Blinded
PG. 02/05/2002.

He's not exactly sure why he stays. When she looks at him, she doesn't see, and when he looks at her, he's blinded.

Tom knows she doesn't really want him. He knew it would happen: The years would pass by, and their shiny new teenage world would fade. The true reality of that other place would pass out of her memory, leaving her with a stylized, polished vision of her past. He knew it would happen, and now he can almost see the memories rebuilding behind her eyelids.

He can't let go. He knows they're only still here, together, because it's familiar. What do they know of the outside world? It's always been TomandJenny, JennyandTom. When primal forces pulled them apart, they felt vulnerable. Cold. Alone. He knows there was power for her, and fortune--but it ultimately rang hollow. All that was left was them, so they gathered up the pieces and tried to carry on.

They vowed that after all that struggle, nothing would ever separate them again. But he knows the vow was made out of fear--because the look in her eyes was the same. The same as her first vow, when she pledged to refuse all the world but one other.

Julian. Julian's dead, gone, less than dust on the wind, but Tom is trapped within his shadow. This is his place, all he's known since Jenny first laid eyes on the Shadowman. He should feel grateful that she chose him nonetheless, but...he wishes he didn't have to bear that burden. Didn't have to live up to the role of lover, prince, leader. In his arms, she feels so right, but he feels like the one who needs protection.

Now, when he looks at her, there's something greater than he'll ever be. In her eyes, her skin, her voice.... She's turning regal as time moves on, a queen in her willow-waisted dresses and amber hair. He'd forge her a crown, a throne, a scepter with his own bare hands--kneel at her feet, kiss her ring and raise her high--but for the fact that she'd hate him for it. She wants him to be her warrior, and this weakness inside that she brings him won't fit the mold.

He knows she wants to lose herself in him, give up all the pain and frustration and loss. Give it to him in offering, in a prayer of forgiveness for sins she never really committed. He wishes he could give her this, wishes he could be her ikon of hope and strength. He wants it to be this way, but the Tom that sheltered her from the world burned away long ago. Now sometimes he thinks of the bright, innocent boy he once was, and wants to break down and spill it all out to her--how he's so afraid.

Tom has been afraid for so long that it seems like second nature. He fears that she'll leave and he'll have nothing left, or that she'll stay and he'll be caught in this narrow world forever. Oh, God, how he loves her--but it's like the earth loving the sun. He can bask in her light, feel her warmth caress him, revolve around her in adoration--but never get any closer to her. It wasn't until shortly after his demise, that Tom understood what Julian had meant in saying, "light to darkness."

He always thought he knew her through and through. He'd given his all to her, poured out the depth of his being for her to see, and he must have just assumed that she'd done the same. But when Julian came, he saw new cracks and ripples in her surface, saw dormant fears and resentments flourish. He realized he didn't even know her. And he still doesn't.

When he tries to get closer, he scorches like she's made of flame. She makes him feel flat, hollow, empty. No more than the sum of his parts, while she shimmers with hidden depths. Jenny's strength puts him in awe, makes him want to draw closer even while it would be best for her if he pulled away. He knows she's light years above him, so high he can only glimpse her with shielded eyes. He knows he's beneath her. He should let her go, let her find what she really needs--but what will become of him?

Tom tells himself he's a good man. He remembers being strong, and brave, and righteous. He tells himself that he's only blinded, pale when compared to Jenny's own radiance--that if he moves out of her gravity, everything will be back to the way it once was. But, then, what if that's not the truth? His mind tells him that it might all be an illusion: that he really could be the remnant of a life that he feels he is. And if that's true, and he left her, he'd lose the last illusion of "whole" that he'll ever get.

So he stays, even though he's not exactly sure why.

FIN.

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