Author's note: This is the beginning of a story that might never get written. I haven't written fanfiction in years, I'm in the middle of GCSE revision, and I'm notorious for very rarely finishing anything I start. So I make no promises. Read at your own risk. Right now I have plot bunnies (had 'em for weeks, as soon as I added up a couple of dates and realised some possibilities), tomorrow I might have met a brick wall. But I shall try to make this work, and I sincerely hope you (yes you, you lovely person who's read through all this self indulgent drivel so far) enjoy it...
Prologue of Sorts
She lay awake in the silence of the night, staring at her hand by the little moonlight that seeped through the curtains.
The numbness of insomnia, the weariness of the staring, the actions themselves were nothing new. The leaps of her heart were all too familiar, the night itself going the same way as countless others had these last few months.
But this time was different. There was no hollow feeling in her stomach, no forbidden longing in her heart, no hot tears threatening to seep, uninvited out the corners of her eyes, because those eyes no longer fixed themselves to that old little scar, the site of his kiss and the cause of her sadness. Instead they observed, with a deep quiet peace, the simple ring which he had placed on her finger that morning.
Sighing no longer with sadness but unspeakable joy, she rolled over onto her side, her eyes still not leaving the ring. Part of her wondered if this was all a happy dream, for it was all too perfect to possibly be real. Everything that had been going on for weeks, months, yes, even years, all the turmoil that had kept her from sleeping each night, how could it all be fixed like that? With a few words and a simple kiss – oh so similar to that first one in the kitchen, but yet oh so different at the same time? She should have had doubts, reservations, worries; everything was going so quickly. But far from spinning out of control, it felt like all the pieces were falling into place. "Certain" was such a strong word, one it was almost impossible to turn back from, but there wasn't another that would suffice. She was certain. And so was he.
But fear still lingered. Not the deeps seated fear that she was losing her faith, or the terrifying possibility of losing him; those old demons had now truly been laid to rest. No not those fears, but a fear of others. Of their reactions, of the whispers of her friends, of the gossip that could travel through Poplar quicker than a midwife on an emergency call. Would they understand? Would they blame Patrick, thinking he had caused her to turn from her faith and abandon God, or would they see that he'd been the one to catch her as everything fell apart? To them, everything would look to have happened so fast - would they really be able to understand that events had been set in motion long before any of them had been aware of where thing would lead, especially her? Her life was changing in so many ways, and though he was a major part of it, he was not its entirety. Perhaps they might. Perhaps they could. People never failed to surprise her.
Sleep finally began to overcome her, and with a small smile, she closed her eyes. Soon it would be morning, time to wake and greet whatever the new day had in store. She didn't know what it would be. Just as she couldn't say where the road God was guiding her down had started, she couldn't say where it would lead.
But it was the right road. Of that much, she was certain.
All reviews appreciated, constructive criticism highly valued. I'm aware that this consists of more words than actual content (A fatal flaw of mine) but the rest of it should be an actual story, with, you know, plotlines and dialogue. Hopefully...