Title: Through the Years (1/1)
Author: Kat
Genre: General/Romance
Characters: Mick, Beth
Rating: G
Summery: "over the years I tried to stay close, just out of sight, in case she needed me…"
Beth sat on the floor of her room, crayons and construction paper spread out in an array around her as she worked with studious intent. She paused for a moment to survey her work before deciding she was unsatisfied and reaching for an other crayon. She looked up as the click of high heels announced her mother's arrival in the room. Noticing the sprawl of crayons and paper her mother bent down to see what her daughter was up too.
"What are you making, Beth?" her mother asked.
"A card," Beth replied as she turned back to her work.
"What kind of card?"
"It's for the man who saved me." She looked back up at her mother, "you said you should always thank people when they help you, right mommy?" she searched for conformation in her mother's face.
Her mother remained quiet for a moment before enveloping her daughter in a tight hug. "Yes, sweetie, you should," she whispered.
"Will you give it to him, mommy?" Beth asked. "I'm almost done."
"I'll make sure he gets it," her mother promised, kissing Beth's forehead.
"'kay," Beth said, happily turning back to finish her card.
Beth flew out the door to the mailbox as she had done every day for the past week. It was her Birthday tomorrow and cards from distant relatives had been trickling in for the last few days, filled with well wishes and usually some small monetary amount. Beth deftly opened the mailbox and reached inside for the stack of letters. She cycled through them as she skipped back into the house. She dumped the other letters on the counter and headed into the living room with the two addressed to her.
The first was one of those classically ridiculous hallmark cards from her Aunt in Michigan. Inside was a well wishing in her aunts untidy scrawl and a crisp five dollar bill. She closed the obnoxious card and pocketed her prize before turning to the other one. The first thing she noticed was that the card had no return address and that immediately peaked her natural curiosity. Her address was written in a neat, masculine script, although such considerations held no place in her young mind. She quickly tore open the envelope and pulled out the card. It was a plain, tasteful card with the picture of some balloons on the front. She opened it with more caution then she had the one from her Aunt. There was no five dollar bill inside this card, just a simple note written in the same hand as the address:
Happy Birthday Beth
-M
Beth frowned. She was not disappointed by the lack or money--the mystery of the sender more then made up for the absence-- but curious an she went through a mental list of all the people she knew with names that started with M. The only person she could think of was one of her Uncles but she had received a card from him earlier that week. She clutched the card to her chest, the thrill of a secret mystery brining a smile to her face, and resolved not to tell her parents. She knew that they would react badly after everything that had happened but Beth was certain, with that sixth sense children sometimes have, that the sender meant her no harm. Hearing her parents in the other room Beth sprinted to her bedroom to tuck the card in a safe place until she could solve her new mystery.
That card was not the last she would receive from the mysterious person. There was no rhyme or reason to when she would get them either. Occasionally they would come on her Birthday but more often then not they would arrive on days that had less significance or meaning only to Beth herself. Sometimes a year would pass without a card and others two or three would come in the space of a few months.
Sometimes one stood out from others as well. It was Valentine's Day and thirteen year old Beth, like every other girl, was hoping for a special card from some special boy. Her friends had received several valentines from various boys in the class but Beth, who had yet to outgrow the awkward coltishness of youth, had not. Her friends offered their insincere sympathy and did little to hide their amusement. Distraught and heartbroken Beth cried all the way home. Ignoring her Mother's questions about what was wrong Beth locked herself in her room silently vowing never to come out again. It was then that she saw it, laying on her pillow next to a bag of conversation hearts, was the card. Like all the others it had just a simple handwritten message.
Happy Valentine's Day
-M
Beth clutched the card to her heart and smiled happily, tears forgotten. It had been nearly a year since the last card and Beth had begun to fear, as she always did when there were long stretches of time between cards, that she had been forgotten. She lay back on her bed and stared at the ceiling and sighed. Her thirteen year old imagination ran wild imagining the sender. He was a handsome for sure, and he would love her forever. All the girls in class would turn green with envy when they saw him but he wouldn't even look at them. No, he was all hers. She smiled again, imagining what it would be like to kiss him, her first kiss. It would be sweet and gentle and she knew he would be perfect. Yes, he was perfect.
The next day at school her friends came over to offer more fake sympathy for her lack of valentines. Beth surprised them all by shrugging it off. She simply smiled mysteriously as she munched on her conversation hearts, her friends looking on in confusion. They could have their cards from the boys in class, she had something better. Beth Turner was thirteen and in love.
As she entered high school the cards became fewer and farther between. She received only three: one on her first day, one at Christmas during her junior year and one at graduation. The last one did not come until she had graduated college with her bachelor's degree in Journalism. It was waiting in the mailbox in a plain white envelope just like the first one had been; handwritten and no return address. Inside was not a card but a folded piece of lined paper. Beth opened it with unsteady hands. The note was the longest one she had ever received, and somehow, she knew instinctively it would be the last. Like all the others it was written in a neat, masculine hand, one that was almost as familiar to her as her own.
Good luck, Beth. Follow your heart.
-M
Almost against her will she felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes. Gently she folded the note back up and slipped it back into it's envelope. It would go into the beat up shoe box with all the others. Beth had received hundreds of well wishes and pieces of advice that day but none of them meant half as much to her as the note from her mysterious friend.
As she started working and chasing stories the cards were pushed from her mind and remained a half-forgotten memory in their shoe box in the back of her closet. Life had taken over and left her no time to think of her childhood mystery. Then Mick St. John walked into her life and with him came the dreams of her kidnapping and the memory of her cards. Beth couldn't help but wonder how, if at all, were the three things related?
AN: ok so there's my little preseries oneshot. may write a sequel from Mick's perspective if you want. feedback is love!