In pieno degli opposti

Disclaimer: This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, stories and situations are the property of the author. And for anything that is not mine, I'm borrowing it out of deep reverence, affection and respect for the creator.

A/N: Not sure where this came from…set sometime in season 4.

Her room is quiet and empty, loud and full.

Just like her. The way she used to be...before all of this.

Waiting for her to come home.

Fragments of her life are everywhere, scattered by the wind.

An African tribal mask. A small scale-model of the Eiffel Tower. A red and gold sari. A Mid-eastern pot. A flowering bonsai. A uniform jacket carelessly left on the back of her desk chair. Some papers messily stacked next to her spare laptop. A few leather-bound books. An Athosian blanket folded at the end of her bed. A sliver pocket-watch ticks away on her bedside table next to a half-finished glass of water, never to be finished.

The dust gathers, the light fades into darkness with no end in sight.

Her bitter-sweet perfume lingers in the air.

She'll never come home.

And life limps on for rest of us.

A/N #2: There is plenty of interesting stuff on my profile, if you want to look.