Disclaimer: This is purely a
work of fiction, inspired by real actors. The events portrayed in this story are
in no way true - no matter how much I might wish they were.
Summary: He never said he was fearless...
Beta: Many, many thanks to
nurseowens for the beta – any and all remaining mistakes are mine alone.
A/N: This is loosely inspired by the song ‘Fearless’ by VNV Nation, but I wouldn’t consider it a ‘songfic’. Dedicated to my twin and other half of my creative soul, jmtelessar – feel better soon, babe *hugs*
He never said he was fearless. No, that’s a conclusion that the rest of the Fellowship came to all on their own, after watching him throw himself off a bridge with nothing but a glorified rubber band wrapped around his ankles to keep him from an undignified, messy end on the rocks below.
Or maybe it was after he’d jumped from a plane into the open air, trusting only in a small, packed square of fabric on his back to keep him alive...
He’s not really sure where they got that impression from, actually. All he knows is that they all think he’s reckless, impetuous, maybe even a bit on the mental side. He’s not ready to explain it to anyone, not even to his newfound family. So instead, he throws himself harder and faster into each new challenge. Meets each new risk, each new thrill with slightly bared teeth and a gleam in his eyes.
They think he’s fearless.
They’ve never been further from the truth.
He’s terrified. Terrified of life and everything in it. Terrified of finding himself lost again in a dark place where movement is a memory and the future nothing but a long, narrow tunnel of confinement stretching outwards to a finite end. A dark place of imprisonment and crushed dreams, resigned to the role of a spectator while life passes him by.
No, he’s not fearless at all. But if there’s one thing that dark place taught him, it’s that life is fleeting. That life is meant to be lived to the fullest because you never know when it might be snatched away. A clichéd truth, yes. But a truth nonetheless. One that wakes him up some nights, sweating with his pulse thudding in his throat, the burning panic slow to fade as the feeling of the sheets tangled around his legs sinks back into his awareness.
They all think he’s fearless.
That’s what he’d believed, anyway. So when warm skin presses against his back and an arm wraps around his waist, he does his best to control the way his heart is racing in his chest and threatening to crawl up into his throat. Does his best not to jerk and grab at the sheets when a broad, callused palm slides along his abdomen to rest against his chest. Swallows hard to fight back the fear of being held so still, shoves at the panic threatening to choke him and tries to focus on the here and now.
It takes him a moment to realize that the soft, raspy murmuring he hears against his ear is actually words. It takes him a moment longer to break those words down enough to understand their meaning. When he does, it’s like jumping off a bridge or out of a plane all rolled into one. But trusting in a rope, trusting in a parachute, couldn’t possibly be compared to what he’s being asked to do now.
“You don’t have to be afraid... I’ve got you...”
Nine simple words and he doesn’t have to think, he just has to let go and fall.
They all think he’s fearless, all save one. And that’s enough to make him fly.
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