Title: Touch

Rating: K

Author: tika12001 (aka Katie)

Summary: You want to touch her. You want so badly to just reach out and... touch her... but you don't. You don't hold her hand, you don't stroke her hair, you don't even brush a hand against her arm, because what if you can't stop?

Authors note: so I think my writey thing is broken. *taps head experimentally* I don't know. I've been trying to write something almost every night for the past however many months, and everything just comes out like crap. To those who are hanging out for My Saving Grace... I HAVE NOT ABANDONED IT! I will not abandon it, I love that story! Writers block is just kicking my ass.

That being said, please enjoy this attempt at getting back into it. I'm not sure if it's good or bad or somewhere in between, but I managed to get something out so I'm pretty darn proud of that at least. :-P

R&IR&IR&I

You want to touch her. You want so badly to just reach out and... touch her... but you don't. You don't hold her hand, you don't stroke her hair, you don't even brush a hand against her arm, because what if... well. You don't even know what question to ask. What if it's too much? What if it's not enough? What if you can't stop, can't let go, can't hold on? What if you can't protect her? So you sit. And don't touch.

She wants you to reach out for her. You can tell in the way her hand falls to the couch between you, the way her fingers wiggle ever so slightly. You can tell in the tenseness of her muscles, in the set of her jaw. You can tell, but you still don't move. And you know she wonders why. Why you would abandon her in her moment of need... why you would stop caring the moment she needs care the most. And you want to explain, but that would mean you'd have to say that you know she wants you to touch her, and why you can't. You'd have to explain that the lack of touch does not mean that you don't care... it means that you care too much. And you've never been that great with words. Not when it really counts, anyway.

"What do you want to watch?" she asks and you breathe in deeply. The answer slides to the tip of your tongue so quickly that it's all you can do to hold it in. You... I want to watch you. I want to watch while you sleep, and breathe, and think. I want to know that you're safe... that no one will ever hurt you again. I'm sorry I let it happen in the first place...

"It doesn't matter," you reply instead after a moment of internal battle... your tongue wanting to speak the truth but your heart refusing the idea. You wish you could lie to her.

"I'll um... I'll put on a movie," she says, suddenly jumping to her feet, all frenetic energy, nervous and overwrought, and you wish this hadn't happened. You wish you had done a better job at protecting her. The funny thing is, she thinks it's her job to protect you too.

"No, I... I really should go home," you say, and get to your feet, running a hand down your front nervously. Your hands wring nervously, and you force them to your side. She is already far too good at reading you... why give her more fodder for concern?

"But..." the word is said so breathily and cut off so abruptly that you almost don't hear it... almost think that it is a noise of the night outside... but you would recognise her voice anywhere, and, despite yourself, you turn to it.

And you look at her.

She has never been more beautiful than in this moment. Her hair, normally loose around her face, is tied up in a ponytail. Her eyes, full of such emotion, shine brightly even in the muted light. She is only wearing sweats, but you think she is more radiant in this point in time than if she were wearing a ball gown, and you... you're just not good enough.

"I..." you start, and you're not sure where the sentence is heading... will you say your excuses and leave? Will you try to explain? You're just not sure. But it doesn't matter anyway.

"I don't want you to go," she says in an exhale, the words running together in such a way that it takes you a second to understand what she has said.

Your mouth opens before closing again, your mind blank as you try to think. "I..." you say again, but she interrupts once again.

"Please don't go," she whispers, and you stare into those eyes, and you realize you're a lost cause. You could never say no to her... not really. "Please... hold my hand," she says, and reaches across the abyss towards you. Your face is crumpling before you're even aware that you're about to cry, the first hot tears hitting your cheeks, and her hand is in yours, her eyes the only thing you can see.

"You see?" she whispers, as you stare at the joined hands. "The world didn't end."

You don't know what to say, so you pull her close, your bodies fitting together perfectly, and you both sigh, even as you wonder how she can read you so easily, how she can know you so well, and how it doesn't scare you at all.

"I..." you start again, but she pulls back just enough to press a finger to your lips, before following it with her own lips.

"The world didn't end," she whispers again as you stare at her, your lips still parted slightly. "So I think we should just... get on with it."

You nod, and you follow her to the couch obediently, your hands never parting.

You didn't want to touch her, but you know now you can't stop. Your lives are too intertwined. To cut her off is to cut off your oxygen, and you know now that you can never do that to her.

"I..." you try once more, but she squeezes your hand and shakes her head.

"I know," she says softly, then turns to look at you. "I love you too."

END

So who do you think was 'she' and who was 'you'? I am interested to know how you read it. And please let me know what you think.

Much love, Katie xoxo