Title: Your Greatest Fan
Author: BehrBeMine (behrbemine@hotmail.com)
Feedback: I need it like Ephram needs his father.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Don't sue, I'll cry. ;p
Summary: What Amy is to Colin, right up to the end.
Rating: PG, but, dark
Distribution: Man, I'll be shocked, but hey, if you want it, it's yours. I'd
appreciate a link to your site, however, so I can see where my story is going.
Classification: Colin, Amy, basic breakdown of their relationship
Spoilers: Season One. The result of this story that I choose to take has not in
any way been implied by spoilers or speculations. I do not know what will really
be happening next season, so as far as I know, this is not going to spoil you.
It is just my personal artistic vision. Please, if you would give me the same
courtesy, do not state any spoilers you might have heard in any feedback for
this fiction. Please? I like to be surprised.
Warning: Character death. And serious drama. I mean it.
Dedication: For Cathy. There are friends in this world you do not have to talk
to every day in order to keep loving forever. When love transcends the
day-by-day interaction of friendship, Cathy, that is you. And me. It's us.
- -
Be my pillar of strength. Carry me always, for I cannot fly alone.
She is your angel, guardian of your memory. She lives to see you live again.
Only the ice cold of death could pry your gentle hand from hers, and even then, it would take forever to let go. But she sees something others don't. She knows you will come back to her, she can feel it inside. She believes so truly, because if God can't make things happen as they should, if He never finds a way to give you another chance... she believes that somehow she can. That if she can will it strong enough, it will happen.
She is a naïve child; in that way, she is just like you. But she has more strength in her hope than you could ever know.
She never shows her pain. She is strong; too proud to cry, especially when she's not alone. She means to always be composed, always.
But that was when there was a chance. When there was hope. When it wasn't over.
Dr. Brown brings the news. His somber face tells all before he even opens his mouth. He finds his son's eyes, and tells the room that the surgery was unsuccessful; that you have passed away.
Her face drains itself of all color, her skin porcelain white. She brings a hand to her throat, catching a sob before it reaches the surface.
The world crashes down all around her, everyone in the waiting room bursting into tears. Ephram, alone, remains stoic and brave, fighting everything back but for the quiver in his lips as he watches her. He will not break until she does.
She truly is porcelain. Her knees give out. She drops to the floor, the impact hard on her skinny knees. Faintly comes the sound of a small crack in her bones from the force of the collision. Her body gives in, and she falls apart. Smashes, crashes, explodes into a million pieces inside. She is broken, like a pretty ornament, like a glass figurine; a ballerina doll, fallen from grace.
Her eyes move so quickly from side to side as she stares down at the floor, alone, deserted, defeated. She sucks in a breath, and pounds a fist on the floor. And then she screams. Oh, God, how she screams.
She continues to beat the solid ground with her fist, her tender skin bruising, her fingers on the brink of fracture. She feels the pain completely, and screams louder, lost in her personal terror. She comprehends nothing but what is gone, what she has lost. Nothing but the pain that engulfs her, like Hell's own fires.
Nobody touches her. They are afraid to.
But then someone has to. Bright does.
He tentatively steps up to her, his throat emitting coarse sobs, his hands raking through his hair as his tears fall so quickly down his face.
She senses his presence above her, and the screams suddenly cease. She remembers now, where she is, who is with her. Her hands come up to wipe her tears, to cover her face. And she can't think straight. She can't believe how she's acting, right where everyone can look at her. Where the world can so clearly see her anguish, her pain. What has she done? What has she lost?...
What is she living for?
Her center of gravity, the string pulling her heart, is gone. You are dead. She wants to die, too.
She starts hyperventilating. She can't breathe, she can't breathe; she doesn't want to.
Bright, sniffling, slowly balances down on his knees. Awkwardly, he wraps his arms around his baby sister. Done screaming now, she cries. Painful eruptions of sound, rising up from her rasping throat; in their abandon, sounding like a baby's cry.
Bright holds her so tightly. He knows what she's feeling, oh does he ever. And, for his sake, he can't let her go.
She remembers lazy summer days, laying under the sun; water balloon fights on the last day of school; quick kisses in the hallway at the ring of the school bell, before rushing off to separate classes.
She remembers Grover. She imagines still seeing Grover in the mirror for the rest of her life.
She so desperately wanted to show you heaven before you died. But she thought she would have more time. No matter what they said, she thought she could hold onto you, keep you on this plane. Keep you, keep you...
Always thinking she could save you. No one can save you. You're gone.
Gone but not forgotten. She'll see to that. Eventually, she'll stop crying.
She'll place flowers on your grave. She'll dedicate every dance to you. She'll think of you on her wedding day.
She'll remember you, because she could never forget. Because she's never loved anyone more.
Forever is a very long time. As it is said to those who have lost, this too shall pass. And now, it is your turn to watch over her as she's watched over you.
- -
end