Proof by Contradiction(1)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to SMeyer.

Thanks to Maylin (dihenydd) who betas and geeks out with me and Lambcullen (Lambiexx) who already pre-read the next chapters.

"We live in a darkness of our own making... blind to a habitant world all but unseen by us. A world of beings imaginable to us only as flights of fancy. Who are these beings we dare to imagine but fear to accept? If they know our secrets, why can't we know theirs?" (2)

On the day she disappears...

The sky is filled with balloons. Hundreds of them. Blue, white, red. Fluttering towards the horizon, dotting her vision. The street is packed with people, smiles and laughter fill the air. She's a petite, elegant, pretty girl, almost seventeen, and amidst the exuberant crowd, she holds the hand of a young boy.

Come on. The boy giggles and his giggles are of the lightest, most carefree kind. He wants to see the clowns. His hair flutters in the wind as his eyes urge her. His eyes are deep green, as green as the emeralds her father had gifted her with on her last birthday.

She nods and he smiles, so full of innocent joy and wonder that her heart lifts a little. His small hand clutches hers and she lets him pull her through the crowd.

Nobody knew. She never told a soul what happened that day when she'd taken the little boy for a walk and saw...them. They were different from him, different from the others she knew. Nobody knew what happened even later.

We're leaving....Two words that had broken her heart.

I don't want you to come with me.

You don't want me?

I'll always love you… in a way. But I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not.

Don't do this.

You're no good for me. This will be the last time you'll see me.

It will be as if I'd never existed.

The words pierce her heart, even months later, but she smiles. She smiles at the little boy who holds her hand in absolute trust. She smiles at her friends, her classmates, family, neighbors. She smiles at her father who watches her like a hawk, waiting for that misstep, that falter that could send her over the abyss. She smiles when she's tired, when she's bored, when she feels half dead and when the world spins and loses color and meaning. Her smile falters only when she's alone, when she sits in her room, staring at nothing, asking herself over and over: What did I do wrong?

Some days when she can't bear it, she swings by the little boy's house, sits inside the little boy's kitchen and listens to the little boy regale his mother with stories of his day. There were days, before he left, that she'd take the little boy outside and she'd hold one little hand while he took the other and they'd swing the little boy between them.

She didn't tell the little boy's mother but she understood. They're not exactly friends, the young girl and the little boy's mother. More like kindred spirits. Both had gone through the same pain of having their hearts stomped on, their very existence questioned. Both draw strength from a child's innocent precocity.

Time passes, even when it seems impossible. Her father raised her to be a survivor so she picks up the pieces of her broken life. She trains herself to forget his voice, his touch, even his face. She knows that he was lying when he told her he didn't love her anymore, that he's not good for her and she for him. She knows, but she lies to herself to make it a little easier for him. Easier for him to leave her if he truly believes she hates him, easier for them both if she lets him think he was giving her a clean break.

A clean break, like the fracture on her collarbone that day when one of them had attacked her. She'd almost forgotten. Almost.

Because when she hears a voice in the middle of almost a thousand revelers, it all comes back, flooding her ears, filling her senses.

Someone is calling her, whispering her name. Chills run across her skin, raising the fine hairs at the back of her neck and on her arms. The voice is almost the same but she knows better. She knows he's gone, there was no way he'd be coming back for her.

Her head jerks and the crowd swirls precariously around her.

Who are you? She catches fragments of voices, laughter. The whisperer is somewhere in the crowd, she's sure of it. A small group of children and adults, gathered around an ice cream cart, obstructs her view.

Want some ice cream? She asks the little boy.

Yes! He jumps to attention, almost clapping his hands, but his exuberance fails to slow the beat of her heart. Warm hands once again clutch hers and she lets him drag her to the ice cream cart.

Do you want some?

The little boy is gracious but she says no, thank you. She feels safer, enclosed in the bubble of ice cream eaters.

Just when she's starting to breathe easier, it's there again. Her name. Closer, clearer, like a gust of wind hitting chimes. She looks up and flash! A flood of light from an anonymous camera captures the surprise in her eyes.

Blood drains from her face and she can feel her hands start to shake. No, it can't be, her mind screams. But it is because there he is, across the street, standing deathly, quietly still at the fringe of the crowd. Despite the overcast skies, he wears sunglasses.

She looks down at the little boy. He's smiling and giggling with the other children, pointing at something in the sky. She follows their gazes. Except for one or two, the balloons have long disappeared.

Why don't we go and get your mom? She'd love to see the clowns and you guys can get your picture taken later.

Holding the boy's hand, she sticks to the crowd and avoids deserted spaces, trading polite hellos with people who felt pity for her, the poor, little rich girl. People she'd avoided for months when she'd tried to mend her heart.

They hadn't gone far when she sees the little boy's mother running towards them.

Oh, thank God. A warm, tight embrace encompasses them both.

What happened?

It's the Crowley kid. He lost control of his van and ran over a girl. I think she goes to your school.

Who?

I don't know. They're still cutting her from the wreckage. Maybe it's best you go home. They're cancelling the parade.

All right. She agrees immediately but inside she's panicking. The crowd is thinning around her and it's almost sundown. Most of the revelers will be going back to their homes and downtown for dinner.

They're here. The familiar bile rises up her throat and she laughs to herself. Who's she kidding? They've been here for a long, long time.

I'll drop by tomorrow. She tells the little boy instead, trying to keep the fear from her voice. He looks at her strangely. We'll look at that collection you want me to see.

Promise?

Promise.

You're such a dear. The boy's mother thanks her.

No, thank you. The young girl wants to say more but she stops herself. She walks away. From a distance, she turns to look back and the little boy gives her a little wave. She waves back and forces a smile, knowing she'll never see him again.

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(1) Reductio ad absurdum (Proof by contradiction) -- In logic, proof by contradiction is a form of proof that establishes the truth or validity of a proposition by showing that the proposition being false would imply a contradiction. Since by the law of bivalence a proposition must be either true or false, and its falsity has been shown impossible, the proposition must be true.

(2) Agent Scully, X Files, Season 1