Just a little something I thought about.
When they were alone, in those brief, fleeting moments when the others' backs were turned, she saw something behind his eyes. Before, it would have terrified her, made her uncomfortable, but now all she felt was a deep despair. He didn't understand like she did, he didn't grasp the concept of what they were, and what that meant.
Alone, trailing behind the others in the woods, he looked back at her in that way – the way she had seen before in many falsified memories. Memories that weren't hers, nor his, but were still there nonetheless. She felt Elizabeth's love – her deep, unwavering affection for this man – but knew, in a twisted way, that these feelings did not belong to her. Neither did the feelings she saw in his eyes, they belonged to another man, for another woman.
There's no IOA, he said once. There was pain there, in his features, as if he had already pre-empted her answer.
John... she trailed off, gazing back at him, knowing full well she would never have to finish.
He stared back, any hint of emotion now removed from his face.
They continued walking amongst the trees and tall grass.
They had never spoken about it, John and Elizabeth. They had never needed to. There had never been the ability for them to act on anything, and neither would they allow themselves to. So it had never happened, there was nothing there, to all intents and purposes – what there had been was squashed down deep into the bottom of their minds and forgotten about.
They couldn't do it – they were not the real John and Elizabeth, their memories and in turn, these feelings, were not theirs at all. Even if she could somehow argue that they were, the John in the memories wasn't really the one walking along side her now. She should love the real John, and not this John, and he should be mourning the death of his Elizabeth.
They stopped a little way off, both of them mutually coming to a halt.
You're right, she said, smiling a little. There is no IOA, not for you and me at least. None of it matters, nothing. But you are not John, and I am not Elizabeth.
He looked at her, and then down at his feet. No, he said, I guess we're not, and yet I feel his pain. I feel it, Elizabeth, and I know I feel it because I remember everything, absolutely everything he does, from his point of view. I might not be the original, but I know I am something. She meant something to him, and you mean something to me.
She could see him trying to rein in his emotions, and felt a lump form in her throat.
No, John. Everything you thought, up til today, is a lie.
She stared to walk away, but just as she passed him, he spoke.
He'll want you to go with him, you know.
They met each other's eyes. She felt the tears building.
He'll want you to go with him, he said, because he knows what you are.
Really? She struggled to get out. And what am I?
He managed a smile, and said, in a small voice:
His.
Please review,
GPR
