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What are the saddest lines/passages you've read in a fanfiction?
Asking because I'm really bored, anyway mine come from a Law & Order: Criminal Intent fanfiction called Doing the Work; and here they are...I don't expect आप to read them all.
She looks down, and it takes her a while to get started, but when she finally begins to speak it's a rapid, uncensored flow of words, and I know she's being completely honest.
"Because that's how I felt. I was trying so hard to help you, and आप were treating me like a stranger, like I was nothing to you. I knew आप were lying to me, and that दिन आप looked at me like आप wished I'd just disappear, and I thought-" She finally pauses, and her voice gets softer. "I thought आप were cutting me loose. I thought आप were going to tell me आप didn't want me for a partner anymore."
The pain in her voice steals my breath.
And out of the dizzying maelstrom of my thoughts, a concrete image forms. I already have a mental picture of the barrier Doctor Gyson calls my emotional drawbridge-a thick, heavy, wooden barricade right out of the Middle Ages-but this time my perspective has changed. I am not looking at it from inside my fortress. This time, I am hovering above it, and I can see what's on the other side.
Eames.
Bruised and bloodied and exhausted from throwing herself against the gate.
But still there.
Still knocking.
Still waiting.
I blink, and the image of the drawbridge disappears.
It is replaced द्वारा the all-too-real image of Eames sitting curled in on herself on the other end of the couch, head bowed, trembling faintly. She's bleeding hurt I can feel from five feet away, but what nearly kills me is the way she's got her arms wrapped around herself. Because I know exactly what that particular self-protective gesture says: No one is coming to comfort me, so I'll do it myself.
She looks down, and it takes her a while to get started, but when she finally begins to speak it's a rapid, uncensored flow of words, and I know she's being completely honest.
"Because that's how I felt. I was trying so hard to help you, and आप were treating me like a stranger, like I was nothing to you. I knew आप were lying to me, and that दिन आप looked at me like आप wished I'd just disappear, and I thought-" She finally pauses, and her voice gets softer. "I thought आप were cutting me loose. I thought आप were going to tell me आप didn't want me for a partner anymore."
The pain in her voice steals my breath.
And out of the dizzying maelstrom of my thoughts, a concrete image forms. I already have a mental picture of the barrier Doctor Gyson calls my emotional drawbridge-a thick, heavy, wooden barricade right out of the Middle Ages-but this time my perspective has changed. I am not looking at it from inside my fortress. This time, I am hovering above it, and I can see what's on the other side.
Eames.
Bruised and bloodied and exhausted from throwing herself against the gate.
But still there.
Still knocking.
Still waiting.
I blink, and the image of the drawbridge disappears.
It is replaced द्वारा the all-too-real image of Eames sitting curled in on herself on the other end of the couch, head bowed, trembling faintly. She's bleeding hurt I can feel from five feet away, but what nearly kills me is the way she's got her arms wrapped around herself. Because I know exactly what that particular self-protective gesture says: No one is coming to comfort me, so I'll do it myself.
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