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Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive .. |
Title: Pilgrim's Progress
Author: Nehal
Author's e-mail: [email protected]
Fandom: Enterprise
Pairing: Reed/Sato
Rating: R
Category: Het
Warning: Deathficc
Summary: Hell, heaven, life and death are all apples.
Archived to Reed's Armory on 10/16/2003.
I am dead. I have no idea how it happened or why, or even if my death meant something. All I remember is the pain and then-
Hell.
--
Hell is a room. It is definitely not large but at the same time it cannot be small either. It is somewhere in the middle and quite comfortable. We, because there are others with me, are constantly provided with food and water, music, conversation, anything we could possibly desire except for one thing-
Apples.
--
In a place such as this, where everything is metaphorical, apples mean something far more than the word. The word itself is meaningless and changeable in eternity but the concept-
An apple is always an apple even when it is quite clearly not. In my case it is love. Not the compassionate love that everyone in this room feels toward me but the romantic all-consuming love that I have experienced only once. It was when he looked at me, when he smiled, when he jumped in front of me without a second thought and then whispered his heart while it bled across my uniform.
Malcolm.
--
Malcolm died in my arms without ever hearing my confession. I was too frightened to tell him how I truly felt. There were so many barriers- work, me, his principals. I did not want to be rejected just in case he woke up and reverted, just in case he used the words I work with so well against me, just in case he really loved me with all of his heart and expected me to love him equally in return.
So I said nothing and then he died and I was left alone until I came here. Hell, because despite the shining halos and the beautiful harps, despite the fluffy clouds and the unbelievable beauty that surrounds every atom of my being, despite everything, because Malcolm is not here, that is what it is.
Hell.
--
*****
Hell does not have circles but realms. Inside each realm is a pit and inside each pit is a man. I am inside the man, Reed. I am his soul, his conscience, the cricket to his Pinocchio and he-
He is in love.
--
Love is such a strange emotion. So divisive, so passionate, so incredibly volatile that sometimes it has to be separated from the man so he can survive. However, that cannot be done. Love is a part of the self, an emotion to make sense of the external environment, and it cannot exist separately. The soul&emdash;which is the place from where all love originates--however, can. So, I am here. Above his head blissfully separate yet reassuringly close. I do it out of pity. I cannot bear to see him unhappy. Yet, at the same time I do not want to him to be empty, so lost, so without the salvation that I can surely provide-
But I am torn, and thus he is condemned.
--
Condemnation is not eternal. Contrary to popular belief, Hell is not a place where anything can spend infinity. It is merely a waiting room, and how long one needs to wait before salvation is based upon how quickly the self is willing to act-
Malcolm does not want to act. He sees love as a weakness to be conquered, to be vanquished instead of cherished. He sees the girl; I know not her name, as needing his protection. Against what I do not know for certain but I have my suspicions.
It is a shame. I would quite like to see her again with his eyes, to feel her soft skin against his fingertips, to kiss her tenderly using nothing but his softest caress-
--
Touching her would be heaven. Kissing her angelic lips, an act of the sweetest contrition and I am tempted to swoop low and possess him by force, to make him feel all that I do, but I cannot. I have to wait until he calls me back and that may take, if not an eternity, then a very long time.
I have to wait.
--
I hate him.
~the end~
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