Lights that Blind Us

I guess this was my fault all along.

My fingers ran against the wall. They led me to the door, each step pressing my bare feet against the cool wood. I quietly wished that I had brought my sweater. If it's cold in here, it's bound to be even colder outside, I thought bitterly. I took in the scent of polished wood and lingering cologne, grimacing as I did. Why do I come here...? I can't stand it. The smell, the feel, everything is just terrible.

My hand finally found the door, the cool metal startling me for a moment. I made a move to force it open when suddenly it's pushed towards me, sending me reeling backwards and finally falling to the ground, a small boom sounding from it. I groaned in pain, laying there for a moment to refrain from yelling at whoever pushed me so stupidly.

"Oh my gosh!" I heard the stranger breathe, shocked. Well, I'm much more shocked. Isn't this place private? "Are you okay?" I heard a drop of a heavy duffel bag near the door before the unknown person - she was a girl, telling from her voice - came rushing towards my side. Her footsteps were light, and I recognized them to be that of a dancer's. She knelt beside me, but refrained from touching me.

"Wait... Ted?" the girl asked, and I heard as she moved back slightly, surprised. "Is that you?" I didn't make a move to reply. I was trying to force my eyes to open, to see if I could recognize the figure of the girl. But I failed and gave up, too tired to even want to put so much effort into it. "It's me - Reagan. Reagan Holt."

I finally spoke at that moment. "I thought this place was private. Access is supposed to limited, so what are you doing here?" I knew for a fact that Reagan was not supposed to be there, and while I supposed I wouldn't have minded if she had been there any other day, I was impatient after being knocked back with such force. Hah, I should have guessed a Holt had knocked me down. Muscled buffoons. Despite my coldness towards her, I admit that she was the only Holt I found reasonable in any way. Her mother came a close second, if I thought about it.

"Sorry," she mumbled, standing up once more. I listened as she walked back to her bag and slung it over her shoulder. "I'll go, I guess..." I heard her make her way to leave and I refrained from groaning.

"Wait," I said, almost immediately regretting my words. I heard as she stopped, her hand still on the door, causing it to groan from being pressed down upon. "Why don't you... stay, I guess. It wouldn't hurt either of us." I stood up, finally, and walked over to the door.

She was silent, but when I heard her unpacking her bag and turning on her stereo, I almost wanted to stay. Almost.

Ned and I were sitting by the counter, eating cereal as Ned told me about the latest discoveries he read about last night. I listened quietly as I ate, taking in his words without much interest. Lately, he had been obsessed with aircraft machines and such, but that never really fascinated me as much.

"Hey, Ted, Ned! Did you hear?" Sinead asked, running into the kitchen after she returned back inside.

Ned flinched, her raised voice only worsening his chronic headaches. Sinead paused for a moment, probably silently apologizing, before continuing. "I heard Reagan got into an accident last night. And guess what?"

"What?" Ned asked halfheartedly, playing with his cereal. He could never eat when his headaches got really bad. I listened as the spoon clanked against the bowl over and over.

"It was in front of that studio you two always hang out at - you know, the one the Morrisons' own and let you guys rest at? Apparently, a car didn't see her crossing and completely hit her," Sinead said, pulling out a stool beside us and pouring herself a bowl of cereal. She chewed on it noisily, and I finally stood up, not being able to handle all of the noise going on at once.

"I'm going to go listen to some audiobooks now," I murmured, walking out of the kitchen quietly.

Although I hadn't said anything the whole time, my mind was running everywhere.

"You're here again." I knew that she had been there ever since I exited the elevator, hearing the classical music play from down the hall as I made my way toward it.

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "I hope you don't mind... I just really like this studio. I don't really have anything like this at my school, you know?" Her words seemed forced, as if she wanted to put all of her focus into her dancing and talking wasn't very appealing to her at the moment. I wanted to laugh at the notion of a girl not wanting to talk all day - that's all Sinead did.

I walked over to where I usually sat, which was in front of the window. Despite being visually impaired, I could always hear things. The cars honking, the traffic rushing by, the harsh wind beating against the window... and even though all the noise was so distracting, it seemed to always be the cure to whatever I had been coming down with then. It took my mind off of everything else.

Before I got there, however, I was tripped by her bag.

"Oh, sorry," she apologized quickly, though I could tell she was more into her dancing than helping me. "I'll move that." She made her way over and grabbed her bag quietly, throwing it somewhere else.

I grunted, annoyed. I had half a mind to kick her out, but the other part was against being alone, again. Already fallen to the ground, I decided just to crawl over to my spot and position myself there. The sound of her music, along with everything else in the world, was enough to pull me out of the dark hole my mind was inhabiting.

After a while, I heard Reagan turn off the stereo, panting softly from the workout. I heard her take out a water bottle and gulp it down thirstily. I assumed she was just going to leave, but she just stood there, hesitant.

"So... what are you doing here?" she finally asked.

I sat there, not moving to face her. "I don't know who you are to ask that, seeing as how I'm the one who is actually allowed to be here, not you."

"Well, yeah," she started, a little flustered. "But I come here to dance. I have a reason, you know? But... why do you come here? You don't dance - you can't -" She stopped herself. "I mean... you don't dance. At least, I've never seen you dance."

"I don't come here to dance," I said. I would have rolled my eyes at that moment if I could. "I just come here to relax. No one comes here that often, much less after nine, when the last lesson is over. Besides, the owners and my parents are good friends, so they let me." My lips quirked and I chuckled softly. Anything for the two handicapped kids, right?

"Do you - Do you want me to wait for you?" she asked after a short pause. "So you won't have to be alone?"

"... No. Go." I listened as her footsteps became quieter and quieter, and as the door shut behind her. Suddenly, it was quiet. I had never hated silence that much before.

"... and in 1884, scientists discovered that -"

"Ted," Ned's quiet voice came, startling me. I heard him turn off the radio, stopping the audiobook. I laid there quietly, waiting for him to talk. "Are you... okay?"

I snorted. Brother's intuition. It kind of sucks sometimes, like when I just want to act innocent and carefree rather than guilty and burdened. There's no point in lying to him. "No."

He was quiet for a moment, either thinking of what to say or suffering more head pains. "Do you know what happened to Reagan?" he finally asked, his voice strained. He had a headache, I could tell.

"You should rest," I told him. "You know that the only time your headaches are gone is when you're asleep. Besides, if you were up all night researching, you must be tired." I sat up on my bed, facing the door when I assumed he was standing. "Go. I'll listen to my book somewhere else." I stood up, about to leave, when he stopped me.

"Don't ignore the topic," he warned, not threateningly, but with care.

"I'm not. I just think your health is important, that's all." I walked away after that, not bothering to grab the radio as I did.

"Can I ask you something?" Reagan asked, sitting a couple of feet away from me, resting.

"You've already done so, but I'll allow another one," I replied, resting my head against the cool glass. We had already met a couple of times by then, and we were getting used to seeing each other every Tuesday and Thursday night.

"How do you get around by yourself?" she asked slowly, as if not to offend me. Everyone's so touchy about the topic - except us. Ned and I were already getting used to our disabilities, but it seemed as if no one else could.

"I memorize my surroundings," I said with a shrug. "I usually only go to places that are familiar to me by myself. If I don't, someone else goes with me. But here, for example, I've been coming to ever since I was a younger child. Of course, I barely visited here back then. But now, I remember everything. Where the buttons are located on the elevator, how many steps it takes to get to this room, where the window is."

"But how do you know if someone approaches you?" she asked. "I saw you, one time, get approached by a security guard earlier. You seemed to know he was there."

"I rely on my hearing a lot, too. I listen for footsteps a lot of times, and voices. It makes things that don't always stay the same, like people moving, easier to locate and avoid," I explained.

She was quiet, thinking. We stayed in silence for a while, and I just listened to the occurrences outside, not particularly interested in it but I lacked anything else to do. Right when I was about to leave, she asked, "Am I someone you try to avoid?"

The corner of my lips quirked upwards. "Not lately," I told her before leaving. No... if anything, I actually enjoyed seeing her.

When Sinead came home later, she came over to the living room, where I was sprawled out on the couch, still listening to my book. The narrator's voice continued to drone on, his monotone boring me into half-slumber.

"Where's Ned?" she asked.

"Sleeping," I replied, my arm over my eyes lazily.

I heard her footsteps walk away, but come back. "Hey... aren't you going to go to the studio?"

I was stiff at the mention of returning back there. "No," I said after a moment of relapse. "I... I don't think I'm going to back there for a while."

"Why?" Sinead asked, moving closer until I could feel the shift in the cushions as she sat by my feet. "You didn't go last Tuesday either, did you? I saw you were in bed early. I didn't want to wake you up, but usually you aren't even home that early."

That's right. While I was asleep, safe in my home, she wasn't.

Practice was going on longer than it usually did for Reagan. We never really kept track of the time, but I knew that she usually didn't practice for longer than an hour and a half. But it was almost reaching the two hour mark then, and she was still practicing, her CD on loop.

"Why are you practicing for so long?" I finally asked.

I heard panting, and I assumed she's working herself really hard. "I... have a show... tomorrow evening... I need to... practice," she said in between breaths, jumping in the air and landing softly.

I stood up, walking past her quietly. "Well, good luck," I told her. "I'm leaving."

"So early?" she asked, finally stopping to look at me.

I shrugged. "I'm just tired today," I responded. She didn't reply, but just sighed and said goodbye. Usually, when we left, we'd leave around the same time. Neither of us liked to be alone, and leaving was even scarier at times.

Part of me was tempted to say, "Get home safely, okay?" But I didn't. I wasn't sure if we were that good of friends yet.

I wish I had though. It might not have made a difference, but at least it would have made me feel a little better. Just a little, though.

"I went," I replied quietly. "I just came back earlier." I sat up, ready to go to sleep and to just forget everything. It would have been nice to just fall asleep and never wake up.

"Oh," Sinead said. "Well, I went to the recital Reagan was supposed to be in, you know?" I paused, frozen in shock. Sinead doesn't care that much for the Holts - why would she attend the show? "I didn't mean to, but my friends were going to be in it so I just went. Apparently, Reagan had a lead role, but they had to find a replacement last minute."

There is no doubt that I love my sister, but I could not stand her constant talking at times. That irritation only increased after I lost my sight. But, right now, I couldn't bring myself to shut her out. I wanted to listen.

"The replacement wasn't that good, though. I'm no dancing expert, but you could tell she didn't know all of the moves. I kind of wonder how it would have been like if Reagan was there..."

I stood up then. "It would have been better," I said before leaving. I knew it would have been much better.

My fingers traced the unfamiliar walls of the building. I ran into several things, including benches and doctors, but I didn't accept anyone's help. I took in the retched smell of antibacterial spray. I finally found a smell I hated more than the studio's.

"Why'd you ask me to take you here?" Sinead asked earlier when we arrived.

"You can leave," I told her.

"But I want to know why -"

"Let's go, Sinead," Ned murmured, stepping in. "I have a headache now... maybe we should get something to eat." I thanked him wordlessly. I knew he was faking it, and I knew that he knew why I was here. I listened as the two of them left, then made my way to the desk uneasily.

I finally found the room I was directed to earlier by an overly sympathetic nurse. I felt the braille outside of the door clumsily, then moved inside. I heard her voice immediately.

"Ted?"

But it wasn't her voice - it just sounded like it.

"Madison," I greet coolly. "Is she - is she okay?"

"I don't know why you care," she mumbled, obviously not pleased to see me. "Can't you see that -" she paused, seeing me and remembering. "She's okay, I guess. They say she broke one of her legs and a couple of ribs. She got off lucky."

She really did.

I left after that.

"I'm not going to come back again.

"I'm sorry you got hurt after you practiced for so long. I'm sorry you weren't able to participate in the show. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you, although I don't know how much help a blind guy can be.

"But maybe if I was there, instead of you getting hurt, it would have been me.

"I'm much less valuable these days, anyway.

"It was nice talking to you, Reagan. You aren't like the rest of your family, I can tell. You're much more than muscles and empty threats - you have a spirit unlike anyone else's I've met.

"Good luck in life. Enjoy this studio, if you ever have the chance to again.

"Sincerely, Ted."

I listen as Reagan presses the stop button on the radio after listening to the message I left her on a CD, and as she makes her way to pack up her stuff that she laid out neatly. Despite not being healed yet, she still brings her stuff along with her. I sorrowfully wonder when she'll be healed.

"You're valuable," she says quietly. "More than you know. You're just blinded."

I want to laugh at her irony, but I don't want her to know I'm here.

"When the car was rushing towards me, all I could see was its headlights. That's all. It caught me off guard, which was why I fell when it hit me. After I woke up in the hospital, I thought about it. I thought how that must be how you see everything - in dark and light shades, that's all. Without any color."

I'm stuck to where I am, motionless.

"But, I can help you with that. I'll paint you a picture with sounds - if you'll let me." I hear her turn around, and I can only assume she's facing me. She caught me.

And this is the first time I have ever wanted to get caught.

"Yes. Thank you."

I guess this was my fault all along, for letting her stay that first night. If I hadn't, she would have never hurt herself and she'd still be the graceful dancer I know. But... I wouldn't know her if I hadn't.

We spend the night, listening to her music as she talks about the scenery below us, filling in the picture that has been void in my mind for so long.

A/N: This oneshot goes back and forth in the past, then finally to the present, kind of like "Without Cause". I hope you guys can make out the events. It's pretty much in this order - D, A, B, A, B, A, B, A, B, C, D. This was originally going to be different, but I had so many ways I could twist this story with different characters, but I decided to stick to this one. This was supposed to be sadder, but... it's not anymore. Hmm.

Thanks so much to Summer for betaing this. I know you recommended italicizing the past parts, but I don't want to mess up anything, so I'm not going to that :( Sorry, you guys. Hopefully you can all catch on though...? Again, thanks to Summer. I also asked Joyce to beta this for me, and while she has not gotten this back to me, once she does, I will definitely make changes.

Thanks for reading, you guys, and I hope you enjoyed. I'm working on another Ian/Amy oneshot, too, in case anyone's curious. :) Please point out any mistakes you might stumble across, if there are any since Summer already wonderfully betaed this, although I could have always mistakenly missed one of her corrections by accident. As always, thanks!

- Note: Thanks to Sy for pointing out some errors she picked up. :)
- Note: Thanks to FallenMidnightAngel for pointing out the "running"/"rushing" part.