AUTHOR'S NOTE: My apologies for my slow posting on The Lost Son of Avalon. I am entering in the next chapter now, and I hope to have it up
and posted by the end of this next week. But I thought I'd post this, a prequal of sorts. I'll let you guess who's speaking, but I ask your
indulgance for a few days, I'm running woefully behind (and kicking myself and my Muse for it every day, but I digress), and I promise the
next chapter will have a little dash of fun in it that I hope will make you smile. This entry is my first attempt at writing from a first-
person view, please let me know what you think! I and my Muse (::shoots Muse a deadly look when she opens her mouth::) ask for any reviews!
Thank you, and have a great week! :)

Shadewynde

EVERYTHING CHANGES BUT YOU

I always knew I loved him.
I knew twelve hours after I met him.
It wasn't just the red hair, or the vivid blue eyes that could see right into my soul.
It wasn't just the warmth and kindness.
It wasn't just the quiet but unshakable faith, the compassion, the Old World manners or the quiet power.
It wasn't even only the deceptively soft voice that could range from soft velvet to fiery whiskey.
It was him.
All of him.
So I watched as he reached out.
I wept in silence when he drew back.
I laughed when he smiled with only the brilliant blue of his eyes.
I danced while staying still when he walked by.
Part of me writhed with helpless, hopeless pain when he withdrew from me.
Something in me died when I caught that one, silent, sad glance, when I backed away from him.
Oh, I knew.
I was angry, and I was hurt - but most of all, I was selfish.
I never told him.
I never reached out.
I always knew he'd be there.
I always knew he'd catch me if I fell.
I didn't watch when he married someone else.
I didn't see when his world was ripped apart.
I didn't hold him while his heart broke.
I didn't say a word while he choked on his prayers.
I wanted him to come to me.
It was selfish, and I was angry, but then I was so afraid to fall.
Even into his arms.
Even into his heart.
I didn't know what to say when he came home from Hell, his brother dead, his life in shambles, his heart broken.
I didn't look past the fact he held his head high and kept on going.
I went my way and convinced myself I loved someone else.
But it wasn't the love my friend needed or deserved.
It wasn't what I needed.
But did I deserve it?
The Lab's air is cool, and it soothes my heartbeat, it stills my restlessness.
But in my heart, there is this love, this deep, burning ache that won't leave, won't die.
Nothing fills it, nothing eases it, nothing comforts it.
Nothing but the velvet of his voice.
Nothing but the expanse of the sky and the depth of the sea in his eyes.
So I step off the elevator.
I say my hellos, bright as I need to be, because I realize that I've already fallen.
No.
I've already leapt, into the heart of the maelstrom.
But it's too late.
I've pulled away.
I wasn't there when he needed me.
Just a bottle of champagne that sits silent inside his office cabinet, never opened, never touched.
Why does he keep it, I wonder?
Why hasn't he given it away, in that quiet, honestly selfless manner that is so very him?
Why hasn't he poured it down a drain, like the brilliant scientist he is?
Why does he keep that dust-covered bottle, in that silent, still office he retreats to now?
Why don't I ask him?
I see Eric then, and something in his eyes tells me.
I see it, and I'm afraid, and a little sad.
He's braver than I am.
More honest, in this.
It's time I be honest, too.
With Eric.
With myself.
With him.
So I stop outside his office door, stop and watch his elegant, graceful hands turning something over and over.
I see the weariness in his posture.
I see the pain in his movements.
So I open the door, the door to his office.
The door to my heart.
The door to my very soul.
I step through.
Everything changes, Horatio.
Everything but the fact I belong to you.