Title: Reminiscence

Author: Angel Leviathan

Spoilers: Anything, everything. Story-line starts around Season 3, with the speaker being born around then. Deaths mentioned have nothing to do with 'Heroes'.

Notes: Was at my cousin's wedding today. This hit me as I was watching over my little cousin meet our half-cousin, who we've never seen before, both little girls being the same age…7ish. There's a story behind the origin of the 'Hope' stuff; I've always thought of our half cousin as being called 'Hope', for around five years now and with nobody to correct me it kinda stuck. My muse seems to want to work on anything besides what I want to work on, regardless of there already being set story-lines – ie 'Infatuation' and 'Ultimate Sacrifice'.

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I told her I'd organise everything for her, I help her as best as I could before and on the day, but I was not, under any circumstances, going to be a bridesmaid, maid of honour, flower girl or anything that required me to be corseted into a dress that had cost her, or me, too much money, just to wear for an evening. Just to see the smile on her face for the whole day was worth it. Finally being eighteen, I could pull the 'adult' card on her too.

I ran back and forth from the car park to the hotel many times that day, locket flying and nearly hitting me in the head on several occasions. I wish they could have been there. I'd have given anything. They would have loved it. I still mourn them, silently, everyday, as she does. But when I look at Hope, I see her…and I see him in her intelligence, too far advanced for a girl her age. My baby sister is by no means a child genius, but its there. We see it. All of us. That locket had been a present for my sixteenth; their pictures are inside, alongside those I love as I loved them. I lost my parents too early in life. She has lost her parents twice. Hope lost her parents at such a young age she may grow up and never remember them. I still catch her crying at night, crying for them, even after these past two years.

Now Hope herself is often by no means the little angel everybody sees. Hope isn't even her real name, it lies nowhere printed on her birth certificate. Her name? Zara. But she was their miracle child. Everybody said Mom was cutting it too fine when she decided to keep her unborn child. But she did, and here her little miracle sits. I don't even remember who named her Hope. I have my suspicions. And they're in the form of a tall, brown eyed individual who walked my older sister up the aisle, in place of my father.

I remember when she came home, flushed, and collapsed on the sofa beside me. I was six at the time, much in awe of my adult sister, and simply stared as she declared, with a laugh, that she was in love. She was joking at the time, of course. I don't think she realised that he really was the one. I innocently asked her then how you could tell you were in love. She looked away, closing her eyes and sighing, still smiling. She declared she didn't know, but she was determined to find out. Four years later I asked the same question and she answered me for certain. But by then she knew. And so did I. My sister had fallen utterly and completely in love with this man who I'd never even laid eyes on. At ten, I was over curious. Looking back, I wonder why its taken them a further eight years to get their acts together and finally get married. She regrets not doing it earlier, when they were alive, when they could have watched her in her beautiful white dress, smiling and laughing, gold ring on her finger.

Back then, I was too young to understand the significance of being as in love as she was, nor the trouble it would cause her. I was too busy being a child and Mom was too busy with the newest addition to the family, Bessie. Bethany if you use her full name, but she ditched any forms of 'Beth' or 'Tany' pretty quickly. I often wonder why the thought that we were replacing her never crossed my sister's mind. That said, it probably did, but she never voiced it. I was her sister, blood sister, regardless, from the moment I was born. And she was mine.

The trouble it would cause her? The trouble with love? She had almost no problems with love itself, nor did he, the relationship side of things. The fact that she was secretly different to the rest of her family and to the rest of the world did. Sure, she could have kept quiet. But she didn't. She worried about it for weeks, staring into space at random moments, until I had to, sometimes literally, shake her out of it. I guess I was the useful kind of kid-sister. At least, that's what she said. What she still says. And after all that? He knew all along. She never mentioned to me the fact that she'd met him at work!

So there I was, sitting at the head table, looking rather out of place, with the rest of the girls wearing their wedding day finery, Bessie and Zara as bridesmaids, and me in the usual smart attire you'd wear to a wedding. I guess people wondered why I'd refused the job. One thing I did agree to do though was to make a speech. And this was to be in the place of my father. I tried to convince her that it would be better to have the aforementioned brown eyed individual, now sitting there in his dress blues, wife by his side, perform the honour instead. Apparently it had to be me.

Later in the evening I swallowed my pride and danced to some absolutely atrocious music with my 'cousins', after she and her new husband had performed the customary slow dance of the evening. Cousins in the sense that their parents and my parents had been like brothers and sisters. They're all in the 'late child- early teen' stage and love all the latest pop music, that, to me, makes no sense at all anymore. Either that, or I read more into the lyrics and find them highly inappropriate, finding myself hoping they don't understand them! Their youngest reminds me of Zara in too many ways. Looks like a little angel, especially when she's dressed in white, but put her and Hope together and its time to find a good hiding space! Bessie is at the 'I only like what its okay for me to like' stage, so she was rather reserved, making out she hated certain songs, but dancing as if she enjoyed them all the same. I sometimes wonder how all our parents ended up with just girls. Dad often joked he wanted a boy and that one of us had better produce a grandson in his lifetime. Sorry, Dad, but we've failed that one already. He believed in many sorts of afterlife. Maybe he'll give us a sign or something when his oldest has a son. She'd better do, if only to stop the running joke! Well, she's married now, she'd better damn well get on with it!

I sat by the Colonel's wife for most of the evening, when I wasn't dancing, organising my sisters and her daughters, apparently, to her, sounding very much like my mother. She still regrets not being able to save my mother. She still blames herself. I often try to reason with her that it was a miracle that my mother survived so long in their line of work. She was like a mother to my sister, even when ours was alive, and so to all of us when Mom died. I'm glad she and the Colonel finally got together. I know the bride of today often worried they never would, spent hours muttering about it at times. I don't really know what happened, but something in their line of work altered so that they could be together. From what I remember, Mom often teased them in later years that they didn't have any problems making up for lost time, with Amy being born a barely a year after they were officially 'together'. The then, Major, was so worried she wouldn't make a good mother, apparently. I'm pleased to say she was completely wrong. They both adore our 'cousins' and would honestly do anything for them. Though it would be the first born who ended up with his sense of humour…

I digress. The speech. I'm not sure it was any good. I'm not good at that kind of thing. Give me a quiet room, a library of books and a list of what was required and I'd write you a speech. I couldn't deliver it. I was applauded at the end, for quite some time, which was a shock. I even think somebody (I name nobody, but I'm pretty sure it was my baby sister and their youngest…) fired one of those sparkling party popper things at me.

"Now, many of you may not know that we are not related by blood, the bride, myself, Bessie and Zara. But regardless of that, she is my sister," I remember turning to her, "You are my sister and I love you unconditionally. You may steal my CDs, run off with them and never return them, but that's one of the clauses of the sister contract, right? She was all grown up before I really have any proper memories that aren't fuzzy, and don't involve her feeding me chocolate when our parents were out, just to shut me up, so I don't have embarrassing childhood stories to bring up-"

"…Oh, but I do!"

I mock glared at him, "I'm sure you do Jack, and you're next, so keep them to yourself! Anyway," I tried moving on, "You've always looked out for me, for us, and its about time you had somebody to look out just for you. So I expect you to do that, Max!" I warned her new husband, "I asked her, when I was little, how you could tell you were in love. Well, just look at the bride and groom. That's what love should be. Though I still wonder why it took you this long to get yourselves to the church!" I smiled, "Max, you've married a wonderful, selfless woman. And unfortunately gained a whole horde of sister-in-laws! But seriously, I wish you both every happiness. I know you're going to have a wonderful life together, trust me on that one," I was about to raise a toast, when I remembered something, "Oh! Max? You ever hurt her and I will beat you senseless. Right Dad?" I looked briefly skyward, before raising my glass, "If everyone will be upstanding?"

I caught the proud smiles of Sam and Jack, the remaining Jackson and the O'Neill girls sitting around them and couldn't help but grin, "To Cassandra and Max!"

"Cassandra and Max!"

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Fin