A/N: Warning: This story is somewhat dark and involves character death; but there's a sweetness to it too, I hope. Read and review if you like.
(Sidenote: Sorry to all my Missing Pieces readers, as I know I have not updated in far too long. I am not abandoning that story, but the things in my life that lead me to write this are kinda messing with my writing mojo. I don't want to bleed the darkness of my life into that story, so I'm holding off for the moment. I hope you understand.)
The moon shines bright in a clear starry sky as she lies down on the mound of fresh dirt, not noticing or caring that she's ruined her black designer dress. The makeup is long gone from her wrinkled and tear-stained face, her vision lost in red-rimmed hazel eyes. Everyone has long gone home, friends and family, saying their final good-byes to the greatest woman she's ever known. But she... she cannot say goodbye to the love of her life. Her wife, her best friend, the mother of her children, the one with whom she'd built and lived a life full of love and happiness. How could she say goodbye?
She hasn't slept in days. Not since Jane took her last breath. She can't, without her body wrapped tightly around her, as they've slept for decades, for as long as she cares to remember. Their bed feels so empty without her. Lying here now, above the shell that once held her best friend, her lover, her everything, she begins to feel something for the first time since Jane left. She begins to feel peace.
She closes her eyes, and she remembers. She remembers the first time they met, how Jane's eyes betrayed her bristly demeanor. She remembers the years they spent developing the type of bond that only best friends can. How they'd tease one another playfully, how they'd joke for hours just to make each other laugh, how they were always there for each other first, to share news or ask for advice or simply cry on the other's shoulder. She remembers the day she realized it had become more, that she'd fallen in love with her best friend, and how she tried to hide it. She remembers that day, even now, with astounding clarity, that she realized Jane was in love with her too. How the rain came out of nowhere, falling in torrents and they were both soaking wet and running and laughing and the next thing she knew her lips were on hers and the world turned upside-down and everything changed. She remembers the first time they made love, hungrily at first, then slowly, and with more passion than she knew existed in the world. How they didn't stop until the sun came up the next morning and their bodies were too exhausted to move, so they slept in each others arms. She remembers the day they both dressed in white and stood together over home plate at Fenway Park, surrounded by hundreds of red and white roses, friends and family cheering them on for a happy life together. She remembers the days each of their children were born, how her heart swelled each and every time to accommodate her growing love. She remembers a million little things, like scraped knees and lost baby teeth, school plays and sports games, high school proms and college acceptance letters. She remembers the pride and fear in her wife's eyes as their children grew up and got married and started families of their own. She remembers holding her hand, squeezing it in silent support, and the way Jane did always did the same for her. How Jane was always there to wipe away her tears in sadness, or to share in her celebration at any moment of joy. She remembers so many kisses and touches and embraces, from light and innocent, to desperate and needy, to simply loving and supportive. She remembers the way Jane's body felt when they held each other so closely, their heartbeats would sync and she never felt more loved.
Eyes still closed, she takes a final, ragged breath and exhales the words I love you into the wind.
In the morning, she knows, they'll find her lifeless body resting above Jane's, careless of the six feet of earth in between. They'll take it away and clean the tears and dirt from her face and make her look beautiful again, and her children and grandchildren will gather together and sing hymns in her honor, and recount the details of her life. They'll say how she, like Jane, will live on inside them, in the way that they love and live their lives, like a lesson, or a gift, passed down through the generations.
She died of a broken heart, they'll say.
But now, they're together again.