A/N This was written by my sleep-deprived mind, in a last desperate attempt to make the deadline for the June challenge up at The Tamora Pierce Experiment: Writing Challenges forum. Great place, I recommend it. But anyway, I am warning you now: This might be complete rubbish. If it is, I apologize in advance for any torture it might inflict. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I am not Tamora Pierce. I do not own her characters. If you don't believe that I'm not Tamora Pierce, please keep reading. All doubt will vanish.
It Was The Smile
She never could forget what happened that day. The only problem being that she wished she could. Trisana Chandler lay sprawled over her bed in one of those haphazard ways she had never had much tolerance for. She had recently found that it was ideal for mental anguish. She was still struggling, trying to figure out just how it could have happened to her. She had thought herself immune to such things.
Tris took great lengths to try and banish the memory, but her efforts were met with ultimate failure. The inability to dismiss such a trivial occurrence never failed to color her red with shame, for she had a sinking suspicion that deep down she really didn't want to forget.
She covered her face with her hands, dislodging the spectacles that were perched on her nose. Where was the practicality she prided herself on? It was as if it had disappeared from existence, or just flown off. Her own mind was betraying her. A small moan escaped her.
"It was only supposed to be a normal market day," She mumbled into her palms.
And it had been for the most part. Throngs of people had been clustered in the market square, drifting from booth to colorful booth, examining wares, fingering jewelry, pocketed said jewelry, and slinking off without paying, poring over scrolls, or tasting a delicacy or two.
Tris had been completely in her element. She had adjusted the large, wide brimmed hat she had plopped on her head, then patted the basket she was carrying, making sure none of the ingredients she had collected for that nights dinner had been lifted.
Everything would have been fine had she not decided to duck into a small bookshop on her way back to Number 6 Cheeseman Street. She had been there frequently; she quite enjoyed the girl who managed it, but a customer who had his back to Tris was occupying the shop girl, so Tris resolved to make her pleasantries later. She poked her way through a shelf, until she found something on astrology she had not yet read. She had just opened the front cover, when a burst of laughter drew her attention back to the front of the shop. Irritated at the interruption, she looked up, poised to throw one of her most withering glares, when she was stopped dead in her tracks. The customer the shop girl was talking with had turned slightly, and she now had a clear view of him.
He was simply the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
His shock of thick chestnut hair framed his face to perfection, enhancing the already well-defined angles and planes. One unruly lock had fallen into his eyes, shading the glittering ocean blue color they appeared to be. His nose was straight and strong, and his skin looked like it would be impossibly smooth to the touch. But all of that was lost on Tris. Bless her, it was the smile.
She had seen a lot of smiles in her life. Forced, faked, half, small, big, and genuine, but never had she seen a smile like his. It lit up his entire face, it lit up the entire room, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The easy joy she saw there blew her away, and even though she knew that the smile was not for her, she felt like the only person in the world when basking in the glow of it. Tris felt herself falling on the spot. Which, she realized with horror a moment later, was beyond unacceptable. Feeling like that only meant pain in the end, she had learned from harsh experience. What could someone like that possibly want with a chubby weather witch with a temper problem?
He caught sight of Tris then. Looking her up and down, the wide smile he had been wearing settling into an expression of pleasant curiosity. She reddened under his gaze, feeling a little of her irritation slip back at being scrutinized so closely.
"It's rude to stare," she snapped, before she remembered that she had just been openly staring herself.
The irony of her statement did not go unnoticed by him, which he indicated by quirking an eyebrow.
Tris felt her skin heat up, and she was sure she was nearing the color of her hair. The shop girl was peering at her with a concerned look on her face, as if she was worried about Tris' well being.
"Well," Tris said, as she hastily stuffed the book back where she had found it. She beat a quick path to the exit, not expecting the hand that shot out to clutch her arm.
"Wait," He said, stepping closer. He towered over her, but in a good way, she thought unbidden.
"What is your name?"
She hadn't known what she was expecting him to say, but it was certainly not that. She replied with a startled, but simple "Tris." before slipping out of his grasp and fairly running out of the door, leaving him looking as though he wanted to ask something more.
She had arrived home and promptly locked herself in her room, assuming for the first time the position on her bed that had become so familiar to her. She never mentioned it to her siblings, and if they had glimpsed it for themselves, and she was sure they had, they never brought it up. Tris didn't think they knew how grateful she was for that. In the two months since it had happened, they had given her all the space she needed. Although, in regards to the space, she had suspicions that they were in part trying to avoid the blunt of her temper, which flared up easier than it had in ages.
Tris stood, shook her skirts free of wrinkles, the squared her shoulders. She had determined that she was just going to have to try harder. She could not drift around like a wilted flower for the rest of her life, pining after a stranger who had probably already forgotten all about her.
Coppercurls, Briar's voice rang through her mind, I think you ought to come downstairs.
Why? She replied, almost growling when Briar blocked her attempts to see through his eyes, but already working her way down the three flights of stairs.
Oh, you'll see, He said.
I could have already, Tris retorted, starting on the second flight.
She could hear the grin in his voice as he tsk'd at her. You were always so impatient.
The scene she saw at the bottom of the stairs as she finished her climb cut short any reply she might have had to that. There, standing in between Briar and Daja, stood the man she had been dreaming about, however reluctantly, for the past two months.
"What...?" She asked weakly, looking at first Briar, then Daja, then lastly, the man standing in the middle. She didn't even know his name, she thought not for the first time.
"Look at what the cat dragged to the doorstep!" Briar said cheerfully, wearing the exact grin she had detected before.
"Our friend Ian here," Briar continued, clapping Ian on the shoulder for emphasis, "was just telling us that you met at that bookshop down the street a few months ago. Who would have imagined. Would you have imagined, Daj?"
"Never." She said flatly, giving Briar a reproachful look. He paid it no heed.
"Now, Ian, why don't you tell Tris why you're here?" Briar prompted, none too subtly.
Ian looked completely unfazed by Briar, as he turned to a still stunned Tris.
"It took a while, but I wanted to find you." He stated.
Tris couldn't control the blunt "Why?" that burst from her lips.
"You seemed different. I wanted to know more about you." He moved forward. "I still do."
"No," She said, even though she felt her will crumbling under the earnest look in his eyes. "You don't. You really don't. You don't know what you're getting yourself into. You'd be running and screaming by nightfall."
A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. "Maybe you're underestimating me."
"Maybe you're overestimating yourself!" She shot back, crossing her arms. "If you've been looking for me, you have to know the stories."
He nodded. "I do."
"And you're not the least bit scared?"
"A healthy dose of fear never hurt anybody." Ian pointed out.
Tris was at a loss for words. She had run out of arguments. A frustrated noise grew at the back of her throat, and then the worst happened.
Ian grinned, and as she had expected it would, the warmth melted the rest of her resistance.
She sighed inwardly. She was starting to discover that it was always the smile.
"So. Lunch, then?" Ian asked brightly, coming up to take her arm.
Tris looked at him hard, wondering if it would really be any different, or if she would still end up alone and hurt. She took a breath, and gripped his arm tightly. She would never know if she never tried. She silently thanked Briar and Daja, who had retreated to a corner and were trying to look inconspicuous.
Then, she smiled. "I think lunch would be great."
A/N Now, I do believe it's time for me to address some things. I do this so you don't have to ask questions.
- This is set sometime after WotE, if you did not pick that up. It did not suit my purposes for Tris to be at Lightsbride, so he is not. If you would like to imagine this is after she went to Lightsbridge, be my guest.
- Sandry is not in that last little part because I imagine she was at the Duke's Citadel at the time.
- Tris is missing a certain glass dragon! Chime just didn't fit into the scheme of the story, so I didn't put her in to avoid unnecessary awkward parts. Maybe she just napped through the whole thing.
- Tris may seem OoC. I'm very sorry for this.
- Ian, I'm sure you would like to know more about. Since he is an OC and we didn't get to explore him more in this quaint little one shot. Well, I thought, Tris being the way she is, she needed someone a bit more laid back than her. I tried to make Ian that. Maybe I might expound upon him more in further work. Who knows?
Thank you for reading, and if you're so inclined, please review and let me know what you thought :)