1732Fic: " How to say "I love you" (6/7) and part (7/7) PG/PG-13 [Scott/Rogue, o thers]
- Dec 31, 2000And part 6; Marie worries about Scott
and ( finally) part 7; Marie knows the truth...and boy does it hurt
Why didnt he come? She was so worried. The shaded man hadnt been to her store for over a month but the woman had come once a week to buy a CD for him. Until last week. She hadnt come last week at all. This week was the week between Christmas and New Year and a very busy week. She didnt understand why he or the woman hadnt come the week before Christmas. She had worked the entire week waiting to see one of them so she could warp his CD but none had showed. Now it was Friday and none had showed this week either. Her mind made up the most terrible things which could have happened to him and she prayed for his safety every night. She felt like she was loosing a part of her soul and heart without any contact to him. She had looked forward to his visit every week, to see him smile, a small smile just for her. Even when the woman had come in his place she had looked forward to it because as long as she had any contact with him she knew he was ok. She was going out of her mind from worry.
Were closing. You can go now, Marie, the manager of the store said. Marie nodded shortly, looking intensely at the door, hoping to see him walk through it and thinking so hard about it that she was sure he would show up just by the power of her will. When he didnt she sadly packed her things together and left.
Marie reached her small apartment and was in a very sad mood. She lived alone with no real friends. The shaded man had been the highlight of her day, the light in her dark world. She looked disinterested at the newspaper on her doorstep as she picked it up. Since neither he nor the woman had returned she had lost interest in everything so she just briefly ran the news over until a picture on the front of the local paper caught her eye. It was a picture of the shaded man! Dropping her bag next to the front door, she started reading the article standing outside in the hallway where the paper had laid, not caring what she looked like. Under the picture of the shaded man she read:
Scott Summers Med., Ph.D. Scott, that was his name. She tasted it on her tongue. Scott Summers. She liked it. She started reading the article:
Scott Summers, bother to Alex Summers, was well known for his work in the third world and research on AIDS. It was during one of his many humanity works, this one in Tanzania two years ago, where he worked with AIDS victims that he himself became infected. Dr. Summers had received a emergency call from the locals about a young boy who had stepped on a mine. Dr. Summers had rushed to his aid, but due to bad equipment he was infected as the boy himself had been a victim of the dreaded disease. Even with this knowledge Dr. Summers worked indefatigable to find a cure and worked with infected AIDS patients and he even returned to Tanzania last summer to continue his work with AIDS patients. Even though he made many progresses he never did find a cure. Dr. Summers passed away last Thursday, 16.30, the disease having weakened his body so that he died from the flue.
Marie gasped in shook and tears ran down her cheeks. He was dead. How could that be? He couldnt be dead. He just couldnt. She saw there were more and read on with tears in her eyes:
After his death, Alex Summers found a closet full with beautiful warped CDs. His brother had found them too precious and beautiful to unwrap. As he opened the last one his brother had received he read a note inside saying:
You visit me every week.
Talk to me.
I love you, cant you see that?
When Mr. Summers opened the rest of the CDs he found notes in them all. In the last one his brother had brought himself, the woman had written:
You look so sad.
Talk to me.
I`ll try and smooth your pain.
In the very first one she had written:
You speak to my soul
With your eyes I cant see
And with the sadness of your smile
Do I speak to you
The same way?
Apparently his brother had visited the same music store just to see the woman by the counter, named Marie. He had loved the woman so much but only told her through his unspoken thoughts. She had loved him back but only told him through her letters he had never read because he had loved her so much he had wanted to admire her beauty and gentleness that he found reflected in the beautiful warped packages. A love so strong yet it never existed. A love so powerful it could move mountains yet it never moved to the spoken word. A perfect love; found and lost. Now it all seems so sad.
Through the hallway a womans cries was heard all through the night until daylight came and the cries suddenly stopped. A unnatural stillness settled over the building. As morning came and the sun shinned over the new fallen show on this New Years Eve, a ambulance drove to the building and drove away a little later. The stars disappeared as the sun grew in power and people started to awake. Soon the streets were filled with laughter and preparations for the nights party. In the ambulance a young woman lay still, dried tears on her cheeks and yesterdays newspaper crumbled up in her hand.
Its all over, the paramedic said. And that it was. That it was.
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