Moonlightaholics

AN/Disclaimer: As usual, no infringement of anything intended. And also as usual, a shout-out to my beta, Lilly, for making this better. Much better.

Killing Time

301 Waverly Place, New York City, 1957

“I’m not sure what to tell you, Mr. Fitzgerald,” the nurse said, “but I thought you ought to know.”

Josef looked down at the still figure in the broad bed. He’d swear she was in the first bloom of health and beauty, that she might open her eyes and smile at him at any moment. But she wasn’t, and she wouldn’t. Her condition had been unchanged for two years now. Unchanged. He twisted his mouth at the irony of the word. That was the key. His own eyes, clouded with love, hadn’t noticed, but the nurse had finally realized the truth. It wasn’t only Sarah’s condition that was unchanged. Her face, her hair, her skin…nothing was changing.

He’d sworn to take care of her, forever. Sworn it to her…and he would never back away from that. But he hadn’t realized that she might be preserved by his blood, sleeping through the years, the decades, maybe the centuries, like an enchanted princess. Well, if that was the case, he would build the wall of briars around her himself, to protect her until she awakened. She had to wake up someday. All it would cost him was time.

He became aware, suddenly, of the clock ticking on the mantelpiece, the steady sound insinuating itself past the hum of the medical equipment in the room. A clock that dared to measure the length of her imprisonment within her body, that dared to remind him of every second that passed without hearing the sound of her voice.

Before the pain of it could drive him to his knees, he let fury sweep in and replace it. He took three long strides over to the fireplace, and took the clock in his hands. The ticking was intolerable, and he considered smashing it, taking out his frustration on the inanimate object. Instead, with shaking hands, he opened the clock face. The intricate works moved precisely, a work of art in themselves. A model of human achievement, the precision of measurement and craft. He put his fingers into the midst of that mechanical perfection. A simple twist, a tiny movement, and the clock was dead. It would never mark the passage of time again.

The nurse was watching, breathless, aware as always that her employer was a dangerous man. That he’d never shown her anything but kindness made no difference. The capacity was there, and she never forgot it. She could see his rage in every line of his body as he set the clock back on the mantel, but when he turned, none of it showed in his face.

Josef came back to the bedside, took Sarah’s hand, and gently stroked a finger down her cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, not knowing himself exactly what he was apologizing for: her condition, or his behavior, or all of it. He shifted his gaze to the nurse. “No more clocks in this room. None. Ever.” He looked down at Sarah again. “Time may pass, but I don’t want her reminded of it. She’s escaped time.”

That is so sad but I can see it happening. Josef loves her so much.

Thanks, cassy! I do try in ALL my Josef fic set after Sarah, to keep her, and his love for her, in mind. It has shaped his current outlook so much.

Lucky

This is so perfect - and I can totally see Josef doing this. Since Sarah is 'suspended' in time - Josef wouldn't want any reminders of time going by near her - on the off chance she awoke. And I love how the nurse *knows* Josef is dangerous - but when he turns around, absolutely NOTHING is visible on his face..a perfect mask of civility.

Karen

Lovely.

So this occurred after Sara had slept for only two years. Josef remained true to his word. He has taken care of her.

Sara's unnamed nurse here is very perceptive---that her charge has remained unchanged over two years, and the fact that Josef is a dangerous man to start with are a good start. The transfusions she gives Sara every day must have struck her as odd.

Thank you for this gem!

Jenna

Lucky,

A poignant moment indeed, when hope fades and the reality hits Josef that time will stand forever still for his beloved Sarah. And so, he makes the measure of it stand still as well, literally killing time.

A simple twist, a tiny movement, and the clock was dead. It would never mark the passage of time again.

Lovely

Brilliant Lucky! *sighs* Your J is always fabulous!

I love this story, Lucky. So sad, so subtle--so Josef. He may be suffused with rage, but the mask doesn't slip. And he's not the type to use a big hammer when he can kill time with a simple twist of those strong, clever fingers.

Two years before it hits him that Sarah isn't just in a coma. She's in stasis. Unchanged, although she has changed everything in his life. No wonder he doesn't want any clocks in her room. Time has no place there...

So sad. Time continues to stand still for Sarah. For Josef, it relentlessly moves on, separating them, the tick of the clock an accusatory reminder.

Lucky, your Josef is always so beautifully drawn.

librarian_7 wrote: “No more clocks in this room. None. Ever.” He looked down at Sarah again. “Time may pass, but I don’t want her reminded of it. She’s escaped time.”

Forgive a bit of paraphrasing, but it was the first thing I thought of with those last lines. Unfortunately, in this case, there's not even the hope of healing and moving on as there would be in death:


Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message She Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

She was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

librarian_7 wrote:He put his fingers into the midst of that mechanical perfection. A simple twist, a tiny movement, and the clock was dead. It would never mark the passage of time again.

Oh mercy! He literally killed time as far as Sarah was concerned. I'm surprised -- yet not surprised -- that he held his fury in like that, but ever the restrained vampire, he cannot show his real self to Sarah's nurse. I think only Sarah (and later Mick) ever got to see his real self.

eris wrote: Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message She Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

She was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Eris, I remember first hearing this in the movie Four Weddings and a Funeral. I thought it was so beautiful and poignant then, as it is now. Thanks for bringing it here for all to enjoy.

This was beautiful, Lucky. I was expecting Josef to give into his rage. Heave the clock across the room or throw it on the floor and stomp on it till it was nothing but pieces. But to do what he did was much more chilling. And the nurse felt that way too.

I completely agree, MLC. Giving into the rage may have been the more obvious choice, but the calm manner in which he silenced the clock was like coldly snapping the neck of a foe rather than tearing him limb from limb. It was swift and lethal. Josef maintaining control here in spite of the storm brewing just beneath the surface makes this all the more heartbreaking.

Beautifully done, Lucky.

Poor Josef. Poor Sarah. Maybe she'll wake up in a hundred years, like Sleeping Beauty? Maybe Sleeping Beauty was like Sarah, caught in between human and vampire, and all Sarah needs is a kiss from her handsome prince...

Admittedly, the first thing I thought of when Josef was purging the room of the ticking of clocks was Captain Hook and the Croc...and in a way, that fits...but I agree, this was so much more chilling than the smashing of them.

poignant, as you always treat him.