Disclaimer: Characters not mine, title not mine, there is very little in this world that is.

Author Notes: A tiny bit of something I just had the urge to write out of my system.

Welcome to the room, Sara.

By Rianne.

It was almost like seeing a ghost at first.

Or a mirage.

The image obscured by the rapid, blurred passing of traffic.

By the reflections of sun and light and dark.

Too hard to see clearly.

But she was transfixed.

She couldn't have ever anticipated that it was going to feel this way.

A flood of intricate emotions making her already tired heart begin to ache.

Forehead creasing to keep that translucent evasive image steady.

Her preoccupation keeping her frozen in place as her brain worked in overdrive.

And in this high speed environment she felt like the only static one.

The only one motionless.

She could see her own reflection.

A thin, dark clothed line, dividing the chaos with her stillness.

Waiting.

Frown running in horizontal opposition to the elegance of her vertical stance.

And she took time to just look.

Not ready for the moment just yet.

Standing away, across the road, leaning back into the sturdy shelter of the building.

Watching time pass in vivid animation across the expressive surface before her.

The shimmering ever changing motion past the small café making the window into a drive in movie of surrounding life.

And in her quiet enclave she let herself feel.

Really feel.

Knowing now was no time to be afraid of things she could not deny.

Burrowing through pathways untaken.

Unearthing rich vastnesses of anger, fear, hurt, terrifying memories, emotional wounds still scarred and raw.

There was so much to say, so much blame, so much forgiveness.

And she finally allowed her nerves get the better of her.

Her churning stomach rumbling untamed.

And she even allowed herself to question.

Question whether she shouldn't take heed of the twisting in her belly and just let the past slide away.

Whether she shouldn't focus on the here and now and the beautiful glow of the future.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

But in her heart she knew she had to do this to move on.

To step out of the shadows.

To shake off the ties that bound.

But it was hard to swallow past that lump in her throat.

She concentrated a calming moment upon the version of herself reflected back.

And was both surprised and afraid of her own darkness.

Tall, dark clothed figure.

Willowy, and elongated, but steady.

Impossible for others to tell that beneath the stoic unmoving surface her thoughts were running wild.

Cloaked in self-imposed shadows, stark against the San Francisco sunshine.

She didn't want to be that sallow figure anymore, she longed to express the lightness she had gained, the love and the clarity, the happiness and laughter she had shared.

Her inner light no longer reflected the dull muted colours of her exterior.

Yet she also wasn't quite ready yet to relinquish her protective exterior.

And this meeting wasn't just about her.

She refocused on the other person, the one she watched.

The other in the window beyond herself that was static.

Seated at the small table by the café window.

Occasionally lifting the cup to lips with careful delicacy.

A faint tremble along the older limbs.

Completely unaware of was being so closely studied?

Of being carefully scrutinised for the effects of more than twenty years past?

Was the greying curled hair on the back of the neck rising?

Were the trembling fingers from the anxiety of waiting?

From the building feeling of something momentous about to happen?

Or was she just projecting?

Imposing her own confusing emotions upon this person she was supposed to know, had once known as well as herself.

This person who should instinctively know her.

This ghost of a person before her.

Not what she remembered, not quite what she expected either in spite of everything.

There was a yearning there she had not expected.

A longing for something long missing from her life.

Something she had been forced to make do without.

In the sheltering building at her back a clock began to chime.

The harmonious notes signalling to her that it was time.

Running their waving tune down the very bones of her spine, feeling them reverberate right to her very edges.

She straightened her already spotless clothing, wanting to look nothing but her best when seen for the first time in all these years.

Wanting to be thought beautiful by someone that despite everything mattered so very much to her.

She breathed in, deep and slow.

Steeling herself with everything she had.

And crossed the road in a blur, having to lose sight of the figure in the window seat momentarily.

A hippie jangle of bells greeted her as she opened the well used glass door.

Several eyes rose, but her attention was only waiting to be returned by one other in that small cluttered chatter filled room.

Her heart pounding so hard.

The child inside her desperate to throw herself across the room and bury her face into the instinctively familiar shelter as she sobbed out her heartbreak.

She hadn't expected that.

That surge of emotion so strong it ached.

Then as if sensing the intensity of her gaze the needed for eyes raised to hers.

And met.

Matching eyes.

The figure rose, as the tears rose inside her.

Tall, just like her.

Slim.

Beautiful.

Smiling, happy to see her, cautious, fearful, sad, and starting to cry too.

Her nails were tight in her palm, stinging, she could no longer see their audience, the world around them a colourful iridescent blur.

And her voice, barely audible, lost and breaking, tumbled uncontrollably forth on a heart wrenching sob.

"Mom..."