Drabble: In Our Bedroom After The War
Title: In Our Bedroom After The War
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Sheldon/Penny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 691
Prompt: My world would be complete if someone wrote a Sheldon/Penny fic based on the name of an album by Stars: In Our Bedroom After the War.
Summary: Oh, the blood and the treasure...and the losing it all...the time that we wasted, and the place where we fall. Will we wake in the morning and know what it was for? Up in our bedroom...after the war?
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The plot is all mine. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Please, person who came up with this prompt, do not feel pressured into leaving any feedback on this. I just came up with this and really felt like posting it, as it's my first apocafic/drabble. Also, in regards to my prompter, I am aware that 'war' could stand for many things, but this is what came to my mind. I hope, whoever you are, that you enjoy it.
The breeze was cool, the sky was turning lavender in color.
A plume of dark smoke rose into the sky, grey and white, coming up from the earth, chased by orange and yellow sparks.
The sirens had died. There was no more noise. No more noise after it had all been so loud.
Screams, wails, crying and explosions, explosions - the ground bursting apart under buildings and feet. The constant boom, boom, booming and now, now...the silence. Serene and cold and eerie.
Penny could hear herself breathe.
She didn't know how that was possible.
Yet her lungs worked, they drew in, they pushed out, air, sweet and tart, flowing in and out of her. Oxygen to Carbon Dioxide to Oxygen again. An interchanging. An exchange. Different elements.
The smell of blood and fire and grease.
The clotting, choking smell of death.
Penny stood there, stood in her bedroom. The wall to her right side was completely gone. It was a gaping, jagged hole. Broken bricks and drywall and glass lay everywhere. She rubbed at her cheek. She could feel the ash and dirt and dried blood between her fingers.
She lifted her head and watched birds fly by, dark and unassuming and how could they not know the change? How could they not feel it?
But they flew, wings holding them aloft, their tiny minds caring naught for the troubles of man. They were literally above it all. Alive and free and flying. Flying so high and Penny blinked, blinked with no tears, no wetness of her eyes, blinked and blinked again and they were long gone.
She looked at her bed.
It was coated in a powder of plaster and broken wood. Glass rested in strategic areas. Glittering like diamonds. Sheldon lay there. She had dragged him up all those flights. Yanked him up stairs. She might have dislocated both his arms. It didn't matter. He couldn't use them anyway.
And Raj. And Howard. And Leonard.
Where did they now lie?
In the street? In their cars? Had they been dragged, as Sheldon had, to some other place? Penny wished she had been the one to do so, she wished she had had the chance to collect them all, to gather them all up. To bring them here...
But where was here?
Was here safety?
Her bedroom...
She looked at Sheldon lying there.
Their bedroom...
It was all a blur now. A beautiful blonde moving in across the hall from two awkward geeks and oh, hello, those two blossomed into a quartet (with her a quintet) and she dated one but fell in love with another and there was laughter and tears and fights and silliness. But is settled, it evolved, it became smiles and warmth and understanding and long, long arms holding her every night.
Then there was this.
Then there was the war.
It didn't matter who started it.
It didn't matter who ended it.
It all spun out of control.
It was over.
We won.
They won.
Who knew?
There was no one to tell Penny.
There was nothing now but the burning of fires and birds flying away and the ever great silence.
The lavender sky broke and there it was, a golden coin dipped in crimson, climbing at a snail's pace into her view.
Her lips parted and she broke the silence.
"The sun is coming up."
The words seemed to almost ripple with force. The sound broke barriers. It was more destructive than any bomb that had hit the ground.
Words, softly spoken, in the rising sunlight.
Penny turned from the sun, she turned from the broken silence lying at her feet, she turned and climbed onto the bed.
Sheldon's eyes were still open.
Blue, blue, so blue, and his skin was paler now.
His shirt was stained. Black. Dust, soot, rusted blood.
Penny lay next to him.
She reached up a hand and closed his eyelids.
Good. He was sleeping now.
She rested her head against his shoulder.
She took his hand, lifeless and stiffening, she took it and did her best to intertwine his fingers with her own.
She closed her eyes.
Author: she_burns1
Pairing: Sheldon/Penny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 691
Prompt: My world would be complete if someone wrote a Sheldon/Penny fic based on the name of an album by Stars: In Our Bedroom After the War.
Summary: Oh, the blood and the treasure...and the losing it all...the time that we wasted, and the place where we fall. Will we wake in the morning and know what it was for? Up in our bedroom...after the war?
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The plot is all mine. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Please, person who came up with this prompt, do not feel pressured into leaving any feedback on this. I just came up with this and really felt like posting it, as it's my first apocafic/drabble. Also, in regards to my prompter, I am aware that 'war' could stand for many things, but this is what came to my mind. I hope, whoever you are, that you enjoy it.
The breeze was cool, the sky was turning lavender in color.
A plume of dark smoke rose into the sky, grey and white, coming up from the earth, chased by orange and yellow sparks.
The sirens had died. There was no more noise. No more noise after it had all been so loud.
Screams, wails, crying and explosions, explosions - the ground bursting apart under buildings and feet. The constant boom, boom, booming and now, now...the silence. Serene and cold and eerie.
Penny could hear herself breathe.
She didn't know how that was possible.
Yet her lungs worked, they drew in, they pushed out, air, sweet and tart, flowing in and out of her. Oxygen to Carbon Dioxide to Oxygen again. An interchanging. An exchange. Different elements.
The smell of blood and fire and grease.
The clotting, choking smell of death.
Penny stood there, stood in her bedroom. The wall to her right side was completely gone. It was a gaping, jagged hole. Broken bricks and drywall and glass lay everywhere. She rubbed at her cheek. She could feel the ash and dirt and dried blood between her fingers.
She lifted her head and watched birds fly by, dark and unassuming and how could they not know the change? How could they not feel it?
But they flew, wings holding them aloft, their tiny minds caring naught for the troubles of man. They were literally above it all. Alive and free and flying. Flying so high and Penny blinked, blinked with no tears, no wetness of her eyes, blinked and blinked again and they were long gone.
She looked at her bed.
It was coated in a powder of plaster and broken wood. Glass rested in strategic areas. Glittering like diamonds. Sheldon lay there. She had dragged him up all those flights. Yanked him up stairs. She might have dislocated both his arms. It didn't matter. He couldn't use them anyway.
And Raj. And Howard. And Leonard.
Where did they now lie?
In the street? In their cars? Had they been dragged, as Sheldon had, to some other place? Penny wished she had been the one to do so, she wished she had had the chance to collect them all, to gather them all up. To bring them here...
But where was here?
Was here safety?
Her bedroom...
She looked at Sheldon lying there.
Their bedroom...
It was all a blur now. A beautiful blonde moving in across the hall from two awkward geeks and oh, hello, those two blossomed into a quartet (with her a quintet) and she dated one but fell in love with another and there was laughter and tears and fights and silliness. But is settled, it evolved, it became smiles and warmth and understanding and long, long arms holding her every night.
Then there was this.
Then there was the war.
It didn't matter who started it.
It didn't matter who ended it.
It all spun out of control.
It was over.
We won.
They won.
Who knew?
There was no one to tell Penny.
There was nothing now but the burning of fires and birds flying away and the ever great silence.
The lavender sky broke and there it was, a golden coin dipped in crimson, climbing at a snail's pace into her view.
Her lips parted and she broke the silence.
"The sun is coming up."
The words seemed to almost ripple with force. The sound broke barriers. It was more destructive than any bomb that had hit the ground.
Words, softly spoken, in the rising sunlight.
Penny turned from the sun, she turned from the broken silence lying at her feet, she turned and climbed onto the bed.
Sheldon's eyes were still open.
Blue, blue, so blue, and his skin was paler now.
His shirt was stained. Black. Dust, soot, rusted blood.
Penny lay next to him.
She reached up a hand and closed his eyelids.
Good. He was sleeping now.
She rested her head against his shoulder.
She took his hand, lifeless and stiffening, she took it and did her best to intertwine his fingers with her own.
She closed her eyes.