DISCLAIMER. I do not own any of the characters from Dawson's creek nor the music used within this fanfic.
A/N. I promised a new fic and this is the beginning of it. Please give me some feedback.
Epitaph for My Heart
Prologue
She stroked her lover's side, languishing in the soft haze that was filling her mind. The sunlight danced along the edges of the room, illuminating the odd object here and there. They all held significance but really no significance at all. They did not belong to her or to him. But they would always be linked with his room, this aroma, this time. The blue glass vase, the wooden chest of drawers, the print of the boat on the ocean. All of it would trigger memories that would stay with her forever.
Because memories would have to be enough. They would never be in this room again, with each other in this way again.
When they rose, dressed and packed she intended never to see him again. Not a decision that was reached lighting or without vast consideration.
It was just the way it had to be, for either of them to move forward. A chance meeting on the streets of New York had provided the end. The constant circle of pain, rejection and heart ache had finally culminated last night.
I'm in love. I'm going to ask her to marry me.
Her heart had snapped, like a brittle twig in a high storm. She concealed all her emotions. She insisted on taking him to dinner, for a meal with a nice bottle of wine to celebrate. Well, maybe 4 or 5 bottles. She nodded and sighed at the tales of his new life and love. She shared nothing, carefully concealing her life. And then she insisted on getting him a hotel room, he was in no state to go home.
And then he insisted on saying goodbye, one last time.
They cried in unison, together long into the night. Pain and pleasure combined. Holding each other furiously, as if nothing would part them again. But she knew, in the back of her swirling mind, that everything that had gone before was leading to this moment.
The last goodbye.
She rose silently, careful not to disturb his sleep. She moved to the bathroom, picking her discarded clothes up along the way. Closing the door behind her, she was confronted by the mirror.
And there she stood. A 29 year old woman, make up smeared across her face. Her hair, normally secure into a tight bun or ponytail, stood on end. She lunged at the sink, splashing water across her face, desperate to remove all traces of the passion from the night before. She raked her hands through her hair, almost pulling it out in clumps where it was so knotted.
Facing her reflection again, after the clothes were on and the face paint removed, she was almost physically sick. Her emotions were splayed all over her face, her hurt she wore like her ill fitting shirt. Turning away, she silently promised herself she would never look like this again. She would never give herself the chance to look like this again.
He hadn't moved. He remained still, his face still blissfully serene. A small smile formed on his perfect lips.
She knew she couldn't risk waking him. As much as she wanted to have one last kiss, she knew this was the end.
Silently creeping across the room, she committed everything to memory. The colour of the room, the feel of the carpet on her toes, the scent of the hotel soap.
All of it.
She peered around the door one last time, taking in the sight of him.
'Goodbye Dawson…'