author's note: For ICD and Bec Bec. I thought I'd write you something not messed up for a change.

It was just a kiss, just a kiss, she repeated to herself. Then she stopped, no, it wasn’t even a kiss. Nearly a kiss; just nearly-a-kiss.

Miss Parker knew it should not mean anything; the thought should not blossom hope in her chest. Hope is dangerous, especially in the Centre. Those with hope did not live long, and always died with the bitter tang of disappointment sharp in their mouths along side the blood.

The feeling would not abate though. Hope grew tenderly, opening like the first buds of spring and blossomed, forming not a flower, but an idea, simple in its beauty, elegant in its promise. She would never speak it aloud but she did not need to. The words were imprinted upon her very soul now. A soul she had still, despite all they had tried to do.

One day this will be over, Jarod had said, just not in words.

Everything between them had always been unspoken. Actions were all they had because in their world almost all words were lies. The years had been teaching her how to listen for the things unsaid, or not to listen at all, but so much had still been foreign. She knew that what she did decipher was treachery, collaboration against the Centre, but she did not care. She no longer owed them anything.

Now the actions were no longer hazy in their meaning. Carthis had been the Rosetta stone, unlocking the secret to their language for her. In a moment of clarity everything made sense: his gift of what happened to her mother; her lost siblings; Thomas; his calls; even his actions on the runway. This is a war; be on my side he had tried to tell her. Some of this she had always known, just choosing to ignore, but the translation worked two ways. Now she could see her own actions too: the bullets that never struck home; trusting him even when he said to dig up her mother’s grave; freeing him when she had finally caught him. Somehow she had learnt the language, and though slurring in her attempts she had given him a message: I did not choose my side; give me a reason to trust you. Give me a reason to fight. He had, or at least tried.

With the code cracked she looked further, searching for something she had missed that she could now give meaning. Their latest call. He called to make sure she was all right. Even after everything she had done, he still called to check on her. Probably always would.

One day this will be over. It was a promise in everything he said; everything he did for her, no matter how hard she tried to push him away.

She could feel the blood pounding through her veins. A sudden, ridiculous realisation hit her – this was her life. This was her. She looked out from her eyes; she was not just a spectator in her life. Her life… she was alive.

Sydney and Broots had entered her office and were looking at her strangely. She realised she had picked up her cell phone and was holding her phone to her cheek, brushing it lightly against the skin. She stopped and threw it lightly onto the desk before she got up from her chair and began to pace.

The two men looked at each other curiously. They seemed to be having a silent conversation with just their eyes. Probably running something like “no you ask her what’s wrong.” Sydney, as always, was volunteered.

“Miss Parker, are you all right?”

One day this will be over…

You can change the story…

She smiled slightly. “Yes, I think I might just be.”

key: Rosetta stone: An inscription of a black basalt stone; gave first clue to decipherment of Egyptian hieroglyphics.