AN: I'm back. Ish. This has been sitting on my laptop for... too long. I finally dragged it out tonight and.. I'm kinda pleased with it. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.
Carole wore baby's breath in her hair when she married Christopher; three years later, she wore all black and carried a baby she didn't know what to do with as they burned him and put his ashes in an urn. Carole clung to the urn like it tied her to the world and her mouth tasted bitter, Finn in one arm and her husband in the other.
She talks to the urn every night.
Tells it (Christopher) how much she misses him and how much Finn looks like him and how much it hurts to be half a person, how much it hurts to not have him here with her.
Life is painful, and hard, without Christopher—she feels like she's half a person, and she does what she can for Finn, but he's missing a father figure and it hurts to not give her son that. And it hurts to go to bed alone at night; she cries herself to sleep, but she bites the pillow so Finn can't hear.
The last time she talks to the urn is after her first date with Burt.
"Christopher," she says, and she uses his full name because this is goodbye, after sixteen long years. "Christopher, I will always love you, but I'm moving on." She doesn't say much to the urn; finally, finally it feels like she can have closure, like the ashes are only ashes and Christopher's ghost has finally dissipated. Finally it feels like she's whole again, and she can move on.
She won't be dumping the ashes down the toilet soon (or ever) but at last she can break free of wanting him to come crashing through the door, of yearning to hear his laugh, of wanting, needing his arms.
Finally, she is free and this freedom is so sweet it hurts a little bit.
"I've met someone," she tells the varnished metal. "I've met someone and he's great and wonderful and the hero I've been looking for, and I am moving on. I love you, but I am moving on."
It feels good to say those words. Healing, in a way she didn't expect it to be.
Carole always thought of moving on, of forgetting as painful, as bad. How could she, after giving everything to a man she met when she was 20 and wild and crazy—how could she move on, just abandon it? But it doesn't feel like abandonment when Burt kisses her so deep she feels it in her toes, and it's been a long time since Carole smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.
It's okay to admit it now, to move past it, to move on, like she's tried to do so many times. There is freedom in Burt's eyes and it takes her in, holds her close. Sweet freedom, in another's arms; it doesn't feel like betrayal, and she thinks maybe Christopher might approve.
She wears flowers in her hair when she marries Burt and the sun shines. This is not betrayal, and Christopher approves.
Feedback is, as always, muchly appreciated.
