The Girl Wants to Believe

[sandandwater]

“There is no feeling, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music.” - George Eliot


Fight or flight. The path of least resistance. Letting the past dictate her future. These were all topics of discussion from Pippa’s ongoing therapy sessions, subjects that beat home the fact that she wasn’t really making any progress. She’s stalled herself at ‘functioning’ and has stopped trying to move past the idea of simply getting by. What was it that was stopping her? Fear.

Fear of what?

Memories. Flashbacks. Remembering.

But it’s already happened, you’ve survived and you know the outcome even if the memories are unpleasant. You know you managed to survive. We’re supposed to fear the unknown, not what we are already familiar with, right?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Start small. What’s one small thing that still scares you? One little trigger you keep avoiding?

Music.

Music?

His music.

That must make things very…

Difficult, yes.

Pick one song. I want you to listen to it. Don’t turn it off. See what happens.

I’ll try.

You try.

She was standing in his living room, in front of the stereo, CD in hand. The jewel case was open, the stereo on and the tray open and waiting. Still, Pippa couldn’t quite do it. She knew the song. Knew the track. Knew that it was exactly three minutes and forty-six seconds long. She could recall a lot in three minutes and forty-six seconds.

Pippa licked her lips but resisted the urge to wipe the sweat she could feel across the back of her neck. Tried to ignore the shadowy twinge of pain that shot along her left hand, culminating in a dull throb where her fifth knuckle ended in a stub of mottled flesh instead of an elegant pinky finger. Blinking back tears, she twitched at the sound of an open palm striking her bare flesh, wrinkled her nose at the foul smell of decay. She didn’t even have to play the music to remember.

She couldn’t do this. Not today, not now. Fight or flight. She wanted to choose flight. Wanted to drop the disc on the carpeted floor and run from the room. Run for the safety of his arms. If you can’t do this, how can you be certain he’ll even be there to hold you? Isn’t he worth fighting for? And isn’t his music part of him? Part of what you love? Pippa closed the jewel case and turned off the stereo.

Maybe she wasn’t ready to face the music on her own, confront the memories alone. Rory wanted her to talk to him about things, wanted to help her. She only had to listen to one song, all the way through. Her shrink never said she had to play the CD. Just listen to the song. Now the question was, could she ask Rory to do this for her and would she be able to explain why she needed this from him?

The musician was in his bedroom; Pippa could hear him fiddling with an arrangement at his keyboard, sometimes switching to one of his guitars to test some little element or another. She stood in the doorway, watching Rory, trying to find the courage to interrupt. Pippa didn’t have to search long; the fey had been aware of her presence and eventually turned to smile at her when she remained silent.

“Ro…can I ask you something?” Her voice was small and hesitant, almost childish in the uncertainty it carried. That alone was enough to bring him to her side, concern turning his bright grin into something more soothing as he nodded. Pippa wound her arms about his waist before continuing, “Will you hold me, rock me…like you used to? Sing to me? I’d like to hear my song.”

Her song. Believer Girl, Rory’d written the tune for her and turned it into something for the band’s set list months ago. She both loved and loathed the melody, the lyrics. When that monster, John Larch, held her captive and systematically stripped her of everything but fear and the promise of death, he’d played that song over and over…without knowing the significance it held. She hasn’t been able to listen to it since.

But now, if she could be in the one place where she felt safest, if she could just listen to the words and the warm, rich sound of Rory’s voice…hear the song stripped as bare as she’d been…maybe it would help. Maybe she could heal. Maybe she could fight.

“Please sing to me Ro…”

Pippa Kerr//Last Call//738

Comments

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Rory's eyes widened a little at Pippa's request. Difficult as it has been to accept, he understood her difficulties with hearing his music. He'd heard the CD Larch had mixed from Breaker Street's songs, songs that he'd twisted into a concert of horror, auditory torture to go along with the physical and psychological. For using his own music to torment the woman he loved, Rory would have killed Larch with his own hands if Tadhg hadn't taken that on himself.

But now ... she wanted to hear her song. Felt she had to, more likely. He could feel the tension in her body, her rapid heartbeat against his chest as he squeezed her close.

"Of course I will, a muirnin," he murmured, lips brushing the upper curve of her ear. "Here?"

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

Pippa nodded her head, rubbing her face against his chest even as her hands began to fist the back of his shirt nervously. She was forcing herself to breathe deeply, focus on the way he smelled and not on her mounting fear. Irrational, maybe, but understandable none the less. Pippa continued to cling to Rory, wanting and not wanting this, feeling like she was going to be pulled in two by her conflicting emotions. Standing in her own private hell.

"Hold me..." The whispered plea was unnecessary, his arms around her already, but that didn't stop Pippa from making it, lest he for some reason decide to let go. She couldn't do this if he wasn't going to keep her safe.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

"Come here," he said softly, his words as unneeded as hers as he guided her to the bed. Sitting up against the headboard, he eased her onto his lap and nestled her against his body. Pressing a kiss onto her forehead, he whispered, "I love you" against her skin.

Rory didn't ask if Pippa were ready. He knew on some level that there was no ready in facing what she was trying to face. All she could do was try.

So he breathed in and exhaled the first words of the first verse. Not needing to pitch his voice to stand up to the band's instruments, he let his rich baritone go low and warm, caressing and intimate. For her and her alone.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

Pippa couldn't help the tears that began to slide down her cheeks as he sang, lowering her head to his chest and running her hands up the length of his arms, fingers curled against shirtsleeves. She tried to focus on the words, on the fact that he was singing them for her, that Rory loved her but memories still fought to surface. Feelings more than images, the fear and the hopelessness she felt. Sadness at thinking she'd never see him again or be able to tell Rory that she believed in him.

Pippa recalled the way Larch taunted her with Rory's voicemails, playing the increasingly concerned messages over and over to let her know her lover was worried. Let her know Rory couldn't find her. Would never find her. And this song, this song had constantly played on.

She choked on a sob and placed on hand over her mouth. Just listen to his voice, the sound of his voice...forget about the words....

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Rory held Pippa snugly, stroking her back in rhythm with his singing. As her tears soaked through his shirt, he tried with voice and touch and simple closeness to bring her back from where bad memories had carried her. The first verse gave way to the tenderness of the chorus.

Believer girl
You picked me up and showed me how a love could be
Showed me there was someone special waiting for me
Believer girl
Spinning all my colors to a brighter hue
Giving me a sweeter touch than I ever knew
I do believe in you
Believer girl

Rory tightened his gut muscles to keep a quaver out of his voice. I'm here, sweet. We're both right here, together.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

She shifted in his embrace, turning to straddle his lap instead of sitting across his legs, able to press her body more fully to his and hide her face against the side of his neck. Pippa wanted to be surrounded by him, engulfed in his warmth, his scent, and the weight of his arms around her.

Calming herself this way, Pippa was able to keep herself more firmly in the present, listening to him and actually hearing the honest depths of his feelings for her. She pressed a shaky kiss to the underside of his jaw.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He answered her movement by folding both arms around Pippa and raising his knees so that she was nearly enveloped in his body. Feeling her relax just slightly as she kissed him, he started rocking gently in time with his singing.

Verse two. Another chorus. The bridge. Resting his cheek against her hair, Rory poured his voice over Pippa, sunshine warm and honey sweet. Somewhere inside he prayed that he could do this, help her once again associate his singing with beauty and love instead of horror.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

Pippa continued to snuggle her body into his, tears still falling against his shirt but she was certainly far more calm, lulled by his voice and the rocking. His presence alone making her feel more secure than had she attempted to do this alone.

As he shared the rest of the song with her, Pippa wasn't certain she'd ever be able to listen to the rough demo cut again, but if he was going to hum and sing, soft and low, against her ear and only for her...this wasn't going to give her nightmares or make her scream in terror. Her fingers loosened their grip on his arms, still holding on but no longer in desperation.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

She was relaxing. Thank God. Rory finished the final verse and slipped gently back into the chorus. His eyes remained closed as he focused on pouring every bit of joy he could into his voice ... the joy she'd brought him. She was here and he loved her; nothing was going to change that.

I do believe in you, Believer Girl.

He let his voice trail off, tenderly caressing the final syllables before letting them slip free. Believe in yourself, Pippa. Believe in me ... in us.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

She really had no idea what to believe any more, in herself, of him and who he was, what they had together--she was trying to make sense of it all, including what had happened to her. Trying, and in moments like this, feeling like maybe she could succeed.

"I love you, Ro."

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Rory lowered his head to press warm kisses to Pippa's ear and neck before murmuring, "I love you too, sweet. So very much." His warm hands kept running over her body, gentle and soothing. "A shíorghrá." My eternal love.

His arms slipped around his red-haired lover to hold her snug against him. As he continued with his rocking, he realized something that he mentally kicked himself for not seeing immediately. He needed to write her a new song. Songs. Completely new pieces of music, untouched by any horrific associations, untainted by Larch's vicious brutality.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

Under his kisses and caresses and in his strong embrace, Pippa let herself relax. Relax and let go--it was safe here, right now, with him. "What does that one mean, exactly, Ro?" She liked his Irish language, was trying to learn simply by listening to him and his family speaking to each other. It was the closest she could come to immersion, which was how she learned Venetian Italian. Still, occasionally, she was pushed by her own curiosity to ask for clarification instead of relying on context.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He felt the tears and the tension easing from her by inches. Still dropping the occasional kiss on skin flushed from crying, Rory slid the fingers of one hand into Pippa's hair. As he gently combed the fiery locks, he pulled back just far enough to smile into her beloved blue eyes. "It means 'my forever love', sweet." He angled his head to brush his lips against hers, still smiling.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"That's a very long time, Ro..." and a concept she wasn't so sure she believed in to begin with. Having met Rory and his kind, the definition of forever was something altogether different anyhow. He couldn't possibly mean it. Still, she offered him a wavering smile, the sentiment appreciated.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

He smiled back, warm and reassuring. Rory sensed Pippa's hesitation, if not all the reasons behind it, and didn't push. Words alone couldn't prove that he would be there for her; only time could do that. Time and patience.

Resting his lips against Pippa's forehead, Rory stayed curled around her, prepared to stay there all day if needed. Softly he breathed the Gaeilge words against her skin, Is tú mo ghrá. I love you.

[sand-andwater.livejournal.com]

"I know, Ruairi, I know." Quietly whispered, she answered him, calling him by his proper name for once. She did like the way the foreign syllables rolled off her tongue. Regal and strong...just like him.

Strong enough to hold her as she relaxed against him, tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes. Pippa wasn't planning to go anywhere for a while.

[fey-fire.livejournal.com]

Nor was Rory. Even if Pippa fell asleep, he'd stay right where he was, hoping that his close contact would keep bad dreams away. One hand continued to gently stroke his lover as his cheek found her hair again.

He knew that one song couldn't repair everything, that Pippa still had a long road of healing ahead of her. They'd passed another milestone on that road, though, and they'd done it together. Rory took comfort from that knowledge.