AN: This is a collection of one-shots and drabbles, spanning any and all genres and characters. Basically whatever occurs to me. Guaranteed to be short and sweet. Enjoy!

Sight and Scent

Summary: Sister-fic, Nita and Dairine

Dairine first realized that it had happened to Nita sometime at the tail end of a bright, crisp, fall. Before that, she'd teased, and badgered, and insinuated without mercy, yes, but all of it had always been based on a hunch, and proceeded from a desire to make her sister squirm. She hadn't known it for a fact. But it was fall, and the days were ripening into long, golden evenings, and Dairine thought that Kit was in the kitchen. But when she turned around, he wasn't there at all. The only person there was Nita, popping the top on a soda can and leaning against the fridge door, wearing a too-large flannel shirt, and looking like the wind had just blown her inside. Dairine couldn't understand what had caused the mistake, till Nita breezed by just as she breathed in. Eyes widening, Dairine stopped her bewildered sister and abruptly hugged her, breathing deep. It was all there: the normal smells of moon dust, and herbal shampoo, and old books, but there was something more, something she's only smelled once, when Kit had lent her an old jacket on a cold day, and now it was emanating from her sister's skin. Nita, obviously confused, patted her awkwardly on the crown of her head, and Dairine pushed away just as abruptly as she's grabbed on.

Then she looked her in the eye and said:"Congratulations."

Nita didn't know that it had happened to Dairine until after. After the sun, after the moon, after the end and the beginning, after everything. She'd never noticed it before, she realized, not because it had been hidden, but because it had looked like it was only a reflection. Just a reflection of the bright hair, gaudy clothes, and dazzling wit of the one who's seemed, in just a few short weeks, to attach himself to Dairine's side. It should have been obvious by the way she never seemed to mind; the way she'd made room for him, the way she never had for Nita, or her parents, or anyone in years, but Nita had still missed it. Instead it wasn't until he was gone, and all that had been left in the immediate aftermath was the grief, and the tears, and the denial, and her sister's face lowered into her white-knuckled hands that she saw it. They were in a dark place when she'd first looked up again, and Nita saw clearly for the first time the sun in her sister's eyes. Not reflected from without, but burning from within. And she wondered how she'd missed them before.

Then she met those blazing eyes and said: "I'm sorry."