Disclaimer: I don't own The OC or its characters, etc.
Summary: Kirsten/Jimmy drabble following the season 3 finale. Originally posted at LiveJournal.
When he arrived in Newport, she was waiting for him. He accepted her embrace, drawing what little comfort he could from her hug. She whispered a simple"I'm sorry" in his ear, knowing that no words she spoke could make it any easier for him. She took his hand gently in his and led him through the busy airport, past the excited crowds of holidaymakers, and out to her car. He sunk into the seat, closing the door and shutting out the noise, grateful for her silence as she drove him home.
Only, it wasn't home any more, not to him. It hadn't been home for a long time.
When he saw Julie – when the stinging slap echoed around the hallway, when her furious words tumbled out as she tried to find someone to blame – she was there to intervene. She spoke softly to the distraught mother, bringing some peace to the heightened emotions that crushed them all.
The next few days were a blur. There was a constant flurry of visitors to the house, bringing flowers and gifts, offering their sympathy. There were arrangements to be made and papers to be signed. She was always there, taking him through the motions, knowing better than he did what had to be done. She organised the cars, she picked the flowers, she ordered the catering.
When his daughter's body was committed eternally to the ground, she was by his side, her hand holding his. When his ex-wife had passed out from exhaustion and his youngest daughter had passed out from too much vodka, it was her shoulder that he leaned on, her shirt that soaked up his tears as he cried for his lost child and her arms that held him until he stopped shaking.
He had never experienced such pain in his life. He had loved and lost before, but nothing was so heartbreaking as losing his daughter. It was overwhelming. He could barely lift his head from the pillow in the mornings and when he finally rested at night, the darkness kept him awake. He was tired and drained, his body constantly weary. She was his only motivation to make it through the day, urging him to be strong and hold his family together, knowing that in the past he had only managed to tear them apart.
When it was time to pack away his daughter's belongings, she was there to help him choose which items should be cherished – the ones that carried the most history and the ones that held the happiest memories. It was something she was experienced at, he knew. But she put aside her own heartache and helped him. As they journeyed through Marissa's life, she joined in with his laughter and shared his tears.
His visit was short; his presence a constant reminder that something was wrong. He wasn't supposed to be there, he was supposed to be on a boat sailing around the world with Marissa at his side. Seeing him in Newport reminded everyone that she was dead.
When he left for the third time, she was at the airport to wave him off. Her eyes were tinged with sadness at having to say goodbye again. He lips pressed against his cold cheek; all warmth had drained from him and he was no longer the man he used to be. He was incomplete now. She wiped away his tears with her soft fingers and he held her hand to his face, savouring the affection for a moment longer than he knew he was entitled to.
"Thank you," Jimmy said softly.
Kirsten offered a sad smile in return. "Take care, Jimmy."
When the plane started to cross the runway, he looked out of the small window and imagined her face staring back at him through the glass. And he knew that if he was ever to return to this place again, she would be waiting for him once again.