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Epiphany

A mood piece

By elsie

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I wake up and all of a sudden we're dancing the waltz. Me and her.

She and I.

We spin and spin and spin, and everything else is a blur.

Its me and her. She and I. I'm focused on just the two of us. Me and her, she and I.

Everything else is a blur.

I get tired of the same old steps and make my own. She follows.

Or I follow?

But we dance our own dance. Still spinning, spinning. Everything else was a blur.

Then it was over. We sat, and I held her.

Close, around the waist, we're side by side, her thigh touching mine, her head on my shoulder.

I'm hoping for a few moments of this comfortable intimacy, but they come, and we move apart.

I feel like somehow, it's hard to be with her.

I can't explain why.



It's later and almost everyone is leaving.

I wonder if she'll leave.

They stay.

And I wonder if she'll leave.

She finds me by the door, where I'm greeting leavers, where I say good bye to those who've come. Good bye, all those who've come. Good bye.

She finds me, by the door. "... I thought..." she said.

I thought.

I know. I knew just what she meant.

"I thought that we, you and me, me and you, we could stay. And we..."

No. No, no, no. How could you think that? I know, and I knew what she meant by that. I know what she means to offer. And it's a no.

It's not about that.

I see her, through her, know all the great things she has done and the goodness she has been. And I know where she's been. I know why she says that, why she thinks that's what she needs to say. I know why she says that with sadness in her steady eyes. She says it with steady eyes.

But it's not right.

I tell her so. It's not about that. I tell her so.

I see through her, and she stays.

I might not know the right way, the right right way to handle this. But I know with all my being that it's not about that.

We sit, and hope to be alone.



But they have stayed, and they are here, pretending not to look while looking on with hooded eyes, faking other attentions and paying them (a sly slip behind the back way) to us. I would pay double to take the attention away.

We sat, and hoped to be alone.

They are a jealous ex, watching our every move. They eat us alive with their hooded eyes.

And I hate myself for caring. I wonder why it's hard.

No, I don't care. Because I need to care about what's important. I care about her.

I care about her.

We sat, and hoped to be alone, and we are. I'll make it so. Because I could care less about the end of the world - my whole universe is here, aside me. We sit close.

This is wordless.

I edge close.

I am courage.

I close in.

I am sure.

I edge closest (close as) I can be.

And I let them see me take her hand.

She sees me take her hand.

And we hold each other tight, in our little universe.

Wordless, as we sit close. Holding hands.

And after, everything we do we hang on tight - I hang on because I know this is right, she hangs on because she knows she needs it. This something right, she needs it. This is something right.

I'm seeing through her again, knowing her. Wishing there was something more, something more, something more. She needs more right things in her life. These somethings rights, she needs them. More these somethings rights.

But it's alright. For now, this is enough.

This is right. And it is enough.



Then somehow our contact breaks - they see through our universal shield, they break us down again, they make me care and sneak my looks around, watching for them to watch us. I know they are watching us. They eat us alive again.

Who are they? Who do they think they are? Why do they matter? Why can they break it so easily, quickly, Suddenly, how can they shatter this something so right?

I hate myself for letting them eat me. I'm sorry I couldn't keep this something so right for her, even just a bit longer. I am ashamed of my weakness. I take my hands away. I take myself away. I run away.

Because I lost to them.

I'm sorry.

And I am ashamed.



But she edges close -

Oh, ever closer!

And she closes in (my, she is brave)

And with her lips to my ear

Her thigh to my thigh

Her hand facing palm up, as it rests in her lap

She comes in close, and whispers to me,

"Can I have your hand?"



I am wordless.

This is something so right.

And I give her everything.

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A/N: Just a few things to aid in comprehension… again, this is a mood piece… I hope it put you somewhere, and you knew what it was to really be there. Sometimes revelations can come in dreams, and that's what I meant this to be – a dream, that Squall has about himself and Rinoa, concerning their relationship. Therefore, the inconsistency regarding the couple dancing ("they didn't sit and hang out after they danced!") is not inconsistent.  ^_^ Oh and by the by, this is set sometime around after Squall lets Rinoa slip through his hands and into those of the proper authorities, and just before he gets some sense knocked into him and goes to save her from the crazy sorceress sealing machine!  As for OOC-ness (if any), I didn't have the heart to change one word, for in fact, this came to me in a dream… it seemed just wrong to alter it – it wouldn't have been my dream then, would it? It's about the feelings, not so much the faces. About the actions, and the meanings, about simplicity, about what we need, what's important, etc etc… what's right. Anyway, I'm quite the bag pipe (long winded! Whew!). Review for me, thanks. lol.

With heart, elsie

P.S. – yeah, I'm still alive! Whoohoo!

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