A/N: So, all of the Soap Opera drama has pulled me in and I stumbled upon Luke and Laura's story while surfing the web. I can't help but feel like there is so much that has been unsaid and kept quiet between the two. I refuse to believe that Laura's departure to France was the end of Luke and Laura's story. There is so much to hope for, so much of their love to regain.
It was poorly executed. Not by the actors, mind you, I just feel that the closure between the two wasn't present. Their story is still open to interpretation. This happens to be my interpretation.
Read and review, please.
When Luke gets a call from someone he thought he would never hear from again, he immediately makes a choice that will change his life. And everyone else's.
Chapter One- Fade
Luke stood back from the large pine tree that had invaded the living room of the Spencer household. Strong and sturdy, it wasn't weighed down by the many ornaments that Lulu had attacked it with.
Lulu, determined to make this Christmas as normal as possible for the Spencer family, had cheerfully donned an elf hat, red nose, and a pair of Christmas Tree earrings, attacking the task of decorating the tree single-handedly. Luke smiled at the effort that his daughter had so willingly displayed. Though, most nights, he would hear her upstairs, in her old room, crying.
The togetherness and happiness the once close knit family displayed in public faded when they were alone. They barely spoke, barely saw each other, and seemingly, they all made an effort to leave Luke alone.
At least, they did whenever he had his friend Jack Daniels around. Alcohol was his best friend now.
His only friend.
Luke's eyes filled with tears as he thought of his family, once so willingly open, but now bitter and broken.
Lucky almost never wanted to be around either Luke or Lulu.
Luke couldn't blame him. Lulu reminded him of Laura and Luke… well, he wasn't himself.
"I miss you, Angel."
The words came out of Luke's mouth before he could stop them.
Since Laura left for France two years ago, no one dared speak her name; even mention her, for fear of breaking some unspoken vow or breaking somebody's soul.
Today that soul was Luke's. Today, Luke was the victim of his wife's sickness, of her decision.
Luke would never have stopped her, because he loved her, he loved her and only her.
But it still hurt him inside. It was a sickness, a disease that ate at his insides, a gnawing at his heart, and it hurt every morning. Some days, the hurt dulled a small fraction, some days, Luke didn't want to get up out of his bed, but at the end of the day, it was always there, a sharp pain in his breast, as if someone had taken a red hot knife and stabbed him in the heart, leaving it buried so deep, he could never pull it out.
It would always be there.
Glancing at the tree, he sat down on the couch, his eyes stinging with unshed grief.
The tree, it seemed, was a metaphor for Laura.
How she was always strong, defiant, and silent.
Standing up once more, Luke reached to very top of the tree, the angel at the top wobbling dangerously as it escaped his grasp. He needed to hold it, needed to feel it.
He needed his Angel.
As it fell, he tried to catch it, but he watched in horror as it fell to the ground, shattering.
The knife in his heart twisted violently, making him sick to his stomach.
As the shards flew every which way, Luke knelt to the ground, his grief pouring out as he sobbed.
"Laura!" An anguished cry ripped from his lips, his heart tearing in two.
Every bit of anger, remorse, guilt, and… love he had ever felt towards Laura Spencer came crashing down on him in one fell swoop. Letting the sobs wrack his body, Luke sat there, staring at the pieces of his broken angel.
His broken heart.
Lulu watched her father from the stairwell, watched as he slowly composed himself and started to pick up the pieces of the broken angel. The pain she felt for Luke lurched at her stomach violently, sadness overtaking her.
Lulu turned away, deciding to leave her father alone. She had a feeling he would turn to alcohol sometime soon. It wasn't his fault, really. It wasn't anyone's. It was as if life had decided to make a cruel, ongoing joke of her family.
And she hated it.
Hours later, sometime around midnight, when the house was silent, Lucky snuck back into the house. The pain of his family's loss was fresh in his mind. Peeking into the living room, he saw Luke cradling a bottle of whiskey close, as if it were the single most precious thing on the earth. Lucky knew that Luke wished it were his wife he held.
They all did.
Trumping upstairs, he dropped onto the bed in the guest bedroom, exhausted to the bone.
None of them heard the phone ringing in the oppressive, grief-filled silence that consumed the household.
A/N: Who do you think called? Review, please! Leave your comments with the little button.