Title: My Saving Grace
Rating: ...
Author: tika12001 (aka Katie)
Disclaimer: not mine, make no money, etc, etc. But if I wish really hard, can someone please just send me Maura at least? :-P
Summary: AU. You're not supposed to remember what came before. This much I know, but I suppose that I managed to slip through the system. Somehow, I escaped into the world again, my body new, my brain fresh... yet infused with memories from a past life. I remember it all. But mostly, I remember her. And I will find her again.
Author's note: Okay. This is a style that is... somewhat different to my usual, so I'm going to have to ask you to suspend your beliefs and just... be open to the ideas presented to you below. My inspiration for this is twofold: 1) shortly after I heard Robin Williams had died, I went on a Robin Williams movie binge watching session and in this session, I watched the movie 'What Dreams May Come' for the first time. In that movie, it presented the idea that, once in Heaven, you can choose to go back... to be reborn, and to find your loved one again. That idea stuck with me, but it wasn't until 2) I watched a documentary on YouTube, titled 'The Boy Who Lived Before', that this story really stuck in my head. It talked about a young child who had memories of a past life... of a mother and siblings who lived in a place that he really should have no clue about. These two ideas melded together in my head... and this is what gives you the story below.
Religion and the afterlife is a topic that produces many strong, vehement opinions among people. Personally, I believe that people have a right to believe whatever makes them happy. If the thought of Heaven and Hell make you happy... so be it. Live your life as well as you can and aim to get to Heaven one day. After all, if it truly does not exist... you'll never know, will you? As to the thought of being reborn... well, I believe that there are old souls on this earth. People who are born with grace and wisdom beyond their years. Whatever you believe, I only ask that you are respectful in the comments section, and do not try to belittle others. This is a piece of fiction, and it is not intended to offend anyone.
Now that that is over with... on to the story! The chapters will be varying lengths as I wrote it without worrying about where chapters would end and start... so bear with me on that.
Also, chapter updates will be sporadic. I will attempt to post every week, but I make no promises.
You're not supposed to remember what came before. This much I know, but I suppose that I, in my usual tempestuous ways, managed to slip through the system. Somehow, I escaped into the world again, my body new, my brain fresh... yet infused with memories from a past life. I have an old soul.
I remember. I remember it all.
But mostly, I remember her.
And I will find her.
R&IR&IR&I
My mother likes to tell me about my vivid imagination as a child. "You had such creativity, Janie!" she gloated. "Such spirit, such free will... you created such tall tales that you'd often end up in tears, convinced you needed to find some character you'd made up. I have no idea where you got it!"
It's amazing how the mind works, isn't it? The denial, the fear... in my previous lifetime and this, I have found that people fear what they do not understand, and yet it still baffles me. How can a person deny something that is so real, so present, so obvious?
"In my old life, I was called Elizabeth, but everyone called me Beatie for short."
"Really, dear?"
"Yes. They called me that because one time I beat up a man so bad that he fell un... un..." 3 year old Jane hesitated. What was that word that danced so tantalisingly at the edge of her memory like a dream? "He fell asleep," she finally concluded with a sigh, figuring that that would have to do. "He took a long time to wake up. Like a week. Or an hour. I don't 'member."
Jane's mother, Angela, laughed, lovingly stroking her hand over her daughter's unruly curls, her other hand pressed to her heavily pregnant belly. "That's quite a difference, Janey."
"Yeah," Jane shrugged. She couldn't tell time yet. What was time to a 3 year old? It was nothing. It simply consisted of sleep time, play time, rest time, home time, bed time, awake time, time to go out, time to come in, time to have dinner, time to have breakfast... the concept of 'time' was entirely a mystery, but Jane was content in the knowledge she'd figure it out eventually. "There!" she declared, holding up her picture. "I'm all done!"
"Well, let me see it..." Angela held out her hand, curious as to what her usually rowdy, exuberant child had spent the last hour patiently colouring in. Jane handed her the picture and stared, awaiting the response. Angela frowned down at it for a long while though, finally holding it out so Jane could see it and asking, "Who's this?"
"That's Grace. And see, that's me. Well, it's the old me." Jane rolled her eyes. "Not the me I am now, because now I'm little!"
Angela was still looking at the picture. "The two women are holding hands..." she said slowly.
"Yes," Jane paused in the middle of gathering her pencils, looking up at her mother quizzically.
"Whyare they holding hands?"
"Because," Jane replied with a heavy, frustrated sigh, "they love each other. You know, like you and daddy."
"Oh... well..." Angela looked at the picture closely, lowering herself into a chair carefully, "the thing is, Jane..." she frowned, as though unsure of the words she was about to speak, "is that only a man and a woman are supposed to love each other like that."
"Why?"
"It's... well, it's what the Bible says, and..." Angela paused, uncertain how much was appropriate for a child's ears, "and it's the way it should be," she finally finished lamely.
Jane looked between her and the drawing several times, a small, serious frown knotting her already prominent eyebrows. "No, mommy. That's wrong. I 'member. We loved each other. There was nothing wrong with it. Other people didn't like it though, so we had to hide it, but it wasn't wrong."
"Jane, I..."
"Is love wrong?"
Angela blinked. "I... well... oh Jane, of course it's not wrong, but..."
"See?! Nothing wrong with it." Jane looked at the picture for a few seconds, a small, satisfied smile dimpling her cheeks. When she spoke again, she was back to her usual boisterous self. "I'm gonna go play outside, okay?"
"I... okay. Stay where I can see you."
"I will!"
It wasn't the only time I made mention of Elizabeth 'Beatie' Mills and Grace Henderson. In fact, I mentioned them many times. I dreamed of their life, their moments of happiness, their moments of sorrow... and I felt homesick. Not for that life... it was a hard life, to be sure... but for her.
My saving Grace.
That's what I called her, you know. My saving Grace.
"Do you know how we met, Pop?"
"Of course I do, Janie... you grew in your mother's belly and I talked to you every day until you arrived!"
"Not us!I mean me and Grace. Well, Elizabeth and Grace." Jane paused and watched interestedly as her father disconnected a pipe, pulling it out and looking through it. "We met when I saved a man from killing himself."
"That's interesting," Frank replied, settling onto his back so he could see under the sink more clearly.
"He was standing on a bridge and jumped off, and I jumped after him."
"Wait... OW!" Frank jumped as he hit his head on the sink in his hurry to sit up. "You know to never jump off a bridge, right? Or ever into anything when you don't know how deep the water is?"
4 year old Jane rolled her eyes. "Of course I do, Pop. This wasn't me me... it was the me who was here before."
Frank averted his eyes awkwardly, wondering vaguely if he needed to take his daughter to a shrink. "Right."
"Anyway, Grace jumped in after me. I grabbed the man, she grabbed me, and we all got back to shore."
"Did the man survive?" Frank asked, and almost instantly winced. Not only was that question inappropriate for a child barely out of her toddler years, he supposed he really shouldn't be encouraging the fantasies that seemed to become more detailed all the time.
"Yes. Grace pushed on his chest till he breathed again. But he was a little bit funny after that. Like... a little bit... stupid?" Jane asked, unsure if that was the right word, finally shrugging. "But... once I was in the water, I realized I couldn't get him out by myself. So she was my saving Grace, see?"
"And you... loved her. Like I love Ma." Frank was hesitant as he asked this question, unsure if he wanted to hear his child admit to a previous life in which she was involved in a lesbian love affair.
"Yes." As he watched, Jane grew downcast, her shoulders drooping and her eyes lowering to the floor. "I miss her, you know. I wish I knew where she was."
"Well... she'd... she'd be dead, wouldn't she?" Frank asked, biting his lip, horrified at himself once more for letting the curious question slip out.
"Grace is dead. Yes. She died after me. But we both came back."
"What's her name now?"
"I don't... I don't know." There was silence after this for such a long time that Frank slowly lowered himself back down and under the sink, allowing the work to take over his senses so he wouldn't be compelled to think about his distressed child. "We're not supposed to remember, you know," Jane finally added, in a whisper. "We're not supposed to... but I do."
Frank lowered his tools, staring hard at the pipes as he breathed heavily. "Maybe... you're meant to. So you... so you can find her again." Slowly, he lifted his head slightly, just enough so he could see his child, who was beaming at him brightly.
"Maybe, Pop! Maybe that's the reason."
As time went on, and I became more sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of others – most particularly, the worry my parents felt – I learnt to control the impulse to talk about my memories of a past life. But my friend, Barry... he was always happy to listen.
"Where did you live?"
"In a little wooden cottage, in a small town called Tockner Valley. We painted the cottage bright blue, because it was her favourite colour."
Barry typed some things into a search engine on the computer, and suddenly, Jane was staring at her old hometown. Slipping from the bed to her knees, she grasped at the laptop hungrily, bringing it onto her lap and staring at the image, drinking it in. Things in the town had changed... she knew that they would have... but enough stayed the same that she still recognised it.
"My house, can you find my house? Is it still there?"
"What was your street address?" Barry asked and 10 year old Jane shut her eyes. It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember the smaller details of her past life... things like numbers, dates and even people (besides Grace, of course) tended to blur into the background the further she sunk into this lifetime... but she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could still remember this.
"It... it started with a G," she said softly, screwing her eyes up tighter and pressing her fingers into unruly ringlets. "Gr... green? Greentop, maybe, or... Grenville. Or..." she groaned loudly. "I don't know! I don't remember."
"It's okay," Barry soothed, his dark eyes glittering with concern. "Don't hurt yourself... it's okay."
"No, it's not!" Jane said, frustrated. She stood up and paced about his small bedroom, antsy. "It's not okay because I need to know. I need to know that this is real, that this isn't something I made up in my head. I need to know..." she sighed heavily, and Barry nodded, finishing the thought.
"That she exists? Grace?"
"Yes." Jane suddenly spun around, looking at him. "Death records! Is there any way you could look up death records for the time I believe I was alive?"
"I... I don't know..." Barry hesitated, and Jane came up to him, kneeling down and holding onto his knee as she looked at him beseechingly.
"Please. C'mon Frost, you're a genius at this computer stuff. You can do it, I know you can."
"Well... okay. But let's see if we can find your house first."
Jane nodded eagerly, coming up and sitting next to him on the bed again, watching as he typed various things into the search bar. "Green... we have Greenhill, Greenslope, Greens, and Grenwich... no Greentop or Grenville." He looked at her with apologetic eyes and Jane turned away from him, not wanting to see the pity, but as she turned, her eye caught sight of a folder on his desk, which somehow sparked her memory.
"Try Groller."
"Groller? Like..." Barry shrugged, typing the word in, and Jane turned back only when she heard him whoop. "We have a winner! Why the hell kind of weird name is Groller though?"
"I don't know, some rich dude in the town or something... can we look down the street?"
"Gotta love technology," Barry grinned and, with a click of a button, the street was visible. But... Jane frowned. This wasn't the street she knew. The houses were new... modern.
"Go down the street. Please," she requested quietly, and Barry clicked several times. "We lived on the end... we were right at the top of the valley, on the outskirts of town, and we could just see the ocean." Barry nodded silently beside her and continued clicking, waiting for her to say something, but she wasn't getting any flash of recognition. At least, until... "Stop!" she drew the laptop onto her lap and stared at the screen. They were, at least in the virtual sense, almost exactly where her house had once stood, but now it was just a green field, overrun with flowers. "It's... there. It's there. Our house... it was right... right there. God, I wish I could go there..." Jane whispered, and Barry put his hand on top of hers in silent compassion, and she sighed, staring at the screen with hungry eyes for several long minutes. Finally, "Can you look up death records now?"
"I can try," Barry replied, gently pulling the laptop back and beginning to type and click rapidly. Jane waited impatiently, looking around his room as she drummed her fingers on her knees but, despite her impatience, it still took half an hour before Barry let out a yell of victory. "I did it! I probably broke about a billion laws, but I did it! Okay... Grace..." he quickly typed in the first name into the database, then looked at Jane expectantly. "What was her last name?"
"Grace... Grace..." Jane frowned, her hands curling into fists on her lap. "H... Grace Hed... Grace... fuck! Why can't I remember? It was Grace H... damnit!" Jane stood up and began pacing once more, a thousand names running through her head. "My name was Mills... how come I can remember that, but not her last name?"
"I can try Grace Mills?" Barry suggested and Jane shook her head morosely.
"No. Even if she took my name, it would not have been a legal name change. She would still have her birth name on her death certificate. Grace... fuck!" She wrenched her fingers through her hair angrily, looking at the posters Barry had on his wall, hoping for some inspiration, but none came. As she turned to continue her pacing, she accidentally kicked a baby toy that lay almost hidden in the corner of the room and swore loudly again, picking it up.
"Oh, sorry. My sister is always leaving her crap in here..." Barry said, reaching for the toy, but Jane kept hold of it, looking intently at the barnyard animals that stood out from the background. She poked experimentally at the chicken, and it let out a loud clucking noise. "Jane?" Barry asked, and Jane started, looking at him.
"Try Grace Hen... Hen..." she closed her eyes, willing herself to remember. "Hendrickson. Or... no. Henderson." Her eyes snapped open. "Henderson! Try Henderson!"
With a curious glance at the toy still held tightly in Jane's trembling grip, Barry turned his attention back to the computer and obediently typed in the name. Jane waited, quaking with an odd mix of fear, anticipation and hope, and almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the loud reassuring 'beep' that meant there were some matches to their enquiry. "We have something," Barry said quietly, and Jane felt the toy fall out of her suddenly boneless hands.
"What is it?" she asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
"Grace Henderson. Died aged 84. No children, no husband, lived with..." Barry paused, and Jane turned her head to him abruptly.
"Lived with who? Who, Frost?"
Barry took a deep shuddery breath before continuing to read, "... her dear friend and companion, Miss Elizabeth 'Beatie' Mills."
Jane felt her world growing dark about the edges as she wavered in place. "She existed. I existed."
Barry threw the laptop on the bed and leapt to his feet, steadying Jane with a firm hand under her elbow. "You did. You did," he whispered forcefully, and she looked at him, her eyes unaccustomedly filling with tears.
"Thank you."
END CHAPTER ONE
Please let me know what you think! I am very involved in writing this one, and I feel it will be quite long, as I have no intention to rush it. If it sounds like something you might be interested in, please let me know. :-) As always, love to all, xoxo -Katie
Oh, also please bear in mind that this is fiction... some things may not be entirely accurate. If something stands out as wildly incorrect, please let me know, otherwise just know that I am trying my best. :-)