Maybe Then

Title: Maybe Then
Author/Artist: Samara
Rating: PG13
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Samara/Aurelius (implied)
Genre/s: Angst, Tragedy
Warnings: Mentions of suicide
Words: 553
Summary: I thought I had been prepared. I thought I had hardened myself against the truth I was certain was coming. But it was oh so much worse than anything I had ever imagined.
Claimer: This is not a work of fiction. Please respect the situations and the emotions within this tale. The thoughts portrayed here are not definites. They are merely thoughts.
A/N: Written as a way to attempt to cope with the upcoming death of the man I have fallen in love with.

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I thought I had been prepared. I
thought I had hardened myself against the truth I was certain was coming. I
thought I had already accepted the facts my mind had concluded upon. But it was
oh so much worse than anything I had ever imagined.

I wasn't told he didn't love
me. I wasn't told he hated me. I wasn't told he was being kind due to pity. I
wasn't told he loved another. Not in so many words, and not in those exact
terms. No. I was told something far more painful than the revelation of a mere
unrequited flame.

I was told my angel was dying.
The sickness which had laid hold of him had taken possession. However, rather
than allow himself to be claimed by the slow and suffering process of fading,
he had taken it upon himself to fall asleep in his own
time, and his own way.

style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Courier New";color:#D0A000'>By his own
hands.

In two days time, he will lie within
the embrace of nature, fall asleep, and return to her. And I will be naught
save little more than a memory.

Withdrawing the key from about
my neck, I knelt beside my bed and retrieved the lock box from beneath it,
cradling it to my breast as my heart beat out a sticato
rhythm of nervous fear against my ribcage. Gaelan had told me Aurelius had said
he did not wish to be responsible for any more deaths in his life,
hence, that is why he did not want to love again. My fingers traced the handle
of the box as I tried to figure out if that meant he did not wish to chance it
while he was alive, or he was terrified that I...we...would follow him. Mayhap
it was both. Mayhap it was none.

My hand moved to the key
protruding from its cozy fit in the lock and I fingered it thoughtfully. I knew
that if I opened this box, I would be sealing my doom and following my lover
before he had even left. But if I kept it shut...maybe if I didn't open it
until after...maybe he would be so caught up in the joy of being reunited with
Charlotte that he wouldn't notice me slipping away behind him. Maybe he
wouldn't see the girl who could never compare sneaking past him, giving her
soul to the fires so his could be saved by the angels.

But if I were to follow, would
I not be leaving a line of shattered hearts in my wake? Would my loss not be a
devastating blow to souls already made fragile by too much grief? Would my
passing be the one to finally cause them to crumble? Was I truly willing to
take that risk?

Was I truly prepared not to?

Was I truly ready to allow
another cherished one to leave me and simply watch him go?

No. I think not.

But maybe...Maybe I'll wait.
Just a little longer. Just until I'm certain he's not forgotten me. Just until
I'm satisfied he's happy. Just until I can finally hold him
in my dreams. Maybe then I won't need this box anymore. Maybe then, if I
can feel his arms around me just once...maybe then I'll be granted the strength
to stand on my own...alone again.