She walked along the dirt road, tracing her path with lines made by the soles of her pointy-toed boots. Her arms weren't in the usual position crossing her chest, but were behind her, one hand cradled in the other, hanging limply. She sighed, yet another breath to add to many that she felt were worthless. Why had fate taken her down this dusty path?
Next to her walked a young man who didn't seem to notice her depression, save for the sigh that escaped from her lips every once in a while. He tried to feel her pain, but it only seemed to coat the already building melancholy within him. What should it matter if he was down? It was either the work of servant, serpent, or spirit for him. Spirit didn't mean encoragement, it meant the cloudy white figure that was invisible and misunderstood. All too often he was invisible.
They both looked, at respective times, at the scratch-cat leading the way. He had his problems, yes, but it always seemed like he was the most settled of all three. She thought he was just another rusty gear in the machine, screwing things up sporadically for her like everyone else did. He thought that he had it too easy, and was probably appreciated more than he was anyway. The cat thought nothing at the moment except about the dinner of canned fish he was to recieve later.
She glanced at him with eyes half-slit. She couldn't figure him out. Why was he still here? She wanted to shine in the spotlight, be the center of attention, the star. He was always bringing her down.
Grounding her, perhaps.
He didn't have to look at her to picture her face. It wasn't really smiling in this scene, but just sitting there, calmly. The eyes that he saw almost burned into him, without even being there. They said he wasn't worth much, but, as he thought about the piercing blue, they could also say that any time he had a second chance at disproving that statement.
Building him up, you could say.
So they walked along, side by side, not speaking, not making eye contact, not even communicating. They were still side by side. They were on the same level. Friendship. No, not friendship. More like dependance. One might even call their relationship... symbiotic. At this point, a life apart wasn't even considered. They would stay, remain together, for as long as they were in Team Rocket. And they wouldn't quit the team.
They always wondered why the other wouldn't quit the team. She wanted fame, he wanted worth. They couldn't find it here.
They found it in each other.
He looked over to see the real her just when she was gazing at him. Their eyes met, one time out of an uncountable number. The effect wasn't any different. It was the same, same as many times before.
"James, we need to talk."
"Something upsetting you?"
"Yes."
"Me, too."
"OK."
"Let's wait until we get to the cabin."
"That's fine."
And he slipped the same arm around her shoulder, and she leaned in at the same degree she always did, not suffocatingly close but close enough to feel like she was being cared for. He was no longer the invisible, but the one that she looked to. She was no longer the independent, but the one that he looked upon. They were no longer alone.
The cat walked on ahead of them, still dreaming of fish dinner.
Next to her walked a young man who didn't seem to notice her depression, save for the sigh that escaped from her lips every once in a while. He tried to feel her pain, but it only seemed to coat the already building melancholy within him. What should it matter if he was down? It was either the work of servant, serpent, or spirit for him. Spirit didn't mean encoragement, it meant the cloudy white figure that was invisible and misunderstood. All too often he was invisible.
They both looked, at respective times, at the scratch-cat leading the way. He had his problems, yes, but it always seemed like he was the most settled of all three. She thought he was just another rusty gear in the machine, screwing things up sporadically for her like everyone else did. He thought that he had it too easy, and was probably appreciated more than he was anyway. The cat thought nothing at the moment except about the dinner of canned fish he was to recieve later.
She glanced at him with eyes half-slit. She couldn't figure him out. Why was he still here? She wanted to shine in the spotlight, be the center of attention, the star. He was always bringing her down.
Grounding her, perhaps.
He didn't have to look at her to picture her face. It wasn't really smiling in this scene, but just sitting there, calmly. The eyes that he saw almost burned into him, without even being there. They said he wasn't worth much, but, as he thought about the piercing blue, they could also say that any time he had a second chance at disproving that statement.
Building him up, you could say.
So they walked along, side by side, not speaking, not making eye contact, not even communicating. They were still side by side. They were on the same level. Friendship. No, not friendship. More like dependance. One might even call their relationship... symbiotic. At this point, a life apart wasn't even considered. They would stay, remain together, for as long as they were in Team Rocket. And they wouldn't quit the team.
They always wondered why the other wouldn't quit the team. She wanted fame, he wanted worth. They couldn't find it here.
They found it in each other.
He looked over to see the real her just when she was gazing at him. Their eyes met, one time out of an uncountable number. The effect wasn't any different. It was the same, same as many times before.
"James, we need to talk."
"Something upsetting you?"
"Yes."
"Me, too."
"OK."
"Let's wait until we get to the cabin."
"That's fine."
And he slipped the same arm around her shoulder, and she leaned in at the same degree she always did, not suffocatingly close but close enough to feel like she was being cared for. He was no longer the invisible, but the one that she looked to. She was no longer the independent, but the one that he looked upon. They were no longer alone.
The cat walked on ahead of them, still dreaming of fish dinner.