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Distance
by Nicola
Rating: PG
"Goodbye!" He said it loudly, exactly. His smile was forced, but not insincere. This farewell was merely an act for their parents; their real goodbye had been said in whispers the previous night, when River crawled into his bed and nestled into his arms.
She smiled widely, unable to keep from bouncing on the spot. "I'll come back smarter than you," she said. "Better. Quick like a whip crack."
Her best dress, the one designed to show everyone at the Academy that the Tams were an important family, was already creased from her fidgeting hands; her loose hair was a mess of tangles.
Simon's smile twisted. "That you will," he said, unable to deny the truth of it. For the first time, his voice dropped, weighed down by real emotion. "You'll be brilliant, mei mei. You'll be . . ." He broke off.
"We must be going," their mother said, unaware of Simon's suddenly averted gaze. "Tardiness is no first impression to make." She continued matter-of-factly, "Hug your brother goodbye, River. It may be a long time before you see him again. You'll miss him." She smiled the cold indulgence of a mother who has ceased trying to understand her children.
River threw her arms around Simon's neck, the force of her embrace unbalancing him. He teetered backward, steadying himself and placing his hands on her waist.
That was the first time she heard the gentle murmur of his feelings. His truth. Their power was almost physical; a flutter of warmth between their bodies, cool whispers in her ear.
You'll come back different. You'll change and you'll grow. And I won't know how to hold you anymore. I won't know what's right. I barely know it now.
"You'll know," she whispered. "You'll always know. You'll feel it, Simon."
The final frame of her memory of that day is Simon's face. Shock dimming into fear; a flutter of panic distorting the flash of desire in his eyes.
October 2005
Muse music: 'Radio Cure' by Wilco.
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