Author: Lucinda
rating: pg13, contains character death and angst
main character: Joyce
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters that you recognize.
distribution: TNL, Paula, anyone else ask.
note: for Jinni's Poetry Quote Challenge #1. Spoilers for season 5, the Body.
----------------
"Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality. "
-- Emily Dickinson - Because I could not stop for Death
-------------------
At first, it was just a slight blurring of her vision. Nothing more than that. Except that her hands felt a bit cold, and so did her toes. Sort of like they did in the winter, unless she was wearing a pair of the fuzzy socks that Hank had always teased her about.
It didn't stay at just cold toes and slightly blurry vision, the sort of faint blurring like what happens when there's a little bit of dust or an eyelash in your eye. The coldness extended, and she felt dizzy for a moment. Frowning, Joyce reached for her head, rubbing at her temple. She probably just needed to sit down, to not think so much about the new exhibit for the Gallery. She was still recovering from surgery, after all, and that charming doctor had suggested that she take it easy for a while.
Her head throbbed, pulsing in time with her heart, and her stomach twisted, considered hurling everything back. Joyce looked over at the soft couch, just across the room. It was only a few more steps. If she could just rest for a few moments, everything would be alright...
"Joyce?" The voice was a comforting tenor, half reminding her of this cute European student that she'd had a biology class with years ago in college.
Slowly, Joyce sat up, wondering why she'd been laying on the floor anyhow. She still felt cold, but the headache was gone. "I'm here..."
She rolled her neck, trying to rid herself of this oddly tense feeling, as if she'd slept wrong. "Where are you?"
"Right here, by the door. We had an appointment." There was a faint accent, but she couldn't put a label to it. Something old world, slightly old fashioned and it sent this interesting shiver down her back.
"An appointment?" Joyce turned, looking at the door.
He stood there, his dark hair flowing in waves to just below his shoulders, dressed in dark slacks and a shimmering shirt that had to be silk. He looked like an artist, or perhaps the sort of man that inspired romance novelists... Except for his eyes. They were like looking up into the night sky, pools of star spangled darkness that went on forever.
Comprehension dawned, and Joyce looked back at the floor, seeing herself collapsed there. "ohh."
"It's time to go now, Joyce." His words were gentle, and he walked closer, his hand reaching out to hold hers.
"But... What about my girls? What about Dawn and Buffy?" Joyce looked back at him, wanting to take care of her children, those that she'd borne from her body and those that had made themselves part of her life. "What about Willow and Xander and that nice girl Tara? Who will take care of them now?"
"I'm sorry, Joyce. But it's time for you to move on." He tugged her towards the doorway, where impossibly brilliant light poured in.
"Will they be alright?" She followed, knowing that she couldn't stay, even if she wanted to. Death didn't work like that.
"Now is the time that you have to trust in them, and in the lessons that you've taught them." He paused, now so brightly backlit that she could barely see him. "Everybody has to try life without someone standing there at some point."
"They'll be so sad." She looked once more at the still form on the floor, her body looking so small, and broken. "Will they really be alone?"
"They won't be alone, Joyce. None of them are truly alone." He tugged her closer, into the light. "All they have to do is to remember that, and to listen to each other."
"Then they'll be alight?" She smiled, feeling less worried.
"They have the guidance, and the foundation. It's up to them now to build the rest of their lives."
"I hope they're alright. The world can be scary." Joyce smiled, and stepped into the light.
end A Few Steps.
rating: pg13, contains character death and angst
main character: Joyce
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any characters that you recognize.
distribution: TNL, Paula, anyone else ask.
note: for Jinni's Poetry Quote Challenge #1. Spoilers for season 5, the Body.
----------------
"Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality. "
-- Emily Dickinson - Because I could not stop for Death
-------------------
At first, it was just a slight blurring of her vision. Nothing more than that. Except that her hands felt a bit cold, and so did her toes. Sort of like they did in the winter, unless she was wearing a pair of the fuzzy socks that Hank had always teased her about.
It didn't stay at just cold toes and slightly blurry vision, the sort of faint blurring like what happens when there's a little bit of dust or an eyelash in your eye. The coldness extended, and she felt dizzy for a moment. Frowning, Joyce reached for her head, rubbing at her temple. She probably just needed to sit down, to not think so much about the new exhibit for the Gallery. She was still recovering from surgery, after all, and that charming doctor had suggested that she take it easy for a while.
Her head throbbed, pulsing in time with her heart, and her stomach twisted, considered hurling everything back. Joyce looked over at the soft couch, just across the room. It was only a few more steps. If she could just rest for a few moments, everything would be alright...
"Joyce?" The voice was a comforting tenor, half reminding her of this cute European student that she'd had a biology class with years ago in college.
Slowly, Joyce sat up, wondering why she'd been laying on the floor anyhow. She still felt cold, but the headache was gone. "I'm here..."
She rolled her neck, trying to rid herself of this oddly tense feeling, as if she'd slept wrong. "Where are you?"
"Right here, by the door. We had an appointment." There was a faint accent, but she couldn't put a label to it. Something old world, slightly old fashioned and it sent this interesting shiver down her back.
"An appointment?" Joyce turned, looking at the door.
He stood there, his dark hair flowing in waves to just below his shoulders, dressed in dark slacks and a shimmering shirt that had to be silk. He looked like an artist, or perhaps the sort of man that inspired romance novelists... Except for his eyes. They were like looking up into the night sky, pools of star spangled darkness that went on forever.
Comprehension dawned, and Joyce looked back at the floor, seeing herself collapsed there. "ohh."
"It's time to go now, Joyce." His words were gentle, and he walked closer, his hand reaching out to hold hers.
"But... What about my girls? What about Dawn and Buffy?" Joyce looked back at him, wanting to take care of her children, those that she'd borne from her body and those that had made themselves part of her life. "What about Willow and Xander and that nice girl Tara? Who will take care of them now?"
"I'm sorry, Joyce. But it's time for you to move on." He tugged her towards the doorway, where impossibly brilliant light poured in.
"Will they be alright?" She followed, knowing that she couldn't stay, even if she wanted to. Death didn't work like that.
"Now is the time that you have to trust in them, and in the lessons that you've taught them." He paused, now so brightly backlit that she could barely see him. "Everybody has to try life without someone standing there at some point."
"They'll be so sad." She looked once more at the still form on the floor, her body looking so small, and broken. "Will they really be alone?"
"They won't be alone, Joyce. None of them are truly alone." He tugged her closer, into the light. "All they have to do is to remember that, and to listen to each other."
"Then they'll be alight?" She smiled, feeling less worried.
"They have the guidance, and the foundation. It's up to them now to build the rest of their lives."
"I hope they're alright. The world can be scary." Joyce smiled, and stepped into the light.
end A Few Steps.