Character: Elizabeth Bishop
Word count:833
Rating: Can sad be a rating? haha PG 13+
Spoilers: Over There pt 1+2
As I sit here and type, my eyes keep wandering to the old antique picture frame on my desk. I see a smiling happy face, bright blue eyes and a chocolate covered mouth open in mirth as the boy sits in the sand, the waves crashing in the background. My son Peter, when he was 4 years old. Before his illness made him bed-ridden, before my husband became obsessed with finding a cure he would later miss. Before the universe changed. My little boy who I never got to hold in my arms again, to see smiling happily as he ate his pancakes in the morning, to kiss him good night.
Even after the pain of his kidnapping and the years of heartache and sorrow, I knew my son was alive. It's a mother's instinct. I never imagined that another version of his father would find a cure, use it on my son and then decide to keep him. While I understand why he did it, I can't help but have some anger for him. Deep in my heart I had always knew Peter was alive, raised by a loving (or so I dearly hoped) family, growing into a handsome young man with ambitions of a better life. I never imagined that he would have crossed universes, grown in a world that is alien, lived among people he thought were his parents.
Imagine my surprise as one day my husband comes home from work in a much better mood. He'd found our son; at the time I had assumed that he had been living in our universe, it was after the events of the past few days that I learned the truth. Anyway, he was brought in and my heart began beating. I felt alive, more so than I had in the past. Before, it felt like I was empty, a shell of my former self. Now I can feel again, and it scares me. Seeing my grown son lying on that bed, his arm injected with some chemical I didn't want to know about made me swell. I couldn't stop staring at him; his eyes were a clear blue more intense than when he was younger, his facial features were pronounced, giving him a look of one much older than he is.
What got me the most was our first interaction. It was… normal. As if he hadn't been gone for so long, as if he'd just come over for a visit. We talked for a few moments before I couldn't help myself and I wrapped my arms around him feeling his arms hold me securely. The tears began flowing then; I just couldn't help it. I never imagined that I'd get to hold my son in my arms again and it was then that I realized I didn't care what had happened. Sure Peter had been taken, but he had come back. He had found his way back to me and I never wanted to let go.
You can't know how it feels to lose someone you cherish until it's too late and they're gone. You keep hoping and praying to whatever is out there for them to come back. You can't feel, your heart feels like it's a piece of heavy metal and all you want to do is end the pain. But you keep going, knowing one day somehow they'll return to you. Until that day happens you continue to go on your daily life, ignoring the looks, stares, ridicule. Yes, I have been ridiculed; I have lost many good friends because they decided I wasn't fit to be a part of their life. They reasoned that if I lost my son, I wasn't fit to live.
Seeing my son looking so sad and broken broke my heart more than not seeing him for years. He was a shell of an empty man; someone who had figured out life wasn't just a bed full of plump red roses. Those roses had thorns and they punctured his soul. I wanted to hold him, caress his back and make everything go away, to forget what happened. Yet I knew instinctively that he wasn't staying. Mothers' intuition you could call it. That sixth sense. I got to cherish those few short days with him though, learning about whom he was, what his life is like over there, how different those people were compared to ours. I found myself fascinated with this other universe, the people, places, lifestyles. From the sounds of it their technology was a few good years behind ours, which only made my husband happier.
Looking back on things now that my son is indeed gone over to the other universe – his home – I can't help but think of how strange Walter had acted during the whole time. I mean, sure he was acting strange before, but he had a very good reason; now he's… different. Hysterical almost, wild I guess you could say. But I can't think of that now, I need to remember my son, my grown baby boy. Peter. As I look at the smiling face of his four year old self, his chocolate covered grin bouncing back at me I can't help but wonder just how important that universe was.
She must be one amazing woman.