jacket.
…
Outside the run down hotel that sat on the gritty outskirts of London, Maria leant against a defaced wall that looked a lot cleaner than she felt, before taking out her mobile. She stared at it for moment, like she usually did, wondering if she should call her.
The thought of her, of Sarah Jane, had tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. It had been months since the last time she’d talked to the older woman, and that was completely her own fault. She’d run from number 13 Bannerman Road the moment she realised that she was in love with the woman. She hadn’t run away from her feelings, but had instead fled to save Sarah Jane from this burden that she presented her with.
Sarah Jane had tried to get her to come back, had almost succeeded on many occasions, but Maria stuck to the thought of refusing to hurt Sarah Jane. So instead she was waiting, saving up and earning the money, to run further away; to go back to America. And she was so close to achieving that goal.
The flashing of her phone bought her back to the present moment and she realised she’d missed a call. She blinked at the flashing screen in surprise as it counted out just how many calls she had missed.
11.
“11 missed calls from Sarah Jane,” she read from the screen, before realising that all of them had a voicemail attached.
With a shaking hand she played those voicemails, dreading to hear the sound of the woman’s voice, knowing that it would take one small plea from Sarah Jane to have her running back again.
…
Maria. Please pick up.
..
Maria, please. I need to know that you’re safe. Just answer your phone, and tell me that you’re ok. Please.
…
This is ridiculous! You need to speak to me, I can’t believe- uh! Call me!
…
Maria skipped through the messages, one after the other, listening as they became progressively more agitated, before stopping at the last one, realising that Sarah Jane was crying. She pressed the phone tighter to her ear, feeling her already broken heart crumble to dust.
…
Maria, I just want to hear your voice. Please, I can’t keep- I mean I don’t know how to do this - No. Wait. Listen to this, please, if this is the only thing you do for me, then please listen to this. And believe me. These months without you have been hell; and not knowing if you’re ok is killing me, but that’s not what’s important. What is important is that I need to tell you I-‘
…
The beep of the voice message ending cut of Sarah Jane’s voice. Her heart hammering wildly in her chest, Maria redialled the number she knew off by heart and cradled it to her ear, knowing that if she didn’t do this now, she would never do it.
Sarah Jane answered on the second ring.
‘Hello?’
‘I need to know what you were going to say,’ Maria said quietly, the desperation being the force behind her voice.
‘Maria?!’
‘What were you going to say?’ Maria pressed on urgently, gripping at the phone in her sweating hand. Sarah Jane’s silence hung on for an eternity down the line. ‘Please’, Maria begged, ‘please’.
‘I love you’. Sarah Jane’s voice was rough from crying but it was perhaps the most beautiful thing Maria had ever heard.
It was hope.