From: adjonas2000@yahoo.com   
      
   When Everything Is Made to be Broken   
      
   BY: Amy Jonas   
      
   Email: adjonas2000@yahoo.com   
      
   Category: Gen/Het  Jimmy/Yves  romance/angst   
      
   Rating: PG13   
      
   Disclaimer:  Not mine.  There.  Are you happy?  *Amy weeps on Mike's   
   shoulder*   
      
   Key Words: Jimmy Bond, Yves Adele Harlow, angst/romance   
      
   A/N:  This is part 3 of the My immortal trilogy but if you haven't   
   read the other two stories (My Immortal and Somewhere in Between),   
   don't worry, they're not needed to understand.   
      
   A/N:  Thanks to the incredible MagsRose for her awesome beta.  If   
   not for her, I would have gone crazy long ago.  And to Mike who   
   listens and encourages.  And to everyone in IRC for being the best.   
      
   Summary: He loved this passionate, stubborn woman and he knew deep   
   in his heart she loved him.  She was worth fighting for; their   
   relationship was worth fighting for.   
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
      
   "Bye," Jimmy called over his shoulder to Frohike, "see you later."   
   Not waiting for a reply, he impatiently threw open the bolts on the   
   door.  Too late; he heard the sound of metal scraping against metal   
   and then heavy footsteps.   
      
   "Jimmy, wait.  We need to talk."   
      
   "Tonight, ok? I'm gonna be late."   
      
   "We need to talk," Frohike repeated more firmly.   
      
   Jimmy threw the last bolt, the sound echoing his frustration.  He   
   knew his friends meant well but he was tired of their `talks';  from   
   Byers' calm logic to Langly's blunt sarcasm.   He glanced at his   
   watch; if he hurried he could still catch the Metro and be at the   
   Monument by 8am.  Despite the urge to flee, his deep respect for his   
   friend and mentor made him pause and look at the older man.  Worried   
   lines cut into Frohike's face and in his hand was the latest edition   
   of the paper.   
      
   "It's been six days," Frohike said, "with no word from her."   
      
   "She's probably in England or somewhere where she has to fly in."   
   Jimmy responded; his tone defensive. "And she probably didn't see   
   the paper right away."   
      
   "Jimmy, Yves was the one who left…"   
      
   "To take care of some stuff," Jimmy interjected.  "She'll be back."   
      
      
      
   "It's been four months." Frohike stressed the words.  "How much   
   longer are you going to hang out at the Mall waiting for her?" He   
   held up the paper.  "Assuming she read the paper.  Assuming she read   
   your article containing your message to meet her at the Washington   
   Monument. Assuming…."   
      
   "I still have today," Jimmy said adamantly.  When he couldn't reach   
   her by phone or email, the paper had seemed the perfect way to   
   contact Yves.  So Jimmy had set aside his article and wrote telling   
   her to meet him at the Monument.  He would wait one week.   
      
   "And if she doesn't come?"  Frohike asked.  "What will you do then?"   
      
   "She'll come," he said softly. The uncertainty shadowing his voice   
   startled him. He averted his gaze; focusing on some point over   
   Frohike's head. Did he really believe she wouldn't come or was the   
   guys' cynicism coloring his thinking?  He would never admit it aloud   
   but the past few days, late at night he had laid in bed; doubts and   
   fears haunting his restless thoughts like a wraith until he fell   
   sleep; exhausted.  The next morning he would rush back to the Mall,   
   a little less certain.   
      
   He replayed the night Yves had left in his head.  That night they   
   had worked through all their problems….except one.   *`What about   
   us?' He had pleaded desperately. `I love you Yves, doesn't that   
   count for anything?'  Her eyes softened visibly. `It does, Jimmy.   
   It counts for so much. It's why I'm doing this.' *  He hadn't   
   imagined the love in her voice or the longing in her eyes.   What he   
   saw was real.   The fears and doubts vanished.  They would be   
   together soon; he just needed to be patient a little longer.   
      
   He looked Frohike squarely in the eyes.  "She'll come."   
      
      
      
   ****   
      
      
      
   Jimmy sat on the hard wooden bench; his spirits as low as the   
   setting sun that created dark  pockets of shadows where the lights   
   couldn't reach.  He checked his watch.  He had been waiting for Yves   
   for over twelve hours.  He had been so sure she would come this last   
   day.  Sighing, he rubbed his eyes.  He was tired.  He would wait a   
   few more hours.  He would wait until midnight, he amended quickly,   
   since really that was when the day ended.   
      
   He scanned the muted darkness for a sign of her but there was no   
   one.  The monument had closed to visitors at 8PM  and since then   
   Jimmy had been alone.  Well, not entirely.  There had been the   
   security guard but he had eyed Jimmy carefully then returned to his   
   rounds.   
      
   The guard.  Jimmy stood up straighter, forgetting his exhaustion.   
   In the article he had never told Yves which side of the monument he   
   would be waiting at. Maybe she was waiting for him on the other side   
   wondering where he was.  He surged from the bench, the need to get   
   to the other side so intense he nearly broke into a run.  Relief   
   flooded through him.  Everything was going to be ok.   
      
   A terrible thought entered his mind, forcing him to stop abruptly.   
   What if Yves had the same thought?  What if she was making her way   
   to this side now?  They would miss each other in the shadows,  never   
   knowing how close they had come to reuniting.   
      
   He should stay here.  He forced himself to walk back to the bench;   
   trying to ignore the fear hammering at his guts.  It'll be ok, he   
   thought.  Yves will find him and once he told her about his screw up   
   she'll smile and assure him he did everything perfectly.  More than   
   anything he wanted to hear her lilting English accent.   
      
      
   "Jimmy."   
      
   "Yves?"  Jimmy's head snapped around.  Time seemed to hold its   
   breath as she walked out of the darkness toward him.  In the past   
   seven days he had spent countless hours imagining what this moment   
   would be like.   
      
   Because it was still hot, she would be wearing a sundress.  A red   
   one because that color looked so good on her. The sides of her hair   
   would be pined back while the rest fell in lazy curls down her   
   back.  Her eyes would glow with love while a smile graced her   
   beautiful face. They would hug tightly before kissing like long lost   
   lovers `cause that's what they were.  He imagined the feel of her   
   body against his, touching her soft skin and breathing in her   
   scent.  They would both be breathless with excitement because they   
   were together again.  Sometimes in his fantasies they would talk and   
   play tourist but usually they couldn't wait to be together.  They   
   would get a motel room and make love all night long.  	   
      
   She wasn't wearing a red sundress.  She was wearing a tailored navy   
   pant suit.   
      
   Her hair didn't fall down her back in lazy curls.  It was pulled   
   back into a severe looking bun.   
      
   This harsh contrast between his fantasy and reality stunned Jimmy   
   for a moment. But it didn't matter; his Yves had come back to him.   
   He couldn't wait to hold her in his arms; feel the warmth of her   
   skin; kiss her soft lips.   
      
   Yves!"   He went to her, intending to sweep her up in his arms when   
   he stopped short.  It was as if there was some sort of invisible   
   barrier between them, one that chilled the late summer heat. He saw   
   her face clearly then and a sense of dread curled around his guts.   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)