Disclaimer: I do not own and never will.

A/n: I thank the reviewers! You know who you are. :)

002: Stranger

A tremble arced throughout Heatherfield as a subway made towards its destination. The air smelled dank and vaguely of the acrid stench of pollution as tendrils of car fumes lingered sluggishly in the air almost melding with the ominous nimbostratus hovering above. Down below, past the towering shapes of silver buildings and their regular shaped windows, past the smoky alleyways, past the multitude of fluxing cars on the road, a teenager ambled, blending in the crowd.

She was walking, aimlessly, silently following the crowd after the day's toll. Her eyes were downcast with a profound sadness, her thoughts brooding, an expression much too serious for one her age. Held in one hand was a dog-eared note sent hastily by a certain Passling and written on it was an invitation to a rendezvous point. Their rendezvous point.

At the spur of the moment, she had ran impulsively towards the destination, forgetting her gloves altogether. But now, she was doubtful, her pace slower.

'I would indirectly admit myself being a masochist if I went there, running into his arms only to be hurt once more', hermental voice gave a half hysterical laugh at that.

'But maybe...I already am,' she thought wryly, noticing the unhealthy hue of her cold hands.

'But I suppose, that's what love does... It makes you insane-'

There was a sudden tug on her heart, a feeling forcing the breath out of her lungs and this time, the asphyxiating fumes of pollution wasn't the cause.

'Am I crazy enough to admit that my feelings for him are inexorably the four-letter-words?', she pondered upon the fact that her mind itself was betraying her without realizing that her pace was slowing. Her eyebrows were creased, deep in thought.

She stayed rooted to her position, a passerby momentarily stumbling behind her who muttered a profanity. But the routinely crowd resumed, the people behind her working their way around her, like a river against a steady boulder.

'But then, there's a lot of people in this world, hardships more greater than mine', she eyed the people surrounding her, as men and women weaved their way around the crowd like a synchronized performance act.

'So many fates intercepting yet, never meeting. So close yet... so far', as she observed their varying faces and expressions.

'Not only my problems matter. These people, they have their own troubles, hidden under masks of happiness', her eyes impassively strayed to an odd couple, a stout man who tipped his hat with a smile as a greeting to a nearby taller woman; another stranger to her.

'Stranger...' the word reverberated in her mind, like an echo of a sound, the uncanniness painfully tugging at her heartstrings as she thought of a particular rebel.

He was a stranger to her, a mere illusive shadow lurking in her conscience. There was no sublime proof that he was hers and vice versa. Their courting had been tentative, so subtle that it sometimes left her confused. But after years of his absence, she gradually lost hope.

She knew of his initial reluctance regardless his feelings. Because when one held such a dangerous position as Rebel Leader, the burden of so many was upon his shoulders.

Where every nanosecond was infinitely precious like air, where every life was infinitely transient and greatly mortal, to be the salvation required equally great sacrifice. His was to discard all sense of selfishness, to abandon his childhood, to mar what remains of his sanity.

And despite his brusque and arrogant facade, he was just a boy, matured too young.

She was brought out of her reverie as something dark stained the pavement beneath her feet, something reminiscent of blood. The crowd's sound of surprise and urgent footfalls reached her ears. And as her mental voice screamed that danger was coming, her senses felt unusually languid before everything fluxed by, sounds muffled to her ears.

Blood and adrenaline rushed through her veins and she tried frantically to calm her thoughts. After all, through her years as an experienced guardian, charging blindly into a fight wasn't ideal.

But she was caught of guard nonetheless, eyes dilating into small pinpoints, face tilted towards the sky as drops of rain fell onto her, trailing rivulets down the contours of her face. Ignoring her wet tresses plastered on her face, she watched amongst the dispersing crowd, as the odd couple briskly left, the stout man holding an umbrella over the woman's head, both smiling amicably to each other. And Cornelia briefly noted, albeit subconsciously that once, not to long ago, she had the same lovestruck smile on her face.

Arms akimbo her hands reached for the sky. Relishing the feel of the rain, she loosely pirouetted, feeling an overwhelming sense of joy as the corners of her lips tilted into a smile.

'I may be a masochist, he may just be a stranger to me, but perhaps he is all I need.'

Review please. Flames will be accepted if they bear merit. However, they will be merely a thing of amusement for me if its just senseless insults on my person. :)

But truthfully, I don't think this is my best effort, which is why reviews are appreciated.

I am considering changing the title to 'Fragments'. tell me your opinions then, whether its too cheesy or something.