Disclaimer: Much love to The Stellas for their heartbreakingly beautiful song In this House which I used as a basis for this chapter.
A/N: Back to back apology updates for my lack of work on this story lately!
Warning: Here be spoilers (for 3x18 – Choke). Also, here be character death. Also it's a songfic…I don't know what's wrong with me tonight…
Everything reminds me of the day I can't forget
Black clouds, black cars, black dress.
Now everyone around me says I should be moving on,
Lord knows I'm not that strong.
I reach blindly for the radio dial as tears fall silently down my cheeks; the song is too painful, too real as I sit in my black dress in a parade of black cars. I hear thunder crack above my head as the dark clouds roil with anger at the injustice that has been done. The car falls silent as Will shuts the radio off for me, he is stoic beside me and I don't know how he's keeping it all together. Shannon was his friend more than she was mine but I am the one who cannot seem to keep it together today.
The hearse pulls into traffic and like good little soldiers, we all fall into line, our hazard lights flashing as we slowly wind our way through Lima towards the cemetery. We should never have had to make this trip.
It is fitting, when we finally stop at the graveside, that the football team are the pallbearers. Shannon was a huge presence, both physically and emotionally, so enthusiastic and joyful as she always was. I can't watch as they lower the casket, instead burying my face in Will's shoulder. Shannon is eulogized brightly and warmly by staff, students and friends, and the Glee club performs a moving rendition of Superchick's Stand in the Rain that breaks my heart. There is a blackboard propped up at the grave, scrawled with messages of love and sadness for Shannon, wishes that she would find the happiness and love she was looking for.
As the graveside service ends I look up to the sky as the heavens open and the rain pours down. It takes everything I have to drop that white rose tied with a white ribbon on top of the casket and turn away. It becomes too final when that first handful of grave dirt is thrown. Rainbows of colour swirl together in the dirt as the chalkboard is washed clean, running in technicolour rivulets toward the grave, too happy for the scene.
I'd heard through the McKinley grapevine that Cooter had hit Shannon, that she'd lied to me and Will that day in the lunchroom when she said it was a speed bag that had given her the black eye. I'd tried to talk to her about it, to ask if there was anything I could do but Shannon had shrugged it off. She had said that she was living with her sister for now, until she could find a new apartment and would be ending her marriage to Cooter. Another lie.
We found out after it was too late that Shannon had returned to Cooter the day after she had initially moved out. Like so many battered women before her, breaking that bond seemed insurmountably difficult so she chose to stay and try and work it out. Maybe she thought she had to stay.
She had believed his promises, that he would seek help, stop drinking, never raise a hand to her again. Cooter lied too. He got better at abusing her apparently, only hitting her in places those of us who interacted with her on a daily basis would never see.
But I noticed the change in Shannon. At first I chalked it up to depression after losing her marriage and feelings of regret, sadness and guilt that often haunted abuse victims. But it dragged on. Three months after the black eye, Shannon admitted to Will that she had decided to give Cooter another chance. She said that Cooter had been in anger management therapy and had stopped drinking.
Will told me this two weeks later when I expressed concerns about Shannon's declining emotional state. When I asked her how things were going, she plastered on a smile and said everything was fantastic. Why couldn't I see through the lies?
It was Sue, of all people, who went to check on Shannon three days ago when she didn't show up for school. Sue had tried so hard to support Shannon, to get her out of the toxic marriage but Shannon had poured everything she had into her marriage and wasn't ready to give up without a fight.
There was a key hidden under the doormat and when Shannon didn't answer the door, Sue let herself in. The note was propped up on the coffee table next to a half empty bottle of vodka and multiple empty pill bottles. Shannon was long dead when Sue got there.
The official report said that there were more than fifty abrasions and contusions in various stages of healing on Shannon's body, all in places that would be normally covered in clothing. She had suffered in silence for months until it all became too much. How I wish I had said something, done something, when I saw her slipping into that depression. Maybe we wouldn't be standing here today, getting soaked to the bone, saying goodbye to a woman who didn't have to die.
I am only partly aware of the remainder of the day. Will and I host the gathering of friends and family after the funeral and I think I do a good job being hostess, smiling when people reminisce with funny stories about Shannon and keeping the worst of my heartbreak to myself.
As the last of the crowd files out, I collapse wearily onto the couch feeling the need to cry but lacking the energy or tears to do it. Will sinks down next to me and I curl into him, needing to feel the heat and life of his body. After a few moments I am surprised to realize Will is crying; I cup his face in my hands and wipe away the tears.
"I can't believe she's gone," he chokes out, and I say nothing because I can't believe it either.
"I should have…" I start.
"No. We tried Emma. Everyone tried. We all saw Shannon change, we all saw that first bruise but no matter what we did, it wasn't enough. Shannon knew she was surrounded by people who loved her but that wasn't enough to help her leave the one man she thought would ever love her as a woman. There is nothing else we could have done."
"I feel like someone has turned out a light," I tell him, wondering if he'll understand what I mean.
"I know," Will agrees, "It's like there's something missing."
Will kisses tears from my cheeks that I hadn't even noticed were falling. In the heat of the moment he moves down my neck and I let my head tilt back. We both need a moment to forget the horror of the last week.
"Will," I breathe, afraid of where this might be going as his hands slide up my thighs but not wanting him to stop.
"I need to hold you," Will says, his voice muffled in my throat as he continues to lavish kisses across my collarbones.
"Ok," I whisper, my fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.
"Em," Will warns as I reach the last button and splay my fingers across his chest.
"Don't stop Will," I beg.
Will's hands slide higher, hooking into the waistband of my stockings and pulling them down my legs. I shudder as the cool air hits my thighs, my dress hiked up to my hips as Will's fingers continue to explore. Carefully, he slides the zipper down the back of my dress, his fingers snaking beneath the fabric to caress my skin as he exposes each inch of flesh. I push the shirt from his shoulders and begin to work on his belt before I can change my mind. Will pulls the pins from my hair and as it swings free around my shoulders I stand and allow my dress to slip to the floor. Will pulls me back to him and his hands seem to be everywhere at once as he touches me. I am so focused on his touch I don't even realize that he's somehow ended up naked next to me.
Before I can react he's undone my bra and slid my underwear down my legs, levelling the playing field. We have a moment of quiet contemplation after he pushes into me and I feel my eyes fill with tears yet again.
"I love you Em," he whispers into my hair and I feel his tears dripping down on me, "Never leave me."
"Never," I promise, crying out softly as he begins to move.
In the afterglow we lay on the couch, cocooned in a blanket, Will's hands tracing lazy patterns on my back.
"She's really gone, isn't she?" I ask, knowing it's a childish question but needing to ask it anyways.
"Yeah Em, she's really gone," Will confirms and the tears start again, from both of us this time.
I cry myself to sleep tonight so I,
Can see you in a dream.
And I believe in you the way that
You believed in me.
Well that was fucking depressing. Working on – strawberries, friendship, third person omniscient.