Title: Drowning
Author: Katerina
Rating: G
Summary: Finally, she's ready to drown.
Author's Note: This is based on the speculation going around about season 3 on the YTDaW boards, particularly episode 4. However, there are no specific spoilers. All feedback, especially constructive criticism, is welcome!
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When she was little, she'd spent her summers at the local pool. There, during the long, lazy days, she'd perfected the necessary childhood skill of being able to swim underwater with her eyes open. And from the very first, she'd loved the feel of drowning – not in water, but in everything the water showed her.
Of course, that didn't mean that she could see her surroundings clearly. Everything underwater was slightly blurred, the edges softened in the perfect blue fog. Still, it was enough for her to make out shapes and colors, enough to give her the illusion that she could see perfectly well, knew exactly where she was, and exactly where she was going.
She spent long hours in the pool, ignoring the divers, the splashers, the screamers; under the surface was her own little world, which she could order as she liked.
Naturally, her one problem was that her world could only be entered in short bursts. Underwater was beautiful, murky and mysterious, but she could not live there. She could pretend, of course - and the young Samantha's imagination was powerful – but only for a few blessed moments, until the real world and life's necessities interrupted.
As she grew older, she found herself less and less willing to give up her world. She spent more and more time underwater, straining her lungs for the last possible molecule of oxygen, returning to the surface for shorter and shorter periods.
That was one drawback. The other, of course, was the pain. Keeping her eyes open in the heavily chlorinated water of the local pool made them red and swollen, and she often had trouble seeing for hours afterwards. When she was in the water, it was fine; she felt no pain, only joy. But as soon as she was yanked back into the air by impatient adults or other mundanities, such as lunchtime, her eyes would tear up, itch and puff, and her vision blur.
Yes, the real world made things much more painful. But not once, not even for a second, could she even consider giving up what hurt her, and leaving the magic behind.
Then, one Christmas, she was given a snorkelling set by some well-meaning relative. Young Samantha waited six impatient months for summer, and was one of the first in the pool when it opened.
Standing in the shallow end, pulling the goggles over her face and placing the tube in her mouth (she knew what she was doing, after many hours spent in front of the TV, or reading, or even, horror of horrors, at the dinner table) she was almost trembling with excitement.
The first deep breath. The slow, inexorable slide into the cool water. The arching of her back to keep her head out of the water until the last possible moment, savoring it...
For the first time, everything was clear. She could see every tile on the pool floor. She could see each pair of legs around her, identify each brightly-patterned swimsuit by its owner, see the ripples and the shimmers of the July sun through the clear water.
And she could stay down there as long as she wanted.
The young Samantha had surfaced abruptly, pulling the goggles from her face. Gone was the perfect, floating mystery world in all its beauty, replaced by the everyday objects that had appeared out of the mist around her.
Granted, she would never suffer from the pain of itchy, sore eyes again. She would never have to have her pleasure in short, interrupted snatches again. She could spend hours in this clean, crystal clear environment if she so desired.
But she didn't. Compared to the smudged colors and dreamy light of her world, even with its complications and pain, this new world was simply underwater at the local pool and nothing more. It was lifeless, flat, without shadows to make it real.
Samantha never bothered with the goggles and tube again. But things were irrevocably spoiled for her, and she never had the courage to slide underwater, open her eyes and see if her beautiful, floating world was still waiting for her.
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Thirty years later, Sam gazes across her New York office, convincing herself that she can see him, even through two layers of glass with the blinds drawn. She can imagine what he's doing: it's been a tough case for all of them, but more so for him, with his girls and Marie...
She looks away, shuffles papers, checks her email, gives up. In a single move, she stands, pushing away from her desk to follow the invisible path around the desks, out into the hall, and to his door.
The handle turns easily, and she takes a peek around the doorjamb, easing into the space before her.
He is sitting just as she imagined; shoulders slumped, head in hands, exhausted. She notes with detachment that he no longer wears his ring.
"Jack?"
He looks up, dark eyes meeting hers with a sort of pleading. In all the time that she's known him, he has never looked like this.
She moves forward in an uncontrolled rush – so unlike her – and as his arms go around her, clinging desperately, she realizes that she has the courage.
For the first time in thirty years, she's ready to drown.