Standard Disclaimer inserted here (I do not own Little Women or the characters – that is why this is fanfiction. Though, I am most grateful to the lovely Louisa May Alcott for putting down on paper such wonderful and lively characters so that they may live on in our hearts and minds.)

Author's Note: This is written according to the Little Women book, not the films (though the June Allyson and Winona Ryder films of said novel are simply beautiful!).

Also, I have put in a ticket request to have our own section for Little Women (weeks ago! Hopefully, they get back to me soon!), but I got impatient so I decided to go ahead and post this here in the miscellaneous books section until then!

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AMY'S LAMENT

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He's still in love with her.

Anyone can see it. The way his eyes automatically search her out, as if it's second nature to him. I suppose it is, after all of these years. They've always shared a bond that no one else could quite decipher – or be a part of. Peas in a pod, the two of them together, against the world. No one else was ever quite granted admittance. None of us were special enough.

Do I sound bitter?

I could try to tell myself that I am not – I do tell myself that I am not bitter, not at all...well, perhaps a smidgen. After all, he is my husband.

You may ask yourself why I would marry a man knowing full well that he was still in love my sister. I ask myself that very same question every day. But then he looks up at me with his chin tucked in, those big and mischievous eyes, a stray strip of hair brushing his lashes and I melt. Just like I always fizzed and frittered over him, ever since that very first time that Jo brought him over to the house. He gives me that smile of his and guilt stabs my heart, because I know that that smile wasn't – still isn't – meant for me. It belongs to the love that he keeps bound and locked away in his heart – the love that denied him. He tries to give it to me, he really does; but even at his most jovial and tender moments with me, I can see it. I can see the sadness hiding there, just bubbling under the surface. The melancholy that is forever brewing within him.

I often wonder what would have happened if we hadn't gotten married. Could he and Jo have worked things out if he had returned from Europe alone? Jo was changed when we came home – I could see it as soon as I first laid eyes on her. Losing our dear Beth altered her permanently – we all loved her to pieces, but she was always closest to Jo. Though we had written to the family of our engagement together, they did not know that we had actually been married since. Laurie had insisted on telling Jo first – alone. I'll admit that a giant ball of jealously fired in my stomach when he initially mentioned it. We had barely been wedded and already he was looking forward to spending time with my sister alone; just like the old times, I thought ruefully.

It had been arranged that I would busy myself with the rest of the family while he spoke to her. We arrived at Meg's home first, and everyone but the 'Wild Seagull' was there; Jo was holed up at home in front of the fire by herself, a pastime that Marmee said she often dwelled in these days. So, my new husband silently excused himself from the fray and snuck away to tell her our news. My mind was reeling with what the exchange was consisting of, I couldn't quiet my thoughts. So, after a few moments I untangled myself from my loving family and made my way toward where I knew they were hiding. Voices, so familiar and dear to me as my own beating heart, were wafting through the cracked doorway and there they were. It was a picture of the past, Jo was plumped down on her favourite spot on the old sofa, Laurie seated close by. I stood quietly when something he said stabbed at my heart,

"How good it sounds to hear you say 'Teddy'! No one ever calls me that but you."

The utter contentment in his voice was not lost on me, and I couldn't help the jealousy that once again invaded my body. I had only once called him that, back when we were getting reacquainted in Nice. I had only just discovered the truth of what had transpired between he and Jo at home, after I had left for Europe. I was trying to console him, and I thought that using Jo's old beloved name for him might help him to feel comforted but I could not have been more sorely mistaken. I'll never forget the look in his eyes or his words when he vehemently exclaimed, "Don't, that's her name for me!"

I pulled myself out of that dark memory and blinked a few times to regain my focus. I was still standing, ever so quiet and unknown at the front door. I knew that I shouldn't be listening – well, easedropping – in their conversation, but I couldn't help myself. I strained my ears to listen. It seemed as if they had settled into their former easy banter and I was about to walk in and make myself known when I froze.

Jo had just remarked breezily, "Of course you did; you always have things to suit you."

But it was Laurie's answer that turned me rigid.

"Not always."

His voice was so completely raw and bitter and passionate and somehow hollow all at once – I've never heard it that thick and bare before or since. I know that Jo heard it, too, for she changed topics with lightening speed. So, I did the only thing that I could...I mutely turned around and walked away. I rejoined the little party at my sister's house and attempted my hardest to bade away the sudden illness biting at my soul. I knew at that moment that this was the way it would always be – he would devote himself to me by way of being a loving and doting husband...but his heart would always belong to her; his heart would always really, truly belong to my flighty, impassioned, fire-blooded sister.

And even now, as I sit here wrapped round in my pathetic little lament, I know what resides in his most important drawer. It's the place where he always reserves for a precious few coveted items; a place that he's not aware that I know exists. It holds articles very near and dear to him; letters tied together nicely with the unmistakable flowery penmanship covering it; the sketch of Jo from my portfolio that he had snatched away that afternoon, stuffing it in his vest pocket claiming that he just wanted "to keep it from blowing away"; and on top of all of this sat the most melancholy thing that I've ever seen – that little old ring that Jo had given him so long ago. All of these things held such a reverence with him, it was a secret sadness that he kept to himself and I was not allowed access to. Not a speck of dust is ever seen, it's all well maintained, it's painfully obvious that he takes great care with them and looks after them often. Which only serves to break my heart all the more.

This always comes back to the same question – why would I marry a man that is so clearly still in love with my sister – one that always would be. The answer is also always the same...because it's Laurie. Laurie with the giant soulful eyes, Laurie with the quick smile, Laurie with the handsome hair (that he to this day leaves long because Jo told him she prefers it so), Laurie with the cool comfort that I can not live without. In short, I never understood how Jo could ever deny him; but I just never had the heart to, even when I knew that I was merely the next best thing to him.

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I've sweetly loved this book and the characters for many years, but this is the first story I've ever written for it. I'm submitting a ticket to hopefully have it added as a category; we need more Little Women stories!

Please review, that would be a very lovely thing for you to do: )