Additional disclaimer: This scene was heavily inspired and based on the songs "We Danced Anyway" and "Strawberry Wine" by Deana Carter, 1996/1997. Credit for the idea, therefore, goes to the songwriters and not to myself... mostly.

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Her husband's illness quickly took its toll on Sarah, between juggling the inn keeping, handling the family's now crippled finances, and taking care of both her son and Leland. She was ever rushing here and there, her voice quick and strained as she struggled to keep things in hand; indeed she was so preoccupied that the thought of herself never crossed her mind amidst the dishes to be washed, medicine to be given, guests to be welcomed and necessities to be purchased. At the end of the day she would collapse on the bed, exhausted, and quickly black out to dreams filled with more dish washing, medicine giving, guest welcoming and necessity purchasing. Dark shadows began to grow under her eyes, and her hair was perpetually disheveled and frizzled. The Inn guests on seeing her always refused to meet her gaze, and took to handling their own business for her - whether out of compassion or pity, it depended.
Perhaps Sarah couldn't be blamed for spending most of that hustle and bustle with Leland. She would pause and just sit with him, heart melting as she watched him sleep, wheezing painfully. If he was awake the two usually sat in silence (with the exception of Leland's slow, congested breathing), gaze flicking to one another then quickly fluttering away. If they talked, it was short and casual. How are you feeling? Same as always. How's the Inn? It's fine. Jim is fine too. He's very worried. Leland would frown and look out the window, and the two would lapse into silence once more, Sarah compulsively smoothing out her apron and sitting back in her chair, eyes closed.
This particular morning, three days after the doctor had left, she sat in her chair as always. The window was framed with a border of snowflakes, the frosty pane glowing with the morning sunlight peeking through the clouds. The glow seemed to give her face a pallid halo as she watched Leland; he was sitting up with his back to the delicately carved headboard, twisting the quilt in his hands and staring off past the floor. With a wretched cough that made Sarah's heart wince, and a long sigh, he sank down into the sheets, his head against the pillow. His eyelids drooped wearily.
Looking at him, eyes flickering, a smile tugged at Sarah's sallow face. Unrestrained she chuckled, eyes twinkling above the dark circles.
Leland's eyes fluttered open. "What? What is it?" he muttered hoarsely.
Sarah leaned back in the chair. "Oh, it's nothing… it is just…" Here she smiled again. "Do you remember when we went to the spring faire that one time, back on Terra? Before we got married?"
Leland paused, as if trying to recover some distant, forgotten memory. "Of course."
She gave a wistful sigh and leaned forward again towards him. "That was the best night of my life. You with your… hair slicked back, and that lopsided grin; and I in that dress Mum had made me… Oh, my parents were so upset about that! You remember, don't you? Father thought you were some dirty scoundrel, out to break hearts…"
He tried to laugh. "Maybe I was."
She just grinned. "… But I still remember the scent of those flowers, the people, the music; and you and I, under those stars…"

Overhead the stars twinkled, seeming to sprinkle stardust upon them all. The streets were packed with families, lovers, and friends. All were talking heartily to one another, sharing succulent looking dishes at a slew of stands, steaming homemade stews and sweet pastries. Everywhere a myriad of pastel blossoms hung, their perfume thick in the air with the pungent whiff of steamed meats and the hay scattered on the ground. A band struck a lively country serenade to the festivalgoers, and by the stage couples danced, cheeks flushed and eyes reflecting the twinkle of star-crossed enchantment.
The spring faire had been her favorite time of the year since she was a little girl; and even now, a young woman at 17, that passion hadn't changed. It had been her idea to meet him here for this evening, and her chest fluttered with the brush of butterfly wings as she stood in that sea of people, elegantly laced sundress swishing around her heels, a cream-colored flower tucked in her shining hair. Her eyes scanned the crowd, every once in awhile standing on her tiptoes to peer over the crowd.
She sighed. Perhaps he wouldn't make it after all. She looked down at her feet, just as a hand was set on her shoulder; heart dropping out of her chest, she spun around, and caught her breath.
There he stood, smiling at her with that lopsided grin that had first captured her heart. He was decked in a neatly pressed long coat, the silver buckles shining in the soft lights strung low overhead. His olive eyes burned in his smooth, 19-year-old face, not yet touched by the cruel toil and darkness of coalmines. There was only she and he, two young lovers in a sea of people, just waiting to get swept away. In that moment the stars twinkled in their eyes, and there was nothing else.
They walked off together, her arm in his. They slipped through the crowd, the atmosphere and the feeling between filling them with laughter and warm conversation. The two met those they knew and didn't know along the way - a lovely couple, they would say as the two passed, as fine as they come; those two were going to make it. The couple would smile at the children as they ran past, throwing flowers and braiding them into each other's hair. The air was filled with good humor and joy; the couple stopped at one stand and picked up two glasses of a sparkling magenta drink to sip. The bubbles tickled her nose, and her senses filled with the aroma and taste of fresh strawberries. She laughed. He took her hand and they weaved through the crowed to the dance floor. The band strummed a quaint tune to the strings of a guitar, sweeping the lovers off their feet spinning into clouds of perfumed fantasies. Her face glowed as he called to her, coaxing her onto the floor.
Swift as the rise of the strawberry bubbles they were pulled into the current. He bowed to her and she curtseyed back, giggling. He took her hand and they were soon spinning and swaying to the time of the music. They found themselves singing along to songs they had never heard, the notes drowned with laughter and music. They danced, never leaving each other's eyes. Flowers and hay swirled around their feet, and children ran up to watch in awe, chortling to one another and taking up the dance. Quick and slow, spin and turn, they fell in with the music as quickly as they fell in love. Time seemed to move in a blur as the world spun away. At the last slow song they pulled close, hands locked. The song seemed to speak of them, though they didn't understand a word; and they danced anyway.

The music seemed to play in their ears, as if projected over the echoes of time, and the scent of strawberry wine hung in Sarah's senses. Leland smiled at the memory. "Seems like ages ago we last danced…" he said, his voice strained to a near whisper. "We were so much younger then."
Sarah sighed. "Perhaps too young; but we were so in love… things were much simpler, then - carefree - everything ahead of us and nothing behind. I was so naïve; we both were… who would have…" Realizing what she was about to say, she cut herself off and bit her lip.
His face slackened, that glow fading. "I'm sorry, Sarah. Heaven knows I tried."
Her eyes shone with tears, and she just smiled at him in a don't-talk-such-nonsense way. She stood up and took his hand where it still rested on the bed. "No… you were a wonderful dancer."
The two hung on that moment in time; looking into Sarah's eyes, Leland caught a glimpse of that laughing 17-year-old, clutching an empty glass, head filled with strawberry wine, lips parted in the most beautiful smile that made the very stars fade in jealousy. A string tugged at his heart he hadn't felt in ages, and his stomach seemed to turn knots. As quickly as the moment came it was gone; her hands slipped from his and she stepped away. A voice from the parlor was calling to the master of the Inn; and with a moment's hesitation and one last glimpse, she slipped away.
Leland settled back against the pillow, eyes closed, thoughts and memories waltzing through his mind. Somehow he couldn't shake the laughter from his ears, the echoes of nameless tunes and forgotten faces left in a spin of time and pain. As he lay, his chest pulled tight and the faint hint of strawberry tugging at his senses, he wondered what had happened to those dreams. They were echoes through time, forgotten - he had forgotten love. The feeling had slipped from his hand; and as the snow fell outside the window, he wondered if he would ever find it again.

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Author Note: I know, I know, I promised Christmas-ness. Sorry. @__@ As noted at the beginning of the chapter, this chapter was heavily influenced by country music, and just the general feeling of romance from Valentine's Day (which is still today at the time I am writing this). Somehow "We Danced Anyway" made me think of them, and I just had to write this; while I've read and seen much Doppler/Amelia I have never read or seen anything for Leland and Sarah. I thought the flashback might be interesting as touching a point in the story essential to the plot; they must have been in love at one point to be falling away from it. I think it provides a nice emotional center for their relationship, and helps Leland to realize the absence of old feelings that contribute to him eventually leading. Anyways. Appologies for the rather randomness of the chapter; and this would pretty much be my first official piece of "romantic" fiction of any sort. Please don't stone me, I tried. ;;