A/N - Just a tiny story that was inspired from a discussion my friend and I had today. She turned it into a piece for her english lit class...I turned it into a fanfic heh. It's set sometime during seasons 1-3 (i.e. the good ones).
Enjoy :)
Magic
"Do you believe in Magic?"
Her random question seemed so out of place I almost choked on my coffee.
I must have blinked, looking at her for a few seconds before I instinctively rolled my eyes. "No, Cameron."
She just laughed knowingly, that addictive laugh that could make the most hardened of men smile. Her eyes, which had been most attentively inspecting the potted plant on the conference table (a gift from an elderly patient), turned up to me. Her gaze felt like it burrowed past my own eyes to something behind them.
"Why?"
Her tone made that one word carry a lot of weight to it. I couldn't hold the gaze any more and broke away, instead looking at the plant as well and scrunching up my nose in annoyance. It was a Petunia, on the verge of blooming. It was planted and growing in soil, instead of just sitting in a vase of water. It really was a hideous gift.
"Because it doesn't exist." I mumbled, "And maybe because I'm a man of science. And, well, magic and science don't exactly blend."
Her hand entered my vision, tenderly cupping the partially bloomed flower in her fingers. I allowed myself a glance at her face; she had turned her eyes to the flower. I watched her fingertips trace the opening petals adoringly.
"Perhaps." she let the word draw out, "Perhaps, it's not science that magic doesn't blend with…" She trailed off in thought. "Perhaps it's the scientist." When her eyes lifted to mine again; I realized I was talking to someone more than the flighty and nervous Cameron that I had become accustomed to.
I leaned forward, my fingers moving past hers to the flower and gently helping the petals stretch outward from the bud. "Explain." I could hear the distance in my voice; I was treating this like an examination.
She was silent for a moment, somewhere in the back of my mind; I knew she was watching my fingers on the flower. "This is a lovely flower," she said lightly, pulling the entire pot a little closer to her. I pulled my hand back, following her movements curiously.
"It's just about to bloom," she noted, her eyes tracing the petals, which I had helped slip away from the bud. She gently took the green exterior petal, the one that usually dies away once the flower bloomed fully, and broke it off. Her eyes went from that broken petal, to me.
"Science knows how flowers work. It's a combination of the nutrients from the soil and the heat and light of the sun. Photosynthesis turns these raw materials into food for the cells to ingest." She paused for a moment, continuing to study the plant. "The cells divide, some of them changing their structure to become the beginnings of a flower bud. After some time, the bud opens, and the flower blooms."
I realized I was staring. However this time not at the flower..but at her. I nodded slowly, realizing that for once I couldn't find the words to mock the facts that she had just presented. I wasn't sure why…It was all just beginners' botany after all.
She pushed the pot back between us and smiled lightly. "But what makes a flower beautiful? What combination of genetics and botanical science made the flower lovely to look at?" She made a motion, and I realized I was staring at the flower now. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to her face, and she smiled. "That's the magic, hidden between the lines that science drew. Nothing said the flower had to be beautiful, that's magic's doing." I looked up as she caught my gaze. "And it's the scientist who misses this, because all he sees is the science."
She stood up, my eyes followed, noticing her for the first time. I didn't see the insecure Cameron that I usually did. This time, I saw someone confident with herself and the world around her. She smiled. "I'd better go see if Foreman and Chase have the test results yet."
I watched her leave. My mind still reeling with what she had just said. It wasn't until she turned the corner out of sight that I faced the table again.
The flower had bloomed.
