Every Step

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Doug breathed out, the air from his mouth rushing to her face as if he was trying to breathe life back into her, the life he thought wasn't there. His eyes never left her face as her own eyes drifted sideways and to the floor, salty water filling them around the edges and under the lids. He felt the weight of his daughter in his arms slip away as she, obliviously, wriggled free, sliding down his trunk with some help to the floor, the glint of a dropped penny catching her eye. Slowly, as if hypnotised, Doug reached his arm up and stretched it out, his attention completely consumed by the figure before him. His fingers felt like waves carrassing sand at midnight as they flitted across her cheek so briefly, and then, as if nothing had ever changed, cupping her jawline and using one thumb to stroke across her cheekbone, dusting the skin so gently and carefully although it were about to break beneath his touch.
"Carol."
He let the name escape him again, thinking it unbelievable to experience this vision and the shock still growing with every passing second. This wasn't just a vision though, was it? This was not some holy experience, induced by this sanctuary and his thoughts. This person standing before him... this was the woman he had loved and lost. This was the woman murdered and run down, body laid to rest on a cold, wet street at midnight. But she was no ghost, she was here. He stepped further forward and took the other side of her face in his left hand, lifting her drooping head so he could see her properly, see the eyes that were deep in tears, one escaping down her pale skin and weaving a path to his hand, reaching for help. And despite it all, despite the years that had now passed since they were together, the months of chasing and then running, the guilt, the horror, the fear, the pain and the hurt, the sheer agony of their wrenching apart... Doug ticked his head to one side, leaning towards her, and smiled a slow grin. He felt a pang in his jaw and cheeks, rusty from lack of use, but obliging.
"Hey."

She tried not to lean in to his body, she tried not to let herself give way and fall in love again. She'd doubted her own love for so long, for every step she took along her many channelled journey to this place, and she had known that there had once been a reason to hate him. But she didn't know what it was anymore. Her heart had known instead that she had to find him and she followed it, questioning the moves she made and uncertain of her purpose. Now the purpose was there for her to see, right in front of her. It was that feeling that flowed through her. It felt like all these years, a faucet inside her had been turned off, and turned so tight that it would only be opened by the strongest possible love that she would never find. But now he had reached into her and pulled at that faucet with all his might, and the warmth and energy that flowed from it filled her whole body, running through her veins as if a lifeforce. It would heal all her wounds and pain and confusion. It couldn't be wrong. Yet something burned, and her tears fell for not only her happiness, but her final success in finding him and for the fear she still felt. Still, she kept the distance between them, a step or so away from the path of healing. How could she even begin to put into words anything she felt, or experienced, or wanted now? It was not the time for language, not spoken. The simple, watery smile that felt as if it might crack the china mask of her face, could say all she needed to voice at this moment. His hand on her skin felt so warm and reassuring, and the smile that he gave her could stop all her worries in a single moment. This had been why she'd returned - she couldn't believe, in this second, why she had ever doubted her mission.

They both stood, Doug's hand slowly dropping away from her face after some moments, facing each other. No further contact, just the untarnished feelings flowing back and forth through the air between them. The silence in the church was broken occassionally by sounds that didn't exist in their world, but suddenly the crashing force of a tiny whimper from the floor broke the spell that held them in a bubble. Looking towards the sound, they saw Kate, previously an accessory to their equation, holding Doug's leg and on the verge of a tremulous cry. Doug reached downwards and lifted her, her arms sprawling outwards and then finding a home, one hand gripping material on his shoulder, the other reaching for the scarred flesh of his neck. Her head twisted and turned, taking in the view from her new vantage point, but settled quickly, watching a couple touring the building. If she noticed Carol, she didn't show it. But Carol certainly noticed her - not that she hadn't at first, when she had seen Doug from the rear of the church as she entered - and wondered if she would not only have to seek forgiveness from Doug but from her daughter as well.
"I should take her home..." Doug said, his voice crackling slightly with the repressed emotion. He studied Carol, who in turn was studying Kate, and ventured further, "Do you want to come back? It's not a very big place, but you're welcome..." Why was he talking as if to a stranger? He didn't know what to say or how to say it. Everything seemed so crude and brash after the many minutes of silence.
"Thanks." Carol nodded, inwardly relieved at the thought of sitting down and being warm and comfortable. Briefly letting the trickle of a thought from long ago drop into her mind - surely this wasn't one of his old lines to get her into bed? - she watched him shift the weight of their daughter and pick up a bag, before shuffling down the row between the pews and out into the aisle. He turned at the end, looking for her, she thought. Yes, he waited there, looking back to where she stood. Convincing her brain to engage her legs, she followed a few steps behind, and out onto the street outside where Doug slowed so they fell into a steady pace beside each other, their feet falling in harmony.