Seeking Solace

Sorry, but I can't help myself- I love this pairing. It's sad but sweet, no? I got the title from one of selanpike's oneshots; Gah, I'm so unoriginal. XP

She never expected to see him there.

Gloria heard the thunder rumble, and knew a storm was coming close. She bid farewell to her mother's grave and started to head for the exit, but then something caught her attention- a still, silent figure on the horizon.

A still, silent figure with incredibly long, skinny legs and short, stubby arms. And a face she would recognize anywhere.

"Fred?"

He lifted his head and looked around, searching for the sound of the voice. Their eyes met. Hers were wide with surprise and concern, but his…Although they, too, showed a trace of surprise that he'd encountered his old acquaintance, they were overwhelmingly sad. His face was drawn, and there were pale streaks down his cheeks.

"Oh. Hi, Gloria." His voice was slightly hoarse, and crackled as he spoke. "Fancy seeing you here."

Never taking her worried eyes off of his miserable face, Gloria slowly approached Fred. He was in a dreadful state. Sure, his appearance had improved since his time at Thorney Towers; the straightjacket and absurd 'military uniform' had been replaced by a buttoned shirt and blue jeans. However, his clothes sported treacherous wrinkles- in fact, they looked like they'd been slept in- and his hair was desperately in need of a wash.

Something was wrong.

"Fred, are you okay?"

"Sure. Just…" Here, his voice broke. He swallowed before trying again. "Just paying a little visit."

Gloria looked down. Fred was standing before a grave made of clean marble. At the foot of the grave was a bundle of fresh yellow daisies. But it was the inscription of the grave that made her stifle a gasp.

R.I.P.

Julia Allison Bonaparte

1974-2004

"July," Fred whispered.

Gloria remembered the name. Fred had mentioned it a few times, back before Crispin had driven him insane, back when he had been head orderly.

July…His wife.

"She died," he murmured. "A lung disease…"

Gloria watched Fred, and she knew he was in pain. The wind blew his hair across his face, obscuring the upper half, but she could still see the tears dribbling down his cheeks.

His wife had died. She'd died while he'd been incarcerated at the asylum- two years before it shut down, a year before they'd all regained their sanity and escaped. He hadn't even known. He'd marched out of the dilapidated gates, ready to face the world- only to find that the one person he'd been waiting to see, the person who'd been waiting for him, had died.

"Oh, Fred…"

He broke down. His legs crumpled slightly and he crouched over, sobbing. She reached up and put her arms around him, trying to calm him down.

"It's okay, Fred, it's okay…"

She held him the whole time he cried, holding him and murmuring softly. Finally, he took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes, and she stepped backwards, hovering just beside him.

As he wiped his eyes, Fred's sight cleared a bit- and he was able to get his first good look at Gloria. She'd changed, too. Life had been good to her. Her face was no longer lined with stress, and her eyes were no longer teary and tired. Her hair, instead of fanning around her head to form a frightful fringe of snakelike tendrils, hung in soft wisps of dark red that fluttered softly around her face. She looked beautiful- almost ethereal.

And as he straightened up, she took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

A wonderful warmth washed over him, soothing both the cold of the wind and the cold of his despair. Her skin was so warm, and so soft…

"Oh, Fred," she repeated softly. She put her arms around him again and held him close. He closed his eyes, lost in a sort of heaven: the silky fabric of her dress, her warm skin, her sweet perfume, the soft tendrils of her hair…

He sighed, and she stepped away, although, thankfully, she didn't let go of his hand.

"I'll walk you home," she offered, and that was exactly what she did, holding his hand all the way.

On the doorstep, he nodded at her and opened the door. She waved slightly and started down the porch steps. Then she stopped and looked back at him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked. "Is there anything I can do to make things better?"

Fred smiled at her as he closed the door.

"I think you already did."