"Justine"

The words wouldn't come right.

She was staring off into the distance, her eyes taking on that blankness they took whenever the silence lasted too long between them. Her fingers against his arm had turned cold, and her grip on him had relaxed. Even as she waited for her answer, she was letting go, and that was the last thing that he wanted from her.

The problem was, with a girl like Justine, you simply couldn't come out and say things like that. You couldn't tell her that you loved her, that your every waking moment was consumed with thoughts of her, that she haunted your dreams. You couldn't tell her those things because she wouldn't believe them, and she would hate you for it.

It wasn't that Justine didn't know she was beautiful, or that she was unaware of the way her entrance into a room drew everyone's attention. She Knew that she was gorgeous and that a man would give anything for just a chance to be with her. She was more than aware of the effect her physical appearance had on the people around her, and she despised them for it.

Justine wanted to be loved for herself, because she as a person was appealing. Not because her hair was golden and felt like melted silk.

He knew these things, and he understood her need. She had explained it all to him over the phone, her honeyed voice travelling the miles between them and drawing the very heart from him. They had talked for almost a year over the internet before she would allow a phone conversation... And after that it was several months more before she would send him a picture.

Justine was everything that he wanted, and it had nothing to do with her beauty. He couldn't deny that he appreciated it, but it had nothing to do with why he wanted to be with her. He had developed an instant crush on her when she was nothing more than a girl on a keyboard several hundred miles away from him. Her caustic, often self-depreciating wit, her intelligent and animated conversation, her dark and sometimes disturbing humor...

"Do you remember, the first time I asked you for a picture? It was a couple of months after we met in the chat room... You sent me an autopsy photograph from one of Jack the Ripper's victims. The first time I asked for a phone number you gave me the line to a support group for compulsive masturbators... When I freaked out because I thought I'd bombed my finals, you told me to be glad it wasn't something like Driver's Education. For easter you sent me a valentines day card, for Valentines Day you sent me Halloween candy. When I agonized about breaking up with Anna, you sent me a dozen roses with a smiley face balloon."

Justine inclined her head towad him slightly, showing that he had her attention, but did not turn toward or in any other way acknowledge that he had even spoken. He knew from experience that she wouldn't turn to him until he had answered her question in the way that she hoped to be answered. Instinct told him that, if he failed to convince her of the reality of his feelings, she would get out of the car and walk away without looking back, he would never see her again.

He was filled with a sense of desperation.

"You want to know why I love you?" He waited for a moment, but there was no response. He was buying time, trying to prod his thoughts into some acceptable semblance of coherency.

"Yes, it is because you are beautiful. But I saw your beauty long before I saw your face. I saw it in the way you phrased certain types of questions. On the one year anniversary of the night we met online, you sent me a burned CD that included Lorenna McKennit's rendition of the Lady of Shallot. The rest of the cd was rock, some punk, a couple of country songs, then out of nowhere... This voice singing of such sorrow and loneliness, I could see the Lady risking everything for one good look at the great Knight Lancelot, giving up everything for that one glimpse of Camelot. It was haunting, I found myself listening to the song on repeat, I found a copy of the poem online, I caught myself wondering at odd moments whether it was Worth it, all that the Lady had lost..."

He smiled, laying one hand over her cold fingers, giving her what warmth he could.

"I started to think of you that way, a Lady trapped in this life she couldn't stand, lost in dreams of something she couldn't touch. Everything you told me about your family, their expecations of you, your own hopes for the future... When you speak of it your voice takes on this tone, like a child wishing on stars they know they can't reach... It makes me want to hold and protect you."

"I realized that I loved you the night you called me up at 3am to turn on the television and sit on the phone with you while we both watched the Princess Bride. That was a week before you sent me a real picture of yourself, six months before we met the first time. I told my roommate that I was in love with a girl I'd met on the internet and he told me I was insane, there was no way I could love someone I'd never met. He realized I'd dumped Anna because I didn't feel half the connection with her that I do with you."

He scooted a little closer to her, letting his voice fall to a whisper. "I can give you hundreds of tiny reasons, details, things you've said and we've done together, and all of those add up to why I can't imagine a life that doesn't include you... But I can't give you a clear cut reason Why... I just love you... and the rest doesn't matter. Distance and time we can deal with, if you wanted me to I would move anywhere you wanted to go... Just on the off chance that I'll end up spending the rest of my life there with you."

It wasn't enough, she deserved something more... Maybe it would be better if she walked away and never looked back. Maybe she could find the guy who would spontaneously compose a poem to perfectly describe the inner beauty that eclipsed any mere physical attractiveness... He just wasn't capable of it. He'd scraped the bottom of the barrel here, and he couldn't do much now but pray that she understood everything behind the words as much as what was actually said.

Justine gave a soft sigh, the cold air making her breath a puff of white that hung in front of her like a thought bubble. She shifted in her seat, and his heart stilled. He wasn't sure it would start beating again if she opened the door and climbed out of the car.

Justine shifted again, her eyes closing, and turned into his arms, pressing her cheek against the rough weave of his sweater. His heart kicked up again, pounding so hard and so loud in his ears that he almost didn't hear her softly whispered "Thank you."