Seize by Trillian ------------ Notes: Alternate universe. Post-Gethsemane Thanks to the Primal Screamers, a great group of friends and impromptu betareaders :) This is also dedicated to the one who inspired it and will never read it. This is a bit of a change from my typical writing style--as always, feedback is welcomed and encouraged! Send it on to Armatrillo@aol.com ------------------ Noon. A fountain surrounded by people clad in business suits, hurriedly trying to fit nourishment, conversation, and the occasional cigarette into a too-short lunch break. Overhead, a blanket of clouds stretches to every horizon. Blended perfectly into the crowd is a tall man, sitting alone. Waiting. In the twenty years since he supposedly shot himself, he has grown somewhat thinner, somewhat greyer. Visibly, he has not aged terribly much. But should you walk by this man, a passing glance would reveal hazel eyes that have suffered a thousand lifetimes of torture. Perhaps you would notice that his eyes have darkened, that the flecks of brown and gold have grown razor-sharp. If you looked closer, you might notice the subtle darting back and forth as he searches for something, anything, to ease the torment. But no one glances over. No one notices that this breathing shell of a man houses a rare and shattered brilliance; that inside the trappings of bone and blood, behind his eyes, he waits. Until a woman with vivid auburn hair surrounding a lined and weary face begins to walk across the square. She, too, looks commonplace from afar. Upon closer inspection, she appears more like a statue than a person, hardened and chiseled in a perfect embodiment of loss. Her steel eyes dart about until she stands before him. Grieving blue meets the shards of hazel and locks until both are too overwhelmed with saltwater to see clearly. Then, slowly, in perfect harmony, their tears overflow. Still, no one notices. This is a reunion that would bring the very gods to their knees. Around them, people continue rushing about their business, unaware that the silence surrounding the pair is screaming and singing at once. The already-cloudy sky darkens, muting the colors of the people rushing by. The wind quickens. A few shiver. But he only stands to meet her gaze. All disappears save two pairs of eyes and the endless grey. No words can be spoken, but none need be. In the blue, he searches. He finds pain so intertwined with love that they have become in her a single emotion. He tries to go deeper, to find forgiveness. In the gold, she drowns in his overwhelming regret. Even after two decades, the rawness of it slices through her soul, and she shudders with sympathy. But she does not break contact. And for this, she is rewarded by an equally overwhelming love that swallows her, twisting her about helplessly as she searches for an understanding. Time has ceased to matter. Five minutes have passed. Five hundred years have passed. Four eyes blink as one. A shot rings out, and the impact tosses him to the stones at her feet. A thin red line crawls like a snake from under him. She falls to her knees, unable to breathe. A crowd begins to gather. His eyes desperately struggle open for a final look. In it, his absolution is granted. In it, her questions are answered. Her face softens as their eyes close in unison. The clouds break, and a glaring sun illuminates the square. Q.E.D.