Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
* So, this started out as a oneshot to fill the time waiting on more episodes so I could work on "Growth is an Erratic Forward Movement." Then it became 16 pages, and counting, on Word. Expect a prologue, two chapters, and an epilogue.
** I don't usually post entire songs, but it's necessary in this case.
Don't fear, even though you're at a loss.
I'm numb, a shell of empty thoughts.
But you glow, you stretch and pull me out.
Does that trouble you?
Do I trouble you?
Love me, hate me, make me live again.
I need you around.
Heal me, hurt me, make me live again,
I want you around.
So long, I never had experienced,
This bliss.
So how could I resist?
And I'm fine, a little light-headed.
Does that worry you?
I didn't mean to worry you?
Love me, hate me, make me live again.
I need you around.
Heal me, hurt me, make me... live again,
I want you around.
Now, retreating from the light,
I love it when we fight,
It makes me think...
At least you still care.
Give up, you're not going anywhere.
Moonlight, illuminates your stare
And it's great, captivating you.
Does that trouble you?
Do I to trouble you?
Love me, hate me, make me live again.
I need you around.
Heal me, hurt me, make me... live again,
I want you around.
Can you live again?
Can you live again?
Make me live... again.
Make me live again.
Make me live... again.
Better Than Ezra, Live Again
--
It happened in the office.
She'd envisioned them someplace else, but once it - she - began, nowhere else seemed appropriate.
It was different than she'd imagined and nothing she'd expected.
She hadn't pictured Phyllis at the copier or Andy by the fax. She hadn't imagined Stanley, a crossword in his hand, or Angela, signing off on paychecks.
But they were there.
All of them.
A sea of familiar faces, frozen in time, mouths open, eyes trained on the kitchen window.
She'd stared at the pieces, strewn on the floor between them. DU and half of an N taunted her, shards of an innocent, office coffee cup, torn apart in a rage.
Hers.
She's surprised herself with the force... depth, of her anger. It had left her shaking from head to toe, eyes black with fury.
At home, afterward, she was strangely calm.
The look on his face when she stormed from the kitchen, the way he'd opened and closed his mouth, like a fish out of water...
She knew they weren't done.
He gets to be angry, too.
And she sort of relished the idea.
She felt nothing like herself, and completely who she was, all at the same time.
And whatever happened next - she'd had her breakthrough.