Chapter Text
Amy Silva had never liked the ocean. Its vast void of blue had always spooked her in her younger years, and the fear flowed freely as a tidal wave now. It was no surprise. After everything that had happened.
Pushing those thoughts aside, she cast her eyes outwards. Endless cobalt waves blanketed the terrain below, stretching out far into the distance. The dull thud of rotary blades echoed through the cabin, pulsing deep into her mind. She wasn't sure which was worse: the helicopter or her impending entrapment on the submarine. She couldn't think like that now.
Searching for something, anything, to catch her attention, her eyes fell upon her flight suit. Crimson. The colour of warning. She felt a shiver ghost through her body.
Red. The colour of warning, but also of love. Thoughts of auburn hair and hazy smiles filled her memory. She didn't remember when roof terrace chats and questionable hot chocolates had turned into living room dances and glasses of white wine, but she remembered all to well how it all came crashing down.
Soft burgundy had turned to cool blue, and their easy words had grown spikes. A fierce storm had raged the night that it ended, one to match the thunder on Kirsten's face. Amy had willed her not to go, fighting herself to do something, anything. Feet planted firmly in place and mouth glued shut, she had watched as Kirsten stormed away, leaving her to suffer in complete darkness.
The indigo expanse below her now seemed far less daunting now, she thought, as she was already buried in the depths of the blue in her mind, and the ocean would only serve to match.
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Kirsten collapsed against the supple leather of the car seat. Above her, the sun crept languidly across the sky. Dimly aware of the passage of time, Kirsten chose to ignore it. It could wait.
She hadn't expected any of this to happen. She had left Amy's flat in whirlwind that night, a mix of passion and fury clouding her face, whilst Amy had passively watched on. Now, it was her turn to stare, as Amy left her. It wasn't up to her to worry about Amy anymore, she tried to reason. But the shake in her hands betrayed her true feeling.
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"Do you want me on your mind, or do you want me to go on?" Amy whispered at the darkness. The darkness maintained its silence, refusing to relinquish its secrets. She wasn't sure if which scared her more: the question or the answer.
Minutes had turned to hours, and hours to days. Amy had been pushed beyond all reason, but yet her mind always returned to one place. Deep under the ocean, thousands of miles from her, and buried in a metal tube under a mountain of water. And yet she was all that there was to Amy. She was everything.
Sleepless nights and tired thoughts had all but become her entirety, and she should be replete of thoughts, but yet she still had many.
"Kirsten, how did we go so wrong?" She mused.
"How did I give you up so easily?"
Pushing against the bunk above her, she felt the smooth metal under her palms. Words swirled into sentences, her emotions spilled over into her hands.
Burning with a ferocity uncommon to her, she pounded against the steel beams, pleading silently with the darkness. Feeling the pressure now, she willed herself to be still. Kirsten was gone, and an ocean stretched between them now, its melancholy blue barricading her into her choices.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm so sorry."
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Cat had never really liked Kirsten. Never disliked, just not liked. Needless to say, she was not pleased to see her now, creeping into the murky apartment. Keys on the side table. Shoes at the door. The routine felt achingly familiar to her; a relic of a time long passed.
Still, there was no time for reminiscing. Not while Amy was still down there. Although they might not be together anymore, Kirsten would never allow herself to shift her eyes from the water, not with Amy sinking ever lower into the murky depths. Settling into her place at the dining table, she opened her laptop, basking in its pale glow. It was going to be a long night.
The faint sound of church bells snapped her out of her focus. What time was it? She realised that she had no idea how long she had been working. A glance at the time revealed the truth: it was far too late. Faced with a fresh dilemma, she twisted her fingers, uncharacteristically uncertain.
It was much too late to drive back to her flat, and she suspected that the roads would have flooded in the rain. But was it really wise to stay over, in the place where she had once found home? Shadows of Amy lingered in every room. Kirsten didn't know if she could bear it.
A crackle of thunder decided for her, and she resigned herself to facing the ghost of their past. She pulled herself up with a sigh. It was only for a night, she reasoned.
Creaking up the staircase, she pushed open the aged wooden bedroom door. A room once filled with light and joy, it was now filled with a chill, its corners enveloped in darkness. Kirsten was sure that its walls had taken on a darker shade of indigo, Amy must have painted it, she reasoned.
Settling into bed, she tried not to think about the coldness of the other side of the bed. It's better off this way, she mused. The words rang hollow through her mind, as if bouncing off of the emptiness of the room. It had to be this way.