The Lost One
By PersonY2K
Summary: Lizzie missing Gordo, that's about it. A one shot to get me over my romance-writing block, but read anyway. L/G obviously, is there anything else?
A/N: As it says in the summary, I only wrote this to get over writer's block, so it probably won't be very good. I needed something pre-angsty, depressing and dramatic, but still romancey and fluffy. I call them quiet fics, since no one really seems to talk much, and I didn't want to start a whole new story... long stories get boring after a while, so this is a one shot. And for once in my life (I think I did this in 'After Rome' once or twice, but still), I'm going to write a third-person POV! Yay! This reminds me sadly of that chapter in TOTMG, when Gordo's off at college and Lizzie goes nuts. Poor Lizzie! 'bawls' Oh, and I finished my Harry Potter story (also a one shot), so if you want to check it out, go ahead.
This chapter/story is dedicated to Andrea, my enemy, for without her, evil Madison in 'Dakota Sunshine' would've never been formed. Thanks for the inspiration, Andie! And Becca, who can't stop spending her money. And Judie, who "hearts" Hawaii, and is a sneaky little hide-and-seek player. And Shivani, whose life goal is to be just like me. And Sam-ham, who is a real thing and shar. lol Love you all (expect Andrea)!
---
She wasn't exactly crazy, but she wasn't exactly not. Her heart ached as the feeling of misery and anxiety gnawed deeper at her every minute, and now she felt as if she had a black hole in her heart, where all of her cheerfulness and feeling had been sucked into and forgotten. It was depressing, but she wasn't depressed... or was she? But depressing is such a dark word, for when she thought about it, the vision of crying upon a stone grave came to her, and she wasn't at that point, not yet, anyway. She was living, and living was all life asked for, the other things were just perks. Living even with your heart breaking was living nonetheless.
Not everyone had noticed a difference, which was quite surprising as she spent hours crying, staring out the window blankly or crying in her bed, her sobs muffled by her pillow. She never bothered to wipe the tears; it would be best if she let them come out, because someday, there wouldn't be any left to come out anymore. In public, when she cried, she said she had allergies and watery eyes, which made others a bit suspicious because it wasn't even allergy season.
She silently let the tears pour out, thinking. Why had he gone, for the good of mankind, he had said, but wasn't she part of mankind? What good was this doing her, lying around in a pre-depression stage, crying wherever she went, not speaking a word to anyone?
And it wasn't only that she missed him, not to say that she didn't, because she most certainly did, but that wasn't the only reason she had been so miserable, not the only reason her heart and soul felt so wretched. It was because he could die at any given second now, that's why she was so concerned. Far beyond concerned, she had practically driven herself mad out of being what seemed to others worried beyond reason, cornered by visions of her beloved being shot in the back and falling to the ground, dead and lifeless.
Now Lizzie McGuire sat upon her windowsill, halfway toward insanity, gazing at the rain that was wildly pounding upon her house like African drums. 'It looks so beautiful,' she thought, 'we used to dance in the rain together, when he was home. He'd wrap his strong arms around my waist and kiss me until it stopped, and then we'd go home to get dried off, and when I'd blow dry my hair, he'd unplug it.' A tear trickled down her cheek as she reminisced this event of several months ago, letting it trace of her jaw and dripping off her chin, staining her pale blue minidress.
Her beloved Gordo had gone off to war, chasing his army dreams. She wasn't sure when his desire to become a director had changed, but they certainly had, and he was now obsessed with the army. It hadn't been so bad when he was with her, though, because even though it was all he talked about, he was still there. He being there was all she really wanted.
He had graduated from military school about three years ago, and he had been certain that he was going to get his first assignment soon, and to his relief, he did. Now he was off in Russia, fighting for his country. Lizzie couldn't care less about the country; she just wanted her fiancée back. He could die any second, she one day had realized, and had been scared out of her mind since then. What was she going to do if Gordo got shot in the back? She jumped and burst into tears every time the phone rang, praying that it wasn't the phone call announcing Gordo's death.
It's not that he didn't keep in touch, because he did. Every now and then Lizzie'd get a phone call from him, only to listen to him talk about how happy he was to be doing this, and to top it all off, he filled her in on every single soldier that died. He didn't seem to realize how worried she was, for he didn't even hear her crying as he enthusiastically told her a friend he had made had gotten twice in the arm, but now was okay, except his arm was paralyzed. He didn't notice how much he was hurting her, and Lizzie didn't expect him to.
She tuned in on the news every single day to ensure herself that no troops had been blown up and convince herself that the war was almost over. The image of going to Gordo's grave to rest flowers on his tombstone was too much to handle. She couldn't take that pressure, and every time he called, she urged him to come back home, but he never listened. He claimed he needed to finish "serving the country" before he returned. With all of the free time she had now, the countless hours she sat upon the windowsill, she had started to get maniacal ideas about what was happening in Russia. Hallucination after another, she came across the idea of Gordo finding a woman fighter and falling in love with her, forgetting all about dumb old Lizzie. That was what he wanted, right? A woman who cared for the country as much as he did, and she definitely didn't.
Or maybe he was locked up in a Russian prison, where the police beat him near to death. She couldn't stand the vision of him hanging upside-down and being beaten by a stick as the officers questioned him endlessly about the US's plan, and he'd say nothing. She knew he'd die for the country, and would never betray to the Russian police force, so he'd suffer unspeakable beatings and then finally just... die.
This divulged into a whole new fit of tears. No fair, it was no fair. It was unfair beyond reason, and she decided that if anything happened to Gordo, she'd sue. The army, Russia, whoever was responsible for this. She knew thousands of women and children were scared for their husbands and fathers, but this seemed different. They hadn't even gotten married yet, and she didn't want that to go unfinished. What was the world thinking when he decided to start a war? Had it no sympathy?
Gordo had called earlier that day, to wish her a happy birthday. Lizzie had been shocked. She hadn't even realized it was her birthday, she was so caught up in gloom and despair. He had assured her that he was going to come home soon, and he had thought that the war was ending. Lizzie doubted it. He had even gotten her a birthday present, bless his heart, in this condition.
Once he had joked that he had gotten shot in the stomach and was about to die. When she had screamed "NOOO! I love you! Don't die!", he laughed softly and said he was kidding, and Lizzie became furious with him. How dare he joke about something like that. But it was hard to stay mad at your beloved for long when he could really be dying. She didn't find it the least bit funny, although Gordo had doubled over in laughter. He was so insensitive.
She spent most her time trying to remember all of the happy moments they'd had together. There was the proposal dinner. That she could never forget, and even through the endless tears she smiled every time she thought of that. He had taken her out for a cruise across the lake, and they were on the deck, looking into the night, went he slowly pulled out a ring and had proposed. It had been so simple and sweet, so cute and wonderful, she had said yes without even thinking, and now that she thought about it, she knew she had made the right choice.
And then there was that time they had both signed up to be camp counselors a few summers ago. They had broken up shortly then, but had promised that they would be friends. It had been so fun, especially when the kids (they were all ages ten through thirteen) found out about their relationship. They interfered and made sure she and Gordo were left alone, and surprisingly, they did get back together, thanks to the campers' excellent matchmaking skills. They had gone to the end-of-camp dance together, and everyone had made them do a dance in the middle of the dance floor while they watched, satisfied.
Of course, there were the numerous dates that they had gone on, when Gordo would pay for her drink and then convince her to pay for his, and then go dancing or just hang around to watch the sunset together. They 'd had such a wonderful relationship, and now it was going to be torn apart, thanks to Russia and America's selfish quarrels.
It amazed her how much more she had learned to love him over the time he had been gone, because you don't fully appreciate something until it's gone, or in this case, almost gone. She'd continue to love Gordo more and more until he returned, and only God knew when that was going to be. And until then, she'd be waiting, impatiently but nonetheless waiting, until he came back.
A/N: Well, I know it's short and sad-ish, but review, please, you know my appetite only consists of reviews and watermelon lately... I love those reviews, it's like money to me. Yeah, okay, I'm going to shut up know... so hyper...
xoxo,
PersonY2K
By PersonY2K
Summary: Lizzie missing Gordo, that's about it. A one shot to get me over my romance-writing block, but read anyway. L/G obviously, is there anything else?
A/N: As it says in the summary, I only wrote this to get over writer's block, so it probably won't be very good. I needed something pre-angsty, depressing and dramatic, but still romancey and fluffy. I call them quiet fics, since no one really seems to talk much, and I didn't want to start a whole new story... long stories get boring after a while, so this is a one shot. And for once in my life (I think I did this in 'After Rome' once or twice, but still), I'm going to write a third-person POV! Yay! This reminds me sadly of that chapter in TOTMG, when Gordo's off at college and Lizzie goes nuts. Poor Lizzie! 'bawls' Oh, and I finished my Harry Potter story (also a one shot), so if you want to check it out, go ahead.
This chapter/story is dedicated to Andrea, my enemy, for without her, evil Madison in 'Dakota Sunshine' would've never been formed. Thanks for the inspiration, Andie! And Becca, who can't stop spending her money. And Judie, who "hearts" Hawaii, and is a sneaky little hide-and-seek player. And Shivani, whose life goal is to be just like me. And Sam-ham, who is a real thing and shar. lol Love you all (expect Andrea)!
---
She wasn't exactly crazy, but she wasn't exactly not. Her heart ached as the feeling of misery and anxiety gnawed deeper at her every minute, and now she felt as if she had a black hole in her heart, where all of her cheerfulness and feeling had been sucked into and forgotten. It was depressing, but she wasn't depressed... or was she? But depressing is such a dark word, for when she thought about it, the vision of crying upon a stone grave came to her, and she wasn't at that point, not yet, anyway. She was living, and living was all life asked for, the other things were just perks. Living even with your heart breaking was living nonetheless.
Not everyone had noticed a difference, which was quite surprising as she spent hours crying, staring out the window blankly or crying in her bed, her sobs muffled by her pillow. She never bothered to wipe the tears; it would be best if she let them come out, because someday, there wouldn't be any left to come out anymore. In public, when she cried, she said she had allergies and watery eyes, which made others a bit suspicious because it wasn't even allergy season.
She silently let the tears pour out, thinking. Why had he gone, for the good of mankind, he had said, but wasn't she part of mankind? What good was this doing her, lying around in a pre-depression stage, crying wherever she went, not speaking a word to anyone?
And it wasn't only that she missed him, not to say that she didn't, because she most certainly did, but that wasn't the only reason she had been so miserable, not the only reason her heart and soul felt so wretched. It was because he could die at any given second now, that's why she was so concerned. Far beyond concerned, she had practically driven herself mad out of being what seemed to others worried beyond reason, cornered by visions of her beloved being shot in the back and falling to the ground, dead and lifeless.
Now Lizzie McGuire sat upon her windowsill, halfway toward insanity, gazing at the rain that was wildly pounding upon her house like African drums. 'It looks so beautiful,' she thought, 'we used to dance in the rain together, when he was home. He'd wrap his strong arms around my waist and kiss me until it stopped, and then we'd go home to get dried off, and when I'd blow dry my hair, he'd unplug it.' A tear trickled down her cheek as she reminisced this event of several months ago, letting it trace of her jaw and dripping off her chin, staining her pale blue minidress.
Her beloved Gordo had gone off to war, chasing his army dreams. She wasn't sure when his desire to become a director had changed, but they certainly had, and he was now obsessed with the army. It hadn't been so bad when he was with her, though, because even though it was all he talked about, he was still there. He being there was all she really wanted.
He had graduated from military school about three years ago, and he had been certain that he was going to get his first assignment soon, and to his relief, he did. Now he was off in Russia, fighting for his country. Lizzie couldn't care less about the country; she just wanted her fiancée back. He could die any second, she one day had realized, and had been scared out of her mind since then. What was she going to do if Gordo got shot in the back? She jumped and burst into tears every time the phone rang, praying that it wasn't the phone call announcing Gordo's death.
It's not that he didn't keep in touch, because he did. Every now and then Lizzie'd get a phone call from him, only to listen to him talk about how happy he was to be doing this, and to top it all off, he filled her in on every single soldier that died. He didn't seem to realize how worried she was, for he didn't even hear her crying as he enthusiastically told her a friend he had made had gotten twice in the arm, but now was okay, except his arm was paralyzed. He didn't notice how much he was hurting her, and Lizzie didn't expect him to.
She tuned in on the news every single day to ensure herself that no troops had been blown up and convince herself that the war was almost over. The image of going to Gordo's grave to rest flowers on his tombstone was too much to handle. She couldn't take that pressure, and every time he called, she urged him to come back home, but he never listened. He claimed he needed to finish "serving the country" before he returned. With all of the free time she had now, the countless hours she sat upon the windowsill, she had started to get maniacal ideas about what was happening in Russia. Hallucination after another, she came across the idea of Gordo finding a woman fighter and falling in love with her, forgetting all about dumb old Lizzie. That was what he wanted, right? A woman who cared for the country as much as he did, and she definitely didn't.
Or maybe he was locked up in a Russian prison, where the police beat him near to death. She couldn't stand the vision of him hanging upside-down and being beaten by a stick as the officers questioned him endlessly about the US's plan, and he'd say nothing. She knew he'd die for the country, and would never betray to the Russian police force, so he'd suffer unspeakable beatings and then finally just... die.
This divulged into a whole new fit of tears. No fair, it was no fair. It was unfair beyond reason, and she decided that if anything happened to Gordo, she'd sue. The army, Russia, whoever was responsible for this. She knew thousands of women and children were scared for their husbands and fathers, but this seemed different. They hadn't even gotten married yet, and she didn't want that to go unfinished. What was the world thinking when he decided to start a war? Had it no sympathy?
Gordo had called earlier that day, to wish her a happy birthday. Lizzie had been shocked. She hadn't even realized it was her birthday, she was so caught up in gloom and despair. He had assured her that he was going to come home soon, and he had thought that the war was ending. Lizzie doubted it. He had even gotten her a birthday present, bless his heart, in this condition.
Once he had joked that he had gotten shot in the stomach and was about to die. When she had screamed "NOOO! I love you! Don't die!", he laughed softly and said he was kidding, and Lizzie became furious with him. How dare he joke about something like that. But it was hard to stay mad at your beloved for long when he could really be dying. She didn't find it the least bit funny, although Gordo had doubled over in laughter. He was so insensitive.
She spent most her time trying to remember all of the happy moments they'd had together. There was the proposal dinner. That she could never forget, and even through the endless tears she smiled every time she thought of that. He had taken her out for a cruise across the lake, and they were on the deck, looking into the night, went he slowly pulled out a ring and had proposed. It had been so simple and sweet, so cute and wonderful, she had said yes without even thinking, and now that she thought about it, she knew she had made the right choice.
And then there was that time they had both signed up to be camp counselors a few summers ago. They had broken up shortly then, but had promised that they would be friends. It had been so fun, especially when the kids (they were all ages ten through thirteen) found out about their relationship. They interfered and made sure she and Gordo were left alone, and surprisingly, they did get back together, thanks to the campers' excellent matchmaking skills. They had gone to the end-of-camp dance together, and everyone had made them do a dance in the middle of the dance floor while they watched, satisfied.
Of course, there were the numerous dates that they had gone on, when Gordo would pay for her drink and then convince her to pay for his, and then go dancing or just hang around to watch the sunset together. They 'd had such a wonderful relationship, and now it was going to be torn apart, thanks to Russia and America's selfish quarrels.
It amazed her how much more she had learned to love him over the time he had been gone, because you don't fully appreciate something until it's gone, or in this case, almost gone. She'd continue to love Gordo more and more until he returned, and only God knew when that was going to be. And until then, she'd be waiting, impatiently but nonetheless waiting, until he came back.
A/N: Well, I know it's short and sad-ish, but review, please, you know my appetite only consists of reviews and watermelon lately... I love those reviews, it's like money to me. Yeah, okay, I'm going to shut up know... so hyper...
xoxo,
PersonY2K