Poetic Lachrymosity

By rese

A/N: oh gods I finally found some of the Little Women soundtrack (the Thomas Newman one) and those songs just make me want to bawl. Ugh, way to pull the heartstrings with instruments.

Jo sat by the window watching the rain fall. Her face was lit by the reflecting light from the grey clouds that passed over, some which blended to form one bright sheet and others rolling in their darkness, features changing like smoke. Totally unaware of her audience Jo's face held a tragic touch to its usual jovialness.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Startled she turned to find the intruder was Laurie. "Oh," was all she said before moving back to the window. He took it as a sign to approach and sat down closely beside her. The silence stretched and Laurie wished he knew how they'd gone from telling each other everything to hardly seeing one another.

"You don't seem like yourself lately. Is everything alright Jo?" he nudged her side gently.

"You should talk!" she looked up, "you've been just as sullen and not spoken a word of it to Amy or myself." She was upset about him! Laurie's heavy gaze held more fondness than Jo would've liked but he never spoke lover-like so she let it pass.

He nodded slightly; his mind had torn itself in two lately over Amy and his resurfaced feelings for Jo. "Surely I'm not the reason you've shut yourself up in the old attic," Laurie gestured around the room hoping to bring the conversation back to Jo. It was true partly, she had taken refuge for other indefinable reasons but Jo scowled at him anyway.

"Hardly!" she looked out the window again. Maybe if she didn't face him he would let her be. Actively ignoring Laurie was harder than she thought though, his breath was on her ear and she could smell his cologne by her neck. This wasn't fair; his being shouldn't stir her senses so!

When Jo turned her head around again she finally realized just how close he was. She scooted a little closer to the wall, determining that a little extra space between them would clear her mind of Laurie.

"You really don't make it easy to help you, you know?" Laurie watched her odd behaviour. Maybe she really didn't want to tell him what it was this time. That thought hurt however he didn't want to press her if she didn't trust him. "Alright Jo, you win: I'm off."

Laurie stood up but before he could finish a step he felt a hand on his arm. He looked behind at Jo and sure enough, she was holding him back, "please, don't go." She saw her hand still clutching and let go. "I'm sorry Teddy; I don't want you to leave." Jo looked very apologetic indeed and he simply sat down again, willing to do anything for her.

"Is it Beth?" Jo nodded, and then shook her head confusing Laurie further. He leaned against a box, pondering how to go about helping her. All he could really offer was a shoulder and his ears.

"I'm sorry Laurie; it's everything and nothing all at once. I'm just in a mood and now you'll suffer because of it. I can't be happy till I've worked my way through it. It won't take too long, I should think." Then Jo looked at Laurie's brown eyes, "Maybe it will." She shrugged.

After another moment of silence Laurie shuffled closer to her, "Well Jo," he put an arm about her, having lost the awkwardness of a boy some time ago. "I'll be here." Pleasantly surprised he felt her head lower onto his shoulder.

"Thank you."

…

He'd gone and done it. Laurie had regained an understanding with Jo only days after finding Amy agreeable and lovely, this pushed things right back again.

Amy would smile at him and he'd wish she was Jo. Amy would flitter about the house and he'd wish she was Jo. Only Jo wouldn't flitter she'd run or skip and be merry with him. No decorum or propriety in his household would ever compare with the overwhelming wildness his alternative imaginings had.

It shamed him that the comparison he'd started went further, even into intimacy. When he kissed Amy he felt nothing. So he'd kiss her with fervor unknown to them both, trying to make the body that loved her convince both his mind and heart. It wasn't good or right at all and it made him sick inside.

At least his ardor had convinced Amy for she would only look at him with love - such love that his guilt would threaten to swallow him whole. Laurie would escape to his music but that only reminded him of Jo and then he'd wonder how the only thing he kept for himself had been warped into a Jo March Memory.

Jo Bhaer. She was Josephine Bhaer and he – Theodore Laurence - was torturing himself over her.

…

"Laurie I have something to tell you," Amy was smiling at him, a puzzling look of excitement gracing her classical features. Laurie watched her blankly for a moment until she sat beside him, taking his hands with her own, "Laurie, I'm pregnant!" Amy's smile grew in unimaginable size and Laurie just continued to look at her uncomprehendingly.

When he remained silent Amy's happiness turned to panic. What if he didn't want a child!? "Oh, oh I'm sorry." She quickly stood up, shaking with her thoughts – he didn't love her and he didn't want her child!

Laurie snapped out of his shock and leaped out of the chair to grasp his despairing wife. "Wait, Amy! Don't be sorry, this is wonderful!" he saw her eyes relight and he held her close, "it's fantastic news Amy, I'm going to be a father!" his heart wrenched and he came close to tears.

This threatened to push him over the edge. He was going to be a father but where that led there was no Jo. There could only be Amy. Oh, he'd gone and done it now.