Real Roses Are Not Dead
For Gift.


It was one of those perfect nights, the kind when the air was so crisp and the sky so clear that she could look up and see an infinite spiral of sparkling stars and shining planets spread out endlessly above her. The surprisingly bitter and windy weather did not permeate the hearts of those who had gathered here to see the festive holiday lights. People skated freely across the frozen lake of ice, laughing in joy despite the sharp cut of cold, and smiles brightened faces which brought rosy apples to the soft curves of cheeks.

While Jenny was basking in the ambiance of winter weather in New York City she drew in breath after breath of icy, marvelous cold. When she exhaled, billowy plumes of white clouds formed on the night air. It would make a liar of her if she did not admit to herself that this weather reminded her of someone. Someone whom she would never forget.

Standing with her head back, eyes closed and arms outstretched, as if communing with the heavens, Jenny inhaled in all of this wintery goodness. A broad smile affixed itself to her face when a different scent, a sweeter one, one that was fresh like newly cut flowers, filled her nose and flooded her senses.

When she opened her eyes Tom was there holding a flower out to her, and his sudden appearance eclipsed all that she saw. The very sight of him standing there brought back warm memory after warm memory until she was almost swathed with them. In her mind's eye, she saw the two of them as they had once been as children and recalled every single reason for why she had fallen in love with this man. In fact, she could recite them all verbatim upon request.

There was always something so special about seeing Tom's smile that it made her feel like a child again. This was when she was at her happiest, and it was all because of him. Whenever she saw him smiling or laughing she found herself elated beyond anything that she had ever felt before. She was happy as only a child could be. Happy as children were before they learned about how the world had sharp teeth and was infested with things that could never be rationalized as good or evil. Things which wandered about in both the dark and the light.

"A rose for milady." Jenny smiled and accepted the red bloom and sniffed it while marveling over the beauty of the blossom.

"It's not a silver rose or anything as grand as all that." Tom forced a small smile, and looked away in a dejected manner. "I could never afford to buy you such nice things."

A gentle feeling of understanding filled Jenny, and a tiny pain, one that never really went away, stabbed her in the heart once again. Tom was like this sometimes, and looking at him now she could tell that he was retreating, hiding away with his eyes and his heart so that ultimately he could distance himself away from her for his own wellbeing. Pushing her away in fear that she would reject him. Reject him for the memory of her love for a man who was nothing but shadows. Even though years had passed, this memory was haunting him still, haunting him like some form of paranormal entity, one that was separate from him and with a heart that beat on its own. The memory was something that was alive and tangible and still eating at him with a ravenous hunger and it would not die.

In times like this, Tom grew dejected and depressed, and all things that invoked memories of the past pained him, even a single red rose. In that time, in their past, reality had been suspended and put on hold. Their normal life had been paused like a movie, and preempted with a horror flick. Their secure and comfortable reality was torn apart as they were rattled and shaken like little birds trapped in little cages. Having no real coping mechanisms, mechanisms designed to save him from the weakness and shame he felt after, his hurt began manifesting itself as anger. Almost the same anger that he had felt when he had been not only unable to help or protect her, but himself as well.

Holding the flower aloft Jenny studied the red, silken soft petals. Petals that yes, held none of the polished brilliance of the purest silver, but was still beautiful beyond compare to her.

"Yes, that's because it's better than a silver rose. Do you want to know why?" She playfully asked, looking at him with eyes that were guileless and clear. Tom shrugged his shoulders rather sheepishly, and she gave him the answer with a loving smile. "Because it's real."

"Jenny..." Tom began, and then seemed to give up on trying to form anymore words.

He just smiled wryly, still keeping his gaze turned away. She knew that he understood the hidden meaning behind her words. Everything that the Shadow Men created was only as real as a shadow. Whatever they created only existed in reality for a very short period of time before they began to fade into nothing with the light of day. Only in the Shadow World could these things exist as material, and even then, after a lengthy period of time, they too also faded. That was how reality worked for them. It was a very pitiful and tragic existence.

"I love you, Tom." Jenny whispered.

"Even if that were true," Tom replied grimly, jaw firmly set to hide any unmanly emotional trembling. "I still don't know why. I am nothing more than an inept, weak and worthless human being. One who isn't even as good looking as he was."

"Oh, Tom." She breathed and he totally misread the look on her face. Swiftly, he moved to pull away from her, but she caught his arm under her own and pulled him in close. Conflicted emotions went to war in his eyes for a long moment before she saw him soften and then, almost in defeat, he looked to her with a weary but still hopeful gaze. "There's a reason why people say that vice must always be covered by fair appearance."

"Because it's easier to love a beautiful monster than an ugly human?" He asked her bitterly.

"No, he wasn't good looking, Tom." Jenny protested, reaching out to clutch his hand tightly in her own. "Everything that he was, was a fabricated illusion. I have been thinking about this for a long time now, and now I know with an absolute certainty that he was nothing but shadows. Even the others, they weren't ugly, but they did ugly things and that's why we saw them as horrible. It's how the human mind processes and interprets supernatural things that we cannot comprehend. They were nothing more than the dark matter between the stars. In time, he would have looked like them too."

"Maybe if he had you then he wouldn't..." Tom began but Jenny cut him off before he could finish.

"Shadow Men eat people, Tom." Jenny insisted, making her gaze hard and sharp, almost as if she were trying to burrow into Tom's eyes with her own. "They consume flesh and play with souls. How long would I have had before he became famished and took himself a little nibble?"

Tom blinked in surprise and when he tried to open his mouth to speak, she cut him off yet again.

"A finger here, maybe a toe there?" Jenny asked while waving her arms in exaggerated motions. "Before you know it, I would have been all eaten up. Time runs differently there, but I doubt that he could have kept me from aging for very long. Old age, who wants a withered old crone? That alone would have given him the excuse necessary to devour me entirely. Then my soul would stay young and pretty forever. I would reside by his side, frozen like the Ice Queen, ruling over the wasted lands of the Shadow World. I didn't want that, Tom. All I have ever wanted was to be with you. No Shadow Child's game of make-believe could ever change that. You can only play pretend for so long before you begin to want something more, something real."

Tom stared at her, looking almost appalled by her honesty, probably with visions of sharp teeth chewing off her fingers dancing in his head. Then he gave a sudden laugh that was warm and genuine, and she felt an equally sudden burst of pleasure run through her like a ripple of water.

"You are one of the worthiest people that I have ever known, Tom Locke." Jenny whispered while pulling him by the hand. "You were so strong, and so brave. You were a human with no powers and yet you were fighting, fighting for me. You were my hero, that's why I chose you. He was the weak, wounded animal that I wanted to fix. You are the man that I love."

Then they were running, running back to their hotel, running up to their room, and running through doorways to finally collapse into one another on their bed.



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