Summary: Artistic beauty and grace fill this vision of a Tracy. Get caught up in the way he moves.

THE WAY HE MOVES

I've seen him do it a thousand times. I've seen him stroke...move...sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. I've seen him imagine it to be anyone he wants it to be. I've seen his heart take over, guiding his hands along their predestined path. I've seen his instinct take over, almost forcing him to do things he might not otherwise do.

We've all seen him do it, I must admit. It has never been for my eyes alone. But the way his hands move as though experts in their quest, like when he caresses the ivory keys on his beloved piano. I can't help but be mesmerized by every twitch, every pause, every loving look he casts its way.

Sometimes he'll do it on the beach, where the wind whips through his chestnut hair and the waves lap softly on the sandy shore. Sometimes he'll do it in the silence of the seldom-used roundhouse, savoring the solitude, using it to guide him, to move him until one of us interrupts. Sometimes he'll do it locked away in his rooms, out of sight of the rest of the family, as perhaps it should be.

But it is times like these, times when he doesn't know anyone's watching, times he thinks he's stolen away from the world...it's times like these when he is at his most perfect. He is unaware of my presence, unaware of his essence being inhaled like a soft summer breeze. Unaware that with every movement he is drowning me in all that he is, all that he feels.

This is when you can see inside to his soul. This is when you look not upon the man who puts his life in danger for those he does not know, but upon the man beneath the exterior, the man who loves so hard and so fierce it threatens at times to swallow him whole.

This is when you come to know Virgil.

Just when I think I can no longer bear the sight of him moving so beautifully, just when I think I might be blinded by the almost ethereal glow surrounding his body...just when I fear I may never breathe again...he is finished.

It is complete. He has toiled long and hard, working to ease the tension within him, to let everything go, let his cares fall away to do this thing he needs so much. And with that final advance upon his target he backs away, revealing himself to me...within those golden-brown eyes...revealing that which lies inside his mind.

It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Ageless and timeless, it captures all that he is, all that he knows. It captures perfection. It is perfection. At this moment, it almost rivals the flawlessness that is Virgil.

It is then he realizes I am there. Standing behind him, spying on him, wrongfully intruding upon his private world...I stand ashamed. But to my surprise, he smiles.

"How long have you been watching?"

"Long enough," I reply, my voice a near-whisper.

"What did you think?" I open my mouth, but my voice refuses to work. He moves to stand next to me and turns to face what is left behind. "Do you like it?"

"Very much. It's...perfect. So...real."

"I hope so," he says. "Let's go. We have to let it dry."

Placing an arm around my shoulders, he turns me and we begin walking toward the steps that will lead us down from the roof of the villa. I cannot help but look back once more to that magical place where he stood not moments before, a place where I saw a true magician at work. And I think to myself...

That is the most beautiful portrait I have ever seen.

I am still caught in the moment, the moment where I was able to wrap my mind around his artistic genius. The moment I was able to simply enjoy the way he moves.