From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Mon, 26 Jun 2000 22:17:39 -0500
Subject: Remembrances of the Day, MSR, Vignette by Jemirah
Source: direct

Reply To: jemirah@hotmail.com


*Author:  Jemirah
*Archive:  Ask and you will receive.
*Spoilers:  Nope, no thanks.  This is set post-Closure
though.
*Rating:  PG?  Sounds good to me.
*Category:  Oh wow.  Uh, how about MSR, and W for Weird
again.  And Char says it's a V for vignette.  <g>
*Summary:  She decides it's time she share her secret with
him.  Note rating and accept my apologies here.  ;~D
*Feedback:  jemirah@hotmail.com
*Disclaimer:  I don't use names (which was actually
unintentional.  Hmm...), so I spose all I need to say is they're
not mine.
*Special Thanks:  Hmm, lemme see.  First, to my new friend
Denise, for reading this even though I was supposed to be
the one beta'ing for her.  Next, to Heather, who was only a
little bit mad at me even though I did this instead of the
little assignment that was my idea.  And huge-a-rific thanks
to Char and Andrea for the fantastic betas!  I owe you big-
time for the last line, Andrea!
***Dedication:  To Kell for being my Abbe and encouraging
me even though I don't deserve it. :~D  Luv ya sweety!

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Remembrances of the Day
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Looking back, as hindsight didn't always prove to be 20/20,
she wasn't sure what had caused her to finally break.  She
had kept it a secret from him for a long time, but something
had decided for her then and there that she couldn't hide it
any longer.  Maybe it had been the tight mock- turtleneck in
combination with the baggy khakis--or it could even have
been the fresh haircut rebelling against its new confines. Or
possibly the glasses and *those* lips, as they'd wrapped
around the soft-drink bottle with the small sips he took
occasionally.  She'd heard herself sigh as she'd watched him
through the window of the bookstore she was in.  He'd
been right outside, looking at a clearance table.

The reason for her lapse in sanity could also have been the
expression on his face when he had looked up and caught
her staring at him.  It was as if he'd known she was there--
though they hadn't come to the mall together; his face
hadn't registered any surprise.  She'd looked into his eyes
for what seemed like ages, until she'd been distracted by
the sales clerk, who'd seemed to be the type of person who
would look down her nose at you even if she had to stand
on her tiptoes to do so.  She'd brushed off the lady without
worrying much about such bothersome things as politeness
and manners, and made her way out of the store to him.
She'd started to greet him, but found it unnecessary.  He'd
taken her hand and they'd walked away as if he'd been
waiting for her to rejoin him.

As they had walked through the mall, she'd wondered.
Wondered about how to let him in on her little secret, what
came next for them, and where they were going.  She
hadn't felt like going home, even as much as she'd wanted
to explore this new facet of their relationship.  They had
walked slowly and quietly as they'd held hands, and she'd
never once felt a need to fill the silence.  In a while, they'd
come to an antique store, and silently agreed to go inside.

The store had been quiet and seemed empty, but the
classical music emanating from the checkout area had
drawn her attention to the brown-haired woman with
glasses seated at the counter. She'd smiled at her and
received one in return.  There had been cases with jewelry
on either side of the aisle, and these had caught both their
eyes. He'd pointed out some old religious medals to her,
and she'd smiled at him and then pointed out to him the
books she'd spied through the glass of the case.

She'd moved on then, and discovered some rings in a case
past the bookshelf.  She didn't care much for jewelry of
any kind, but this had been a special day, and rings had
looked fun to her just then.  In no time the lady behind the
counter had come and unlocked the case for her, and they
were trying on rings and laughing together.  She'd smiled
as her eyes had met his as he'd passed her at the jewelry
case, and watched him go in search of more books.

One ring in particular had drawn her to it, a sterling
filigree band, with a small but perfect garnet set in the
center.  It hadn't been very expensive, but she had decided
against it, telling herself that she'd never wear it.  In a few
minutes she'd all but forgotten it as she'd moved on to look
at other things in the store.

There had been even more jewelry, glassware of every
imaginable kind, old clothes and hats, books both old and
new, dolls and figurines.  He'd squeezed her hand on his
way to the front with an armload of books as she'd stood
looking at old linens, and then again when he stopped to
admire the linens with her.  He'd helped her pick out a
beautiful embroidered tablecloth for a gift for her mother,
and napkins for herself, and after he had moved on, she'd
picked out a couple of doilies as well.  From there she'd
stopped at a shelf filled with art glass, where she'd found a
beautiful vase to add to her purchases.

There had been another, larger room off of the main one,
where she had joined him at a bookshelf he'd been
examining.  She had looked down at her hand, which had
again found its way into his totally without her knowledge,
in amazement.  She'd wondered how long she had held
these feelings within; they didn't feel new to her.  When
she'd looked back up, he'd been looking at her, smiling a
sweet little smile.  In another second their eyes had carried
on a discussion and convinced them that their shopping was
done.  They had been on their way to the front of the store
again shortly after that.  At the checkout, they'd paid for
their things and joked and laughed with the lady at the
checkout.

She next had been aware of walking out to the parking lot,
toward her car.  He'd hesitated beside it, but she had stared
at him until he'd taken the hint and come around to the
passenger side to wait for her to unlock the door.  Once the
time to reveal her secret was upon her, she'd been
unbelievably calm.  Or maybe she'd been nervous to the
point of catatonia and unaware of it.

She'd noticed him shoot her a funny look as she'd hit the
interstate instead of going to one of their apartments, but
had been relieved that he'd said nothing.  They'd rode in
silence for a while before his curiosity had gotten the better
of him and he had given her an extremely puzzled look.
She'd just grinned at him, and hoped that it looked as
mysterious as she meant it to.

She had begun to enjoy the drive more every time she'd
taken it--once she'd gotten off of the interstate anyway.  It
was a beautiful part of the state, especially at that time of
the year.  The sun had been setting, which had cast a rosy,
warm look over the landscape. There had only been a few
clouds, and they'd glowed brilliantly with the dying sunlight.
The rich greens of the new grass and leaves had contrasted
with the pink of the sky to make a scene so beautiful it had
made her ache.  She'd already begun to feel like she was
going home, after only a few months.  She had glanced over
at him then, sitting in his seat quietly surveying the
countryside and felt guilty at keeping him in the dark.  She'd
decided it was time to reward his good behavior.

She'd started with a bit of detail about her childhood she'd
never shared with him before.  She'd always had to share a
room with her sister, and theirs had been a noisy home.  As
she'd grown to adulthood in her family's home, she'd found
herself becoming more and more private.  She'd longed for
solitude and quiet and the freedom to do as she wished.
She'd spent her free time as a teenager imagining her
dream home.

At times it had been a large Victorian-style mansion she
would design herself.  It would have lots of big rooms with
high ceilings and hidden luxuries.  She would have to hire a
maid to help her keep it clean, and a gardener to care for
the perfect grounds, but she'd be happily alone most of the
time, in the two-story library that occupied one wing of the
house.  She would have a large antique desk where she
would design million-dollar houses while her maid
prepared dinner for her.  She would also occasionally hold
dinner parties for her friends, mostly to show off her
beautiful home and how happy she was in it.

Other times it had been a simple cabin in the middle of
nowhere. There was only one bedroom in this cottage, but
the living room was cozy with its nearly-as-big-as-another-
room fireplace and her trusty chocolate Lab, Cocoa.  Maybe
there was an office with state of the art communications,
and computers, where she would churn out best selling
novels two at a time.  She wouldn't leave this house much at
all, so she'd stock up on everything she'd need in the fall.
Winters would be spent at the keyboard, her fingers flying
as she gazed out the windows at the snow and Cocoa lay at
her sock-clad feet, barking in her sleep.

The whole time she'd been relating these fantasies as she'd
navigated, he'd been quiet.  Thinking he'd fallen asleep,
she'd turned to see him leaning his head against the
window, looking intently at her.  He'd smiled shyly, which
had encouraged her to continue.

She'd told him how these bits of whimsy had become fond
memories during her college and med school years, and
nearly forgotten in her FBI years.  It had only been as she'd
redecorated after one of the first invasions of her privacy in
her apartment a couple of years ago that they'd come
floating back to her consciousness.  She'd taken them out,
dusted them off, and been playing with her old friends ever
since.  Recently though, she had told him, just the thoughts
of such tranquility had ceased to be enough for her.  She
wanted a house she could decorate any way she pleased, to
be responsible for repairs, and to know that it was hers; to
know she was *home*.

So she had begun her search a little over a year before, in
the areas near her mother's home.  She hadn't found
anything there, but she had met a real estate agent who
had become sympathetic to her plight.  Anne had thrown
herself into finding what she was looking for, and after a
couple of close calls, their diligence had been rewarded.

It was a sort of a cross between her two dream homes, a
small Victorian-style house, nestled into a bit of land about
an hour and a half from D.C.  It had a couple of bedrooms, a
small library/office that had already become her favorite
room, and huge fireplaces in nearly every room.  It had
needed a few repairs, and tons of TLC, but it hadn't taken
her nearly as long as she'd expected.  She had been using it
as a sort of a weekend retreat for nearly six months, and
was growing to hate her apartment more all the time.

She'd glanced back over at him and his eyes had sparkled as
they'd asked her why she hadn't told him before.  She
wasn't really sure why, she'd told him truthfully.  It just had
never really come up.  She'd risked another look at him and
he had smiled at her again as he'd taken her free hand in
his and clasped it tightly.  At precisely that moment, they
had come to the drive of her new home.  She'd sent him
another look, this one of shy excitement.

They'd gotten out and stood by the car, enjoying the
sensation of standing after having sat in the car for so long.
She'd watched him examine her house with a strange
expression that had reminded her of the appraising look
he'd given her the day they'd met.  She'd been at the house
that weekend so there had been lights in nearly every
window, glowing warmly in greeting.  He'd stretched a few
kinks out of his back, and then helped her gather their
things out of the car.  She'd located her keys and then led
him up the walk hurriedly, looking forward to showing him
around.

He'd oohed and aahed at all the right places and
complimented her decorating, and suggested things to fill
the few empty places she had left.  He'd really been
interested, and she'd loved it.  She'd loved the sight of him
in her home--it fit him like a glove.  She had let him settle
in the library while she'd made sandwiches and poured iced
tea.  From the kitchen, she'd heard him move around on the
creaky hardwood floor and had wondered what was wrong
with her that she liked that sound in what was supposed to
be her retreat from the world.  In a minute, music had
reached her ears, Dvorak no less, and she'd smiled in utter
contentment. He'd known her well, even then.

They'd eaten their sandwiches silently in front of the small
and totally unnecessary fire he had built, and then she'd
searched around for the bag of things from the antique
store.  She had arranged the vase and doily on a bare table
while he'd watched her.  She had realized she was tired as
she'd gotten the vase just right.  She'd gone to the couch
and started to move the empty paper bag so she could sit,
but had frozen when she'd heard and felt something rattle
around in it. Seriously confused, she'd sat down and
removed the tissue paper that the vase had been wrapped
in.  He'd been silent as she had stared unbelieving into the
bag at the small navy-blue box.  She had been well and
truly paralyzed, so he had reached past her and gotten the
box out.  He'd opened it up and placed it in her hand,
where she'd seen the garnet ring she had admired at the
antique store through the haze of tears.  Then he'd spoken
the only words she would be able to remember from that
day.

"Looks like we were both ready for a change."

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Blatant reminder:  jemirah@hotmail.com
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