Disclaimer: I own Chrno, yes I do! I'm a liar, how 'bout you!
Author's Note: Please see chapter one for note.
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Ticks of the Clock
Time
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She never talked about it. Running out of time. . .
Instead she smiled and snickered at my dumb jokes, cracking ones herself when I did something stupid. She loved a good laugh- it cheered her up like nothing else would. And she never grew tired of telling me funny stories when I could sit down and listen to her, when my chores were few; tell me about the places she'd been and the people she'd seen. With all that she'd done, she sounded more like an elderly grandparent rather than some sixteen year old girl. But no matter how wonderful her tales were, she always insisted that they were trash compared to mine. She adored my stories.
Because of that, I told them to her often.
She never talked about it. Running out of time. . .
Instead she'd read books- usually the ones her kid brother had sent her- and chatted animatedly about her sweet little sister, Azmaria, who (according to her) had the best voice in the world. She loved her siblings, and bragged about them endlessly. Didn't care much for her parents, though. Only mentioned them long enough to note that they were gone, and that she was being provided for by her Uncle Remington.
She pretended it didn't hurt when the nurses told her that her family wasn't allowed to visit- that she was just too sick. But she refused to let it get her down. She liked to see the bright side of things.
So they wrote letters.
She never talked about it. Running out of time. . .
Instead she kept a pocket watch on her bedside table. And it was always there. Always as it was the day before: The silver links of the neck-chain drooping off the edge of the wooden surface, the shiny brass face gleaming in the luminescent light, the soft ticking as the seconds trickled by. Yes, even if the apocalypse were to come, I can assure you- it would be there, keeping track of every moment.
She never told me where she'd gotten it from or why she kept it. There was a clock in her room, after all- a nice, state-of-the-art digital one. It even told the phases of the moon and the temperature outside. But she preferred using her antique.
She never talked about it. Running out of time. . .
Instead she let the coughing fits come as they pleased.
Instead she let the doctors poke and prod and stick her full of needles.
Instead she dealt with the hot and cold flashes, the insomnia, and the internal bleeding.
Instead she slowly slipped away.
She never talked about it. Running out of time. . .
Instead she laid quietly in that too-white room, sweat trickling down her face as I squeezed her hand. The oxygen tanks beside her groaned and squealed terribly, the heart monitor's beeping going haywire. Her grip tightened around mine.
Then her bleary eyes wearily sagged shut, blank- the tremors subsiding; breathing slowing and flesh growing cold. Her fingers loosened.
She never talked about it. Running out of time. . . And now her time had finally run out.
A wet sob lodging itself in my throat, I gradually managed to pry my hand from hers- not ever wanting to let go.
And on her bedside table, my Rosette's pocket watch stopped ticking.
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Ending Note: Rosette/Chrono angst of the 21st century!
. . .Yeah. Just wanted to try an AU bit while still keeping the basic Chrono Crusade theme of 'running out of time'. So I had Rosette dying of disease, and Chrono a hospital worker. Sort of like my InuYasha fic 'I'll Remember You Forever'. . . only not. ;)