Thanks to my wonderful beta, I got to go through this and touch it up.
Edited for grammar and content. (02/25/12 a.k.a. the month of perpetual gas-price doom)
Of all the moments that floated around in her memory there were a few that Jackie Burkhart remembered clearly. Vivid images seep into her mind's eye. They clouded and swirled around conscious, her gut ached with every raw emotion she felt during those moments. She relived them constantly. Always when she was alone and had time to think. Though few and far between, they made her who she was. Embedded deeply into her consciousness, monitoring and impacting every move she would make for the rest of her life. As the years had passed she wondered how something so small could be so significant.
One of the first things she remembers clearly is lips, hands, and the gentle brush of dark curly hair against her cheek. She remembers four musty walls bathed in the dim glow of a candle sitting on the dresser. On her chest lay Steven Hyde, softly snoring while totally and utterly relaxed. She savored this moment. Tucked it away in her mind like a tiny hidden jewel, because she knew this was a precious slice of her vast expanse called life.
A side few would dare to see, as Steven was one of the only people she had ever encountered who preferred to sleep alone.
This was something she could not understand. She thought everyone hated sleeping alone. Why sleep alone when the warmth of human contact could be so easily obtained? She felt the mutual comfort of having bedtime company was a luxury cherished by humanity. A collective need.
She remembers how warm his cheeks were against her petite chest and the way the candle light danced across his perfect features. How completely serene he looked, dozed off. Dreaming about who knows what.
It would seem such a moment should not hold so much importance, impact on her psyche. He was sleeping. No interaction was taking place. Just the sound of his breathing, though, was more than enough.
She held him close and buried her face in his hair, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his scalp. He smelled of smoke and something wonderful she couldn't describe, only experience. She recorded the scent, the lighting, his breathing in the back of her mind and filed it away. Such intimacy and peace was rare. Especially with this complex man who she had come to love so dearly.
She remembers their first date. While the entirety of their date is a blur of images she can't quite piece together, one split moment envelopes her, removes her from reality when it surfaces in her mind.
It's Steven. Finishing his drink, and looking at her.
Just looking at her.
It was the first time she realized how blue his eyes were. The first time she caught a glimpse of Steven. It was only a flash. A split second of time, that had she not been staring at him for what seemed like hours, she could have easily drowned in his stare. Blue and bright and beautiful.. It was as if his face had changed somehow, but she couldn't discern why he looked so different. She noticed how around the pupil of his eye he had a ring of sparse golden flecks.
Steven had eyes like the sun in the sky. She knew then that he was much more than a brooding shell of paranoia, anger and misconceptions about with eyes like that had them for a reason.
And she felt it while he was sleeping, hot breath on her breast, taking strands of curls between her fingertips.
Sometimes when she's driving and listening to the radio, she will occasionally stop on a classic rock station. From somewhere inside her, she feels her stomach flutter with anticipation. Maybe something from that sparse amount of time would play and bring her back for one fleeting moment.
Sometimes, 'Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You' would play. Her heart would sink down into the pits of her stomach and she would be removed from her reality. She'd switch to autopilot and recede into the past. He would speak to her. Conversations would replay, and each time she says something different to him. Long scenes play out in her head.
Alternate endings to an indefinite truth.
Her gut twists and she bites back tears -neveragainneveragain.Sometimes she catches herself and scoffs. She'll switch the station and sing some ABBA song to herself to push away what's left of him. When the ache in her gut is still there she realizes the bitter thought of him is better than no thought of him.
Though, sometimes 'Beast of Burden' would play and she would smile inwardly at the image of Steven, drunk and grinning, singing along to her. All slurs and brilliant sloshed grins.
His sunshine in the sky eyes spill in again, and her heart is swallowed by unspoken comfort.
When she does visit him, she notices it's still only Steven. No floozy on his side. This wasn't something she expected. The years would go by and it was as if he was hidden behind his shades, shielding his sideways glances at her, still it seems, no one has his heart. Though he never said it, she knows him well enough to be fairly certain she still has it, tucked away with her treasure chest of memories.
She remembers the last time she saw him. As seemingly insignificant as the rest of her hidden treasures, she knew almost before it happened, that she would kindle this one almost as much as candle light and smoky, nighttime pheromones.
Jackie had run into him at the gas station. He had been buying a pack of smokes and she was in line behind him purchasing gas. She debated tapping him on the shoulder, debated darting at the door to the next gas station just for the sake of avoiding an awkward confrontation. The last time they had seen each other, it had been strange. Maybe it was the cold, the rain, or just the simple fact it had been an off day. The kind where she thought of him upon waking without even meaning too. She thought she was over that stage. The word 'discouraging' was an understatement. She had tried so hard to avoid the bliss of thinking of him. While the bliss was short and sweet, wistful memories of stillness were quickly replaced with bitter raw conversations or lack thereof, that led to their end.
Though for some reason, she didn't listen to her instinct telling her to run. Instead , she tapped him on the shoulder and offered a bright practically felt herself sigh with relief when he smiled back. He even lifted his sunglasses off of the bridge of his nose and said, "Hey, doll. Good to see you again."
Tiny jolts of excitement ran through her arms down to the tips of her fingers. Her own smile reached her eyes, "It's good to see you again, too, Steven."
They had chatted for a good thirty minutes, abandoning the line they were in. The two adults caught up on the past few months and both tried to ignore how easy conversation came, how dull, unsuccessfully forgotten sparks ignited when their eyes locked for more than a few seconds.
When he scribbled his number on her hand before leaving, she felt herself soaring.
Two days later, Jackie Burkhart stared at the phone in front of her. Her knuckles were white with tension she didn't understand. She brought herself out of her head and chased away the mist of memories. Holding her breath and pressing the 'talk' button on her wireless telephone, she momentarily tamed the thought that maybe sunspot eyes would gaze into hers, bathed in candle light, and her bliss would no longer be intangible imprints in time.
Because while memories were nice, there were always room for more.