Title: "Objects in the Rearview Mirror..."
Author: monimala
Fandom: "Dawson's Creek"
Rating/Classification: SAC, D/G-ish, Gretchen POV, angst.
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Summary: My first DC fic! Eeee. Panic! Be gentle with me. A little Gretchen POV piece as she drives away from Capeside.

As I leave the sunrise and the water behind me, I can see the high school yearbook propped up on the porch railing getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. Until it's the size of a postage stamp.

I picture my handwriting shrinking...the ink smudging together until all the words are meshed into one. One word. One name.

Dawson.

I know you'll smile when you read it. When you bound up the steps, grab the book and realize that I'm not there. You'll get that little wrinkle between your eyebrows for a few seconds and then your dimples will stand out like shadows in the moon.

You'll shake your head and smile.

And then you'll go sit on the pier...dangle your legs...and turn to Joey and say something inconsequential that really means "Hey, you, I've missed you." The two of you will watch this morning creep by without anymore words. You'll watch a lot of mornings together this summer.

As you should.

When I came back to Capeside, I knew that mornings would never be ours. Morning is when you turn to the person next to you and touch their face and know there's nothing separating you but skin. Even if you're both fully dressed. Even if you're sitting across from each other in a crowded diner. You know that something hums between you, connecting you as surely and comfortably as the sunlight spreading across the sky and peeking through the clouds.

That's not us. You know it's not. You know who it is...who it's with.

We were lazy afternoons spent discussing philosophy. We were long evenings cuddling in front of a good movie and forgetting the years that we didn't have in common. I wanted to turn to you and drink the innocence out of your dimples. I wanted to drown in your long limbs and remember what it was like to be young and in love and whole.

And I did.

My mouth against your cheek...my hands under your sweater...rolling with you in the dark and the dirt...laughing and loving...and lying to myself. I could've made love to you. I could've taught you everything you were aching to know...everything I was aching to share with you. Every discovery...every gasp of wonder...

But, I couldn't live in my yesterday, my yesteryear, forever. And I couldn't take from you what was never mine to have. That time. That hour. That memory.

I want tomorrow. And the day after. The open road. People my own age...people who've been where I've been. People who are going where I'm going. I want to be able to go out to a pier...dangle my legs...and turn to someone and say something inconsequential that really means "Hey, you, I've missed you."

I'm all ready two hours out of Capeside.

I've left the sunrise and the water behind me. I know the high school yearbook propped up on the porch railing got smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. Until it was the size of a postage stamp.

I pictured my handwriting shrinking...the ink smudging together until all the words meshed into three. Three words. Little ones.

*I love you.*

I want the morning, Dawson Leery.

I deserve it.

And so much more.

--the end--

May 9, 2001.



Story Index E-mail mala Links