Title: Beauty, Midnight, Vision Dies

Author: Jennie/Jen/Alethia

Characters: Greg, Sara

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. Wouldn't ever dream of claiming otherwise.

Summary: With four words, he ruins it.

AN: This is…different. Very introspective, very doubting and in a style I haven't written in for months. Consider this practice to get back into the 'grooves' of the style and it's full of cynicism. Just be open while reading this, please.

Beauty, midnight, vision dies:
Let the winds of dawn that blow
Softly round your dreaming head
Such a day of welcome show
Eye and knocking heart may bless,
Find our mortal world enough;
Noons of dryness find you fed
By the involuntary powers,
Nights of insult let you pass
Watched by every human love.

-"Lullaby" by W. H. Auden

Chapter 1: Threads.

Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads which sew people together through the years." -Simone Signoret

He ruined it.

In four little words- no more than a syllable each- he had ruined their relationship. She had been happy. She had been content. She had thought they were going somewhere good together.

She had let herself be fooled.

She hates herself for it.

Furiously blinking back tears, she glances at her distraught reflection in the mirror. She looks horrible. Her hair is now a mess, her eyes are red, her cheeks are salty with dried tears. Regardless of the very nice- and very expensive- gown, she appears haggard. And she feels awful. She had let him in behid her defenses. She had honestly been looking forwards to the evening that night- to the hope of something more happening between them. She had opened up-

And he had stomped on her hopes and feelings.

Apparently, they aren't on the same page as she had originally thought.

Sniffing again, she dabs at her eyes. She knows she had to go back out there and face him- and the entire restaurant. Chuckling slightly, she shakes her head in embarrassment. Standing up with such force to knock over your chair, tripping over your gown in haste to get to the restroom and accidentally running into a waiter laden with entrees for the poor souls who ended up wearing their meals when you plowed down the poor server- not the best way to end a meal, especially in one of Vegas' more lavish restaurants. She can only imagine the scene she made.

And he just sat there, a look of shock on his face.

She almost feels sorry for him. But...damn it, it is his fault! He had forced her hand- he had destroyed their precious moment.

She isn't sure if she wants to forgive him.

She isn't sure if she can forgive him.

"Sara?" A quiet knock sounds on the door.

Great. He has apparently come to find her. Which isn't really surprising, she admits, just that she really doesn't want to be around him at the moment. She has just managed to pull herself together- and she doesn't want a relapse of the bumbling woman she had been minutes earlier.

"Sara, I'm coming in now."

The handle turns slightly and she feels like jumping in front of it, before rejecting the childish desire. She has already made fool of herself enough tonight. The door opens a crack at first, before opening fully. His face is full of concern, as he steps into the frilly and pink ladies room. "Are you all right," he asks, reaching out to her. She fights the urge to shy away, accepting his hand. It's warm and his grip is strong on her wrist. His fingers glide over the pulse in her wrist and she inadvertently shivers.

"I'm fine," she finally says, removing her hand from his. His eyes narrow and she knows that he doesn't believe her. "Really," she tries again, "I'm fine." When he opens his mouth to reply, she hurries to continue, cutting him off before he can speak. "Look, okay, I admit it- I'm not fine- but I will be. Seriously. Just...give me a minute, okay?"

His gaze bores into her and she knows he's trying to read her. She also knows that after a year of being in a relationship with another, he's gotten very good at it. It's pointless to resist.

"All right," he finally says, breaking their locked gaze. "Just...you want to go?" He nods towards the door leading out to the restaurant. "I've already paid and explained...we're free to leave when you want."

She fights back a comment about him 'explaining'- she can only guess what he might have said- and instead concentrates on the offer to leave. She's more than ready to get out of the confining restaurant and put the entire night behind her.

If you can, an annoying voice in her head reminds her.

Oh. Right. Because he did change everything and he is waiting for an answer and he won't let her brush it off. Not something as important- or as devastating- as this.

He asked her to marry him.

She wonders what he did with the ring. Is it now in his pocket? Did he just leave it on the table? Will he return it? Will he give it- she almost chokes on the thought- to someone else?

Why do I even care

She's angry at herself.

She's angry at herself for getting worked up and leading him on and making a fool of herself and for being damaged and for not accepting. Because, deep down, she wants to. Damn it, being married to him would be great. Except...

She can't.

She can't marry him. Especially not him, because she doesn't want to break his heart. And she will. She most undoubtedly will.

Bile rises in her throat and her eyes begin to burn and she's close to breaking down- again- and she doesn't want to and oh God, he's noticed and no, no, no, don't hold me, don't make me cry...don't let me make you cry...

But he still brings her into his embrace and after a fleeting second of fighting it, she relaxes. He's her rock, her bearing, her protector- she can't bring herself to wrench away and refuse him. Not like this, not now.

Not after she refused their future.

"Let's go," he whispers into her ear, and he guides them out of the restroom, out of the restaurant.


They're quiet on the way home. The silence is tangible as he drives with one hand, the other hand gripping hers like a vice. She wants to know what he's thinking- what he's feeling. Is he feeling as betrayed as she was earlier? Or has he simply accepted her answer- or lack of one- with grace- or indifference? Do they still have a chance? Or has he truly ruined them, the way she earlier dreaded?

She hates being uncertain. Hates, hates, hates it. And yet, with him- she can never be completely sure. It was something that drew them together in the beginning- his flippant and surprising behavior that appealed to her strict and orderly ways. And while she has worked on opening up and just...living, without any heavy burdens, finally free from the chains of her past- she hasn't succeeded.

She's just realized that she never has been free.

And she realizes she owes him an explanation.

She looks over at his darkened profile. They pass a street lamp and the light illuminates his features- the sandy brown curls, the firm mouth, the tanned skin, the focused eyes. He has a way of morphing from childish and silly to mature and intense within seconds. She recognizes the different skins when he's working a scene, when he's dealing with his own relatives- she met them last Christmas, when he's with friends, when he's with her. Right now, he's staid, and she knows he's carefully processing the night's events. She also knows he's not going to pry or question or disturb her in any way- not for a while at least.

For as well as she knows him, he knows her.

Can he really know me?

She's hidden so much away, kept so much to herself that she begins to seriously doubt it. And it's...depressing. More than depressing, she adds to herself, bitterly. Because it means I have basically no one who is close enough to me to actually know me.

Right then and there, she decides that she must change it.

But can I?

Can I really let him in completely?

Can I risk everything for him?

Yes.

Damn it, yes.

She has to.

She needs to.

She wants to.

So she takes the first step. Taking a deep breath, she shatters the silence. "Greg?"

At first he doesn't answer and she wonders if she only imagined speaking. But after a few tenuous moments of silence, he speaks. Or really acknowledges her, because 'hmm' doesn't really count as actually speaking.

"Hmm?" His eyes are still trained on the road, but he does squeeze her hand and she feels a wave of reassurance wash over her. He hasn't closed her out (like you do to him?) and it's liberating.

"I..." However, actually bringing the words out is another matter. She swallows; tries again. "I- we need to talk."

"Yes, we do," he replies, his voice cool, his gaze still straight ahead. She knows that he's driving and while it is wise to keep his eyes on the road (their job is proof of that), she still wishes for him to actually look at her- face her. She can't discern his tone, which irks her. Which worries her.

But before she can bring herself to reply, to somehow dissipate the icy air she feels swathing her, he turns into the parking lot of her building. The rest of the 'ride' is in silence, as he parks and gets out and moves to help her out of the car- though she's already managed well enough on her own. While her skirt is awkward, she's also capable of getting out of a car by herself and she feels like sniping to Greg, before deciding that rocking the tenuous precipice of their relationship at the moment would not be a good idea.

It's only after they've gotten inside and he removes his jacket, loosening his tie and undoing the first couple of buttons on his shirt that she feels she can begin again. This ill air between them... She just wants to banish it and be rid of it and not have to worry-

"Shouldn't you get changed?" He cuts in her thoughts.

And all practicality flies from her mind. "No," she snaps. "This is fine."

The slight raise to his brow belies his seeming surrender, but he says nothing. "We need to talk- and talk now," she presses on. And without thinking, she continues. "You just ruined it, Greg."

And this gets a rise out of him.

"Ruined it? Sara, I asked you to marry me. Most people wouldn't say that's ruining a relationship." His eyes flare but he holds his stance. "I'm sorry if it somehow offended you, but I love you. And I wanted- want- to spend the rest of our lives together."

"But that doesn't mean we have to get married!" She cries out. "Why can't we just continue on as we have been? This last year..." she pauses, catching his eye, "it's been great. It truly has been, Greg. And I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. I just...can't get married."

She hopes that he'll just accept it, but deep down she knows better. And...she's glad. Because though she can't possibly bring up the courage to confess on her own, she knows that with his careful and targeted words, she won't be able to hold up- not after this evening.

She'll finally be able to come clean.

"Why not?" He crosses his arms, watching her. "Why can't you get married, Sara? You already said you wanted to spend your life with me. What else is marriage besides that? All it is making our love legal-"

"Isn't it legal already?" She interrupts. "What else is the point of marriage, except a pathetic 'legalization' and blessing? Why do we need someone to tell us what we already know? What's the point of spending thousands of dollars on an event that only happens once? Why must we conform to society, when we already experience the truth in our hears- in our souls?" Sighing, she looks away, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. "Why does marriage matter so much?"

Quiet.

She's managed to stump him, make him a loss for words. The man, who almost always has something to say, can't put two words together in a sentence. It's almost funny, in a weird, unconventional way. Yet instead of being amused, she feels crushed- as if it was a test and he just failed it.

Did he?

The pesky voice in her head again.

Wonderful. Just what I need- my own mind betraying me.

Finally, he pulls himself together. It's a physical change as well, she observes. He squares his shoulders, stands tall. He scrutinizes her. "I don't know" finally comes from him. "I don't know, Sara." And for a miniscule moment, she wonders if he'll actually give in. Seconds later, he proves her wrong, as he continues. "Marriage is a civic institution, yes. But it's also much more, darling. Much, much more. I love you, and I want everyone to know that."

"And I love you. But there's no reason to get married- many other couples don't get married and they're doing fine. They don't need this pointless reassurance."

"And we're not many couples, Sara." His voice is quiet, soothing. She feels it wash over her like the tide at dawn she used to watch as a child; comforting and consoling. "We're us. We're what we make ourselves to be. We make our lives as we wish them to be. We're not fated or preordained to be anything. We're...just there. Placed on this earth to maybe do something with ourselves, maybe make a bit of a difference. We're only a ripple in the grand scheme or things. And...I want to marry you. I want to show the world that we're truly more than just two ripples- that we have a purpose, a meaning, a chance to do something great."

"And you think getting married is 'doing something great'?" She asks skeptically. "You thing getting married will change something? Prove something?"

His voice is calm yet potent. "I know it will- if only to prove that we have the strength to stay together."

"Because so many marriages fail," she adds bitterly.

"Yes." He squeezes her hands. "Yes, because we're going against the odds. Because we're showing the world that we have what it takes to stay together- forever. Because we're not just going to stay a ripple, but become an actual wave. Because we're worth it."

"That's what everyone thinks," she finally says, removing her hands from his. "That's why so many people get married. And that's why so many fail- because marriage- it's just an illusion. It's just a wish to attain something- to become something impossible." She steps away, turning her back to him. She hugs herself, focusing on the past, ignoring the present, refusing the future. "You get married, because you think it will make a difference. Because you've found the right person. Because you think you actually have a chance. And then, after a while, may it be days, weeks, months- even years- you realize that the original foundation is gone. You're different, he's different. He wants this, you want that. Maybe he's found someone else. Maybe you have. Maybe he realized that it really wasn't such a good idea. Maybe you did. But whatever the reason may be- you're stuck. You're stuck for eternity in this...this cycle and you can't get out. You want to, but you can't. You can't free yourself, because it takes two and you've been blessed and everyone's so happy- everyone except the two of you- and you can't face it. So finally you either resign yourself to this unhappy eternal union or you end it- and thus ruin it all. Because that's all you've ever done in life- cause problems, ruin your future and everyone else's. You realize that you're never meant to be happy, that you don't deserve to be happy or content. And so you continue to live your life, but you don't cause ripples or waves or bring attention upon yourself. You just...exist. And you pray that you never end up hurting anyone again."

She finishes in a rush of breath, not daring to face him, knowing that if she does, she'll break down. She's so fragile at the moment, that the tiniest prod will break her. She'll collapse into shards of what once was a person and she'll never be able to repair herself. Because- because all the hurt and damage that she's ever caused will envelope her and control her and it'll down her in despair. She'll...cease to exist.

It's payback for everything that she's done.

And she deserves it.

But she forgets that he's there and that he'll protect her and that he'll save her from herself.

He's always been her savior.

His arms wrap around her, pulling her into him. His embrace is protective, consoling, loving. His breath is warm against her neck and she feels her body loosening, opening itself up to him, regardless of the turmoil her mind is in. The tears flow freely now, coating her cheeks. "Shh," he whispers, "shh." He rubs her arms. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm here, Sara." She takes deep breaths, trying to calm herself down and eventually she succeeds.

He rocks her, saying lightly to a melody only he can hear. She longs for time to just stop- for them to stay frozen in this moment, where she can put her fears and failures behind her and just concentrate on him, on them. She loves him with her entire being, but she's also afraid, so very afraid. This...

It can't last.

And without the binds of a marriage, perhaps it won't hurt so much when one day it ends.

Perhaps.

She stiffens unconsciously and he immediately reacts. His grip tightens and he leans in towards her ear. "Talk to me, Sara. Tell me why."

And maybe...maybe she can. Maybe not someday, but tonight. Now. This moment, while his arms are wrapped around her and he shields her from any imminent harm. So she takes a deep breath- and another one- and another one, until she's filled with air and filled with desperation and a need to let it- and everything else- out.

Tensing, dreading, yet yearning for repose, she finally speaks.

"When I was at Harvard, I got married..."