Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this story because this all belongs to Sophia Coppola, I worship the ground she walks on because she IS A GENIUS. Besides I'm poor…so please don't sue. NO profit is made off of this.

Note: This first chapter is a little bit thoughtful…it'll be filled with more action stuff later

Summary: Charlotte and Bob have just parted ways, but goodbye is never forever.

Rating: I guess PG for now? It may get higher ratings if I decide to continue.

Lost in Thoughts

By pkangel

Her head bobbed lightly to the mellow beats drumming in from the massive headphones. This was how it was lately. She would put them on and fall into a trance, a steady and endless melodies of daydreams, composed of mainly jazzy notes.

The people who knew her or simply meet her once called her mellow and she was never one to disagree with that. She would like to believe that she was just bottling up her passion for something worthwhile. And in one giant explosion she would give it all, whatever it was. Then she would be a dormant volcano waiting for a catalyst. But the great Charlotte would always fall victim to logic and reason. It was a much safer haven then reckless passion. Besides, in all her years she has never discovered a catalyst powerful enough…to wake her up.

Her eyes fell on her husband and his sleeping form. It would have been a tender image if it wasn't punctuated by the loud snoring. Her forehead crinkled into a frown. It should have been him that she was waiting for. Her personal catalyst. In the beginning, she had naively hoped this was the case.

It was a confusing time. In between her studies and the awkward social adjustment each young adult had to make, she had met him. His scruffy hair and slightly awkward speech patterns were endearing. He had stuttered his way into her life, wooing her until she found herself thinking that perhaps what she feeling was love. Or was it? Could it have been flattery? Was she simply flattered that he had taken interest in her. No, that couldn't have been it. She had been in enough relationships and proposed to enough time to realize that she was not one easily flattered. But when he proposed, she had answered yes.

And when the priest asked something along the lines of, "Do you take this man to love for all eternity," she had answered yes. Even though she wanted to say, "To feel affection towards for all eternity…yes." Love, what was that? It sounded too intense, too "Hallmark"-like to sound real. It was something to post at the end of a letter. Love, Charlotte. I.E. Remember that I care about you perhaps more than those I enclosed Sincerely, Charlotte to. Etc. Etc. Charlotte thumbed her lips absently. Perhaps, she thought, the people who coined the term love didn't know what it included. How could they? People are so inefficient at communicating.

Suddenly she was aware that there was no more music. The CD had finished its round and she had forgotten to press repeat. She shivered. It's cold in this room and it didn't help that she was in her usual night gear: colored panties, white tank top, and a sweater.

Sighing, she picked herself up from the floor and she groaned when her body had to readjust to standing up. Argh! One of her legs was asleep and something that was a mix between numbness, pain, and prickling began to make itself known. Damn! Charlotte had to haul herself to the window and slam it down. She proceeded to rub her legs till circulation returned. She gave up and dragged herself to the bed. She stood there for and gazed down at her husband. Shadows caused by the moonlight bleeding through the blinds draped her face…Time. Time was their enemy. She had thought it would've been a blessing to spend more time with her husband and finally know him more. She wanted to will herself to be his soul mate through time. But, much to her dismay, she had found herself drifting from him. Like an irreparable rift, she had watched the divide grow until she found herself sleeping next to a stranger. Yet, she found so much affection still inside herself.

Her eyes drifted close and she slowly lowered herself to her husband's side. She shrugged off her pesky sweater and snuggled closer to him. She wanted to feel him around her and reassured her that he wasn't a stranger. No pesky sweaters. "John," she wisply breathed out as her arms encircled his waist. He made some incomprehensible sounds and wrapped his arms around her. Cold. His arms were freezing because they weren't covered by blankets early. But human contact was still nice.

No, it wasn't passion she ever desired for. That was too much, Charlotte decided. It would drown out the real. All she wanted was understanding. Charlotte's mind decided to check out. Before she did she reminded herself, "Better e-mail Bob tomorrow, wonder if it noon in America yet?"

Author's note: It's been so long since I've written again. I'm sorry if I haven't been working on my "Only in Memories" fic. It's because I lost my muse for that. I will find it again when I replay FFX. In the meantime, Sophia Coppola's masterpiece has been playing in my head too much to ignore. So I bring you, life after Lost in Translation. Please R and R.