Author's Notes:
I cried a few times writing this, so here's some Emotions because I'm feeling a lot.
The support from you guys has been completely and utterly impossible. All the kudos, art, comments, fucking hell man I even got essay analysis about it. It means...SO SO much to me. My life is sincerely *different* because of this- because of YOU. This story has been utterly cathartic; it was started as a self insert because I wanted to validate my enjoyment for a specific character and to allow myself to daydream what it'd be like to meet him- to, furthermore, convince my kid self that did this very thing to cope with my problems that it's okay to like characters, and that I don't have to romanticize abuse and toxicity. I- sincerely- wrote this at first for me and about me, and then i realized I was willing and wanting to share this part of myself with others and be proud of the fact I picked up writing again for the first time in seven years.
And for then you guys came in, and you supported me and said the dang nicest things I've ever heard.
So this chapter is dedicated to us both. I made a story with the ending I wanted, and I got to share it with people willing to hear it.
Thank you, especially, to my friends, and especially Ace. You beta read this, listened to my ideas and made this story what it is, and you were the first person to support and believe in me in doing this. You're the best and I love you so much. Your direction was irreplacable, and this wouldn't be the story I wanted if not for you and your guidance.
This story would not exist today if it were not for my friends. You are all so loving and supportive, and I want you to know you made my life better. I'm glad I could give you at least this in return. I love you.
I do not believe this to be the end. I plan on indulging more writing about this AU in the future. A new beginning, you may say. About what happens after, probably.
But *this* story...is done.
(OH, and as a heads up, if you haven't read What's Not Yours yet, you should definitely do it before reading this chapter.)
87- The Beginning
"O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" – 1 Corinthians 15:55
And one petal fell.
Then another.
And another.
Their gentle, papery colors were tinged by warm hues their past home did not know. The fires of candlelight can only spread so far into the heavens. It was the colors of the sun itself now, painting richness only seen before with the splashes of life people brought into the studio that latched upon their backs and in their hands.
The life it sucked grey was let go, and everything lost was set free.
A broken pair of glasses, twisted and cracked, rested in wait. Fingers reached to them in new light, new texture, and tugged once…- twice…- thrice…- until they were gently pulled out of sight and into its palm.
Francine was in a sacred place.
The woman laid down once more, on her side as a breeze played with her hair after missing its touch for far too long. Her blue shirt was unstained, the maroon jacket tied around her waist untarnished, and her backpack was placed around her shoulders without a spot left on its pins and pink design.
Both ink and bloodshed disappeared.
She squeezed her hand with a groan into whatever was underneath it, the feeling not yet familiar as she felt things fall between her fingers, delicate and compliant with a bizarre, waxy texture. The bag was weighted and shifted with the movement, and something tall and light tickled the woman's nose as she began to pick herself up-
Lost breath as she realized she was alone. He's gone, he's gone-!
…Joey may have been gone- ripped from her arms by the universe- but as Francine rose from the flowers like it was all a dream, there was so much more waiting ahead that there was no way she could hold it all at once, even with empty hands.
With daisies and dandelions and violets at her heels, Francine gaped just a moment before she sprinted to the end of the hill where she was gently set down. Gasping for breath, she only lost it all over again as the horizon came forth and allowed her to see what was truly the promised land.
Francine was silhouetted by the rising dawn as the studio was gone- simply gone- and the vastness before her was so full and vibrant that maybe it didn't even exist until JDS died and let wildflowers grow over its grave.
And it was like buds in spring that people below in the fields surrounded by running water and stretching trees rose up from the earth, alive again.
Ink and bloodshed…disappeared.
Just as they were before Mr. Drew took them as his own, she saw not a single black speck upon these people made of flesh- left with their clothes, hair, and all else just like before the ink ate them away.
Some were on their knees, staring at their hands in utter silence, looking at the scars on their skin and asking themselves if those were there before.
Others leapt their feet and were screaming up at sunrise and its dyed clouds, feeling real once again with tears streaming down their face as they saw God and walked through hell to tell about it.
And others still had opened their eyes and thrown themselves in embrace at the first person they could see, and no one denied any other.
No one saw Francine as she saw them, observing their humanity until it carved unknown names into her bones. Button-up shirts, and poodle skirts, and baseball caps, and high-waisted jeans; many, many people from times past, both long, long ago and hardly before her at all. They all came to die- and they did. So they did.
And perhaps so did she.
…
But.
Here they all were, filled past the brim with life like a pitcher poured passion in their veins even as they overflowed and spilled into the world everything that couldn't stay inside.
And numb with a hundred lifetimes spun three times over, all she could do was make it to the bottom of her perch to be level with them, petals stuck in her hair and the masses of lost souls wailing and sobbing at being alive once again. A quivering hand rising to her mouth, she was too overwhelmed even to cry, but she made herself look because it was what they all were owed- to be seen as they once were, the night sky turning pink and yellow and blue for the coming day, watercolors filtering over the green earth and upon what was taken- returned to it again.
Something caught her eye. A butterfly, much disrupted by the arrivals, made its leave in fluster and fluttered past Francine's nose. She watched it blink in and out with each delicate flap as it weaved ahead, and Francine lost sight of the creature, leaving her to stare at two in particular out of the multitudes. Like in a trance, she was drawn forward, unnoticed among the many as they discovered themselves once more.
She was just one of them, too, after all.
There was a woman with auburn hair and bright, glossy eyes. She mouthed someone's name as she touched his cheek. Fair, young skin of a hand reached for the dark and old of a liverspotted face. Francine saw how the hand hovered, its fingers twitching in place as they were afraid to touch- or were waiting until something told them they could. The woman left her lips parted, her profile looking up at the one she waited upon. He returned the look with one different- wide eyed but with nothing but neutrality.
Francine saw she was afraid he didn't remember, and just as she resigned to begin pulling her fingers and pulling away-
…The observer felt her heart jump as the gentleman took the girl's hand tight into his, kissing its knuckles before pressing it into his face. She said his name again in a shout as she threw the rest of herself at him in the tightest hug human muscles could muster, fully returned. One father figure let her down, but this one never would.
Francine stood there, holding her hands up near her chest, tender and unsure if she should watch, before lurching forward with a yelp. Someone in the crowd accidentally- or perhaps even purposefully as they were overjoyed- shoved her from behind and left her to tumble. She felt herself stumble and closed her eyes in case she landed on her face-
A soft, "oof!" came close to her ears with a blunt impact, and she felt something solid keeping her upright instead.
Francine opened her eyes to find herself caught in the arms of this person, slightly shorter than her with curls at the ends of her hair. Her lips were painted red, parted once again like she wanted to speak but didn't know what to say, and she was simply wide eyed and staring at the person she rescued like she was a ghost.
A smile inched awkwardly across Francine's face. The other girl must be in shock from all this, just like her. She still felt her heart racing, glance flickering to the black man watching with much the same look and the then back to the white woman with her face so close. She didn't like to stare, but she couldn't help it- noticing half the woman's face looked…well, rough. Injured, maybe burnt sometime before all this.
…She was super pretty.
"…H."
Another twitch of a grin as Francine remained tense in her grip. A hand went to her face, and she noticed that this person's nails were painted too.
"…Hey."
…
Wait.
She looked familiar-
Whatever was on Francine's mind left with the wind as the girl did what she had begun to dream to do only a short time ago. With her first moment of being who she really was, Susie Campbell caressed her friend's face with her own hands, stars still barely in the sky as sunlight broke in rays, and a seraph finally kissed her beloved cherub.
If she had lost her breath- if she had felt her heart jump out of her chest before- it was nothing like this.
Francine's eyes kept wide and she felt goosebumps raise one by one on and hair raise at the back of her neck, but at the other woman's touch- soothing…adoring…longing- she finally felt herself relax and she kissed her right back, inexperienced but grateful and oh so very on fire with the daylight kissing warm onto their skin right alongside.
Someone played with the other's hair on a whim and made them giggle, leading the other girl nothing to do but giggle, too, into her mouth. Soon, both of them were laughing at the top of their lungs, holding each other's shoulder's and pressing foreheads into each other as they snuck in more pecks all over their faces, bubbling over with everything the fear of death doesn't allow you pay mind to.
No more.
Susie opened an arm in welcome for another and Norman Polk abided, running into the two with a big, big grin and holding them tight in the embrace of a grandfather.
The loudness of the three was contagious, or at least the world seemed louder as they cheered with joy too.
They were alive.
And Francine screamed along with the rest of them until she felt like her soul was going to hop out of her chest.
But it was some time into this moment, being rocked back and forth in Norman- Susie called her Norman- so… Damn! That was Norman!- and with a woman that before that refused to so much as shed a tear crying into her chest…
…That was when Francine raised her head at the bluing sky and felt her smile fade.
Wordlessly, she delicately pushed herself out, head turning every which way, a hand to her heart and worry in her eyes.
Susie could hardly say the first syllable of her name before the sheep ran off to find her shepherd.
Elbows gently pushed past the others around Francine as she peeked over every shoulder, searching every face. Giving a concerned grimace to the projectionist, Susie grabbed him by the hand and they followed.
Susie wasn't sure if she wanted to see Sammy again, but that wasn't as important as not leaving the woman she loved alone yet again.
"Sammy?!"
Francine contorted her face into ten different frowns as she called for him and got nothing back. The noise around her wasn't helping, either. With the other two just a few steps away, she dashed towards another corner of the dip in the valley and skid to a halt, rising to the tips of her toes and humming with dismay.
It was here that the crowd was finally thin, where those that were aware enough to want solitude took their friends or themselves alone and sat in sunset-colored poppies to think.
Brow furrowed, she glanced more distantly and saw one person farthest ahead, someone at the lead of the congregation as they sang hymns of their heaven, mumbled recognitions of mercy without knowing what was next.
She saw a man with brown skin, overalls, and a tuft of hair towards the front of his head put broken glances on his face and turn towards Francine with his chin up to the sky.
"Francine?"
She saw dull eyes widen with his voice, and so she screamed his name again and ran all the rest of the way. Francine didn't stop even when she got to him; Sammy Lawrence lost his breath and grunted sharply with the impact as he was tackled but not allowed to fall down, she gripping him tight and then him doing the same for her, leaning back and forth with the momentum as they worked to keep each other balanced. His hold at first was out of necessity, but as she repeated the name that truly, truly belonged to him, he wrapped her tight and listened.
He didn't know what else to do, being given everything he prayed for all these years with the death of his god. But love requires a sacrifice, doesn't it? That's one way to put it.
He didn't want to think about that right now anyway.
And so with birds tweeting and blooms swaying with the spring morning, they and Francine's friends watched as Sammy tilted his head down into her hair, rocking back and forth, her eyes clenched shut and his softly looking past her and into the everything surrounding them.
But it could have never been long before she wanted to see the person that had walked with her this whole time. The music director felt her pull back and gasped, but she kept her hands on his forearms and squeezed in assurance.
He was so young.
She reached a hand up and held his face, seeing his lips quiver. She gave him a grin, but still, he did not change. She tried again, and added:
"It's okay!"
What was okay in particular, she had no idea, but it didn't matter. It was all okay now, regardless.
And that was enough, finally making Sammy smile back, and in turn it made her beam.
"You have such a nice smile…!" A giddy exclamation, her voice on the fringe of sobbing and crying. Instead, she bounced up and down in place and bit her bottom lip as it began to grimace with threatening tears. Thankfully, Sammy seemed to understand, and he just smiled wider.
Then, the man chuckled. Somehow, his voice was both the same and…different. No telling if it was an imagined difference, one from the moment, or one that would stay with him forever. It helped her return to a real, unrestrained smile, too.
"Good to hear."
And again, something about that…Something about how he said it…It made Francine's expression drop.
She became silent, the sounds of nature filling the quiet as the woman studied the man's face.
It was, indeed, human. She stroked his cheek, feeling his skin- skin!- beneath her fingertips. His lips pulled back further, nervously showing a bit more teeth. Her second hand released from him- making his expression flicker and brow furrow in wait-…and it did not change even as it hovered near his other eye.
Sammy's eyes weren't dark like they were in the photo, but light and rather grey.
Susie observed this from a distance, half of her face disfigured even though it wasn't before the ink. Others around them now, too, often had big scars or even a missing body part, and it was hard to ignore.
Francine put together what everyone else already knew; she found it rude to ask the now obvious, and so instead she did the least she could do.
She described his face, one inch at a time. It was wonderful, but the best thing of all was to be free from the ink and feel the wind comb his hair another time.
It was a good, long time before she looked up, up to the sky. The clouds were puffy and perfect like she remembered they could be. She blinked. One seemed to move faster than the others, a spot of white among the bright backdrop that dashed away.
As Susie and Norman finally approached, Francine looked on a moment with a soft smile as they and Sammy had their moment, backstepping…backstepping…-
She had hoped they didn't notice her running off, but they would.
The wanderer climbed up the hill's path, and for the first time it was evident to her that this place wasn't untouched by humanity after all. No, as her hand grazed past the old wood that helped her find her way forward, she saw it had been here for a long time, washed over and over again by rain and sunk into the ground- like the railing had once been much taller but mother nature was gradually taking it back.
The horizon came forward once more and her eyes widened with more there in wait.
And just as she came, a yelp rang out from something scared, and it scampered out of sight. It was just a second of pause before she gave solemn chase, half-running the rest of the way up with her lips pursed with concern.
The knoll leveled out, leaving her in tall grasses with morning glories and hollyhocks and more and more she couldn't name. They and the moss crawled up a stump shaped like it was the throne for a fairy king, her ankle brushing its overgrowth and uncovering a name carved into the wood without her notice, even as morning drew dripped where she could feel its touch.
A cottage was up ahead, something like it was out of a storybook as she waded through the weeds and gawked at a rooftop filled with moss and vines that curled into each and every nook in the brick walls. The windows were unbroken, but almost looked it from all the spiders that wove their webs.
She came to the door and it creaked open, and she saw someone inside the place that was once his home, curled up in the corner and shaking, trying his best to be as small as can be in a big, big world. Francine glanced around as his soft whimpers filled the tiny building, seeing old, dusty cooking spoons and toys and hand-drawn pictures that a proud mother kept even once her darling child grew up.
Sammy, Susie, and Norman didn't know what to feel as they arrived just to see Francine on her knees by Joey's side, holding him as he cried once again, light streaming from the open door as he hid in the shadows. The ink was not washed off his clothes, and there was a scar on his left palm.