Disclaimer: I own Anita. I own my mistakes. I do not own anything else.
Recovery
Anita had recovered quickly in the psych ward. She spent only eight days there, but they put her on medication, so she got better. Her brain chemistry had been off.
She was home again. Something about her brain had kept her away, but the medicine cleared away the fog, and she was back. She was home.
She saw a psychiatrist weekly. She got better. Her dose went up, she finished school, and she was slowly weaned off of the medicine. In the meantime, L had explained his motives, why he hadn't full-out stopped her. She gave him wings—white, they were, and long. Powerful wings, which looked beautiful on him.
At fourteen years old, she had gotten over being suicidal.
"Anita," her mother called. "Anita, your father and I have something to tell you."
Anita trudged out into the living room sleepily. Skulduggery followed after, hat off and tie loose, but awake enough to hear what happened next.
"What is it?" she asked blearily.
"We've decided that we need some celebration," her father told her, "of your quick recovery. Remember when we went to get our pictures taken at the post office and we wouldn't tell you why?" Anita nodded and he went on. "Well, we got passports. And in a week, we're taking a ship to Ireland."
Anita jolted awake, started squealing, jumping, and hugging her parents. She was obsessed with the country, to the point that she planned to take Irish Gaelic, wanted to live in Ireland, and would have been quite happy if someone had packed her in their luggage if they went on a trip to her favorite country.
(line break)
"You know, you might not remember me, even if I find you," Anita told him.
"I know," Skulduggery replied. They stood together in her bedroom, dim due to drawn blinds, as Anita packed her suitcase. "But Anita, I promise, I will remember something. You just have to find me."
"And I promise you," Anita replied, "that I will find you."
"I know. How could you not—at the very least, you can locate my ego. I'll most likely be at the center," Skulduggery joked.
"Indeed," Anita laughed, and then she kissed him lightly. When they broke apart, she whispered, "I'm coming home, my love."
"I know," he whispered back. His voice still sometimes sent a tingle down her spine, and it did then.
"You know, you'll have to bury me," she told him.
"I know that, too. But would you show me? Maybe I'll remember that. Maybe I'll remember this. It's worth it," he muttered back.
And then he was standing on a dock, watching as Anita, a white flame beneath her skin, was set onto a boat, and L put a white flower on her chest. This time, rain fell quietly. That was a new detail, but all the rest was familiar. And so he watched as Anita was sent down the river.
The dream ended. Anita had a tear down one cheek. Skulduggery reached out and wiped it away—she almost never cried in her world, almost always it was in his.
"Don't cry," he commanded. "You should be happy. You're going to Ireland. Please tell me you'll be happy."
"I will be. I promise, I'll be happy—when I go to Ireland, I won't have a choice," Anita promised.
Her mother called, and Anita turned to go. Before she could slip away, Skulduggery called after her softly. "Anita?" She turned, and he continued, "When you get there, say my name. Call me to you—I'll always come to your call."
"I'll be sure to call you, then," she thought to him, and he picked the thought up easily. He had enough time to see her smile, her tears of joy, and then she slipped away from his grasp.
And he forgot everything.
A/N: Oh noes, Skulduggery forgot! *gasp* So no, Anita will not have any company from her otherworld, Fastreena, while she's on the ship. But she'll be stuck with her parents so it's all cool.
I don't know if her parents ever knew…how sad. Ah, well. If you are new to my writing, and you liked this, please go read A World Unknown (Soon to become A World Lost), the fanfiction to which this is a prequel.
Did you like it? Review, lovelies!