A High-Functioning Form of Death
By lovefanfiction
Rating: PG
Summary: "He was the star brighter than the sun, warmer even at a distance than any other would have been by my side." Remus mourns Sirius.
A giddy smile graces my face, unstoppable. But I don't care- I'll smile like a small child at a Quidditch game, make an utter fool of myself, and so much more, for this moment. This moment of true, unadulterated bliss. He won, again; bested odds that no one would give him. Before, he escaped hell itself and the terrors that guard it to prove to us that he is no monster, but a man. No, he's less- an echo of a boy who has grown only through suffering, not through the wisdom and blunders those who mature outside of Azkaban use. But it didn't matter then, as it doesn't now- my Sirius had returned to me.
Now, instead of escaping hell, he has fled heaven for this physical plane. For, having been dead, he must have reached heaven. He's not said a word, but I know what he must have done. He's forfeited seeing Prongs and Lily again this soon to come back, to live life with me until his time comes- his real time, not one dictated by Bellatrix Lestrange.
Like a ghost, a dream, he glides through the room and reaches for me- touches my face, mouths my name. That we are in a war-torn world whose hopes rest with a confused and angry teenager does not bother me anymore. That Sirius, by rights, shouldn't be here bothers me even less. Sirius, after all, is the one who escapes everything- punishment from teachers, Azkaban, and now, now- death itself!
I grin, foolishly happy, stumbling forward to claim his lips with my own, but he steps back, his touch just barely brushing my cheek. Puzzled, I stare at my ragged soldier, my lost puppy. There is something in his eyes that I cannot decipher as he steps back, and disappears as easily as a breeze.
In the night, in my dream turned nightmare, I cry. Tears scream to the empty darkness my loss, my pain, and my inability to go on without him. I cry until I wake, cheeks dry, but undeniably shaken and deeply disappointed- crushed. Of course Sirius had not come back, much less to me. He never loved me back, not the way I loved him. Like a brother, more, but never the deep, exclusive love of soul mates, of lovers. The tears stayed dammed, as my love had for many years.
Sirius, were he able, would not have visited me- he may have found Harry, and become a loving, supporting godfather again. Or, perhaps, he would have simply opted to stay with Prongs. One thing remains certain- I will not see him again, lest I die and am deemed good enough for heaven. A snort escapes me at the though of a werewolf in heaven, a bitter snort that lacks the warmth and depth of laughter.
Though I long to cry, I withhold my sorrow. Sirius- taking a break from reminiscing with James- may very well be watching over me this moment. Well, more like glancing at, but I refuse to believe I've been abandoned entirely. Love so strong that I feel it now, stronger than grief or fear, stronger than the pull of the moon or any force I know, must hold some small power. Sirius must have noticed that, in my eyes, he was special- he was the star brighter than the sun, warmer even at a distance than any other would have been by my side.
As I go about this day as I have many that are now gone, my mind and heart are with Sirius, and my despair shadows every step. But I'll continue existing and fake my way through living. A high-functioning form of death. It'll do; beggars can't be choosers, and I'm used to settling for less than the worst.
And from above, an angel cries tears of love and of regret for his silence. "I love you," he whispers now that he knows, but now he cannot be heard.
A/N section
Yeah, so, this story had been sitting in my "In need of total overhaul" folder for a while. (Yes, the folder is actually titled that.) I pulled it out, polished it up here and there and slapped an ending on it. Not my greatest work, but then... um, I was going to make a point but I really don't know where I was going with that. Just review and tell me how much you loved/hated it and why. Or just to say, "Hey, I noticed you wrote a story."
The "high-functioning" comes from a medical dictionary; when someone is mentally disabled but still fit to go to school or work and in general live a fairly normal life, they are said to be high-functioning. So Remus is actually experiencing a high-functioning form of depression. I suppose you could say his angel is one of the high-functioning dead. ;)