Sierra: Ok, it's a promise. I won't abandon And the World Turned. Yet, I will continue to occasionally leave you for "X-men and other treacherous shows".
Amy: If love were that simple, wouldn't we all be living in Heaven's bliss? Anyway, I can't have them get together because I already wrote in the prologues that they were apart! Sorry, buddy!
JC: Do you honestly think that flattery can get you anywhere? I don't think so, sis! insert smile Besides, have you forgotten about the prologues?
Chosen: Right, I meant chapter six. I called it Chapter Six in the title so why did I type Chapter Five on the page? Silly me. Anyway, what happened was simply this: I got bored with it. And you're right: I'm probably doing too many stories at once. Why did I even think I could juggle this many? It's exhausting!
Panda: You must be one of the very few willing to face the truth. Many are asking me to not let Marguerite leave him, but they've obviously blocked out the two prologues.
Keys: THANK YOU! Thank you for being so understanding. It was only going to be a one-shot, but I kept adding on for you guys. sigh I can only give so much.
Taya: THANK YOU! Marguerite, I think, really would be that way.
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INSERTION OF THE PROLOGUES ~ Just in case you don't remember (the epilogue will soon follow):
Roxton's POV:
When I'm walking these streets, I count my steps as I drag my feet. The moonlight shines from its royal perch high in the dark, cloudless sky. It's moments like these – right out of the blue—that I remember you. Not that I could ever forget you. No, you're always hovering somewhere nearby, but I usually deny you passage into my thoughts.
You see; you broke my heart.
Don't worry, though, because I'm healed now. I don't lie awake at night anymore agonizing over you. I have learned how to move on. And now we're far apart. In fact, for all I know, the seven seas and the stars of Heaven separate us. I suppose it's better this way because if I were ever to bump into you then I may lose the control I've so carefully built around my tears. It's not that I miss you: not tonight. Not anymore. But the tears would be more of a baptism: washing away the years of pain I know I would see reflecting from your eyes, the mirror image of my own pain.
I don't blame you for never writing. And I hope you've never been hurt by not receiving a call. I am curious, though. Do you still have dreams? Did they all come true? Does it ever seem that you'll never survive? Do you ever miss me the way I do when I remember you?
I round the corner just as the light mist of rain begins to chime against my hand crafted cane. My limp is hardly noticeable these days for my posture is stiff and I shuffle my feet instead of taking regular steps. My cane and I have fallen into a steady rhythm: click, swish, click, swish, click, swish…
I think you would be proud of me. I've faced my demons and cast away my ghosts. I've given up the past (if you can believe that). I'm no longer controlled by guilt or anguish of what could've been.
Yet, still…
I pause halfway across the cobblestone road. Slowly, ever so slowly, I turn and follow the streetlamps further and further away from town. There's only one place I want to be. I eventually reach the beach and kick off my shoes, my toes sinking into the cool, damp sand.
At the edge, the waves gently roll up over my ankles and then slide back. I gaze out through the darkness, over the ocean that had taken you away. It's been ten long years, but I still remember every curve and line of your face. I'd asked you to stay, knowing you wouldn't. I remember how you'd touched your soft hand to my face; your eyes glazed with unshed tears. You'd whispered 'I'll remember' and then boarded the ship, vanishing from my life as though you never existed as more than a phantom in a dream.
I close my eyes as I bow my head. I lied. I do you miss you. There's an ache seeded in my soul where you had once been. Will you ever return? Do you even miss these arms? Ever subconsciously place your fingertips to your lips, remembering the feel of my kisses?
No. You'd come crashing into my life, enchanted me under your spell, and then slipped away on a breeze. And I know you'll never come back.
A desolate tear glides down, disappearing into the sea of raindrops. I drop my cane and wade further away from shore.
As I duck my head under the waves, the last thing I remember is you.
Marguerite's POV:
I sailed away into a gray sky morning, watching as your forlorn figure drifted further and further away. Well, that's not quite right. I was the one drifting away: the cruise liner heading off towards the horizon, stealing me away from you.
No. It wasn't the ship's fault. I abandoned you. I left you feeling deserted and rejected, your eyes laced with heart-wrenching anguish even as you slowly lifted up your arm to give a tender, final farewell. I cried then. I cried when I saw your hand give that small, dismal wave.
I know you cried, too. I saw your knees give out as you sank to the ground, dropping your cane as you brought your hands up to cover your tear-stricken cheeks. It tore my heart apart. I nearly leapt over the side, intent on swimming against the current…back to you. Yet, I've never been one controlled by emotions. So, I simply turned away…
But I did look back…
I still look back.
I sit on the shores of the beach gazing out over the rolling waves of whatever current ocean, sea, or lake I'm nearby; and think of you. You see, I've kept my promise: I remember. I remember how it was and who we were. And then I watch as my tears join the river of regret.
You stole my world. And now I'm just an imposter. I pretend my way through life. I guess I always have. Yet, you saw through the mask of deception, ridicule, and malicious manipulation. You saw into my heart; the heart I shielded from the world; the heart no one knew was there, hidden beneath my callous fascia; the heart you eventually snuck in and captured in your warm embrace.
None of that matters now, though. Ten long years changes a person. Yet, I suppose, it doesn't necessarily change one's soul. For I still am who I am, though, different. Does that make sense?
I rise myself to my feet, dusting off the sand that has clung to my skirt. I take one final, longing stare at the waves and then turn and walk away.
I always walk away.
Onto the Epilogue…