Last Night On Earth, a cupid fanfic

Disclaimer: Cupid belongs to Rob Thomas, Mandalay Television, Columbia TriStar Television, etc.
Author's Note: For the 100moods challenge on LJ.
Summary: "She wanted to thank me--me, Trevor--for making his last night on earth a happy one."
Feedback: If it pleases you.
Rating: PG/K/FRT
Archive(s): Mine, 100moods. Anybody else, email me.
Character(s): Trevor, Susan
Warning(s)/Spoiler(s): S1x08. Heart Of The Matter

Prompt: #94. Thankful

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx

Title: Last Night On Earth
Author: rocketrox

Trevor had opted to wait at the hospital until Susan's surgery finished. He knew there would be no complications and everything would be fine, but he was compelled to remain.

She was still groggy from the anesthesia though her eyes showed him peace and gratitude. Their presence surprised him. He could not stop himself: he began to talk to Susan, heedless of her current inability to respond. Her smile tolerated his dismal attempt at nonchalance.

After he shared Claire's amazement over this miracle, while simultaneously excusing Claire's absence without letting on why, he felt her hand touch his. It was such a simple action and it shocked Trevor into silence when Susan's other hand pointed to her--Dan's--heart.

He shook his head, trying to deflect another 'thank you', but it was too late. She had the last word when the nurse arrived and the moment left them.

It was his cue to leave so Trevor made the trip home accompanied by his thoughts and was unsurprised to see another bead had slid across the suspended string. Dan and Susan; together until death do them part and, if the Moirae were kind, it would be a very long wait for Susan to make that final voyage into Dis.

xxxxx

He followed another impulse that had him visiting Susan at the hospital following day. Overnight, the room transformed itself from a drab cubicle into a jungle of "Get Well" balloons and flowers. Susan smiled a greeting while a plethora of cards distracted Trevor from conversation.

Numb, he realized the gifts were from players on the Black Hawk team and from Dan's family.

"Thank you for keeping a part of Dan alive."

"Dan's not truly gone."

"Thank you for giving Dan the chance to be a hero."

And so forth read the handwritten messages personalizing and punctuating the occasion.

"They're an amazing group of people," Susan said.

A million thoughts raced through his mind with her words. Outwards, Trevor smiled reflexively. Of course, they were. Even amongst their grief, they opened their arms to a stranger, a woman who would never forget the man who gave her back her life.

"I'm fine, Trevor," she stated when he finally turned towards her and showed signs of speaking.

He shut his mouth and smirked.

"You certainly sound good," he quipped. Then, he added, "Let me get you some water, and we'll do some serious talking."

With that, he settled besides her bed to chat.

xxxxx

Days later, Trevor escorted Susan home, acting as her servant by carrying the assortment of gifts she had received. She ignored them all in favor of hugging two teddy bears that occupied her bed.

At his look, she said quietly, "I won them the night Dan and I--" She choked on a sob. "On our date, we finished at the arcade."

Trevor knew there was more to the story but, for once, he allowed love to pass secondary to other emotions.

She stopped petting the faux fur on the white bear as she began laughing. Trevor jumped at the suddenness of her changing moods.

"You know what Dan's sister said when she visited me after the funeral?" She did not wait for an answer. "She told me that Dan had called her before he left for work--before the accident--to tell her how our date went. 'He sounded so happy,' she said. She wanted to thank me--me, Trevor--for making his last night on earth a happy one."

Trevor sat next to her.

"Now what?" he asked.

Her eyes twinkled with tears while she replied, "Now I'm going to live everyday as I did that night. I'll look at myself in the mirror, everyday, and know I'm not alone. Dan's closer to me than I thought any man would ever be. And every month, on our anniversary, I'm going to the cemetery to tell him--" She faltered.

"You love him."

The words were spoken quietly into the still air. Yet, it resounded with a loud echo in Susan. She grinned behind her tears.

"He's everything. That's what I'd tell him. He's my reason to wake up in the morning, to live, to experience. But I know he'd understand that I'm never going to fall in love again."

Trevor knew the last sentence was a vow, a vow stronger than any made in a church, and understood it was also a request for no more meddling on his part. To show he accepted her stand, he reached an arm around Susan and hugged her carefully.

In some ways, Trevor walked the fine line between loneliness and being alone more intimately than Susan would ever. With his hug, he silently told Susan that being alone may feel impossible to endure sometimes, but that meant loneliness was banished forever into the pile of uselessness. It was a far distant second, but memories of love warmed a cold bed better than its facsimile.

In the same vein, a lifetime was the ideal, but one night of love was better than nothing at all, and that, if nothing else, was an inspiring reason to live.

FIN