Disclaimer: I don't think my name is mentioned at either Paramount or Grub Street. If it is, my cheque keeps getting lost in the mail!
A/N: This is really quite different from my usual fanfic, and is probably more like a ficlet due to its length.
Let me know what you think: either R&R at the bottom of the page or send to solitudeperfection@yahoo.com
Unspoken Times
By Elaine
She hates all the times she teased him. All the innuendo, the stories she made up to see his reaction.
He hates the way he never told her how he felt. Of time lost and never to be regained.
Her clothes dig into her, and she wishes to be free from them because of the hurt they've caused him.
And he smoothes down his Armani suit and realises that no amount of possessions will make him happy. Because what he wants doesn't cost anything: yet is priceless.
She hates her inability to give into what she wants, only to see him walk away for the thousandth time. Because she won't let herself say "stay" even though she wants and needs to.
He won't ask her out, or invite her over to his place unless under some pretext. And he knows he loves her, but can't ask her out on a simple date.
She reaches for her phone to call him only to put it down again and walk away.
And he does the same, simultaneously in another part of town, not realising that he thinks as she does.
It was a phone call that brought her here. Him too.
She sits waiting with him, looking over now and again as he stares out into the corridor. She tries to speak, but instead he does.
And he looks like death, but speaks of life. And the tears fall like crystalline water and he makes no attempt to stop them.
And she's sitting so close to him, but barely moving, until she reaches her fingers out towards him, wanting to touch him but doesn't quite dare. But she wants him to turn and face her instead of staring into the blackness.
And he doesn't turn around. Just stares. Looking at nothing and everything.
And she knows that she's lost him unless he turns around. So she wills her fingers to edge forward and she touches him, gently: imperceptibly.
He flinches. Then looks across. And smiles. For he knows. He has always known.
She stares back. Drowning as he saves her. And she knows now.