Sarah, a transformers fanfic

Annabelle was finally asleep. A smile lit up my face as I thought of my baby, our baby, mine and Will's. Annabelle, the sweetest child in the universe. Annabelle, with her sweet, sweet laugh, her baby blue eyes, her locks of golden hair just starting to sprout from her head. Annabelle, who will grow up to become a fine lady, brave and good like her father, and kind like her mother. I smiled as I put the television on low volume as I set to washing the dishes, just as I always do.

My smile stayed as I listened half-heartedly to the news, humming a low country tune under my breath, trying not to clink the dishes too loudly.

Then the voice on the television changed, and a name caught my attention.

SOCCENT.

The name of the base Will is staying in.

I frowned, turning my attention to the quiet television, ignoring my soapy hands, still in the basin of water.

What the man (the Secretary of Defence John Keller, my brain supplied) said froze my heart.

I stilled.

No.

It can't be.

This can't be true.

I barely registered the shudder that ran through my body, numb as I was from the news (the nightmare-come-true), dead as I was to the world.

Annabelle's sharp cry jerked me from my retreat into the numb world of no pain. A plate clattered. I must have knocked the china together in my shock, and woken Annabelle.

For a moment, I forgot Will, and I became a mother again, rushing to Annabelle's bedside while wiping my hands on the corner of an apron.

But when I saw her, beautiful, perfect Annabelle, lying in her crib wailing her little heart out, my own heart crushed. What if...

No. I mustn't think like that. I must stay strong, for Annabelle. Annabelle, all that I have lef–

No. I will not think like that. Nothing has been confirmed, no lists of dea–

No. I refuse to think.

It is too painful.

A tear rolled down my cheek, followed by another, then another, and another. Rivers flowed from my eyes. But Annabelle's still crying, sniffling, and I have to be strong for her. For us. So I forced a smile onto my cheeks, watery, quivering, utterly false.

"Everything's okay, Anna. Mama's here."

My voice, a soft whisper, broken, carried off by my soft breath.

My shaking fingers stroked her forehead, Will's forehead, with my wisps of golden hair.

My heart quavered.

I bit my lips, hard.

I forced the corner of my lips to turn up, my fingers to continue their journey on that familiar stretch of skin.

Annabelle looked up at me with those wide, pure eyes, (looking into my soul) and paused.

Her little hands reached for my locks of hair, hanging over the crib, nearly identical in colour to her young locks.

Her hand brushed a golden strand, and she broke into a wide smile.

Will's smile.

The same smile he flashed at me barely hours ago (was it only hours?), when we spoke by webcam, possibly for the last time.

When his last words (I love–) were swept away by static.

My heart shattered.

I snatched Annabelle up from her crib; clutched her close. She warbled slightly in discomfort, squirming in my too-tight grip, but all was lost in my flood of tears.

A dam opened in my heart, and everything – my love, my grief, my pain, my fear – came pouring out.

What if...

Annabelle managed to place a chubby hand on my wet cheeks, squealing in protest. I was almost too lost to startle, but with one last sob and a hiccup, I pulled myself together haphazardly, and looked into Annabelle's eyes (pure, innocent, blue).

"I'm sorry, Anna, I'm so sorry, but..." The words died on my lips. There is no excuse for my behaviour. A lick of shame flared up in me. Even with what happened, what might have happened, I had no right to harm my precious daughter. "Dear Gods, I'm sorry, Annabelle." I held her to me again, gently, closing my eyes to her soft warmth. She squealed again, this time in laughter.

A part of my shattered heart warmed.

She's all that I have left, and I will let no harm befall her ever again.

This I vow.

Sarah Lennox needs more love, so I dedicate this as a tribute to her, a mother and the wife of a 'lost' hero. I'm afraid I cannot do her feelings, and the feelings of all those who have lost their beloved on the battlefield, enough justice, but this is my attempt, and I am proud of it.

Thank you.