What comfort can Linda drag forth from her loss? Not alot I'm afraid, as far as this story's concerned anyway.


Nothing Lasts Forever...

Nothing as perfect as this anyway, or should I say that. What we had. What we shared.

You were perfect. So perfectly unscathed by depression and anger. You were so innocent; it was hard to think that you were the man who saved people's lives every day before looking back on your own life which in turn was dedicated to someone else. I loved you unconditionally, and I know that you'd hate to hear this but I still do. Some things just never change.

You'd hate to hear that coming from me as well. You never were one to accept the simple facts of life and one of the things I hate most about this love is that for a while, I just went along with you.

Sometimes, I think about wishing that I had never met you. On thinking back though, I realised that despite this horrible turn of events that hit me like the ground that rushes forth whenever I fall, I wouldn't give up those memories for the Earth I now stand on. That's probably really unhealthy.

I'm with someone else now. I know that's what you'd want; heck you even said that's what you wanted.

You said to "Just move on baby, you'll be home again soon."

You're such a liar Wally West.

God I hate you so much. I hate that stupid smile. I hate how you'd leave me to rush off and save someone else before returning to our bed before your side was even cold. I hate that facade you put on in front of your friends before running back to me just so that you could make me smile. Most of all though, I hate how even your worst traits are still the best I've ever known in a man.

I hate how I still can't manage to hate you for more than a few minutes.

I'm so sorry; you wouldn't want me to hate you.

The guy I've met is called Steve; his name's not quite as childish as yours. It doesn't stand out as much; it's not quite as original as yours.

Oh great, now I'm such a wreck that I'm making comparisons between you two and what's worse is I can't even compare names without you beating him by miles.

You're dead and you're still better.

I kissed him yesterday and I tasted your mouth, how disgusting is that. It's the same for everything else, except his touch. His fingers aren't as gentle to the touch or as rough to be touched as yours are. As yours were.

His job isn't half as hard or demanding as yours were, yet he always comes home complaining about his long day and how his boss gave him a mouthful. I think he should get a back bone personally. You had two jobs and you were still home on time every day and sure you told me how "Supes" gave you a hard time for being ignorant but it was always for things like nearly being killed or not being able to stop a collapsing building that the League would have to clear up and pay for. You never complained about coming close to losing your job because you spilt coffee on the photocopier.

There I go again. I guess it's easy to make comparisons when you've plucked and tasted the most perfectly ripe apple from the tree. I've still got the seed from that apple, the apple of my life. It's in the form of my baby, or should I say our baby. I think it's yours anyway, ours even. Oh dear Lord let it be yours, but then I hope it isn't. The rational side of me wants it to be Steve's, but I know who's I really want it to be. I guess the bright red hair and abnormal eating habits will be a dead giveaway, for me anyway. Steve probably wouldn't notice, even if he knew about you. He's that kind of guy. He's so tangled up in his work that he can't see through the cobwebs.

I wish you were here; I don't want to be holding Steve's hand whilst in labour.

I don't want to hold anyone's hand at any time.

Unless it's yours of course.


I'm sorry for the lack of anything in this chapter, it was just Linda summarising her #~£$%^!*&"* of a husband. I know, I killed off Wally when they were so happy together. NOOOOOO!