The Futility of Hope

Amy clenched her jaw to try and stop her chattering teeth giving them away. Her blood encrusted fingers bit deeply into the once soft cashmere of his jumper, the ragged nails catching unnoticed on threads. His ragged breathing ruffled her hair and she risked a glance up at him, shuddering at the tranfixed gaze he directed over her head.

"Daniel?" she whispered, the slight waver of her voice disturbingly loud in the unnatural stillness of the midday sun. His gaze flickered down to her for less than a second, but the tight frown creasing his brow shushed her as effectively as a spoken reprimand.

Her whole body ached with fatigue, the tremor in her limbs more from exhaustion than cold. As though he had only just truly noticed the shell shocked female in his arms, Daniel took a small step back and gently disentangled her hands from the mangled fabric of his jumper. Briefly laying a finger on her lips he took a moment to make sure she understood, and then proceeded to inspect the jagged cut she had taken to her upper arm an hour or so before.

Tears sprang to Amy's eyes as he gently felt his way round the hot, swollen flesh. After a few minutes he took her hand in his and beckoned with the other for her to follow. Without hesitation she obediently went along, calmly acknowledging in the deep of her subconscience that she was in shock.

They picked their way carefully through the rubble of the seemingly deserted city, the noonday sun glaring down at them in silent judgement from the remote sky. After little more than half an hour Daniel stopped, hovering in the darkened mouth of a small side alley they had just crept up. Rousing slightly from her numb stupour, Amy moved to his side and peered slowly out into the broad avenue. The stillness and silence seemed amplified in what should have been the busiest thoroughfare in town.

"We're going to have to cross over to get to safety," Daniel mumured, bending to speak directly into her ear. "I don't like it, but I can't see another way."

Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, Amy settled for a jerky nod, looking up at him in surprise as he gently squeezed her hand. Feeling the panic rising in her chest, she pulled him back down the alley a little way, ignoring the look of consternation on his face.

"Look," she began, staring at a spot somewhere over his right shoulder. "Daniel... I don't think we're going to make it. And I'm not being defeatist, I'm being realistic." She risked a look back at his face, finding his calm expression no comfort. "I just want to thank you, for helping me. I know we haven't always gotten along."

The corners of his lips twitched into a half smile at her last statement, his cool blue eyes cutting straight through her bravado. She knew he wasn't fooled by her no-nonsence tone, nor by the stubborn set of her slight shoulders. Only the day before he would have made a cutting comment, engaging her in their fabled repetoire that had been their only sourse of communication since their introduction a year previously. Instead he waited quietly for her to finish, the sympathy in his eyes masking his own sense of desolation and fear.

Without warning Daniel reached out and gently tucked the wayward strands of blond hair behind her ear, trailing his hand along her jawline, his thum sweeping softly across her cheekbone. Closing her eyes against the rising tears Amy turned her cheek into the warmth of his hand, drawing all the comfort she could from the contact.

"It was always fun, Amy" he said with a wry smile, obviously thinking of the many heated discussions they had gotten into since first becoming aquainted.

"Yes, it was wasn't it," she agreed, wishing that she had had the confidence all those months ago to tell him that the way his dark hair fell into his eyes was really perfection made life, and that the fit of her hand in his clearly made them an ideal match. It was too late now. "Do you think they're all..."

"Dead?" he finished for her. "Yes, probably."

They stood silently in mutual grief for a moment, thinking of their families and friends who had surely perished in the chaos of the battle that had shaken the very foundations of the city only a few hours prior.

"I'm scared," Amy admitted after a few minutes, the relief she felt at saying those two simple words immense.

"Pray this is bigger than us," he replied, taking her unquestioningly into the comfort of his arms. "In the grand scheme of things, why should we attract anybodies attention now that the initial chaos is over? We could be clear of all this tomorrow."

Amy nodded into his chest, knowing in her heart of hearts that he was telling her only what she wanted to hear, but taking strength and hope from it nonetheless.

"Thank you," she gasped, somehow forcing the words out past the tightness in her throat. She felt a featherlight kiss settle on her crown, and then he was drawing away from her and leading her by the hand towards the rectangle of light that marked the mouth of the alley.

They broke cover at a run, the still air seeming to resist them as their feet pounded against the pavement. The sound of the gunshot exploded against Amy as though it had physically hit her, and she was aware only that she was falling at speed, dragged down by the suddenly heavy weight of Daniels hand. The world was moving in slow motion, the ringing in her ears obliterating all other sound. Somehow she was no longer lying prone on the ground, but was kneeling by Daniels side, the crimson of his blood flooding the grey pavement with colour. She was cradling him to her chest, and he was gazing at her in wonder with those clear blue eyes she had once professed to hate, his familiar crooked smile filling her with a mix of love and despair.

Somebody was screaming somewhere in the distance, and then his eyes glazed over and she realised that it was her, and she buried her head into his lifeless body and sobbed. The ringing in her ears intensified and a shadow fell over her. Looking up into the barrel of a gun Amy begged silently for death, knowing she now had nothing left to live for.

But somebody was puling her to her feet, her arms were being secured behind her back and men in strange uniforms were dragging her away, cursing in a foreign language as she writhed and fought against the horror of her fate.

Tired of her hysteronics, somebody clubbed her around the back of her head, and her last thought before darkness took her captive was a plea to a nameless higher power for her to wake, and find that it had all been a dream; that hell had not opened its door and unleashed horror into her life, that the world remained bigger than her and she would live unnoticed by ill chance and violence. And then darkness took her, and she knew no more.