Chapter 96

Faces from the Past

Sitting still with two leather-clad folders placed on the table in front of him, Derrick stared at them unmoving. Grace had left to see Nick only half an hour before. For twenty minutes he had done a quick work-out, lifting weights mostly. But unlike most mornings, he simply couldn't get into the mood. Instead, he had taken out these folders for a reason he wasn't entirely certain of. Staring at them, Derrick couldn't find the strength to open them.

He looked up and took a breath, trying to stop the shaking in his hands. He hated this feeling… he hated leaving Grace alone. He had to; he knew he had to, but even so… Ever since their parents deaths he had never let Grace out of his sight. To let her go… It took every single inch of willpower not to run after her.

"…Fuckin' hell…" Derrick murmured, running a hand through his hair. "It's a bunch of goddamn pictures, stop being a damn pansy." With that, Derrick grabbed the first of the folders and opened it to the first page.

It was a photo-album, something his mother and father had kept ever since they got together. The first two pictures were of his mother and father. Serena was tall and slim, blonde hair brushed back and a happy smile on her face. Mark was a heavy-set man with a beard and big arms. The first set of photos were of their initial relationship, dates and the like. Finally there was an official wedding photo, of them kissing. Serena was noticeably pregnant.

A few more photos followed, until the first photo of Derrick himself. He was new-born, a big baby but a healthy one. Serena held him, breathless but happy. Mark couldn't make the birth unfortunately.

Derrick flipped through the pages, watching himself grow up. First steps, a face-full of chocolate birthday cake, swinging on a swing-set. Even one rather amusing photo of him at about two years old trying to lift his father's weights. Turning three years old, swinging on his father's now long beard. Finally turning four, sleeping against Serena's pregnant belly.

Then Grace was born. A wispy haired child. Once again, Derrick watched Grace grow up, and in turn himself getting more mature. In a lot of the pictures it was Derrick and Grace together, with Derrick holding Grace until they were both old enough to use the swings, or go to the park, and then riding bikes. Halfway through the photo-album, Derrick stopped on a photo of the whole family. Serena was looking worn but she was happy. Her blonde hair had gone more white. Mark was had tied his hair back also into a tight pony-tail, and also his beard had been tied to make a pony-tail, which Grace had used to swing on when she was much younger. Grace herself was around eight years old, smiling bright, eyes flashing. Derrick was thirteen at that point and had been having a growth spurt.

Turning the page once more, there were no more pictures. The family photo had been the last photo taken before…

Derrick grit his teeth and placed the album back on the table. He had never ever let Grace see it. He feared that it would cause her to break even more than she initially did. Derrick's hand turned to the other album and he picked this one up. It was a photo album he himself started. He wanted to continue the hobby Serena and Mark had started. Perhaps it was some kind of self-therapy since Derrick didn't have a reason for starting it, but he did.

Opening to the first page, Derrick winced as he saw the side of Grace's face, covered by hair. Flicking through the pages, that was how it always was. Grace turned to the side. No matter how many times Derrick tried, she simply would not look at the camera. Eventually, he had stopped trying and abandoned the hobby. Holding the album in his hands, he could only revisit those painful memories of nights spent wide awake, watching over Grace as she had her nightmares. She screamed and she cried when she was asleep. When she was awake, she never spoke, was blank as a piece of paper.

"Fuck!" Derrick suddenly exclaimed, slamming the album onto the table and standing up. He hated going back in time, revisiting his memories. It was all about the future. The past was the past and that was that. Crossing his arms, Derrick stared at the album with hatred. They brought back bad memories for him – What would they do to Grace? Picking them up, Derrick stuffed them back into the back of his drawer where Grace would never look and sat back down, breathing steadily.

Rain pelted down, lightning flashed, thunder rumbled. Dorothy stood in the middle of Central Park, hugging herself to ward off any chills. With every lightning flash, Dorothy winced but still she stood, biting her lip. It seemed like so long ago that she had stood here with David, talking about such menial things such as teaching or walking a dog. So long ago that her life was normal… or as normal as it got. Being as she was blind from birth, her life had never been 'normal'.

Having been raised by a mother who was disappointed in her and a father that full-on hated her, Dorothy's blindness had been a hindrance even from birth. It was some kind of rare genetic disorder that had skipped over her mother and grand-mother. Only her great-grandmother had had the same blindness. When she was twelve, Dorothy had once heard her mother talking to her sister.

"I love her… I do… but… this condition… her blindness… it's draining me and Chris. We just don't have the money to give her these special lessons… and… I just wish I had a normal child, sis…"

She tried to love Dorothy, but she simply wasn't the little girl her mother wanted. And when she turned sixteen – She didn't stop Dorothy's father from kicking her out of the house. Her father had always despised the blindness – seeing it as some kind of grotesque injury. He taunted and jeered and laughed when he asked Dorothy to read him a letter. Her father was the direct reason she was so calm and nice and spoke properly. It was an adverse reaction to his horrible attitude.

After leaving her parents at sixteen, Dorothy had lived at a friend's house, growing much more independent. It was only a few years until she had met David. That he had walked in her playing the piano… They were friends at first, then when Dorothy's initial friend left the country, she moved in with David. He was a roommate, a friend, a confidant and… so much more.

"Dorothy Louella… I love you… so… so much… but this needs to happen."

But she never made a move. Not only was she too shy, but David had his wife, his child. Dorothy couldn't do anything for fear that David wouldn't be ready to move on. She had heard him talking in his sleep, about his wife, about his son… about all the regrets he had. Then David had said it… but before Dorothy could do anything more, he died… he was killed.

"…I love you too…" Dorothy muttered into the air, an inner part of her hoping the words would carry on into wherever the dead lay. "…You were strong, David… I can only hope… I can only hope I can be as strong as you. How were you able to cope when I was gone for the first time? Did you feel like I do now? Broken… But if you managed to cope with it, David, I can too. It is hard… it hurts my heart… but I know you would have wanted me to move on." Dorothy reached out with her hand, feeling the rain on her finger-tips. "I wish… I wish now more than ever that I could see, David… I wish I knew what you looked like… the shape of your face, your nose, your mouth…" Dorothy dropped her hand and tried to keep back her tears. "I do not blame Joshua. I do not blame anyone other than this situation itself. The situation which drove you both to the breaking point… but no matter what, you would not let Death finish you… It had to be somebody else… I hope you are with your wife, David. I hope you are finally happy and stress free. Do not worry for me. I will live…"

Dorothy paused for a moment. "I did consider… I did consider making myself the sacrifice… but you fought so hard to allow me to live that it would be a detriment to you if I did that. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but the others… Nick, Dominika, Detrikov… Derrick and Grace… One of them will have to do it. For I cannot… I cannot die because of you, David…"

Going quiet, Dorothy stood still and allowed herself to be captured by the sound of the wind and the rain, standing in the tempest and allowing her mind to run freely.

"…Dorothy?"

At the sound of her name, Dorothy turned towards the voice.

"Are you Dorothy Louella?"

"I am." Dorothy nodded, noticing the voice more than likely belonged to an old teenager or a young man. But something about the voice… something in it was eerily familiar.

"That's good. The receptionist said I would find you here. My name is Maxwell."

Dorothy stared at Maxwell in front of her, unable to believe but now more than certain. "Maxwell? Max… Trayce?"

"Yes… I guess I should have known you'd know of me…"

"Why? What do you need from me, Maxwell?"

There was a short pause and the sound of scuffing feet before Maxwell spoke again. "Yesterday… in the morning. I got a phone call… A phone call from my father."

"David?" Dorothy was surprised. David hadn't mentioned any kind of phone call to his son.

"Yes. He… He said that he wanted to talk to me. That I should go to that apartment the next day. He said that… if he wasn't there, a woman named Dorothy would be. That I should talk to her… so… here I am… To be honest, I'm not sure what he wanted me to know. Where is he?"

Dorothy was silent for a few long seconds before she spoke. "Your father was a good man, Maxwell. A flawed man, but a good man."

"What's wrong? What has happened to him? I need to talk to my father… He said you'd know where he was if he wasn't here, where is he?"

"He is… He is dead, Maxwell."

The silence pained Dorothy. She could sense the boy's confusion turn into disbelief and thus turn into sadness.

"H-How…?" Max managed to croak.

"He… He fell…" For a moment, Dorothy was about to tell Max all of it, Death, the list, the sacrifice, Joshua, everything. But it wasn't fair to put that all on him. "He slipped off an edge… I tried to help him but we would have both gone off… He… He let go."

No need to tell him his father was pushed off. That would be too much for him right now.

"Oh…" Maxwell's voice was quiet.

"Your father… He loved you, Maxwell." Dorothy reached out and managed to place her hand on his shoulder. "He truly did. He… came to your mother's funeral. He never showed himself though. He did not believe it was fair to come back into your life in that situation. But he loved you… And your mother. He regretted every mistake he made."

"… And… Who are you? Who are you to him?"

"I am a friend. He helped me come to terms with my blindness. I will not lie to you, Maxwell. Your father and I… Perhaps we could have been together. But David truly loved your mother and you. He couldn't commit to another relationship. He wanted to fix things. He did fix things… at least some of it with your mother."

"I see… That's good to… He's dead? He's… Just after my mother and…" Dorothy could hear Max's voice cracking and she stepped forward, pulling him into a hug. He didn't try to break out and accepted it, weeping into her shoulder.

"He was a strong man." Dorothy muttered as she hugged the boy, much like a mother would to a son. "He wanted what was best for the people he cared for. He wanted to fix things. There is nobody I respect more than your father, Maxwell. Even in death, he was strong. He-He fought for everything he believed in and more… David was a great man, Maxwell… A great man."

A/N: Thanks to PrincezzShell101 for the review! Sorry for the delay! I was having trouble getting this chapter together for whatever reason, but it'll be back to regular updates. After all, next chapter is where the end begins. No more self-reflecting, no more character-focused sections. The next four chapters is where Shit. Goes. Down.

Oh, and happy slightly late anniversary! On the 17th of February, 2011, I started this here Final Destination story. And now, one year later, it is about to finish, it has more reviews and more words than any story before it. It is always a great feeling to know you've been working on a story for a year or more. Anywho, 'till next time (VERY SOON I MEAN IT!)