Turning tide - the circle refuses to be squared .

(Borrowed lyrics from Celtic band Clannad ....)

Let me show you a face - in disguise
Uncover
A colour that's faded
Swept aside by the tide

There's a grey dust that's in our eyes
A misty cover
That hides on the turning tide

The soul of a proud man drowns

Sad insinuation
Using words that are unwise
How they waver in your eyes
Wheels within wheels are turning
By now you know

The soul of a proud man drowns
For so long a proud man

As we face the fierce wind
And the turning tide

*********************

In the monotone halls of Section 1 the colours had long been bleached away...the stark walls of silver metal, the dark grey concrete beams and buttresses ...Lines unforgiving on the eye, sharp and ruthlessly straight. Curves were not to be encouraged ...

Squaring the circle - the ancient quest of the alchemists - the square being matter, the circle the soul. The circle was fluid, dynamic, representing perfection, immortality, infinity, and unity - in other words, heaven. Pythagoras had been the first to postulate the philosophical dilemma of squaring the circle, holding it within a square - symbolising the earth, stability and solidity - such that it could not escape its boundaries. The fusion of heaven and earth in divine juxtaposition. An apparently impossible task - yet Section had come so close to achieving it, yet instead of containing the circle they had expelled it totally. ......or so the organisation would wish to believe.

The monotone operatives, in various shades of black, walk the halls ......their footsteps beating the rhythm of their existence - urgently rushing to their respective dooms or slowly pacing towards the inevitable ...... the corridors echoing the drum beats of fate, an environment inhuman - without a heart.

A rebellious splash of colour glimpsed out of the corner of her eye - Walter's brightly patterned bandanna proclaiming his stake on a small republic of humanity. The beautifully curving lips of her mouth, pale pink rather than a raucous red, turn upwards in a secret smile and she shakes her head - he would die a rebel.

But the tide was turning ...he who she had thought without a heart, without a soul, the very epitome of all that Section stood for, cold matter incarnate, his edges had softened and melted under her touch. He had revealed himself to her in all his vulnerability, all his neediness, all of his love - his desperation to win her heart so earnest that he had deliberately allowed the layers of arrogance and pride to be stripped from him and left in tatters that, if she closed her eyes, she could see as they trailed a pathway down from the platform above, out of his office door and across the systems benches ............His shields had been shredded, he, himself, had torn them asunder in order to prove worthy of her love. He would have sacrificed his soul on an altar to her heart. For her he had fought battles, conceded some, and won others at the cost of yet another piece of his armour ......

She had stood by and seen it all happen; she had watched his transformation and how he had changed. The unity of their love had created a wheel within the wheel that was Section - a circle, within the quaternity that surrounded them, that held their expressions of affection in check, yet could not control the passion in their souls.

He was greyer on the outside, but more vibrant within, the grey acting as a camouflage to the flames in his heart.

She wanted to release them, yet feared for his life, for his soul if she did .........

*******************

His soul was drowning - in love and for love. He could hardly surface for air, for fear of revealing his depth of feelings ......... she had touched the spark and kindled the fire within ... Now the flames consumed him from inside, he felt them licking around his heart. The black he wore absorbed the heat and the light and kept it from flooding out.

He was tired - he felt worn down by the onslaught of attacks ...he was no longer safe, never would be ever again ...and yet her survival depended on his - for now. He could not afford to become careless - he needed above all to preserve her and her humanity. It wasn't enough to keep her physically alive, he knew that now, he had to keep her spirit vital. And he would do whatever it took to maintain that essence.

As he glanced around - he took in the darkness of the surroundings and saw how it sucked out the life force of those that entered its realms - was that deliberate? Madeline's orchids .......did she keep them to control the only colour to exist here? He suspected her obsession had more to do with the manipulation of beauty and colour, than its admiration. Like Nikita - flowers were never meant to be kept underground and controlled - they were made to be kissed by the gentle warmth of the sun and caressed by the delicate trickle of raindrops. She had blossomed as he had cherished her body - as he had worshipped every texture of her body from the silkiness of her hair to the smoothness of her skin. He had taken into the circle of his arms the sweet curves of her welcoming body and they had been one.

As he passed by Walter's area he saw her walking towards him, her head up, her stride purposeful, a sway to her hips decadently signalling a gesture of revolt, her arms relaxed, swinging easily by her sides ...she did not slow as she passed him - but moved her hand out sufficiently for her fingertips to brush against his ..... He looked up and caught her eyes - a momentary flash of electric blue betrayed the colours lurking beneath the darkness - the flames were not only there, but they burnt with an intensity their superiors would never comprehend.

He ducked his head to hide a smile ...his soft lips arching into a slight curve ...the blue of her eyes was the sky of a summer's day encapsulated and walking around in disguise in their very midst .....

She smiled as she walked past - although his hair was tinged with grey and his complexion pale from exhaustion, his eyes burnt a brilliant green - desire shone through - a meadow in which she would roll ...and they would never see it - for they would never think of looking for it.....

The tides were turning ... whether the rocks knew it or not. They would be eroded by the gentle wash of the waves bit by bit ...imperceptibly ...and woe betide them when the storm eventually broke. The strength of those unseen currents would be unleashed one day and nothing would stand in their way.

The tides had turned.

The circle had not been expelled, but had broken free. It had transcended the levels at which it could be observed and now it was closing in on the square.

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