I can't remember if I posted this one in the BixLu collection or not... I apologise if I did and this is a double post. (And just a quick reminder, I am still focusing on one-shots at the moment to get my WIP list down, so the BixLu collection is being updated the most frequently of all my stories right now.)
Prompt: BixLu + '8) Raindrops, a singed teddybear, a photograph so worn it feels like fabric'? - itsajoshyboy
Smoke and Rain
The faint smell of smoke still lingered in the air even weeks after the event. Not even the constant sprinkling of rain that had been falling all through the last week could mask it.
A cloud as black as the charred remains of his home beneath his feet loomed above Bickslow that morning, but he ignored it like he'd ignored the threat of the hurricane bracing the coast later that day.
It had been such a nice home - the perfect size for their little family. He remembered how excited they'd been when they'd finally moved in years earlier. They hadn't moved any of their furniture from their old place at the time, so for their first night in the house, they'd laid in front of the fireplace on their makeshift bed and talked about anything and everything all night long.
Now though, not even the fireplace had survived the fire that had burnt down his home and destroyed everything he held most dear in that world. All that remained was a few stones and the broken mantel.
He looked to the stairs behind him - or at least to what remained of them. He remembered all the times he'd ended up tripping on the loose tread and made a mental note to repair (but never did); all the times he'd chased Lucy up them before they went to bed; and to how many times he'd been kneeling down at the bottom of them when his son was sitting on the second step, and helped him tie his shoelaces.
When he made his way towards the back of house, where the kitchen had once been, and something soft beneath his foot caught his attention. It was a teddy bear - one that had been once belonged to Lucy when she'd been a child, and had passed down to their son on his first night home. Its fur was singed and only patches of the soft yellow fur it had once been were visible, but as he crouched down, slowly falling to rest upon a pile of rubble and the remnant of a wall, Bickslow clutched the toy to his chest.
After a while, he couldn't tell if the wetness on his cheeks were from his tears or the rain that continued to fall, but he didn't care much either way.
Later though, after his team would come to find him sitting in the rubble that had once been his home and taken him to one of their own, Bickslow would spend yet another sleepless night sitting up in the bed that wasn't his own and staring at the old photo of his now lost family that had been sitting in his wallet; one that was so old and worn that it felt almost like fabric. But at that point, all Bickslow had left in that world of those he held most dear was that same photo, his memories, and now, the singed teddy bear.