Title: Butterfly
Rating: PG:13
Disclaimer: Not mine, nah-uh.
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She used to dance when she was a little girl, twirl around in circles until she couldn't walk straight. The melody in her mind would be hummed and her feet would instinctually keep up with the rhythm.
She was a ballerina. A ballroom dancer. A Spanish maiden learning how to salsa. She was anything and everything she wanted to be. And the small bedroom that kept her from moving around too much, did nothing to enclose her dreams.
Two hours was all she got during the day. Two hours before her mother called her downstairs and told her to do her chores.
It was always the same speech. Samantha Jean, dancing will get you nowhere. You need to learn to cook and clean. Just in case that education you're getting fails. The world isn't handed to you on a golden platter, you have to work for it.
Proving herself to her mother was always one of her favorite things to do. Anna Spade never did anything for herself, she'd spend her days cursing her husband as she cleaned the floor and cooked yet another meal.
Her mother had always been a slave to her family. She even dealt with her husband's drunkeness and never once put up a fight when he raised a hand to her.
Samantha wasn't going to be that person. So she stopped dancing.
Dancing was her weakness and she couldn't be weak, she had to be strong. So she left once she finished high school, with the grade average that she had she made it into college with a scholarship.
Her sister took the opposite path in life, following in their mothers footsteps and becoming a housewife. She was the only one Samantha kept in touch with after she left. Until the day Samantha graduated college. Her sister was there, she took one look at Samantha and shook her head.
Why did you ever stop dancing, Samantha?
Because dancing equals weakness.
She hadn't said the words, or yelled them like she wanted to, but she thought them. Over and over in her mind for years. It made her stronger.
Stronger until she broke. One day in mid-October, twenty-five years into her life. A month after starting work with the FBI. She met the one thing in her life, other then dancing, that could make her weak. Jack Malone.
He was everything she didn't want in her life. But he was also everything she needed.
There was never a beginning to their affair. It just sort of happened. One night he followed her home; she didn't object.
If this is a mistake, it's the best one I've ever made. I don't want to be right, all I want is you.
He had her.
Being with him was like dancing. Each step a little more intimate and full of a little more passion.
She could almost hear herself, the little girl all those years ago. Spinning through her room and whispering softly, right foot, left foot, spin.
Jack fell against her body, breathing heavy. She smiled, her heart full--leaving no room for weakness. Right foot, left foot, spin.
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The End.
Rating: PG:13
Disclaimer: Not mine, nah-uh.
-
She used to dance when she was a little girl, twirl around in circles until she couldn't walk straight. The melody in her mind would be hummed and her feet would instinctually keep up with the rhythm.
She was a ballerina. A ballroom dancer. A Spanish maiden learning how to salsa. She was anything and everything she wanted to be. And the small bedroom that kept her from moving around too much, did nothing to enclose her dreams.
Two hours was all she got during the day. Two hours before her mother called her downstairs and told her to do her chores.
It was always the same speech. Samantha Jean, dancing will get you nowhere. You need to learn to cook and clean. Just in case that education you're getting fails. The world isn't handed to you on a golden platter, you have to work for it.
Proving herself to her mother was always one of her favorite things to do. Anna Spade never did anything for herself, she'd spend her days cursing her husband as she cleaned the floor and cooked yet another meal.
Her mother had always been a slave to her family. She even dealt with her husband's drunkeness and never once put up a fight when he raised a hand to her.
Samantha wasn't going to be that person. So she stopped dancing.
Dancing was her weakness and she couldn't be weak, she had to be strong. So she left once she finished high school, with the grade average that she had she made it into college with a scholarship.
Her sister took the opposite path in life, following in their mothers footsteps and becoming a housewife. She was the only one Samantha kept in touch with after she left. Until the day Samantha graduated college. Her sister was there, she took one look at Samantha and shook her head.
Why did you ever stop dancing, Samantha?
Because dancing equals weakness.
She hadn't said the words, or yelled them like she wanted to, but she thought them. Over and over in her mind for years. It made her stronger.
Stronger until she broke. One day in mid-October, twenty-five years into her life. A month after starting work with the FBI. She met the one thing in her life, other then dancing, that could make her weak. Jack Malone.
He was everything she didn't want in her life. But he was also everything she needed.
There was never a beginning to their affair. It just sort of happened. One night he followed her home; she didn't object.
If this is a mistake, it's the best one I've ever made. I don't want to be right, all I want is you.
He had her.
Being with him was like dancing. Each step a little more intimate and full of a little more passion.
She could almost hear herself, the little girl all those years ago. Spinning through her room and whispering softly, right foot, left foot, spin.
Jack fell against her body, breathing heavy. She smiled, her heart full--leaving no room for weakness. Right foot, left foot, spin.
-
The End.
