The Dancer

44. The End

A/N:

I updated two times in a row. Please read chspter 43 first!

- Annelie Leddy

15 years later...

Sara smiles as she cooks pancakes. A tradition for the first day of school. Ever since Reggie had his first day at pre-school she'd make pancakes.

"You don't have to do that, ma." Reggie says swinging his backpack onto the kitchen counter.

Sara shakes her head. "It'll be like this even on your first day as a lawyer."

"I'll be in New York or something when that happens. I was to be apart of the mean corporations. Cut throat," he says chuckling.

Sara rolls her eyes. "Ugh! Just like your father. Always wanting the best. He did get me in the end, afterall."

Reggie chuckles. "Yea, yea, I bet he'd say the same thing but he'd be serious."

They are quiet for a moment.

"Logan will take you to school. He said he'd take you driving afterward. I want you to know though, he is still going to drive you everywhere even after you get your liscence."

Reggie nods. "Yea, I know."

Again, silence.

Sara dishes a plate of two fluffy pancakes covered in maple syrup. Setting them down in front of her son, she then leans her elbows on the counter.

"Do you wanna go with me today?" She asks him.

He shakes his head. "No, but I'll go with you tomorrow. I'm just nervous about school, I don't want to... I don't wanna..."

"Think about your dad all day?" She finishes her sentence.

He nods. "Its just... sad."

"I have more memories of him so its easier for me I guess. I'm sorry, honey," she says.

"Do you have rehersels today?" Reggie asks, desperate to change the subject.

"Yup! They'll be over by six."

Reggie laughs. "So they'll really be done by nine?"

"We'll see."

***

The smell of the mansion seems to change as the seasons do. In the spring it smells like lilacs, in the summer it smells like oranges and sweet lemon fragrances, in the fall it smells like an apple or pumpkin pie, in the winter it smells like pine trees.

Today it was a pumpkin pie smell. Excellent for the first day if Autumn.

Sara smiles at the receptionist who doesn't bother to ask who she is there to see. She passes by young women in scrubs, older women in scrubs, and some men in scrubs.

Walking swiftly up the huge staircases and finally lands on the second floor. She goes down a hallway and counts the doors. One, two, three, four!

She stalls at the door. Prepares herself for what is to come and knocks.

"Come in!"

She shakingly opens the door.

The small apartment is cozy, warm, and smells like Malcolm.

"Oh thank God!" Malcolm gasps.

He rushes to Sara and grasps her in his arms.

"We've been trying to find you for days! Where have you been! The apartment is trashed, we thought you were kidnapped."

His swift and out of breath worry and explaination has Sara spinning.

Kidnapped?

What memory is this? She tries her best to analyze and then it hits her. 15 years ago, kidnapped by Allen, saved by his sister Joyce.

"I was saved. Remember. I'm fine now, Malcolm."

Her voice is smooth and calming.

He exhales a sigh of relief.

"Yes, of course. The police... they said that..." he remembers.

She was relieved he didnt fight her on the memory this time. Lashing out into a fit of fear and confusion.

Her heart of breaking at the sight of him.

Early Alzheimers. How cruel it is.

Malcolm sits on the couch behind him suddenly as Sara stand in front of him.

"How is the baby?" He asks.

She smiles. Reginald, Reggie, the name came to them as the closest male name to Regina.

Her eyes begin to reden from the tears. They will spill out soon, they always do.

"He is perfect."

Malcolm squints, confused.

"Why are you crying? You're safe now."

She shakes her head. Tears, not of a sadened future. Tears resembling happiness. She was beyond happy. Not of the circumstance but of what she was able to have. A life with the man she loved. So wonderful and beautiful as it was. It was so full. So wild and free. Having been trapped for years, both of them. Now having the shackals taken off and the key being one simple detail: love, love for eachother.

Malcolm thinks hard. What would make her happy?

"Dance for me," he says.

With tears spilling down her cheeks, she lends out her hands.

"Why don't you dance with me?"

The End.