A/N: Written for the 52_challenge on livejournal, prompt #001 – fairy lights. Also for the 5,10,20,50,70,100 fandoms challenge, fandom 47: Digimon Data Squad/Savers.
The Black-Clothed Angel
Drabble 01
The dust-clouds of light drew her fingers in, and she stretched out for them. The smile stretched across her worn face – young and soft but hallowed with constant ill health. Her fingers shook a little; the specks of light drifted a little closer, but still beyond her reach. She loathed to pull her fingers away though, loathed to enclose them around the cold steel wheels instead and make tyre tracks on the smooth lawn.
There was only one thing she could do then, and she took a deep breath before pushing herself from the wheelchair. One hand came back involuntarily to support her, and she let it so long as the other remained reaching out. The light came closer still; if she were her brother, she would be able to reach it now…but then again, if she were her brother, standing would not be such a chore.
Still, she managed it, legs shaking as they were with the new weight and heart whispering caution in her chest. If her father found out she'd left her wheelchair outside an emergency, she'd never be allowed out without supervision again.
But still… Hot tears burned on her lashes, struggling in their net. It wasn't fair, that she was trapped by her weakness, her own powerlessness. That she couldn't do things others did – and her father, even though she loved him oh so much, was impossible sometimes. Not letting her walk unless she had to. Not letting her out of their estate unless it couldn't be avoided. Barely allowed her brother to visit in fear that he would tire her – and her brother rarely came home as it was. Rarely called either, though she loved him so much too…
Her steps wavered; her entire body shook in the effort it took to stay upright. She wanted to touch those lights, even if her mind knew that light could not be touched. Still, she wanted to – wanted to reach something by herself, with her own desire and will and strength –
But she was face-down upon the grass before she knew it, hums of worry in her ears and the louder echoes she wished would just go away. The hum she kept though; it was tender, almost motherly, yet at the same time like a playful imp caught in its sorrow.
'I'm sorry…' it seemed to say. 'I thought you could play…'
I thought so too, she tried to say back, but she couldn't get her mouth to work. Or any other part of her. I wanted to… She couldn't finish; even her capacity to think was fading, and no amount of frustration would save it. Scattered thoughts came when prompted, but the words…
'Relena!' someone shouted, and the murmuring spell was broken.
Relena still tried to cling to it.
'I'll come back. I'll come back!'
I won't be allowed out anymore…
'That's okay! We can still talk!'
That sounds nice…
Strong hands grasped her then, removing both her prone form and her freedom.
