Eternal Flame {John Allerdyce}

2

For a brief instant Cynthia thought she had made a grave error as the flame in his hands was extinguished, plunging them into semi-darkness. With clenched fists, she swallowed her fear and called his name again.

This time the man looked up, meeting her gaze, and despite the poor lighting in the alleyway she knew without a doubt that it was him. Inhaling sharply Cynthia staggered forward, hand grasping the wall for support, her bones feeling as though they'd turned to jelly.

Several yards away, John stood transfixed. Instinct was telling him to flee, but his body refused to move. She wasn't supposed to recognize him, this wasn't supposed to be happening. So why couldn't he leave?

It was her eyes, the intensity of her stare, that kept him rooted to the ground. An emotion he couldn't decipher had surfaced on her features and seemed to emanate from her being. Even at this distance it was overwhelming, and in that moment there wasn't a force strong enough on earth that could make him look away.

John heard her light footsteps as she approached him, saw the way her mouth hung slightly open in disbelief, and he felt compelled to run to her and bury himself in the warmth and glow of her presence. Heart racing, John could only stare as Cynthia closed the gap between them eagerly.

The emotion that he had failed to recognize in the young woman was relief. A tremendous, all consuming sense of relief that filled every fiber of her body, refreshing to her as rain in a land beset by drought. She could think of no words, only a dire need to be near him. To prove to herself that the person she had loved was indeed still alive, and the hope she had harbored all these years hadn't been in vain after all.

John felt his arms lift instinctively, his mind numb to everything but the image of her. The person who, at one time in his life, had been his only solace. Cynthia crashed into him with a desperate force that caused him to stumble backwards, but he held on tightly and pulled her even closer.

"Tia-" John sighed, his breath grazing her ear. Cynthia's heart lurched at the use of her old nickname. Growing up everyone had always called her Cindy, but John had come up with an alternative and it stuck.

Pulling back slightly to stare up at him, Cynthia wrinkled her nose. "You stink."

John chuckled, he had forgotten how blunt she could be. It was true, however, cleanliness hadn't been his highest priority for some time.

She couldn't help but smile and, thinking quickly, grabbed his hand and began to pull him from the damp alleyway.

"Come on, I'm taking you to my place so you can shower and have a decent meal. If you so much as think of running when my back is turned, you are going to have some very angry plants to deal with."

Her pace was brisk, and she kept a strong grip on his hand. He knew there was nothing he could say to change her mind, and he didn't really want to.

A small voice in his mind warned John this was a mistake, but it was drowned out by Cynthia's presence. He simply allowed himself to be pulled along, enraptured by her voice, her movements, and the subtle smile that never left her face.

__________

The room was silent save for the sound of metal scraping porcelain as John scarfed down the best food he'd had in weeks.

Cynthia sat across from him at the table, fingers interlaced beneath her chin, watching as beads of water dripped from his hair and onto his shoulders. Admittedly, the shower had brought some color back into his features, but there was no mistaking the differences between the figure she'd known and the one that sat before her now.

To any outsider observing the pair of them, it would be painfully clear that the past five years had been kind to one and not the other. While John, now twenty-four, was only a year older than Cynthia his gaunt and weathered appearance made him seem much older.

Then there were the scars, clearly visible now that his jacket was removed, angry and red running along his arms. None of this really mattered to Cynthia, however, so much as the fact that they were together in this moment, existing in the same plane of reality.

Reaching out to him, she gingerly touched a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. John looked up at her curiously.

"Just checking." she muttered, tapping his cheek lightly with her finger.

"That I'm clean?" John asked, his mouth curving upward in a smirk.

"That you're real."

He raised an eyebrow, perplexed by her comment. Sure, their meeting had been unexpected, but the way Cynthia had been acting ever since they reached her apartment had him wondering if all of this was some sort of lucid dream.

He studied her expression intently, acutely aware of the shiver that ran down his spine as she tucked a few stray hairs behind his ear, and decided that there was no way he could dream up anything this good.

Abruptly, Cynthia stood up and took his empty bowl over to the sink. She kept her head down, washing the dish carefully. John stood up, chair scraping loudly against the tile, and wandered over to the sofa where he noticed two pictures hanging on the wall beside it. Stooping slightly, he saw Cynthia in a cap and gown, standing between her parents.

"You went to college?"

"Yeah," she made her way over to him, and settled down on the soft cushions. "I got a degree in Botany."

His laughter echoed loudly off the walls, "Was that really necessary?"

She pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them. "I needed a distraction, anything to keep my mind busy."

John stared down at her for a minute, when suddenly a thought occurred to him that provided an explanation for Cynthia's strange behavior.

"You mean you really didn't know? All this time, you thought I was dead?"

She smiled weakly, "No one ever told me otherwise, and I didn't stick around long enough to find out for myself. It was just too painful staying there...expecting you to come back."

He sunk down beside her, gently cupping her face with his hands, and stared earnestly into her dark eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Tia. I had no idea, I thought that after everything I'd put you through you'd never want to see me again. I wasn't going to drag you down with my mistakes, so I convinced myself you were better off without me."

His words came out in rush, and Cynthia could see how painful it was for him to say them. It had always been difficult for John to admit his faults because it made him vulnerable. The fact that he was confessing this now to her caused Cynthia's head to spin, and a painful longing blossomed within her.

John could hardly believe the thoughts spilling from his mouth, but that was the effect she had on him. This bizarre desire to bare his soul to her because she understood him, and had never wanted to change him.

Even more unusual, was the atmosphere that had been building between them. At first, John thought it was only him, and suppressed the urge to take things any further. Now, however, with their faces only inches apart he could see quite plainly that he wasn't the only one being affected by the close proximity.

Breathing deeply, Cynthia whispered, "Do you still believe that?"

Taking in her flushed features, the slight heaving motion of her chest, John finally realized what was happening and was unsure of how to proceed.

Sensing his hesitation Cynthia closed the space between them, pressing her lips to his, not allowing him to second guess anything. The truth was, she needed to be with him in every sense of the phrase, to ease the tension that had been growing ever since they had set foot in the apartment.

John felt himself relax, heat spreading through his body from her touch, and deepened the kiss. Soon the two were lost in the sensations of one another, falling quickly and profoundly into a whirlwind of desire that neither had any intention of stopping until it was satisfied.