Hey, peeps! I haven't noticed any "Casper" fics from Amelia's POV, so…I wrote one. (If there is one, sorry, I missed it!) The stupid plotbunnies wouldn't leave me alone. I haven't seen the movie in a while, so I'm a little worried about the way the fic flows, for lack of a better term. Any comments are more than welcome!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. :childishly sticks tongue out at lawyers hoping for a lawsuit:
Also, props to Bullseye-fanatic for catching my mistake about Kat's name being Kathleen::hands a cookie to them:
Just Kat
Kat. How fiercely I miss singing the name to my beautiful little girl as she drifted off to sleep. Even when she was little, she refused to be called by her true name: Kathleen. Her fierce dark eyes, so much like my own and yet so much like her father's, had held stubborn pride in the nickname. Never Kathleen. Never Kitty. Just Kat.
Now, as I watch her sleep from my usual post at the head of her bed, I marvel at the little details that she doesn't know I know. Her pretty eyes are closed in sleep, but I can still see her stubborn streak in the very lines of her face. Hair that could have been mine at a younger age is fanned out over the pillow, and I wonder briefly if it still tangles as severely as it did years ago.
Kat's hands curl in two loose fists as she battles her nighttime demons, and I long to be there when she wakes up from her dreams, to smooth her tangled hair and tell her that everything will be fine. It tears my heart to know that the most I can do is be her guardian angel, to watch over her while she sleeps as I have every night since I left the physical world.
And yet my baby has another guardian. He sleeps curled at the foot of her bed like a faithful dog, waking with every noise that Kat makes, ready to offer comfort and companionship. He is only a misplaced little boy who follows her in devotion, helping Kat to find her way even if his own path is lost to him, but his presence, however faint, makes all the difference.
Now Casper wakes, rubbing at his eyes with a fist even if there is nothing there to wipe away. He does not notice me, still perched atop the ornate headboard, even though his eyes travel over the room searching for any danger that might harm his friend. Before he curls up once more, he looks at Kat with unmistakeable love and loyalty, and I know that my little girl is safe this night.
Before I leave, I cannot resist the temptation to reach down and stroke my daughter's hair. She would not feel it, any more than she would feel the lightest of breezes, but nevertheless she still stirs and mumbles something in her sleep. If Casper notices anything, he says and does nothing.
"Thank you, Casper." I tell him. "Goodnight, Kat."
Not Kathleen. Just Kat.
