"Cate! Sweetheart, we need to get going."
The sound of her father's voice barely roused Cate from the strange ethereal world between slumber and being awake. She stared up at the ceiling high above her bed with dead eyes. The insistent ticking of the clock on the nightstand sounded as though it belonged in a different world. Light slanted through the windows behind her and spilled bright morning light through the ivory and pastel pink room of her younger self.
She stared at the framed Lord of the Rings poster on the far wall before bursting into tears.
The door opened to reveal the figure of her father. He was a tall, stern man both dreadful to behold in anger and kind beyond measure. His graying hair gave him the look of a man twice his age. He wore a uniform and medals pinned to his chest. The lines around his sky blue eyes were more pronounced and his mouth was tight as he stared at her.
Surprise bloomed across his expressive features with disappointment and irritation following suit. "Cate," he edged inside the door and closed it behind him. "I know you're having a tough time but we're going to be late for the funeral. I need you to get up, comb your hair, and get your shoes on."
Tears flowed unchecked down Cate's face. "I don't want to go."
Colonel Ray Schoonover, former Marine and war hero, came to the end of the bed with a clenched jaw. "Justin is dead, baby." The words escaped him as a pained hiss. "Nothing is ever going to make this right but we have to honor your brother's memory. His life deserves to be celebrated."
Cate released a strangled sob before heaving her body into a sitting position. She didn't want to go to the funeral because that meant Justin was really gone. Instead she wanted nothing more than to crawl under her covers and pretend everything was okay.
Justin wasn't in a coffin with a Y incision… he was just downstairs and ready to watch Lord of the Rings for the millionth time.
Her father passed a hand over his mouth before kneeling and gently drawing Cate into the circle of his arms. "None of this was your fault," he whispered urgently against her ear. "Justin had cancer. No one is to blame."
"My damn bone marrow was no good!" Cate hiccupped the sentence between sobs. "He was my twin brother. How can my bone marrow not help? I don't understand."
Schoonover pushed Cate's dark hair back over her shoulders. "Come on," he stood and even with only one hand had the strength to pull Cate to her feet. "We can't think about all that right now. Today is for your brother. Try to be strong for your mother because she is taking this just as hard."
She stumbled to the full length mirror beside the closet door and finger combed her hair before slipping into the low black pumps waiting by the door. The feel of her father's strong arm around her waist kept Cate grounded and that was something at least.
A limo took the Schoonover family to their church - a small white and gray granite affair. A single stained glass window looked down over the altar where the Pastor spoke in a firm, kind voice. He was colored blue, green, red, and gold from the hues in the glass portraying the Holy Spirit as a dove descending from heaven.
Justin Schoonover was remembered by a variety of people: Pastor Clemens, Ray Schoonover, teachers, a professor from Notre Dame where Justin graduated, several friends, and his high school sweetheart, Mara Weston.
Cate stared at the procession of speakers with unseeing eyes as she clutched her mother's trembling hands in her own.
A few hymns and bible readings later the funeral itself was over.
Limp and cold on the inside, Cate allowed her father to steer her past the other mourners. She felt her mother holding one arm so tightly it felt like the blood flow to her hand was cut off. Strange tingling ran the length of her skin from Cate's fingers up to her elbow.
Back into the limo and on to the cemetery.
The burial was just as hard. Large bouquets of red and white carnations along with white roses surrounded the plain black granite marker carved with her brother's name: Justin Thomas Schoonover, age 24, with the J.R.R. Tolkien quote: The journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one we must all take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it. White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.
Cate's eyes felt gritty and swollen. She had no more tears to cry so she stood solemn and still beside her parents as Justin's casket was lowered into the ground. This was her final chance to say goodbye. Instead she simply stared at the remains of what she loved most in this world being placed in a cold concrete crypt.
Just as handfuls of dirt was being tossed by mourners onto the polished walnut coffin, Cate turned and began swiftly walking in the opposite direction.
'Come back, Cate!' Her mother's high-pitched voice was cracking as she called out but Cate simply kept walking.
Dusk blossomed as the last rich golden rays of sunset stained with crimson edged beneath the horizon. The town where her father picked her mother's dream house was a rural affair in the Hudson Valley well outside New York City. Crime was almost unheard of aside from the occasional burglary or vandalism.
The chill in the late summer evening air brushed her legs as Cate sat on a bench in the local park.
She walked for miles down old, unpaved country roads after cutting through the graveyard out an unused back gate. Her feet ached; her toes felt like hamburger. The black georgette skirt and silk blouse she wore offered no protection as the temperature began to dip.
Humidity in the air promised the ground would be laden with dew before dawn.
Cate considered going back to Justin's grave. The thought of lying down beside him and never waking was particularly appealing. She blinked heavily and drew in an unsteady breath; almost tasting the subtle sweet, pollen scent of freshly cut grass.
The memory of Justin's handsome, sculpted face and kind blue eyes – eyes he inherited from their father – haunted Cate every time she closed her own eyes. He was always grinning, always cheerful with his prominent dimples on display. His shock of dark sable hair falling into an untidy pile over his left temple when not styled properly. The faux-hawk Justin favored took a lot of work and more often than not he just let it go limp.
"Are you okay?"
Cate was so exhausted she wasn't even startled at the male voice addressing her from only feet away. She tried to brush her cheeks clean only to find them sticky from dried tears. "I'm fine." Humiliated and grief-stricken probably best described her mindset. The embarrassment of being tracked down by one of her father's friends made her feel weak. "I'm not trying to be rude…" Cate took a deep breath. "I'd rather be alone."
There was no warning sound of walking before a long, lanky figure slowly sat on the opposite end of the bench. "I don't blame you." In the low light cast off by the street lamps ringing the park, Cate caught sight of him. While his features were shadowed, she'd know the shape of that face anywhere. Billy Russo.
He leaned forward with his elbows planted on his knees. Staring out over the gently lapping dark water of the pond, Russo sighed. "I'd like to respect your wishes but your parents are worried sick." A few beats passed before he spoke again in a surprisingly soothing voice. "How about you let me drive you home?"
Billy Russo served under her father in Afghanistan. Her father said Russo was one of the best, and deadliest, soldiers he'd ever seen. Unlike most, Russo seemed to have a place in her father's heart. Ray Schoonover also sang Frank Castle's praises, but Castle was never invited for Christmas and Thanksgiving to the Schoonover house.
Cate had observed Billy from afar for several years. One trait she recalled vividly was his stubbornness.
"You won't just go, will you?" She questioned softly.
He finally turned his head in her direction and despite his features being cast in shadow Cate felt his penetrating stare. "No," Billy stated softly. "I wouldn't be a very good friend to you or your father if I just left you sitting here."
Cate turned her face toward the pond dominating the center of the park. "Part of me just wants to go where Justin is." She barely bit back another sob; her voice hitching. "No one understands how this feels. Justin wasn't just my brother, he was my twin. It's like someone chopped off my arm and ripped out my heart. We felt each other's pain and happiness. We shared the same womb for crying out loud. How am I supposed to just go on?"
A large, strong, and very warm hand settled over hers and squeezed gently.
She turned in his direction and knew he was staring at her in the dark.
"Maybe you live for Justin instead of wanting to lie down and die with him." The suggestion came in a soft delivery like silk lined with steel. "Make a list of everything Justin wanted to do in his life. Then you take that list and start doing those things. Honor him, Cate, but don't throw your life away. Justin would be pissed if you did that because he battled for his life even though he lost the war."
She frowned and felt her traitorous bottom lip tremble as tears threatened again. Justin would be pissed if Cate committed suicide. Her brother loved life even at the end when he was so terribly sick it hurt just to take a breath.
The feel of Russo's hand clasping hers tight grounded Cate. "Why did you come looking for me?"
He squeezed her hand one last time before releasing it and standing. "I was worried about you." Billy helped Cate stand before thrusting his hands into his pants pockets. "Friends are hard to come by and I consider you a friend."
Cate began limping toward the park entrance and saw his sedan parked on the street just outside. "I think you just don't want to lose the best Yahtzee partner you ever had." Russo always picked her as his partner on game nights he attended at the Schoonover household.
The smart remark seemed to catch him off guard. Billy stared at her for a moment before smirking. "That's cold, kiddo." He was seven years older than Cate and enjoyed reminding her of the fact.
She caught the hint of his scent as Billy opened the car door for her: cool water with hints of oak and rum. He smelled fresh and warm at the same time. Once she was inside, Billy got behind the wheel.
Leaning back against the seat, Cate felt her eyes sag closed. For the first time in weeks she drifted off into sleep not induced by medication with no idea of how closely a pair of night-dark eyes watched her.
AN: This story is also published under my penname of UnabashedEroticaWriter on AO3 if you are interested in more mature content. This will be an AU Fix It story once I reach the events of Punisher Season 2. Thanks for reading!