This day has turned out to be way worse than Pete had ever imagined it being. This was the fifth time he'd been awake, and the world seemed fuzzy, dark and empty. And although that whiskey bottle was calling his name, he was not drunk. He hadn't fallen off the wagon yet, Myka wouldn't be happy if he did.
She had looked so peaceful as she slept, a smile from the night before still stretched on her lips. He had woken up early and decided to watch her sleep. It had taken him longer than he cared to admit to realize that her chest wasn't rising with the intake of breath. He moved her to her back frantically, pressing his ear to her chest waiting for a heartbeat that never came. He had screamed for help, his voice growing week as he realized what was happening. Martin was the first one in the room, answering his father's cries, followed closely by Claudia. He didn't want Martin to see this, Martin was the last person he wanted to see her like that. But by the time they arrived, Pete was upset and confused and just rambled about her not breathing, and needing to save her, and how she couldn't actually be gone. Martin had tears in his eyes as he dragged Pete from the room by his shoulders, removing Pete from the stressful situation that was unfolding.
Pete left, reluctantly, and retreated into himself. He didn't watch as the regents removed Myka from the bedroom, a white sheet over her face. Instead he hid in the kitchen, trying to find something to eat that would comfort him, and not succeeding. What he found instead was a bottle of whiskey. He hadn't had a drink in over forty years, but it looked really appealing, calling his name. He hit it easily under his shirt, and ran for his room, ignoring the calls from his son and friends, and retreating to mourn on his own.
Mourning consisted of sobbing uncontrollably, to sleeping, to holding that whiskey bottle so close to his lips it would be easy to throw it back, and feel the burn in his throat that would remind him he was still here, without her. Every time he got close, he would think of her, think of the one person who always kept him grounded, and pull it away from his lips. She never saw him like that. Myka wouldn't want him to resort to that.
Each time he fell asleep, he saw her, her hair still wild and curly, streaked with bits of gray, revealing her older age. Her green eyes flecked with gold that sparkled every time she smiled. Her smile that stretched across her face, lighting up his world. He could hear her laugh that he could distinguish from across the room, that always sounded like it burst from her chest with surprise that she shared so freely with the world around her. So Pete dreaded to sleep, and yet, didn't want to wake. Because when he woke, he remembered she wasn't there, and he didn't want to face that reality.
At least she was happy. He hated thinking like that. The night before, they had met Martin's girlfriend, Julie. She was beautiful, with stick straight brown hair and large blue eyes, with soft features that matched her pleasant personality. She had been excited to meet them, as they could sign, and she was deaf. Pete had been excited at the chance to use his ASL skills with someone he would see more often than his sister. They knew Martin would start bringing Julie around. He remembered teaching them all, Ginny and Martin as babies, and Myka shortly after they started dating. He was amazed at how quickly she picked it up, her photographic memory helping her along the way.
Myka and Pete talked for hours after the meeting, agreeing that Julie and Martin were a great match. Myka had pushed curls out of her face, settling down under the covers on her side of the bed. "He loves her, you can tell. He looks at her like you look at me." She flashed Pete a sheepish grin.
Pete removed his reading glasses, turning off the light on his side of the bed, plunging them into darkness, only the moonlight from the window illuminating the room. "Well, then she is in luck, because I am head over heels in love with you, Myka Ophelia Lattimer, and I wouldn't do anything to lose you." He leaned in for a kiss, which she graciously gave up.
She settled, yawning, her head on his chest. "I love you Pete."
He kissed the top of her head. "Goodnight, my Ophelia."
Pete hadn't thought those would be his last words to her. He thought it could be worse. They could have fought, so many times he had heard of last words that were in anger. If he had known, maybe he could've said something more meaningful, something better than goodnight.
So now it was nighttime, he woken five times to world without Myka, and held that bottle so close more times and he wanted to admit. He hadn't spoken to anyone, not Martin, not Claudia, not Abigail. Every time someone tried to come in, he waved them away or just pretended to sleep, making their offers to help ineffective. He just wanted to be alone. No one had managed enter.
Until now. The unknown offender had ignored his desperate pleas for solitude and had entered anyway. In the darkness, I'll he could make out was the silhouette of a tall, curly haired woman, and his world brightened for just a few seconds. Maybe it had all just been a terrible dream.
"Dad? Are you okay?" The figure spoke, and he could feel his heart shattering all over again. The voice was higher pitched than Myka's, and belonged to his daughter, who looked too much like Myka for him to handle.
"No, I can't." He started, his voice breaking. He could almost feel his heart shatter as he pushed his daughter away with his words, leaving aching hole in his chest.
Ginny stopped before she reach the bed. "You can't what, Dad?"
"I can't look at you." He felt terrible, she was there for him, there to comfort him, and had probably driven all day to get here so quickly. But she reminded him of everything he had lost.
"Dad!" She shouted, ignoring him. She was over to the nightstand before Pete could blink, picking up the bottle of whiskey. "What the fuck?" Her eyes were enraged as she look to him for explanation. Before he spoke, she stormed over to the window, slamming it open and hurling the bottle as far as she could. She glared again at her father, tears gathering in her eyes.
Pete shook his head at the brunette. "I didn't, I swear." He responded to her unasked question. She raised her eyebrow at him in response, not quite sold on his declaration. "I swear, Ginny, I didn't drink any of it." He told her again, unable to convey the guilt he felt at the thought of actually drinking, how close to the edge he has tottered way too many times over the last few hours. "Your mother," he started but couldn't finish. Is gone, had never seen him drunk, would never see him drunk, was gone, is beautiful, is dead, is gone. So many ways he can complete that sentence.
Ginny's eyes softened as relief flooded her brown eyes. She sank down next to him on the bed. She wrapped him in a fierce hug, pinning him to the bed, her face buried in his chest. He could feel her shaking with sobs, her tears wetting his chest. "Don't scare me like that." She sobbed her voice breaking. "I already lost Mom today, I don't want to lose you too."
He could feel his heart breaking again. Yes he had lost his wife, the love of his life, but his kids lost their mother. And he had been so selfish, keeping to himself, and almost falling off the wagon, that he hadn't been there for either one of his children. He hadn't seen Martin since that morning, and if Ginny hadn't barged her way in, he would've ignored her too. He pulled his sobbing daughter deeper into his chest, squeezing hard, and feeling her embrace him back. "I'm sorry, baby girl" he whispered to his grown child, kissing her wild curls that reminded him so much of her mother. He realized something, lying there with her. That his children were the best way for Myka's spirit to remain alive. He sent a silent prayer up to his wife, to wherever she was watching from, telling her he would do better for the kids' sake, and that he loved her. He ran his hand down the back of Ginny's head, running his fingers through her curls. "I'm sorry. But I promise, I'm not going anywhere."
A/N: These chapters sucked to write and I am drained. I did something different this time. I wrote the one from Pete's point of view first before I wrote the other one in Late Night I hope everyone enjoyed the ride, and don't hate me for the bitter ending. Please check out Late Night, it would make me very happy. Thanks for following this through to the end with me.