A/N: This was written in response to Asha's comments in "Borrowed Time." And, as always, thanks to Tallera for her guidance. Please review.
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I see the way they look at me. Distrust, suspicion, disappointment, and disinterest all float across their faces, even though they try to hide it from me.
Well, most of them try.
Yes, I love Logan. I loved him in the vibrancy of his youth, before the accident. But I loved him even more after she was gone and was standing by the broken shell of a man that he had become.
Sounds crazy, doesn't it.
How do I love someone I can never have? Easily, surprisingly. Even though his heart had cracked, his soul shattered, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. I mean, how can anyone read Shakespeare and not fall in love with the Romeo who weeps for his lost Juliet? Or ache for Radames holding his Aida as her life, and his own, slowly slips away.
I wish I had known her before. Before all of the trouble worked its way into their lives. Now, her eyes often hold a melancholy and despair that seem to run deeper than I've ever seen in anyone. But, once in a while, a little of that light and life that must have once existed there dances through and I can catch a glimpse of the beauty he must have seen in her.
Still sees in her.
Because he loves her. And she him.
So why do I stay around? Why do I torture myself with a vision of what I can never have?
They truly love each other. And that depth, that kind of love is so rare that only a few will ever find it. It's the Juliet and Romeos. The Aida and Radameses. The Max and Logans. They've all found it and will cling to it and hold it until the end of time.
I stay because I love him. And because since so few have a chance to experience the truest love, I consider myself lucky to be able to observe that love. And I will not stop loving him. To deny that to myself would be to deny the chance to have what we all seek. To deny the hope that a love like that would survive anything. To deny my own heart.