(Hello, again! I was kinda unsatisfied with how the last one ended - need some better endings, ya know? - so I decided to write this one! The final part. So, let's get started!)
I woke up, feeling a lot better. Sleep can definitely help. I probably would've never gotten to sleep if I was used to sleeping in the same bed as Donna.
Oh. Right. Donna.
With a heavy heart, I got out of bed, smoothing the sheets back to how they were before. I sighed, going to the door. I went back down the stairs, seeing it was growing late.
I saw Augustine with one of the kids - I assumed Louis - going up the stairs. He looked surprised when he saw me.
"Oh, hey. Feelin' alright?"
I nodded. Looking at Louis, he did look pretty happy. But it hurt to know that I hadn't held him once today. At least my mind was a lot more clear with some rest.
"You slept for quite the while there. You 'ad me worried," he chuckled weakly. He seemed concerned. I noticed his smiles were pulled. It certainly helped my mood.
Even sarcasm didn't humor me.
"I'm just setting both of them to bed, alright?"
Augustine said, adjusting Louis. "You don't have to worry about getting up in the middle of the night, by the way. I'll handle it."
It sounded like he was taking my kids away from me.
He was only doing what was best.
It still hurt.
I hesitated before nodding. I should be the one putting the kids to bed. They probably don't even recognize me as their father. I swallowed a lump in my throat.
Augustine walked past, his robotic arm resting on my shoulder for a few moments before he was completely past me up the stairs.
I ran a hand through my hair.
Maybe it was weird I named my daughter Donna.
Daughter.
The word was already foreign to me.
I went into the kitchen, making some coffee. I already knew I wouldn't be able to sleep. Instead of crying, I'd be thinking about Donna constantly. Even now I was. I remembered how much she hated coffee. She refused it.
I remember when I teased her about hypocrisy when she got an iced coffee.
I remember when she insisted it wasn't the same. I had laughed.
I remember how she ended up laughing with me.
Her laugh.
I really missed her laugh.
I heard the coffee finish brewing beside me. I got a coffee mug out of the cupboard, pouring the cup of coffee.
I already felt exhausted, even though I had slept for a while. I wonder what Augustine did while I was asleep.
Did my job.
I took a drink of the coffee. I instantly regretted it. I choked slightly, putting the cup down and going for sugar and cream. I don't understand how some people drink their coffee black. That was a whole mess of bitterness.
Bitter.
That was what her iced coffee tasted like.
I pushed the thought aside, pouring a large amount of sugar packets into the coffee and stirring it. Then came cream.
All the cream and sugar made it a light brown.
Just add some ice and it'd be her ice coffee.
I took a drink. Not ice coffee.
I saw Augustine come back down the stairs. He spotted me drinking my ice coffee-colored coffee and went into the kitchen.
He poured himself a cup, adding only a packet of sugar.
Sugar.
Donna liked sweets.
How would it have been if Donna was here drinking iced coffee here beside me instead of Augustine?
She would be smiling.
She would be laughing and joking about the labor.
I would end up hugging her. I already knew that much. We'd talk about the kids. Debate on what was better, iced coffee or coffee.
Say how fortunate it was she made it through.
She would mention how many women don't make it through and get sad at the thought.
I'd hug her, but I wouldn't understand why she was sad.
I wouldn't think about the lives I ended.
I would just think about what to get her from the bakery.
Augustine was looking at me with curiosity. I didn't know how long I was lost in my thoughts. Probably a few minutes. I took a sip of the coffee.
How weird it was that I thought about Donna when coffee was the subject. It happened just because of coffee.
I'm probably going to stop drinking coffee.
"The two are asleep," Augustine said, though it was muffled by the cup. "Wot are you thinking about?"
His British accent.
The trip to London.
That was so long ago.
That was when I found out she was pregnant.
That was when the sleepless nights of worry had come around.
"Dez?" I had forgotten about that nickname.
Donna used it sometimes.
"Donna," I croak. I realized I hadn't spoken in a long time.
Was the last time with Lucas?
Lucas.
Was I really to blame?
He kept me thinking about three words.
It's my fault.
I didn't even know if it really was.
It kind of was.
No.
Yes.
Was it my fault because I got her pregnant?
She said it was okay.
Maybe it really wasn't.
Maybe I misheard her.
Maybe it was God's fault.
Maybe it was Death's fault.
Maybe it was Life's fault.
It would be stupid to blame it on God, Death, or Life. They weren't really proven. We've never seen God. Even that Grim Reaper feeling I had didn't prove Death was real. Life...that was something different. Life is an action.
Drawing breath.
A beating heart.
Life isn't a being.
But blaming Donna on Death or God, two beings never proven to be seen while alive, it would be a waste of time. I'd be yelling at air.
"She was a wonderful woman," Augustine said, looking forward as if going through the memories I went through a million times. Then he looked at me.
Hazel.
I remember how much Donna loved hazel eyes.
I remember how happy she was when she saw Augustine had hazel eyes.
"I'm sorry it 'appened, Dez. No one could do a thing about it." He meant it. He really wanted me to understand it.
He thought I blamed the doctors.
He thought I blamed the nurses.
He thought I blamed myself.
I kind of did blame myself.
Lucas was the reason for that.
I just nodded.
"Don't try and think you could have done something different, alright? You couldn't. You supported her. That was all you had to do, Dez. You didn't have to watch her heart. All you 'ad to do was hold her hand."
The lump in my throat was back. I did hold her hand. But when I did, she ended up leaving.
"She left," I said quietly. "But I don't blame anyone for it."
Augustine was quiet for a few moments. "Then you're a lot stronger than most people. Most people try to find someone to blame, they do." He nodded, as if agreeing with himself. "God. The doctors. The nurses. Hell, even their mothers. They try to find anyone to blame." He looked back to me. "You're blaming someone, Dez."
"What makes you think that?" I asked. It came out as a growl. Augustine sighed.
"Because. You 'aven't said a word until now. You're thinking. Thinking means you're sorting through who to blame. Who are you blaming?"
I didn't respond immediately.
Who did I blame?
Did I actually blame myself?
I didn't blame God, Death, or Life.
I didn't blame the doctors, nurses, or the monitor.
But did I blame myself?
I didn't think I could do anything different.
But I did know I got her pregnant.
"I honestly don't know," I say finally. "I want to blame myself. But I can't find any reason other than I got her pregnant." I took a drink of the coffee, finishing it. Augustine took the cup from me, rinsing it and placing it in the dishwasher.
He looked at me sharply. "You can't blame yourself for that. She was happy she was going to have kids." I could hear the click of his mechanical arm moving as he crossed it with his flesh arm. It was odd that he wasn't wearing a long-sleeved shirt or a jacket. He usually did. Maybe he was just comfortable with me. What I'm I talking about - of course he's comfortable with me.
I've known him since fourth grade.
I was the one who said he should get the amputation after his car wreck.
I was the one who he confided in after he learned his parents died in the car wreck.
Of course he is.
Why wouldn't he be comfortable with me?
He finished his coffee, doing the same with his cup that he did with mine.
What he had said was true. She was happy to be pregnant. She was ecstatic.
Her smile.
She smiled so much when she found out.
Why didn't I ever take a picture of it?
Augustine looked at me with curiosity. "You haven't eaten today, 'ave you?"
Most of my day came with sleeping and being heartbroken. I didn't really eat anything, he was right. But I wasn't hungry. But I understood why he was asking.
I shook my head.
"Then you'd better eat something now," he said, striding to the fridge.
How did he know his way around the house, anyway?
He only lived here for six years.
And that was a long time. How does he still remember?
I didn't get my mind today. I remembered the stupidest things. Then I think of more useless things to wonder about. I saw Augustine take out a bar of chocolate.
Chocolate?
I was never a fan of sweets.
Oh, wait.
Donna had craved anything with sugar while pregnant. And octopus. Or the two together.
I always kept something with sugar here for whenever she came over. Chocolate was a main thing.
"I don't like sweets," I say. It didn't sound like my voice. If was a lot deeper. I was already sure I went through puberty.
Does that happened when you're heartbroken?
"Oh, I know," he said while taking a large kitchen knife from its wooden holder. "But tryptophan is inside of chocolate. That generates feeling of happiness as a neurotransmitter. There's also phenylethylalanine that works with the dopamine already in the brain to act as an anti-depressant. And lastly, theobromine. That is less important, as it just works as a weak stimulant to make you 'ave a 'high' feeling," he explained. He cut the thick chocolate into small little pieces.
"...Where did you learn that?" I asked, generally surprised. Even though I had a medical degree - though expired - I never learned it.
"I studied neurology for a year, when I wasn't sure what I wanted to be. Why chocolate makes us 'appy was quite a commonly asked question, it was." He chuckled, handing me a small piece. "You won't even taste it."
I sighed, eating the piece of chocolate. He was right, I didn't taste it, but that didn't mean I wouldn't taste the larger pieces.
Donna.
How happy she would've been to eat a whole bar of chocolate.
I wasn't feeling any different. Even if it was only a small sliver of chocolate, I expected to get some type of effect. I gave Augustine a skeptical look. He shrugged, handing me another piece.
"Just eat it, alright?"
I sighed, eating the slightly larger bit. This time I could taste it. I didn't actually hate chocolate, it just got annoying after a while.
"So what, is this my medicine?" I asked, my low voice still bothering me.
"Yep. One bar a day."
I almost spit out my chocolate. "A whole bar?"
He nodded.
Donna would've been jumping for joy.
I wasn't.
Chocolate wouldn't help me forget her, if that's what he was trying.
Making her come back would.
"You keep eating the chocolate." He put the knife away after rinsing the small specks of chocolate off the blade. He gave me a serious look. "Don't just throw it away. It will help."
He kept the look for what felt like a whole minute before he left the kitchen. I sighed.
I took another piece. I wasn't getting annoyed with the sweet yet. It might've been because it was such small pieces. Augustine certainly wasn't an idiot.
I did feel more awake. The coffee must have helped.
Part of me didn't really want to be awake.
I felt tired in some way, but not in a physical way.
Maybe I was tired of crying.
Maybe I was tired of being sad.
I bet it was both.
I bit into another piece.
I wonder if one of my kids were going to be a sweet addict? I bet it would be Donna.
Why did they let me name her when I was thinking about the actual Donna?
Well.
She was the actual Donna now.
The original one was gone.
Gone.
What a replacing word.
I wonder why I never used what the hospital used.
DECEASED.
It was like that word kept echoing at me. My heart felt like it had a weight measuring a ton on it.
DECEASED.
Why didn't I ever use the word?
Gone.
Left.
Disappeared.
Missing.
Not here.
So many words can be used in its place. I might've been afraid of admitting it to myself.
DECEASED.
Should I be over it by now?
Was it natural?
Maybe I was abnormal.
I already was in a sick way.
I killed so many people.
I made so many people feel this way.
Pushing the thought to the side, I ran a hand through my hair. The lump in my throat hadn't left. It just seemed to get bigger and bigger every time I thought about her.
At least I didn't feel numb.
I remember how heavy my body felt in the hospital room.
Was she scared when it happened?
I remember being shot on a job. I ended up having four bullets in me. Being filled with bullets by a shotgun made you think you were going to die. Miraculously, I didn't. I had four scars in my chest and stomach, however.
I had a lot of scars.
Each had a story. I could tell them all.
One on my back from a bad knife fight. I killed the woman, but the scar remains from what the husband did. To protect her.
Another scar is in my left leg. The creator of it has a deep, deep scar in his neck. And he's buried six feet under. He had attempted to cut the muscle in my leg when we both had the same target but came from different bosses.
One landed a place on my back after a surgery when I was young. That was when the I had fallen off a tire swing and managed to land on a sharp piece of our fence. God, were my parents worried.
Lastly, there's a large scar on my chest when I had an open-heart surgery when I was young. That was when the hole in my heart had been causing some problems.
Donna didn't care about the scars.
She didn't even care about the stories.
She didn't judge me for my occupation. She didn't approve, but she didn't think me a bad man.
I remember how bad she felt for Augustine when his wife, Celina, had left him for the occupation. He at least got to keep his daughter, Katy. And, good for him, he's a grandfather.
There was a knock at the door.
I stepped in the direction of the door with another piece of chocolate in my mouth, but Augustine made it there before me. He opened the door to show Alexandra - his granddaughter - with her boyfriend, Nathaniel. Nathaniel's parents, Trunks and May, were they. Lastly, Vegeta, Bulma, and Bulla were there. I wasn't sure where Nathaniel's brother, Christopher, was, but I assumed he was left with Katy or Michael.
Sympathy and concern was not what I needed. I left to the kitchen again. I heard quiet conversation in the front room while I ate some more chocolate. I returned to hear the conversation, but out of sight. I was too focused on what they were saying to taste the piece.
"Are the twins okay?" I heard a female voice ask.
"Of course." Augustine. I'd imagine he smiled when he said it.
"What about-" The word was quietly spoken. I couldn't hear it.
"He's fine," the Brit responded. "A little...sad, though."
They're talking about me.
Great.
Sympathy and concern coming my way.
"I don't think he wants to be bothered."
"Oh...he's not...you know?" The voice was higher-pitched. May.
"No, no, he's not that depressed," Augustine responded softly. I almost couldn't hear him. "He wouldn't hurt himself."
They thought so far to think I was suicidal?
I have kids. But...
Those kids don't even know me.
I heard a sigh of relief from more than one person.
"What about you all?" Augustine asked.
"A little sad," Bulma said.
"Understandable. She was a wonderful person. It's a real shame she had..." Augustine trailed off.
"Are you okay?" I heard a voice ask. It was still female. Alexandra. I assumed the males - Trunks, Nathaniel, and Vegeta - hadn't spoken yet.
"Yes." It sounded slightly forced and choked up. Augustine must have been hit a little hard.
"I feel bad for Desmond." This time it was a male. Trunks.
"He slept most of the day," Augustine said. He sounded better. "Which brings to mind - why are you all here so late?"
"We decided to give him a few hours." Nathaniel.
"You could have come tomorrow."
"We just felt bad."
"I understand. Would you like anything?" Footsteps. They must have come into the living room.
"No, thanks, we just ate."
"I miss Donna..." May.
"We all do," Augustine responded. It sounded like a TV show. Yet here I was, not wanting to be seen and hiding near the entrance of the living room.
The chocolate must have been helping. I hadn't felt the need to cry.
"She was super sweet," May continued.
"She painted well." Bulma.
"I wonder if she would be happy to be with her kids."
"Of course she would," Augustine chuckled. "She was so happy to find out she was carrying, she was."
"She must be having a hell of a time in Otherworld, then," I heard Trunks say.
"Yeah." Nathaniel.
"We could revive her." Bulma.
Either Alexandra knew or she was confused, as there was a silence around the room.
Revival.
I would see her again.
Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea?
"No."
No?
Who said it?
The British voice gave it away.
"Dez can't cheat. Millions of people go through this. He has to learn."
Learn what? What is there to learn?
I know how to be sad.
I knew how to remember somebody.
I already regretted everything. What the hell did I need to learn?
I was in torment.
I regretted never saying goodbye.
I regretted never treating her better.
I regretted everything I ever said wrong.
What did I need to learn?
The chocolate wasn't helping. I felt tears burn in my eyes.
Bringing her back would've been amazing.
I didn't need to go through anymore of this.
It hurt.
It burned.
Augustine knew.
He knew what it felt like to lose someone.
He knew how much it makes your heart hurt.
Why the hell was he saying to not bring her back?!
Everyone was silent.
"You're right..." May said.
He was RIGHT?!
"It would be for the best." Bulma.
For once, I didn't regret shooting her. Normally it burned to think about. But now, she deserved it. She did hate me. And after the millions of apologies I had said. After the millions of times I had tried to tell her I'd changed. Now she wants me to feel this burning in my heart.
All around, people were agreeing. They all said it would help. I didn't understand. How does grief help anybody? I know how people feel when they lose someone. Okay. Gold star. But why can't she come back? I learned my lesson. I learned how bad it is to lose someone. But I quit my job so long ago. Why do I need to be taught something?
I felt tears. They were too familiar to me now. The lump in my throat felt like a million needles were being stabbed into my esophagus. I held back the want to make any noise.
I needed her back.
I needed her beside me.
I needed her smile, her comfort, her acceptance.
I just needed to touch her, see her one more time.
I couldn't let her leave without a single goodbye.
Donna.
She seemed so close.
All that was needed was to revive her.
That was it.
Make a wish. Done. She'd be in my arms and smiling beside me as we took care of the kids.
They can't just say I can't have her back. They can't keep her away from me.
Why?
"I won't mention it to Dez," Augustine said softly. "Would you mind telling the Sons about anything they want to know? I'm sure Dez wants to be left alone."
"Sure," Nathaniel said. "I'll tell Vanilla."
That was it?
They dashed aside my chance to be happy again just like that and moved on to something else?
I felt exhausted again.
My limbs felt like weights.
I wanted to cry. I already was, but I didn't want them to be near me.
Thousands of thoughts raced through my head.
I heard a door close.
They already left?
They didn't even ask me if I wanted her back.
I heard footsteps. I felt furious. I turned and punched Augustine square in the jaw, seeing him hit his back on the wall next to him. He blinked, a hand on his jaw.
"Wot was that for?!"
"For not ASKING me!" I shouted. My voice sounded raw.
"Asking wot?"
"You know how I'm feeling!" I advanced on him. "Why did you just tell them to not bring her back?!" My throat burned. My whole body burned.
"Dez, calm down, it's for your own good-"
"For WHAT?! I learned what I needed!" My breath hitched. "She's gone! I know! I'm not denying it! I regret everything I did wrong! What do I need to learn?!" It was hard to speak. Sobs were trying to work their way into my sentences.
"I know!" Augustine was yelling now. "I know you learned your lesson. The point is that you can't just ask for something and it'll be given to you, mate. You can't think that way. What happens when you can't bring her back? What will you do?" He was yelling louder than I was.
I knew what he was expecting.
He knew I would say that I would try to revive her again.
He was right.
I would want her back.
Augustine's expression softened. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Dez. You just need to learn..."
I still felt enraged. He couldn't just tell me to wait for myself to die and be with Donna. I couldn't go through that. I needed her. I'll say it and never stop saying it.
I needed her.
She kept me sane.
Those three words, I needed her, was what kept me missing her.
It was true.
I needed her.
I needed her just as much as she needed me when she was scared at her appointment. She was always so scared to hear the four words she dreaded. "You have...to live." When her life was given a limit. She was so terrified to hear it. I'd always tell her those three words.
You'll be okay.
I was terrified without her there. I was afraid to hear that I could do without her.
I felt his metallic arm on my shoulder. I punched him again.
He went back a step, surprised but also mad. "Dammit, Desmond!" I heard him say. I dodged a blow he made at me, but I made one at his stomach. He didn't seem fazed. He was holding his robotic arm back. I knew he didn't want to hurt me.
But I wanted to hurt him.
I needed to let him know that it hurt to be alone. It god damn hurt to be told that it would be better without someone.
I punched him again, but he delivered a blow to my stomach. The air was knocked out of my lungs, but the blow itself didn't hurt. I lashed out in a blind rage. For a few minutes, he went without being his prosthetic arm. But then, when he felt enough was enough, he pulled a hard punch to my temple.
Down I went.
When I came to, it was definitely late. My head still hurt. My stomach ached. I reached up to my temple, feeling a bandage, or something like it. It felt padded. I wasn't aware of what they were called, but it wasn't the first I had had one. Metal on flesh wasn't a great combination - of course I bled.
I was in my bed, my covers pulled over me. I glanced out the window. The stars were out. No sign of day.
She loved the stars.
She loved to dance.
She loved to paint.
She loved the sunset.
She loved puffins.
She loved me.
She was gone.
I glanced to my left to see my digital clock say it was three in the morning.
I groaned. My head hurt. At least it was a distraction from my thoughts. I noticed a small note on the end table. On it, it read:
"Dez, I'm sorry for hitting you. It was the only one to get you to stop fighting. I understand you were mad. But you just need to realize that this is the best for you. I already cleaned the wound, so don't worry.
Also, Lucas called. On the phone, he said that he's sorry for yelling at you. He said that he doesn't hate you as much. He also said that he didn't mind moving in with you. But he did want me to tell you that you aren't his favourite father, so don't let it get to your head.
You can tell me if you're okay with him moving in tomorrow morning. I'll call him back.
P.S.: You really need to work on your punches."
I almost wanted to laugh. So I didn't hurt him. I noticed his odd spelling of the word, "favorite", but it must've been because he was British. I remember Donna always liked to write "color" as "colour" and "favorite" as "favourite" just to annoy me.
I'd always cross out the "u"s just to tease her back. Then we'd both laugh.
Laughing seemed so foreign now.
I got out of bed, my temple pounding as I walked out of the room. The house was dark. Augustine was probably in bed. I glanced to the left. The door with a small hand print colored pink was on it.
Next to it was one colored blue, though bigger. Beneath both of them, the words, "KIDS' ROOM" was painted on in curled, cursive writing. I placed my hand over the smaller pink hand print.
Donna.
I remember how we both painted the door to suit the twins. Donna painted the words. Afterwards, she had dipped her hand in the pink paint and pressed her hand on the door. I had done the same, though with the blue. The hand print was cold. It wasn't the same, but it warmed my heart to remember it. I kept my hand on the memory of hers for a few moments before I returned to my senses.
I opened the door, hearing no sound emitting from the door. Both kids were in their own cribs. Both were completely silent.
Around the room were little turtles and unicorns. Louis' crib was painted green to suit the turtles, Donna's pink for the latter. A small bookshelf was against the wall colored purple. Books were on the shelf, mainly those of the old classic fairy tales.
A chair was next to the bookcase. It was Donna's idea. "To read them stories," she had said. I remember she had smiled the whole time while we put the room together. Two mobiles were playing music in harmony. Both children slept silently.
I moved on the soft carpet to look into Louis' crib. He was laying on his back, peacefully asleep in his own dreams. On the other side of the room, Donna slept similarly. I leaned on Louis' crib, hearing a soft creak. I wasn't one to watch people sleep. But there was something calming about watching him sleep.
I didn't notice his eyes had opened until I focused back on him. He smiled, cooing softly and holding his small hands out.
He seemed to know I was his father. That or he was just happy to see me. I smiled to myself.
It felt like so long since I smiled. It didn't hurt. It wasn't forced. It was a genuine smile. I picked him up, hearing him giggle happily. I heard another coo, this one from the other side of the room. I looked over and saw Donna had awoken as well in a happy fit of giggles and smiles.
I set Louis down to take Donna out. They were both so happy. I never heard them giggle and smile so much. I smiled again. I didn't feel sad anymore. My heart was filled with the happiness of the two. I took both of them and sat down in the chair, seeing them smile.
"This is only happening once," I whispered to the both of them. "From now on, you're sleeping and I'm not coming in here to entertain you both. That's a daytime thing."
They didn't seem to mind. Well, they couldn't really understand English yet. But that didn't stop me much. I laughed softly. Laughter felt just as good as smiling. My chest felt light. I was so used to it feeling heavy.
Louis yawned. Donna followed suit. They blinked tiredly. I smiled, pressing a kiss onto both of their foreheads. They yawned again. Donna laid on my chest, falling asleep instantly. I blinked. I had planned to take them back to their cribs, but they seemed comfortable on me. Louis did the same thing. I yawned.
I guess spending a night with the two of them wasn't so bad.
They didn't care if I had a few scars. They didn't care about the stories behind them.
They didn't care if I had a bad past.
They didn't care if I didn't see them every hour of the day.
They knew how to make me feel better.
Their smiles warmed my heart.
They were precious to me.
"I promise to be a good father," I said quietly. "And I swear I'll protect you with my life." The two promises I never told Donna.
They could be my peace.
They could comfort me when I was feeling guilty for what I'd done.
They could make me smile when I'm down or hurt.
They could fill the hole in my heart.
"You'll be okay." Those three words.
I said them to Donna so many times.
Three words.
They were all she needed.
Now they told them to me.
You'll be okay.
And I knew I would be.