Balancing Acts

She is more stunning than he remembers. His last memory of her is of a rosy-cheeked girl holding back tears that could have brought the strongest of men to their knees. This image has been the one he has carried in his heart for years. From it, he had spun the inkling of an image of the woman she would someday grow to be, but it does little justice to the lovely lady she stands as before him. Age has been kind to her for not even in his wildest fantasies would he have thought she could be so beautiful.

The color of her eyes is darker than he remembers; a hint of violet tainting the dark blue as if the pigment had been born of water sapphires. As she did in the days of their childhood, her hair is cut fashionably short but feminine. The soft locks are a shade of vanilla, one of the many colors of his memories of her. Her skin is as fair as he recalls, but her cheeks have lost their juvenile roundness. These are small pieces to her left untouched, but it is her smile the reassures Nathan that it is indeed her.

His gaze slips to the pendant that hangs from her neck. The stone set in delicate silver is still the same bright blue that it had been the day that he had given it to her despite the years that have passed. The leather, originally a cracked and discolored brown, has been replaced with black fabric akin to velvet. His well-loved gift shows signs of care. He thought that it would have shown more signs of age after all these years. It warms his heart to know that she has treated it with such attentive kindness.

Had she thought of him as often as he had her in the years of their separation? He was not so sentimental as to think of her with his every breath, but he did think often of the young girl he had been forced to leave behind. It would impossible not to as it was the very same events that had led to their separation that had led him into his life as a crew member of Sirius. No child dreamt of leading the life of a condemned pirate, but a worse hand could have been drawn than his.

Her hands are no longer soft. The observation, noted as he watches her fingers wrap around the smooth stone, bothers him more than it should. Neither of them had come from exceptionally wealthy families. It was to be expected that years of work would coarsen her hands against the burdens of physical labor. His own were hardened with rough callouses born of the responsibilities of life on the sea, but it unsettles him to think of the countless hours she has likely spent handling ruffians. If he had stayed behind, perhaps her hands would be as untouched as a princess'.

A comfortable silence lingers between them. The only sounds that fill the kitchen are those of his knife as it chops dully against the wooden cutting board, and the subtle hissing of boiling water. There are a thousand things left unsaid between them, but in her presence the words fade away. She is one of his dearest friends not because words bridged a connection of friendship, but because she understood him without them. For a child that had struggled with words, there had been nothing more special to him than finding the one person that understood him.

"Nate." He grunts a small noise of acknowledgment, but does not pause in his chopping. "Nate." The second time that she speaks his name, he glances to her. She is standing with her back to him, giving no hint that she spoke. A moment passes before he returns to his chopping. "Nate." This time he knows that she has called his name, and sets down his knife to face her. Their eyes meet, his in a silent question and hers with a playful light as she murmurs, "I've missed the sound of your name."

There is an open honesty to her words that flusters Nathan. Where he often struggled to work up the courage to speak with the same degree of honesty, it had always come easily to her. In adulthood, she has not lost her daring spirit; nor, it would seem, her sense of humor as he catches the tail end of a soft giggle. There is a warm pressure against his arm as she presses into his side. From the corner of his eye he catches her girlish smile. His faint blush fades as he returns the grin.

Epitomized in this woman is his youth. His memories, the moments that he reflects upon with affection, are all filled with her image. Hers is the voice of his childhood, her laughter the sound of his joy. The feeling of her small hands wrapped in his own his comfort. Not every afternoon that he has spent with her was a pleasant one, but her presence reminds him of all the things that he fell in love with as a child. When he turns his face into her hair, those are the things that he remembers.

He does not love Soria.

The thought comes to him slowly. It is a small detail of his life that has been caught in the background; an aspect whose existence has always been present but unnoticed. At one point, it must be something that he has acknowledged. Similar to how a man could return to the home of his youth, could walk the halls that he became a man in, and realize that the color of the walls is blue, Nathan comes to the realization that he did not love this girl of his childhood. It is something that he has known, but never seen.

Nathan kisses the crown of Soria's head before refocusing on his dish. His heartbeat remains steady as they continue their conversation. There are no physical signs of distress, nothing to his demeanor that suggests he has experienced an epiphany. He reacts to the realization as gently as the thought had come to him. He is not the impulsive Russell that would have suffered a heart attack, nor is he the naïve Thomas that would have burst at the thought. He is a man that is seeing with his own eyes something that he has known all along.

He does not love Soria, but he is in love.

She stepped into his life by a chance of fate. By no means is she a bright girl, but she compensates with an admirable work ethic. She is strong in spirit in a way most are not. Rather than kick and scream at the hand that she has drawn in life, she does her best to keep a positive outlook and appreciate the small things. Another woman would have been broken and angry over her unfair circumstances, but her hardships do not dictate her demeanor. She is a woman of sacrifice that finds her happiness in the happiness of others.

If Soria is his past, then she is his future. There are fragments to him that will hold on tightly to the hand of a little girl with eyes like gems, but she is a ghost left behind with a child of memory. He cannot deny that this childhood love of his is one of the most significant pieces of his life. After all, she is the reason that he has found himself where he is, but this life that he has made for himself is his present as the life that he once shared with her is the past.

Life is not something that remains stationary. Each day brings something new, and even the few connections kept with the past change with the present. A childhood love that once meant the world could become an affectionately remembered friend in a matter of years. A young boy uncertain of his future could walk a path that gave him reason to hold his head high. There are regrets that he cannot release and unspoken farewells a few years too late, but there is a future with a woman with a smile like sunflowers that is just within reach. He isn't sad.

She does not understand him as well as Soria does. This is because they have known one another for only a matter of months; in that time, only so much can be learned about another person. He will have to be a different man for her than he is for Soria. For this foolish girl, he will have to put these thoughts into words. He will have to take her by the hand, and lead her into an uncertain future. He will have to be courageous and honest. For her, Nathan will have to be a better man.