Author's Note: Oneshot. Gizzie. Set during 'Scars and Souvenirs'(Season Three's 18th episode..)
Love. Friendship. Worship. Desire. Devotion. Desperation.
The parts in the sum of the whole.
A riot. (Too vague.)
An earthquake. (No, even though it feels ground-breaking.)
A volcanic explosion. (Hotter.)
An atomic bomb. (But it hasn't killed anyone - yet.)
A revolution. (Less organized.)
A flood. (No, even when it's breath-taking.)
A hurricane. (It might blow her away, but still…)
She made a mental list of things she's been comparing it to, but she didn't consider any of the items accurate.
She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling while he slept peacefully besides her, still not believing what she'd done, what they had done together, and overall, how right it had felt.
She had never imagined he could be so… unlike himself. Apparently there was a whole side of him that she'd never known. A secret, private, different George. She liked to think she was the only one who'd ever get to see that part of him; just like that smile of his that she knew was reserved for her.
While stirring she couldn't help but wondering if he and his – what a horribly stinging word – wife had such an amazing, mind-blowing chemistry. She didn't think so. Smiling with smug satisfaction, she turned around to find him staring at her with an easily recognizable fire in his eyes.
He was ready for another 'round.'
She liked the feeling of his fingers brushing her neck while their lips moved together.
She liked staring right into his stormy blue eyes until she was able to steal a smile from him, most precisely his trademark grin, the one that she adored.
She liked the way they fit together in every possible way.
And she loved knowing that she was his and he was hers – no wedding rings could convince her otherwise. Her mind, her body, her soul… He owned it all. She should have known that right from the start.
He finally kissed her for the last time that night before rolling over to one side, attempting to get some sleep. She let out a deep sigh. The alcohol-related inhibition and lack of concern had almost disappeared completely, and she started thinking seriously about the fucked up mess they'd gotten themselves into. In some sort of an epiphany, she realized that a) the consequences of their actions would be excruciatingly painful and nearly unbearable; b) they would lose it all because of that single moment of wild, daring bliss.
Oh God, we screwed everything up.
Obviously seconds later she got distracted by the warmth of his arms wrapped around her waist, and the taste of his lips which still lingered on hers. And the certainty that all the pain in the world was worth this hit her like a powerful wave.
They were soul mates. They had found each other. And in a cruel, ruthless world like this, that was incredible. They would pay for it, surely, because after all, they were causing a lot of pain.
But Isobel thought nothing could compare to the feeling of finding her other half, after a life of being incomplete.