If I didn't care, would it feel this way

I'm stealing the proper header thing from Abs.

Prompt: "Between an immensity of land and an immensity of sky they sat there, incomprehensible, smiling at a continent."- Douglas Adams, Last Chance to See.
Characters: Phoenix Nesser and Quentin Mitchell (Soliloquy)
Timeline: Close to the end, before she heads to San Francisco.
Word count: 884
Author’s comments: I have no idea what I'm doing here. The prompt seemed to call for something nicer but I couldn't really come up with anything. Besides, Phoenix is going to settle soon so it is kinda optimistic in that sense. She's making peace with her lot, and things will get back to normal with Q and Jameson eventually. She just can't be around them. But yeah. It won't be anything like this when I FINALLY get around to writing it. For one thing, Soliloquy is in first person. I've noticed all my exercises so far have been third, which is probably good, I need the practice. Since I've discovered first person, I hardly ever write in third if I can help it.

***

Phee stood at the edge of the lake, staring across the calm water. A faint breeze freed a strand of hair but she ignored it, completely lost in thought. A figure emerged and made its way towards her. Quentin walked carefully, watching his feet, hands jammed firmly in his pockets. She seemed to feel his presence and her postured tightened. She stood straighter, seeming more rigid somehow. Phee made no overt move to recognise his presence, and kept her eyes trained on the horizon. He hesitated for a few moments, reading the subtlety of her body language that their years of friendship had well versed him in, and then moved to stand alongside her.
“Phee.”
He merely breathed the name and the wind took it and blew it across the water. The distant shore felt as distant as the girl next to him. She squeezed her eyes tightly, she seemed to be waiting for something but Q didn’t say anything more. Glancing at her passive face from the corner of his eye, he suppressed a sigh and turned his attention to the water instead.
Q didn’t understand the awkwardness that was now between them. He couldn’t understand how he could have been so stupid. He wasn't used to this Phoenix, the unreachable one, the one who was an expert at removing herself from others. He remembered the Phee who broke Luke Tucker’s fingers in the sixth grade after he tripped Q in the hall, or the Phee picking him up after a particularly rowdy house party that left him feeling drunk for about two days afterwards. He remembered a Phee that helped him memorize Shakespeare quotes for his exam, and who then yelled at him for not paying attention cause X-Men was on. Now he didn't know if he could still reach that particular version of Phoenix Nesser.
“Are you happy Q?” she asked, startling him out of his thoughts. He dragged his eyes up from the water to look at her, but she was still staring across the lake.
“I am. I really am. Well, I mean, I’d be happier if we....”
“Are you in love?”
“I…well…I don’t…” he stuttered, unsure of what the appropriate answer would be, and wondering if he even had an answer at all, let alone an appropriate one.
“Does he love you?” she asked quietly, interrupting again.
“I don’t know.”
Phee glanced at from the corner of her eye. The movement was quick and subtle, Q missed it completely.
“Why do this then? Why act on it?”
“I didn’t plan this you know.”
Phee sighed and closed her eyes again. Q took her hand and the simple gesture made her breath hitch slightly. It felt like everything was crushing down on her, suddenly and unexpectedly. Her hurt told her to pull her hand back but she was scared that letting go meant being lost in all this uncertainty.
This was familiar. This was how it was meant to be, how it used to be. When Phoenix was six, she tripped during a game of tag and skinned her knee. Q never left her side and he had held her hand while his mum cleaned the cut. At eleven, when she broke her arm, it was Q who was there for her. Then there was fourteen, where he held her hand all through the night after a particularly bad fight with her mother. Phee had always needed Q, and he had always been there. In fact, the only reason he had come to town in the first place was because she had needed him. All this had happened because he thought he should be around, just in case. She had raged and ran away, not once, but twice. She had hurt him, and used him, and still there he was, after all the madness, still holding her hand.
He squeezed her hand lightly and she returned the gesture.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Phee finally turned to look at him.
She knew it was selfish of her. He had nothing to apologize for. But this time was different from all the others. It had always been her battles, her demons, and not his. He wasn’t just there to hold her hand this time, he had accountability. Phee needed to hear those words. It had hurt. It did hurt. But deep down she knew it wasn't his fault.
Phee leant into him, nudging him with her shoulder and nodding her head across the water.
“Still feels like the beach, huh?”
He smiled and nudged her back. “Always.”
“Tell me this is something you’ll be missing.”
“Always.” He repeated earnestly, meeting her gaze.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Q wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. They stood staring out across the water. Phee sighed and her posture changed again slightly, a resolute expression on her face. Q instinctively knew what the change meant and pulled her closer to him.
“Where are you running to this time?” he asked quietly.
“Wherever the first flight takes me.”
“Don’t go.”
“You know I have to.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sighed. "Feels like all we're doing is apologizing."
"But I am sorry."
“Don't be.”
They stood in silence as the last few traces of daylight faded from the sky. Then slowly, Phoenix extracted herself from under his arm. She pecked him on the cheek, and when he didn’t turn, she gave a faint smile and walked away.

Music: Claire de lune - Debussy
Mood: Tired