1.06, The Shepherd

[the_fairest]

She was waiting. She could hardly hold still.

The whole world seemed full of colors she'd never seen before.
She could hardly remember ever feeling this happy, this free, before.





Even that he's, Mary Margaret checked her watch again, twenty-two minutes late can't touch it.

Comments

[willalwaysfind]

"I'm sorry," he whispers, taking a step towards her and reaching out to her at the sight of her eyes blurring over, the way her voice catches when she speaks.

But the ground is wet and the rocks yield under his feet, and his legs are still shaky from the coma - that's what he'd believe, though he suspects it might be something closely linked to the pain he feels when he looks at her.

[the_fairest]

She rocked back a half step, raising her hands somewhere between waving him off and warding him off, as though one touch wouldn't cause the last shreds of her dignity to crumble entirely. "That's okay."

Except it wasn't. Any more than the smile she'd tried to give was real.
His remorse was real. The threatening impend of her dissolve was real.

This all ending, sooner rather than later, in every way, was real.

"I guess it just wasn't meant to be," all tumbled out of her mouth, foolish and fleeting, as she turned, pulling the sides of her cardigan tighter over her chest, and walked away quickly over the wet rocks, giving up any charade that she could stand there with him now.