Heaven in a Wild Flower
It had been a long day. . . A long string of weeks, mixed into an utterly disappointing year. Hannah had thought she'd shed her tears for the world and herself, but it always seemed to get worse. Each disappointment was tripled, every short coming had blossomed into a grotesque despair that had learned to swallow her whole. She never ceased fighting it, but the depression never truly went away. There were times when she'd almost feel like her former self; when the clouds would part and the universe would seem clearer. . . But then it would fade back into the infernal inky black, and her apprehension would return.
So much death, so much failure and second guessing, so much change. At times, it was more than she could bare. . . And yet she never stopped believing.
Her heart had been broken by life, and yet she continued to love with all that she had left. Even as the world crumbled around her, Hannah fought to hold the desecrated pillars in her weary hands. Each day, the burden became greater. But not once, did she dare to let go. Not once, did she run away. Even though she desperately wanted to. . . And to be honest, if it wasn't for her dearest friend and companion, John Claire, she might have given into the call of oblivion long ago. But her gentle apartment mate had given her cause to remain strong. . . Though as the woman currently glanced down at her phone, she felt her resolutions waver.
The text message would have seemed harmless to most who read it. Perhaps a little snappy and aggressive, but ultimately ignorable. . . But to Hannah, it sent a spiral of dread to the pit of her stomach. She watched as yet another message popped up on her screen, and saw that it was from the same person. Fresh tears blurred her vision as she felt her heart wrench painfully.
10 years of her life down the drain. Years of loving and hoping gone to waste. The thought made her sick.
Hannah, laid down on her bed slowly as her regret hit her again, and she succumbed to the sorrow she felt. . . never noticing the pair of golden eyes that watched her brokenly from her doorway, nor hearing the nearly silent footfalls of her house guest as the front door of the apartment shut. Though in that moment, it was impossible for Hannah to hear anything but her pulse in her ears, and the drumming of her emotional fatigue.
{****}
It was several hours later that Hannah awoke to the sound of soft shuffling. The woman blinked harshly past tear-matted lashes, as she fought to remember when she had fallen asleep in the first place. She must have exhausted herself when she'd cried.
Hannah slumped off her bed, before she walked into her bathroom to wash her face off. As cold water splashed against her skin, she felt awareness creep back in, and with it, her earlier anguish. She patted her face dry with a towel, said a silent prayer to her Patron Gods, and exited the bathroom and walked into her living room. She had promised John that she'd cook dinner - seeing as they took turns every other night- and after having glanced at her cell phone's clock, she realized she'd slept well into the evening. She called out, as she entered the room, still glancing at her phone as she shot her friend Lyn a quick message.
"John, I'm so sorry about dinner. If you haven't eaten, I can make something-" Hannah stopped midsentence, as her light eyes lifted up. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing, before a hand rose to cover her mouth, and an emotional gasp escaped her lips.
The small room, usually so plain, was covered in different assortments of Wildflowers. It wasn't overwhelming, but there were more bouquets here then she'd ever seen outside a flower shop. Yellow, red, purple, pink, and orange- each flower housed a unique colour and shape, and Hannah's heart soared at the sight. Not to mention the divine smell that rose from them. It also didn't escape her notice, that all of them were still in soil and water. . . But it was the figure who stood in the center of it all, that made Hannah react so strongly.
John Claire, dressed in his simple gray shirt and dark pants, stood in the midst of the sublime indoor garden. A soft smile graced his scarred, pallid features, as he held up a single blossom in his large hand. It was a delicate blue, with soft graceful petals and a lighter tip at the top. It was a Bluebonnet. . . her state flower. . . Her home's emblem. . .
For several moments, the two stood staring at each other, Hannah unable to move, before the man slowly made his way to her. His steps were careful, so as not to crush any of the flora, as he came to stand directly in front of her.
"Hello, Miss Hannah," he said quietly, his deep voice immediately causing the woman a sense of security and calm.
"John," she breathed, as emotion clouded her eyes for the second time that night. "What. . . What is all this . . . ?"
The golden eyes showed worry, before he looked around at his handy work. His rounded face seemed almost anxious as he moved to explain.
"As I was walking today, I came across a flower vendor who had gotten too many wildflowers. . . She was going to dispose of them, but I asked her not to. She ended up giving them to me when I told her what I intended to do with them, and I brought them here." Hannah's eyes shone with wonder, and it made John's expression turn bashful. "I thought they would help you. . . Better than I ever could."
Hannah, finally recovering herself, wrapped her arms around the much taller man. She was careful not to crush the flower he held, but her hug was firm as she placed a kiss to his cheek.
"You help me more than you will ever know, Mr. Claire," she vowed affectionately, pulling back to study him. "They are so beautiful, and you saved them. I can't think of anything more touching. . . But why did you get them for me?"
"You were upset," he said simply, his golden eyes searching her, making her melt. "After everything that has occurred this year: all you have lost, all that has been taken from you, I wanted to remind you. . ."
"Remind me of what?"
"That you are not alone." His expression softened, as his gaze became earnest. "You are loved, Miss Hannah, and you are needed. Even as the world changes and your faith absconds you, you must know that it is not over. That there is still greatness to be achieved and hearts to be mended."
"But what if it is my heart that is broken?" she asked.
John paused for a moment before quoting, "There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart."
Wordsworth. . . Hannah smiled as he quoted his favorite poet. "Do you love me, John?"
A tinge of color rose to his paled, white cheeks in that moment, as he nodded shyly. His long dark hair floated around his scarred face, as he regarded her.
"I do, Miss," he finally said- his formality never once leaving. "You know I do."
Hannah raised a hand to cup his face, as she helped him cradle the flower with her other. She looked deep into his beautiful golden eyes, before she graced him with a happy smile. It lit up her entire face, and made her more glorious then the flowers that surrounded them.
"I love you too, Mr. Claire, and I always will." Then, before she leaned in to gently capture his lips, she said in a contented whisper.
"To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."
"What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind."
― William Wordsworth
A/N: A gift for my dearest sister Hannah Amalthea, who is the biggest Penny Dreadful fan I know. 3 She's been going through some tough stuff lately and asked me for a story with John Clare (the Frankenstein monster from PD). I must admit I was intimidated by his large vocabulary and unwavering soul, but I think for a first attempt at writing him that I did okay. ^^;
Disclaimer: I do NOT own: Penny Dreadful (show, characters, franchise, etc.), John Claire, Rory Kinnear, or Wild Flowers.
~Lyn Harkeran