A/N: So I decided to make this a story where we just kind of follow Pippa for a little while and see how she copes with Jack's death.
I'm also playing around with the idea of making a story where we follow Jack around and how he coped with being alone for 300 years. Then I might merge the two, maybe. I don't know. Feel free to tell me what you think.
3 weeks. That's how long it took me to wake up and realize that he wasn't coming back. That he would never come back. That he was gone. Mother had cried when I asked her where Jack was, that first week. She hugged me and cried into my hair. I wandered around the village looking for him. I looked in all of our secret hiding spots, even the scary one high up in the trees. I looked under the willow and on top of the roof. Tim goes with me. Wherever I go. He doesn't say much, just lets me know when it's time to go home and when I need to eat. I forget that a lot these days. Eating, sleeping, speaking. It seems like when Jack left. Parts of me left with him. When Mother draped a new black dress over the back of my bedside chair, I still didn't understand. Now standing before an empty grave, I get it. Jack's gone and he's not coming back.
I threw the first handful. Mother couldn't, so she made me do it. But at least I knew he wasn't in that rough hewn box. I kept telling myself that as the village men start with the shovels. I want to stop them, i really do. But what would that achieve? Jack's in the lake. He will always be at the lake.
So I feel like that was super short. BUT I promise the next couple chapters will be a lot longer.
~Fairy