Disclaimer: I don't own them, and if I would I certainly wouldn't do this to them.
Title: Unsent.
Author: Dutchie, but Nikki will do.
Summary: Maybe a long note was a better definition. A small folded piece of paper with some words scribbled on it. Words written with a black pen. Black, as her mood had been the past few weeks. Sandle
A/N: This story was based on a part of Alanis Morissette's 'Unsent'. The only thing I've changed about the original lyrics is that I replaced 'Terrance' with 'Greggo'. The rest is all hers.
Dear Greggo,
I love you muchly
You've been nothing but open-hearted
and emotionally available and supportive and…
...and nurturing and consummately there for me.
I kept drawing you in
and pushing you away.
I remember how beautiful it was to
fall asleep on your couch and
cry in front for you for the first time.
You were the best platform
from which to jump beyond myself.
What was wrong with me?
Dark brown hair was sticking to her face, but she couldn't be bothered. Water was streaming down her cheeks, but it wasn't tears. It was the same rain that was making her hair stick to her face. Yes, it was definitely the rain. Because Sara Sidle didn't cry.
She was hiding the envelope under her coat, shielding it from the drops falling from the sky. The simple white envelope, as plain as you could get them. Plain, except for the word 'Greg' written on it; in her distinctive curly handwriting. Written with a black pen, instead of the usual blue one. Because there was nothing usual about this envelope.
Actually, it was the letter inside that was unusual. Question remained if it could be called a letter. Maybe a long note was a better definition. A small folded piece of paper with some words scribbled on it. Words written with a black pen. Black, as her mood had been the past few weeks.
Every morning, after shift, she stood there. Always on the exact same spot. Weather or no weather, she stood there. And she always carried the envelope with her. It normally lay in her locker, waiting for her to finish her shift. Then she'd take it out and take it with her to where she was standing now, and then it would lay on the table in her hallway, because again she hadn't given it to him. And then she took it to work with her the next day, and it would wait in her locker yet again.
But for now, she was still assuring herself that today was the day she'd give the letter to him. Because, after all, what reason did she have not to? It was not like he would laugh at her, or rip the note to shreds before throwing them in the air. No. He wasn't going to do that. He couldn't do that.
These rainy days were surprisingly enough her favorites. She liked them better than those sunny days with butterflies and bunnies hopping by. She didn't care that her hair stuck to her face on these rainy days, nor that her mascara was running out so she looked like she'd been crying. Because that was probably what she was supposed to do. Cry, weep, bawl her eyes out. But she hadn't shed a tear.
Was she heartless? No, of course not. If she was, she wouldn't be standing here, every day, weather or no weather, with an envelope in her hand. Wasn't she sad? Oh yes, she was sad indeed. Sad had become her middle name over the past few weeks. Then why wasn't she crying? Simple. Because Sara Sidle, didn't cry.
But she cared. She definitely cared. That's why she was standing here again, this time in the pouring rain, with the envelope under her coat. She swallowed and made a decision. Maybe, if she gave him the letter today, she would be able to get some sleep tonight. Maybe she would be able to close her eyes without seeing his face smiling at her, his hair all messy…just the way she liked it.
And with that thought in the back of her mind, she crouched down, careful not to slip in the muddy soil underneath her feet, and pulled the envelope out from under her coat. The first rain drops already hit the plain white envelope, and the word 'Greg' immediately started to fade. She knew that when she came back here tomorrow, there wasn't gonna be much left of the letter. But she also knew that when she came back here tomorrow, he would finally know what she'd always wanted, but never dared to say to him.
Carefully, she placed the envelope exactly where she thought it belonged, and then she ran her fingers over it, tracing it like it could come to life any minute. But it wouldn't come to life. He wouldn't come to life. And even though the name would definitely be gone from the envelope by tomorrow, she knew that there wouldn't ever be a doubt as to whom the note inside was for. Because even though his name on the envelope may fade, there was always his name, carved into the dull grey marble stone.
Greg Sanders
Our beloved son and friend
May he rest in peace.
A/N: Yeah, I could have added a Character Death warning in the summary, but I thought it took away the surprise element of this fic. If you read, please leave me a review and let me know what you think.