Disclaimer: Not mine.
This is subconsciously dedicated to Cousin Mose, because I'm pretty sure his stories are the ones that got me hooked on reading in this fandom. Thanks!
War Paint
She sucks on her spoon absently and ponders.
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She could march up to her desk, tell her that she was going to demand a Pam-Pong rematch, and that she would be requiring her services as scorekeeper.
Like that would go over well. The accountant would just look at her, one eyebrow arched scornfully, silent lips pressed together in a grim line. No. Probably not a good idea.
She wiggles her toes in contemplation and winces slightly. They're still a little a sore from her impromptu jaunt across the coals. Still a little red. Red for recklessness. But everybody thinks it was all a joke. Nobody knows. Because her Keds hide it too well.
Her "Whitest Sneakers" Award. How fitting. How appropriate. There is no conviction in the color white. It's everything and nothing. White for surrender. For no fight left. No. White armor. Because knights wear white armor. Armor that shines. And knights fight. They're full of courage.
Because courage means doing what has to be done, even if it's awkward or really weird sometimes. So maybe she was a little brave. Just not enough. Or not enough times.
They award medals for courage, she thinks wistfully. Her roaming gaze lands on the crumpled yogurt lid lying next to her keyboard. The fluorescent light glints off the gold foil. She eyes it with mild curiosity. Gold for honesty. For truth. Truth. That's all she wants. Maybe it wasn't like that before. But now? It's what she needs.
So there. She's had enough. Everything up to this point has been a warm-up. This time around, it's all or nothing. It's time for a little more recklessness, a little more courage, a little more honesty. She'll fight and, hopefully, it will be enough. And she'll surrender to whatever ending comes. No matter what it is. Because she's brave.
One hand scrabbles for a blank memo while the other searches her pencil cup for a Sharpie. Her fingers clutch a blue marker. Blue for best wishes. For sincerity. She scribbles a note and attached the yogurt lid to the memo as fast as she can with shaking hands. Because even brave knights lose their nerve sometimes.
She shoves it into the folder and she waits.
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The next evening as she's leaving, she checks her desk to make sure everything is in order. An unfamiliar pink note catches her eye. She plucks it off her computer monitor and examines it carefully.
At first glance, she doesn't understand. And then, suddenly, she does. "P.P." is written at the top in small precise lettering. Beneath it, the letter "J" is accompanied by two large tally marks, side-by-side. What was once incomprehensible now means everything in the world. She looks stealthily to her right. No one meets her eyes, but there's a softened tilt to the usually contemptuous eyebrows and the mouth isn't quite so austere. It could almost be curved. Almost. Because stranger things have happened.
She quietly slips the note into the pocket of her pink cardigan. He asks her what it says. She just smiles and shakes her head.
Recklessness and courage. Pink. For new beginnings. A fresh start.
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She puts her spoon into her purse and they walk out the door.
A/N: I wanted to try my hand at this once. It probably won't happen again (it's a result of 3 a.m. sleeplessness), but please tell me how I did. :D Thanks!