Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Once again I haven’t mentioned names for this story, so basically the story is mine.

Author’s Note: Well, you can consider this a sequel to my story, “Take My Hand.” And as I said in the author’s notes for that story, I don’t use Lena and Bianca’s name but you can infer that this story is about them. This is “Bianca’s” P.O.V. Please remember, I haven’t seen the scene that took place in the hospital when I believe Jack was shot, so the story may not be 100% accurate. And just in case you’re interested, I wrote this during lunch.

Author’s Note 2: This is the second story in what I’ve decided can be considered a mini–series called, “Picture This.”

I know she’s waiting… she’s waiting so patiently. Her hand never wavers… not for a moment.

It’s like she knows how I’ll answer.

She knows how much I want to jump into her arms … how I want to feel her embrace and know that I’m safe … secure … loved.

I know she loves me. I can see it in her eyes.

I can see down into her very heart… one that probably hasn’t been allowed to feel in a long time.

But for me:

She does.

She hasn’t said a word, but I can see her faith… how utter and complete it is that I’ll answer her unasked question the way she hopes.

Her eyes have grown darker in color as if she’s thinking something, something about us.

Perhaps she’s thinking about how much she wants to touch me.

Or how much she wants me to touch her.

And I do.

I want to know every part of her body.

I want to know which touch will make her sigh.

Which one will make her:

Quiver…

Cry out…

Laugh.

I want to learn her body, almost as much as I want her to learn mine.

All I have to do is reach out…

And take her hand.

The End.

Continue to the next picture.