Rosemary loved her father, Giver, more than anything in the world. That was why, just before she applied for Release, she left him one last little song. She felt awful about committing suicide and leaving him alone, but she just couldn't carry on anymore. The memories that he'd given her had proven too dark and too heavy for her to bear and she couldn't endure the pain any longer. Even music couldn't help her anymore.
Ah, music. Sweet music. For as long as Rosemary could remember, music had been a big part of her life. Even when she didn't know what it was or what it was called or how it was made, the strange yet wonderful noises that filled her head were always around to comfort or enliven her no matter what. Of course, after she learned what music was properly, she was in ecstasy. Rosemary had loved all the good memories her father gave to her, but her favorites always included music. Whether his memories showed her concerts or CDs or videos and whether she was listening to voice or instrument did not matter. In a matter of days, Rosemary had fallen in love with the concept of music. For that, she became a musician herself in her spare time, writing countless little ditties or relearning the ones from the memories.
But even though Rosemary loved all music, she did have one particular type that she favored. That music came from a girl about her age. She had blond hair and blue eyes and her name was Taylor Swift. Although Rosemary did find it funny how many sad or romantic songs she had written, a lot of the music was quite good if you gave it a chance. There were so many other good songs by this Taylor girl that there was always a song for every occasion, it seemed. Now, Rosemary knew that this Taylor Swift was long dead, but her music lived on in Rosemary's heart and memories. As a matter of fact, it had been some of Taylor Swift's melodies that inspired the sad little lullaby Rosemary had written for her father. The song ultimately became an apology and a wish. It was a wish for release. Not Release, just release.
But Rosemary was about to receive both. With no further time to spare, she took the needle from the attendant and bade him to leave the room. It was clear he was confused, but he did not dare deny Receiver of Memory anything. He bowed politely to her before stepping out of the room. Rosemary wasn't looking at him as he shut the door. Instead, she was contemplating the syringe she held in her hand.
Giver was curled up on the floor, silent tears creating rivers in the wrinkles of his face. To hear that his beloved daughter had applied for Release while he was asleep was crushing. To see that it had indeed actually happened was infinitely worse. To hear the song she'd written for him before her death was the icing on the cake. Her voice was just so sad and the words were so tender, yet for some reason, he couldn't stop listening.
"I remember tears streaming down your face when I said, I'll never let you go," Rosemary's voice sang from the hologram. "When all those shadows almost killed your light…" Giver couldn't find it within himself to face Rosemary, even in the form of a projection, but he listened. Oh, yes, he listened. Eventually, he even began to sing along just because he had already listened to the song so many times before.
"I remember you said, don't leave me here alone," he sang with her through his tears. "But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight…"
Years later, Giver found himselfsinging that special song to someone other than Rosemary's recording. This time, it was to his other child, his son. Well, this boy wasn't really his son, but it was close enough. Their bond had become so strong over the past few months that Giver considered the boy his own flesh and blood. They were bonded in the same way Giver had bonded with Rosemary: the memories.
"Her name was Rosemary," Giver told the boy, Jonas. "She was my daughter and I loved her," he confessed. Jonas gave him a sympathetic look, just like the ones Rosemary used to give.
"I am sorry, sir," he whispered with sincerity.
"She loved music more than anything and she wrote me this song the day before she died," Giver continued, pausing only to wipe his misty eyes for just a moment. "Forgive me if my voice is no good, but I think you should hear me sing it," he said. Although the recording was still tucked safely away, he felt that this was something that would be so much more meaningful to Jonas if he sang it.
"Take your time, sir," Jonas murmured soothingly, but Giver shook his head and opened his mouth.
"Just close your eyes. The sun is going down. You'll be alright. No one can hurt you now. Come morning light. You and I'll be safe and sound," his voice was cracking by the end of the line, but Jonas himself was too teary to notice.
"That was beautiful," he said.
"She wrote that to me in response to my idea of releasing the memories to the Community," Giver said. "And that's exactly why I've called you here so late at night," he added and Jonas nodded. He had already known that Giver was calling him out here to talk about releasing the memories but after hearing Rosemary's song, a new depth of understanding had reached him and it was now reflected in the way he looked at Giver.
"Then let's get busy, sir," he said. Giver nodded his consent and the pair continued to plan the release of memories.
In spite of that emotional night, Giver was able to carry on and sharing the song with somebody else he loved felt like a huge burden off his back. Jonas, sensing Giver's relief at sharing the story of his beloved daughter, also grew stronger. He insisted that they pick up the pace, both in terms of the memories and the plans about the memories. At last, his determination paid off and one night, he was actually doing it. He was running away from the Community and towards freedom. He'd left a few days early, trying to save the life of an innocent baby sent to be Released, but he knew Giver would forgive him for it. Instead, all that Jonas had to fear was the Community police coming after him for trying to flee the Community. So as the boy and the baby slunk away from their old lives, Jonas began to sing a little tune to comfort himself and the baby.
"Don't you dare look out your window darling. Everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby. Even when the music's gone," he whispered. His own voice wasn't too good, but the words emboldened and comforted him and when he realized that his precious cargo was sound asleep, he knew that it had worked a similar magic on the baby too. Feeling a little better, Jonas pressed on faster. As he did so, he could've sworn he heard a woman's voice singing just off in the distance.
"Just close your eyes. The sun is going down. You'll be alright. No one can hurt you now. Come morning light. You and I'll be safe and sound," her voice soothed Jonas and the baby every night and strengthen them every day. Her melodic and loving harmony followed Jonas through his months-long trip to safety, always just out of reach but also always right where he needed her to be. Somehow, even though Giver had been unwilling to give a memory of her, Jonas knew that it was Rosemary's ghost, guiding and protecting him on the journey she should've been on. It was the journey she'd been too afraid to try herself. But now, it seemed, Jonas was her second chance. She was ready now and he was going to be the vessel in which she completed the mission.
At last, the journey was over. The memories had been returned to the Community and Jonas and the baby were safe. They'd found a place to stay at for the present time. But in spite of this, the war was still raging on. Everything was a blizzard and Jonas was dying from the cold and the journey itself. Rosemary's ghost, which was still his guardian angel and big sister even now, tried to sing him back to life.
"Just close your eyes," she murmured, voice more tender than ever before. "You'll be alright," she encouraged, ghostly fingers caressing the boy and the baby who lay motionless in the snow. Somehow she knew they would not die as she had, but she still wanted to see them get up. "Come morning light," she pleaded towards the house where salvation waited. Then she vanished. Her quest was over, thus, she could finally rest.
Jonas, all the while, was still fading away. He wanted dearly to move, just to keep his precious cargo alive, but he was just too cold and tired to do more than breath very, very slowly. At the same time, though, he somehow knew everything would be ok. He could hear voices again, but this time it sounded like a chorus of voices. It sounded like everybody he'd ever known, even his enemies. And they were all singing Rosemary's song. He thanked her silently as the song's last strains filled the snowy air.
"We will all be safe and sound…"
Perhaps it was only an echo. But it was enough. It would ensure they would indeed all be safe and sound and it would lead them all home.
AN: I know Taylor's role as Rosemary was infamously short, but I still wanted to write the idea of Rosemary being a Swiftie (because I am) and "Safe and Sound" is a pretty fitting song if you think about it.