A/n: It has been forever since I updated, but I've been a long time without any way to go about it. Anyhow, back again--couldn't get rid of me that easily, ha-ha. This one has het and slash allusions, but again, nothing above a little internal dialogue. If anyone who read the first few of these enjoyed them, please indulge herein once more.

Paladin Dragoon: Thank you as always for reviewing each and every one of these. I'm glad you approve so far :)
Capella A. Morningside: Thank you--I do a lot of research, and it's excellent to have that acknowledged. As a matter of fact, yes, I intend to do at least most of them, tho I expect it will take me quite a while, as inspiration comes to me in little bits and images.
Yami Silverdramon: I hope you are enjoying these others a bit more than the first...? I promise to get back to reviewing the things you write now that I am able to be online for more than just a few minutes a week. I hope you have not given up on me.

Leena

Disappointed:
Beachcombing

Grey—the whole world was grey this evening, wrapped in fog almost as heavy and cold as the way I was feeling. As I made that association, even as sad and angry as I felt, I had to laugh at myself a little bit; it just sounded so dramatic and maudlin I couldn't make room for it. The fog coming in off the ocean did give everything a serious air, though; I swear I could feel the grey against my skin as well as the cold. It might even rain tonight, or tomorrow. The fog had shrouded the village in silver, and the houses looked awfully far away, their lights piercing the gloom with imperfect, fuzzy blobs of orange and yellow. Usually weather like this would bring me inside; I loved the way a heavy fog could make the whole house feel cozy, and draw everyone together. Tonight I felt like I wanted to be alone, though, so I pulled my mother's shawl tighter around my shoulders, continuing across the sand near the tide line. I wasn't going anywhere, really, but I had some thinking to do, and the fogged-in beach had seemed the perfect place when I'd left my house.

There were shells in a few places, and I paused every so often to pick one up and look at it. For the last few minutes I hadn't been really looking at the ones I chose, just staring at them for a few seconds, then putting them back. Some of them had had sea creatures still in them, and these I always set back right away, feeling sort of guilty for disrupting them since I had already learned how shocking and frightening disruption could be. I was more compassionate than ever after—I still can't say "saving the world—" but anyway, after that business had been finished. More compassionate...and more open-minded, too. I put a few particularly pretty shells in my dress pocket, though, after I checked to make sure no one was home. It was okay for me to be happy, too, and seashells have always made me happy. They were one of the reasons I had chosen this place to come and think.

It was so unfair. After all that had happened, after I had learned how many other girls he had turned away, I had felt unchallenged. It had seemed that everything I'd always wanted could come true even after the strange events that had transpired. I could hardly believe we had been back almost a week now; standing in these familiar surroundings felt different in the aftermath of what we had come together to do, and I was still fully realizing that most people would never understand what had gone on...and that that might be for the best. That realization mixed weirdly with my reaction to the news I'd received today, making me feel like maybe I shouldn't try to tell anyone what he had decided, or how that had affected me, either. I chalked that up to the way my mind kept wandering; in a few days I would have everything sorted out in my head, and my flaky associations would be put to rest.

When he had come to my house this afternoon, his eyes full of some secret, I had felt my heart swell with anticipation and the beginnings of joy. I'd agreed to take a walk, even when he had refrained from choosing the place we had always chosen: Opassa Beach. I had followed him into the trees not far from the village, guessing he wanted somewhere we didn't usually meet because he had some uncommonly private news for me. In that, at least, I had been right. But I had also expected him to say that he felt like it was time to get more serious, or maybe even that he loved me. Before all of this happened, I know that he did love me--I know that he did.

But he hadn't said anything like that. Instead, he had taken me far enough into the trees to be invisible from the village and told me it wouldn't work out, because he had found someone else. The way he talked about this other person just about made me fall apart. I guess all along I had almost expected him to choose someone over me--someone like Miki, who is an amazing dancer, slim and pretty and a terrific person besides. For a while I thought he had it for Orlha, and I could have understood that, too; she's just this incredible person with a little bit of everything that makes someone worth knowing. I could have accepted being overlooked for a more beautiful girl, or one who was different in some other way he needed her to be different.

It was neither Orlha nor Miki; ironically, I was the one who ended up being friends with both of them. It had been no one I could have expected, but I'd guessed right away, anyway, just because of how unmistakable Serge's description had been: gentle, sweet, honorable, strong, thoughtful, beautiful in every way that's important to him.

I found myself wondering why he had chosen that person in particular. They were asking for nothing but heartbreak, but they must have known that. They must be thinking their chances of being happy together were pretty good, I guessed, but no matter what they did, there would be bridges they had to burn that might never be rebuilt. I knew I was one of those, and it made me feel a little sad to be nothing but ashes on the wind.

All I could say was that I hoped I hadn't burned him too badly as he set fire to what we used to have. After all, I'd never been bloody-minded, and I couldn't bring myself to actually hate either one of them. I was a little jealous, but I knew that would pass in time, especially if they turned out to make it after all. Besides, it wasn't as though everything we had was gone; he'd said that he still wanted to be best friends, that he would need friends like me more than ever, especially since I had always understood him so well, and had said I didn't blame him for choosing what would make him happy.

I didn't blame him, really—at least, I was trying not to. I thought he deserved to be happy just as much as I did, and in the meantime, I could find someone else. There were plenty of available boys, and I could teach myself to flirt. Miki would help me. Who could tell? In a few years, maybe I would even believe in it.

A/n: She was one of the characters I only got a so-so feel for, but this scene opened up in my mind kind of like an impressionist painting; I could see the village lights in the fog, the ocean receding into invisibility, and the lone girl walking on the beach with her head bent to study the shells that lay there. Her character reminded me strongly of one of my friends, who stays close with a couple of her exes. She is both a brave and a foolish soul for this. This story is for her.