Title: Darkness Visible

Author: labyrinthine

E-mail: elabyrinthine@yahoo.com

Rating/Classification: PG/vignette, Will's POV

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters.

Summary: a different take on Will and Sydney's kiss

Feedback: would be greatly appreciated.

Author's note: big thanks to my favorite webmistress for introducing me to this insanity

"Yet from these flames no light, but rather darkness visible" - John Milton

*****

He pulls away and realizes instantly he's made a mistake.

A big one.

He had thought for a few glorious moments that this might actually work out. That his attraction to Sydney wasn't some huge cosmic joke and that maybe, maybe, she wanted this too. It wasn't as if he didn't have anything to go on. Not that she had ever made an advance before tonight, but things between them had always been...easy. They'd known each other for years, and for years he had hoped that their comfortable rappore would gradually evolve into something more. And tonight, it just seemed that everything was finally starting to line up a little bit, that they would finally start breaking through the barrier that defined them as only friends. He should have realized that nothing lasting could be unearthed merely by tequila and ice cream.

"Will..."

He knows that this image of Sydney, pulling away and to the side, hiding her face, the glimpse of her eyes before she shifts them from his view, will never been removed from the imprint so permenantly burned into his brain.

"You don't have to say anything, ok? I didn't mean to...to do that. I would never-"

"Will." She has turned back to face him and god, he didn't think this could turn any worse but the look of pity in her eyes is too much to bear. He's almost positive it's pity, or something damn close to it, though he's not going to keep staring to find out for sure.

"Look, I didn't come here with the intention of kissing you. I mean, it's pretty clear you're not interested." Slow down, he thinks, now is not the time to ramble. Let's say this right and get out of here before you lose it completely.

"It's just that-"

"Yeah. I know." And maybe there isn't anything right that needs to be said after all. Maybe the right thing to do is just picking up your keys, offering an apologeitc half-smile, and driving away.

*****

This consols him all of a quarter mile, until the adreneline rush crashes to a halt and he needs to pull the car to the shoulder to catch his thoughts. How could he have been so reckless? He should never have gone for it, should have realized all along that Sydney was out of his league. Just look at how different he was from Danny....

Shit. Danny. The box in his trunk.

It takes him all of half a second to decide the box can wait till tomorrow. Will is aware his mind is having an off-day, but he knows enough to understand that showing up on Sydney's doorstep five minutes after a botched kiss with personal belonings of her dead fiance would definitely not win for Smart Move of the Day.

He closes his eyes. Syd has enough going on as it is, Will concludes; it's probably best to just drop the whole thing if it's brought up in the future. She needs a friend, someone she can vent to without complications, and he can still be that person. He'll drop the article for the paper too. For good this time. It kills him to think of abandoning the story, but he realizes that if she found out about it he'd die a more painful death, and would deserve it for going behind her back.

For one absurd moment, he wishes he could fly. That he could sprout nifty little wings and get himself off the ground for a little while; to better free himself from feeling so leaden and grounded, to liberate himself from every obligation that binds him. After a moment of contemplating such an unattached existence, he shakes himself out of it. It would be too lonely, he decides.

He loves Sydney. Will has come to the conclusion that this is perfectly obvious to everyone who knows them both, just as it's practically a given that he'll never get the girl. His type, after all, never does. And now he thinks that, given a little more time to sort his life out, he might be okay with it.

It's like walking into a pitch-black room. Given enough time to let your eyes adjust, the darkness becomes visible. Things you didn't even expect to see make themselves present. Now, he thinks, I'm ready to open my eyes.

*****

Darkness Visible

elabyrinthine@yahoo.com