RIP Orion
Disclaimer: Don't own Chuck. Chuck owns me.
The room is dark, save for the cold glow of moonlight seeping in through the slats of the window blinds. He watches the numbers on the digital clock change as the minutes go by, bringing him closer to daylight. In a few more hours, he'll get out of bed and follow his typical morning routine just as if it's any other day of his life. Except that it won't be. Because this time, when he goes into the kitchen for breakfast, it's going to be empty. No freshly made pancakes or French toast waiting on the table. No cheery "good morning!" accompanied by a wide, open grin that is characteristic of all the Bartowskis.
Empty.
The word booms in his head, causing his heart to clench painfully. A wave of nausea, which has nothing to do with half a cherry cheesecake currently taking up residence in his stomach, threatens to overwhelm him.
He grits his teeth and tries to push away the memory of it by imagining something blank like a static-y television screen. But the physical pain only fades to a dull ache in his throat and the sadness, the loss is still there. The bed springs creak slightly as he adjusts his sleeping position and flops onto his back with a loud sigh.
"Chuck?" she mumbles sleepily.
"Sorry," he whispers. "Can't sleep."
"You wanna talk?" she asks, rubbing her eyes as she shifts to prop herself up on one arm.
"Um, no. It's OK." He rolls off the bed and stands up. "Go back to sleep."
If it hurts this much just to think, he doesn't want to know what talking will be like. Maybe he can try in a few days when the loss isn't as fresh. But not now, especially not at - he glances at the clock - three in the morning.
"Be back in a bit."
She nods and watches him leave, her eyes uncertain. She doesn't know what to do.
He doesn't blame her.
X X X X X
He pokes around in the fridge but there's not much other than a 6-pack of grape soda, a box of pizza, and a carton of milk. Although he'll drink grape soda from time to time just to appease Morgan, Chuck has never quite gotten used to the drink's strange artificial taste. Besides, he's not in the mood for something cold and fizzy, so he reaches for the milk carton.
He stirs a spoonful of honey into the cup of microwaved milk. It's warm and frothy and comforting. As he drinks, the lump in his throat melts and he starts to forget the emotional pain a little. Chuck tries to sip it slowly but despite his efforts, it's gone too soon. He washes his mug (cleaning things can be oddly therapeutic) and remembers to carefully brush his teeth before returning to bed. She's always been a stickler for good hygiene.
When he goes back into their room, he finds her wide awake and sitting at the foot of his bed, waiting for him.
"Better?" she asks.
He crawls under the covers. "I guess."
She stares at him pensively for a moment and then scoots up closer to lay a soft hand on his arm. "Hey, we're going to be alright. We're going to get through this together, OK? I'm not going anywhere."
The loss has hurt her just as much as it has hurt him but still, she's trying to put on a brave face and be strong for him. He needs to do the same for her. So he put his hand over hers, gives a reassuring squeeze, and smiles. "Me neither."
Her face crinkles into an expression that's sad and happy all at once and suddenly she lunges forward, throwing her arms around him. "I love you, Chuck."
"Love you, too, Ellie," he replies, hugging her back just as tightly.
With their mother gone and their crazy father rarely available, their family is by all definitions broken. It's going to be hard, adjusting to this new life. But they can be their own family, just the two of them. All they have left is each other.
And in his sister's loving embrace, Chuck realizes that it will be more than enough.
Like it? Love it? Hate it? Or are you just plain ol' confused?
Heh, I was feeling devious when I wrote this. :) Did I throw any of you as to what it and who she was? Well, thanks for reading and please leave a review to let me know how you felt about it.