A/N: Under the Dome is my latest television addiction (I seem to have a lot of those). There's a lot going on in the show but those of you who know me or my writing know that I like to hone in on characters in particular moments. In this case, I've chosen Norrie right after *SPOILER ALERT* Alice dies in "Imperfect Circles." It was one of the most intense scenes I've ever watched on television and emotionally taxing for sure. The actors did a splendid job portraying pain. Anyway, I'm a huge fan of Joe/Norrie and I decided I wanted to do a hurt/comfort story and I feel like these two fit the bill perfectly. I hope you like it! Maybe there will be more Under the Dome stuff from me in the future, considering how short on fics this fandom is…Oh and in case you haven't figured it out by now, this is based on the TV series, not the book because I haven't read the book. Now carry on, fair reader!
How much pain can one, human heart bear? How long until it just short-circuits or explodes? Or gives up? And then what happens? What happens when the heart is just too burdened with pain to go on? What happens to the person who must also bear all that pain? Do they short-circuit? Explode? Throw in the towel and wait to die because it hurts less? Do they just float through life on some sort of dark cloud, look through everything, wait until they cease to exist?
More importantly, what would happen to Norrie? How much could she bear? They had just buried her mother not even twenty-four hours ago and ever since, she'd seemed lost. Vulnerable, even. Yes. Vulnerable. In her eyes. Joe saw it. This look of helplessness that he was not accustomed to seeing on this girl who was normally so tough. That's what concerned him the most. Was Norrie reaching her breaking point?
And the worst part? Joe McAlister had no idea how Norrie felt. Not a clue. He couldn't. His grandparents had all died either before he was born or shortly after. He never knew them, so he couldn't feel the sting of their loss. Any other family member he knew was still alive. Somewhere. What was it like to lose a mother? What should he say? What should he do? Did she want his comfort?
It was surreal to think that Norrie's mother was six feet underneath the McAlister front lawn. The dirt was still bare, exposed. It would be for a while, Joe knew. And every time Norrie walked past, took a wistful glance out the window, or the few times Carolyn came down the stairs trying to hide her tear stained cheeks, not speaking, Joe felt his own heart plummet. The whole house felt like it was mourning. With no electricity, everything was dark and full of gloom.
Norrie looked at the plate of food Angie placed before her, looked up at Joe across from her, locked eyes with him, averted her gaze, stared back at the food, didn't touch any of it. Joe let his own fork, so eagerly swept up a moment ago, fall back to the table with a clatter. He looked to the girl, hesitated. Angie cleared her throat. "I'm…going to take this plate up to Carolyn. She needs to eat something." Joe was barely aware of his sister exiting with the food in her right hand but distinctly heard the sound of her footsteps retreating up the stairs.
"How's your mom?" Joe asked Norrie once they were alone. "Carolyn, I mean."
"Inconsolable," Norrie said, her voice thick and hoarse. "She just keeps sitting there, staring out the window…I don't know what she's thinking about. Old memories, I guess."
It must be the saddest thing one can experience in life, the death of a spouse. And to know that your spouse is so physically close and yet so impossibly far away from you must be akin to torture. Joe couldn't imagine Carolyn's pain as she stared out that window, saw the place where she had buried her wife, wished for more time, wished to hold her one more time, and forced to settle for only memories instead. He imagined he could just go outside, dig up that grave, and pull up the tarp they had so carefully wrapped her in because coffins were hard to find with all the recent deaths. And then, when he did, Alice would just sit up, smile, hug her wife and daughter and everything would be okay. Everyone would be happy. But he knew it was stupid to waste time imagining. At the end of the day, there was still a newly-widowed woman upstairs, a girl who had just lost her mother across from him, and only the memories of their loved one between them.
He knew how this went. Memory. It had only been a few days since this dome came down and he was already forgetting what his parents' voices sounded like. If he heard them—just a short word or two—he would recognize them immediately. But he couldn't. And so the memories were fuzzy. He was grateful for the family photos displayed around the house because without them, he was certain he would forget his parents' faces in time, too. What was it like for Norrie? Did she remember what her mother's voice sounded like? Inside jokes shared between mother and daughter? Did she remember what her mom's shampoo smelled like? What her shoe size was? Her favorite food? Favorite color? He was suddenly filled with an urgency to learn all he could about Alice—all the ordinary details that would normally seem so insignificant—so that he could preserve her memory. He knew Norrie well enough to know that one day, when she finally forgot some minute detail of her mother's existence, it would crush her. And he couldn't let that happen to her. Not again. So he had to preserve those little details, stories, facts. Write them down. Something. Anything. So that he could remind Norrie when she forgot. So that she could be happy again.
"How are you?" Joe finally asked. Norrie looked up from the table where she had been tracing the wood grain with her eyes. She looked startled.
"Me?"
He nodded his head, trying to encourage her to go on.
Norrie scoffed, let out a watery sort of laugh that sounded way too forced. "Fine," she said darkly, slouching into her seat. He gave her an incredulous look. "It's stupid," Norrie finally said.
Joe frowned. "What's stupid?"
The girl shook her head, tucked some stray strands of reddish-brown hair behind her ear. "I was just thinking…"
"…About?" the boy pressed, hoping desperately that she wouldn't think he was prying too much.
"This trip we took one time. I was, like, eight. We drove to Disneyland. It wasn't too far from our house and…we went to go see the fireworks show afterwards. I don't remember anything about that day—the rides or anything. But I just remembered looking over at my mom when the fireworks were going off and I saw this…this smile on her face. The fireworks were so bright and they were red and I just remember looking at her and she was just so, so…happy. She loved fireworks. She loved the colors. And just thinking about that and then thinking about all the crappy things I said to her I just…I wish…I wish I could tell her…" she squeaked a little, trying to choke back a sob. "…I wish I could tell her I'm sorry."
Norrie pushed the plate away, pitched forward and started crying. At first, Joe thought she was having a seizure but then he heard the sharp intakes of breath and the little gasping noises that indicated she was sobbing. He got up, sat down beside her, pulled her against him, gently rubbed her back and hoped it was somehow comforting to her.
"I'm so sorry…Joe. I'm so…sorry for how…crappy I've been…to everyone. Especially her. She didn't…she didn't deserve that and I'm sorry…" she took a sharp breath and he felt her shudder against his shoulder again, her warm tears soaking his shirt.
"She knows," he finally whispered to her, hoping it would bring some comfort to her. "She knows you're sorry."
Norrie pulled back, looked at Joe through watery eyes, then shut them and let out another shaky breath. "It's my fault," she whispered, voice thick with tears. "If…If I had just been a normal kid. If I had just…listened to her, hadn't gotten mixed up in all the stupid crap that I did…we never would have been in Chester's Mill to begin with. We wouldn't have flown out here, wouldn't have been driving to that goddamn boot camp in the goddamn middle of nowhere and my mom would still be alive…It's my fault. I should be in that grave, not her."
Joe's heart skipped a beat. "Don't say that," he urged her. "Please don't say that, Nor."
Norrie's eyes hardened. "Why not?" she demanded. "It's true. My mom was a good person. I'm just a screwed-up degenerate. I deserve to die. She didn't."
"No," Joe leveled his eyes with hers, panicked at what she had said. "You really don't. You deserve to live! We all deserve to live. Everything's going to be fine, Norrie."
Norrie laughed almost sarcastically, tears still stinging her eyes. "You really believe that, Joe? Do you? Everything's going to be fine? You saw what a few days under this damn dome did to people. Now imagine a week. A month. A year. Imagine being trapped under here for eternity. And now tell me everything's going to be fine. My mom's dead, Joe. Her struggle's over and I'm grateful for that because I know she would hate to see what humanity's going to come to if this dome doesn't get the hell off of us quick. But dammit, she deserved better, Joe! And so does my mom upstairs, so does your sister, so do you. But me? Maybe this is my punishment for being the screw-up that I am. Maybe this dome is punishing me. It took my mom. It led me to you, the first real friend I've ever had, and now we're all going to die. You are going to die. And it's all my fault. This whole, damn dome is my fault. I'm sorry."
Joe didn't respond, couldn't respond. What could he say? He watched as Norrie broke into a new fit of tears, got up, ran up the stairs and slammed a door shut. The house fell into silence. Joe stared at the wood grain on the table and silently hoped that Norrie would realize this wasn't her fault. It couldn't be her fault. But that didn't stop the pain. And how much pain can one human heart bear? How long until it just short-circuits or explodes?
A/N: And there you have it, my first Under the Dome character study. Had to make it a Joe/Norrie. I hope you guys liked it. I'm pretty proud of it, especially since I cranked this out half in a Florida hotel room and half at an airport waiting for my flight. When that muse strikes… Anyway, if you liked it, I'd really love a review! And if you hated it…I'd still really love a review (but be kind, please)! And if this is well-received, I may have a few other plot bunnies up my sleeve for this fandom… Stay tuned and thanks for reading. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a flight to catch!