Re-post. Originally posted on 731 for the Sister Fic Challenge on 9/8/08; Originally posted on ffn on 9/17/08.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Dallas or Tim, they both belong to Susie. I'm just borrowing them for a little while. Dr. Andrew Wilson and his wife Elizabeth are my original characters.
Dr. Andrew Wilson looked down when he felt his wife rest her head against his shoulder and let out a sigh of relief when he realized she had finally fallen asleep. She'd barely slept a wink since she'd received the telegram from Tulsa two days before and the few times she had managed to drift off she'd been plagued with nightmares, waking up in tears. He felt helpless; for once there was nothing he could do to make everything better for her and he hated it. She snuggled closer to him and rubbed her face against his arm, an act that brought a small smile to his face. He let his face rest in her blonde hair for just a moment, kissing the top of her head gently before turning his attention back to the medical journals he'd brought along to catch up on.
Elizabeth wasn't really asleep when she felt her husband kiss the top of her head but she opted to let him think that she was; it was easier than seeing the worry in his eyes. She hadn't slept much at all since the telegram had been delivered; every time she closed her eyes her mind flooded with memories that left her feeling increasingly guilt-ridden.
"Lizzie, what are you gonna be when you grow up?" he asked, looking up from his coloring book to his big sister with his big, curious blue eyes. She looked up from her homework assignment and smiled at him, tousling his pale blonde hair.
"I don't know, honey," she told him, grinning when he gave her his attempt at a dirty look when she messed with his hair.
"Aw man, cut it out, sissy," he whined. He sat back in his chair, such a serious expression on his four year old face she had to try not to laugh.
"What are you gonna be when you grow up?"
"I'm gonna be a cowboy," he told her, a big grin on his face. "I'm gonna ride horses all the time and lasso cows and have a farm." She grinned back at him and his expression went serious again. "And you can live with me on my farm, too, sissy. You could be a cowgirl if you want. Cowgirls make dinner for the cowboys, right?"
She tried to force the images from her mind. He'd been such a cheerful little boy, so full of dreams and big ideas… and so sweet…
"Okay, pal, time for bed," she said, scooping him up in her arms and lugging him down the hallway to the small bedroom they shared.
"But I ain't tired," he protested, trying to pry his way out of her arms. "Please can I stay up longer?"
"No sir," she told him, bumping their door open with her foot and then shut with her hip. "I'm tired and I need my beauty sleep so you have to go to sleep too." He pouted at her and she kissed his cheek, grinning when he screwed up his face in disgust and wiped his cheek with his sleeve. "Come on, I need my cuddle buddy."
"Why do you need beauty sleep?" he asked, giving her a puzzled look. "You're already pretty enough." She smiled at him and kissed his cheek again only this time he didn't wipe it away.
"I need beauty sleep so I can stay pretty," she told him, dropping him onto the double bed they shared. "If I don't get enough beauty sleep I'll get ugly black circles under my eyes." He grinned up at her.
"You mean like when Andrew plays football?" he asked, giggling when she let her jaw fall open like she was offended. "Or like when that guy down the hall got punched in the nose?"
"Yeah," she told him, tickling his sides and making him practically cackle in delight. "You don't want your big sister to look like some guy that got beat up, do you? Do you?"
"No!" he squealed, trying to twist away from her tickling fingers. "No! I want you to stay pretty forever and ever and ever!"
Forever and ever and ever … She'd loved him as much as if he'd been her child and not just her little brother. She felt the lump of tears forming in her throat once again, the memories and guilt overwhelming her. She'd broken his heart …
"Why you gotta go and live somewhere else, Lizzie?" he asked, looking up at his big sister with big, tear filled eyes. "Why can't you just stay here like always?"
She knelt down to her little brother's level and took his hands in hers, her heart breaking at the sight of his impending tears. He always tried to be such a tough little guy and it killed her to know she was the reason his brave façade was crumbling.
"Because Andrew and me are getting married," she told him, swinging their joined hands back and forth between them. "That means I have to go and live with him."
"But who's gonna take care of me now?" he asked, his lower lip quivering as he fought his hardest not to cry.
"Momma and Daddy are gonna take care of you, honey," she said, trying to convince herself that her words were true even as she spoke them. "That's their job."
"Who's gonna tuck me in at night and read me bedtime stories and cuddle with me?" he asked, the first of his tears sliding down his cheek. A lump of tears lodged itself in her throat as Andrew's words echoed in her head: "he's your brother, not your kid; he's not your responsibility." She didn't know how to answer him; she knew the chances of either one of their parents doing any of those things for him were slim. "Don't you love me anymore, Lizzie? Was I bad? I promise I'll be a good boy." She bit back a sob, pulled him into her lap and wrapped her arms around him.
"I will always love you," she promised him, holding him tight against her. "I will love you forever and ever and ever. You're not a bad boy, honey, not at all."
"Can I come live with you and Andrew?" he asked, clutching her sweater in his fist. "Please? I'll be real good." She shook her head sadly as she watched his face fall.
"But you can come visit," she told him, hoping the small concession would pacify him. "Once we get settled I'll call Momma and we'll make plans for you to come and stay with us during school vacation."
She felt her tears begin to fall and didn't even try to hold them back. She'd failed him; she'd failed him in the worst way. It hadn't been intentional. The first few years of their marriage had been spent in a tiny dorm room with a shared bathroom in student housing while Andrew finished college and there hadn't been room for much of anything, let alone a little boy. Once he started med school they had been able to move into a tiny apartment off campus but she'd had to work two jobs to afford to pay for it and couldn't afford to take time off for a visit. Then they'd moved to Texas for his residency and by the time they'd gotten settled her parents had divorced and she'd lost contact with both of them. She wasn't even sure which one of them had custody of her baby brother. Not until she'd gotten the telegram. She choked out a sob, alerting her husband to the fact that she wasn't sleeping.
"Shush, sweetheart, I know," he whispered, pulling his arm out from under her and slipping it around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze as he pulled her into his side.
She bit her lip, trying desperately to keep from snapping at him. He didn't know; he couldn't possibly know. Andrew was an only child, he had no idea what it was like to love someone the way she'd loved her brother. The more he tried to calm her, the angrier she got. She wasn't sure if it was the hormones from her pregnancy or the overwhelming guilt and grief that was making her feel that way but she didn't really care. He had been the one to convince her to marry him and leave her little brother behind and whenever she'd mentioned having him come stay with them for a visit he'd always had some excuse for why it wasn't a good time. This was his fault. He was the one who'd insisted that Texas was the best place for them to settle down and he'd pulled that damned "if you loved me you'd …" card that he pulled every time she didn't immediately go along with whatever he wanted. It was his fault that her brother spent the majority of his life … had died … believing that he wasn't good enough, that she didn't love him.
"My poor baby boy," she thought to herself as she fought to keep herself from sobbing out again, twisting out from under her husband's arm to move closer to the window. He looked at her in alarm but she flatly ignored him; she didn't want his comfort. She wanted her brother.
They were cutting it close, as Andrew had insisted they go to the hotel so he could check in with the office and she could freshen up, but they managed to get to the cemetery in time for the small funeral. There weren't many people there, just a group of rather rough looking boys that she assumed had been his friends. Her father hadn't even bothered to show up. Andrew put his arm around her, almost possessively, and she had to stifle her laugh. "As if any of these boys would look twice at an old pregnant lady like me," she chided herself, rolling her eyes. She shrugged away from her husband so she could step closer to the casket but he grabbed hold of her hand and held her back. She was surprised to see that several of the boys who had seen what he'd done had tensed up, one of them even cracking his knuckles as if to warn Andrew not to do anything stupid. He backed down and she shot the boy who had cracked his knuckles an appreciative look. She stepped over to the casket, a red rose and a child's cowboy hat in one hand, her other resting on her swollen stomach. She looked at the headstone, unable to keep the sob from escaping her throat when she read its inscription. Dallas James Winston,1948-1966, A True and Gallant Friend. She placed the rose and hat atop his casket before kissing her fingertips and placing them gently on the wooden box that held her brother's remains.
"I'm so sorry, baby boy," she whispered, her tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry I let you down."
"You knew Dally?"
She turned around to see who had spoken to her and was surprised to see that it was the boy who had cracked his knuckles. She nodded, giving herself a minute to collect herself before she spoke.
"Lizzie … " she stopped herself; he was the only one who had called her Lizzie. "Elizabeth Wilson. I'm his sister."
The boy looked her over for a minute as if trying to decide whether she was telling him the truth. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze and he smiled at her.
"Tim Shepard," he said, extending his hand to her. She took his hand, shaking it, well aware that Andrew was quite likely having an anxiety attack behind her. "You look just like him." He looked toward the casket for a moment and then back to her. "He was a good buddy of mine. He never said he had a sister."
She flinched even though she knew she really had no right to be surprised. She'd abandoned him, left him with parents she knew wouldn't care for him the way she had. She hadn't even kept her promise to keep in touch. She'd failed him just as miserably as their parents had. She let out a heavy sigh.
"Don't guess I was much of one."