|Scorched to Oblivion
Author: Frolicking Bananas PM
Oneshot. Jesse lost Suze. Her body dies in a fire. Yet, he can't seem to figure out why she hasn't come back to him.Rated: Fiction K - English - Supernatural - Words: 2,479 - Reviews: 20 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 5 - Published: 12-28-07 - Status: Complete - id: 3974045
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Just a random one-shot I made up. You know, inside Jesse's head if he ever lost Suze. Well, its more like a song-fic, really. But keep the song part on the DL, will ya? The song, actually, is what inspired me to write it. I was like, hey, this sounds a little mediator-ish. Why not give it a go? So I did. And this is what came out.
The song is called "Sad" by Pearl Jam. Kinda suit's the mood of the fic, too.
Anyway, review please! Constructive criticism definitely welcome. Just no flames, please.
Oh, and if you guys really like this, let me know. Because I'm thinking of making a sequel. I just have to find a really good song to go with it first. :D Let me know, please. And review.
Disclaimer: All Mediator characters belong to Meg Cabot. And "Sad" lyrics belong to Pearl Jam and the awesome Eddie Vedder.
Scorched Into Oblivion
I looked down at the photograph in my hand. The last one I could find of us that survived.
All the photographs are peeling
She was laughing.
I cannot really remember at what, though. Surprisingly, my memory of that day is fuzzy. Even if it was the happiest day of my life.
The day that mi querida and I got married.
Its hard to believe that it has been ten years already since that day. Ten whole years. Despite the fact that it is only a fraction of the time that I was dead for, it seems like it was three times that.
And even more for the time that she has been gone.
The picture was a black and white one. It was ironic, considering how bright and colorful that day was.
But the lack of color in the picture seemed to suit my mood.
And colors turn to gray
I looked around the room I was in.
The normally bright and cheery color instantly put me in a foul mood.
For it was her room. The room I was strangled in nearly 190 years ago. The room I haunted for 150 years. The room I had first kissed her in. The room that we first made love in.
He stayed in his room with memories for days
I have no idea why I agreed to stay here. I should have just rented a hotel, or stayed with Father Dominic, like he insisted I do. He knew what staying in this room would do to me. It was driving me insane.
But I did not listen. I suppose I said yes to staying here because I knew her family wanted to offer me something. I knew her family adored me and I wanted to keep them as my own family as well, considering I had no living blood relatives.
And no matter how much it hurt to stay there in her room, I could not leave. In some sick, twisted way, it kept me at ease. Maybe it was the fact that it was the one place that was just as much a part of her as it was me.
He faced an undertow of futures laid to waste
I heard Jacob's laughter float up the stairs. At least one of us was happy. Because I knew that there was no way that I could ever be happy again. Not without her.
Jacob was our son. He was nine years old and our first. Followed by him were twin girls, Samantha and Helena, who were seven. And then there was little Peter, who was two. He was only three months old when she left us.
No, I had to remind myself, she didn't leave us. She was taken away. She, I knew with all of my heart, would never leave of us of her own volition. There was some force at work that took her away from her family and friends, from the people who loved and cared about her.
Stop, Jesse, I scolded myself. It wasn't just you that lost her.
Embraced by the loss of one he could not replace
It was the fire that took her. Well, that was what the coroner had said. That she was burned to death.
But that was only the cause of the death of her body.
Her soul was taken away long before that. Right after Peter was born, actually.
Poor boy, I thought. He would never get to know his mother.
Never would he realize what a great, loving, courageous, passionate, intelligent, gorgeous woman she is.
And there's no reason that she'd passed
I was still trying to figure out how to revive her when the fire started. It started in the living room, when Samantha accidentally dragged the fire out onto the rug. And soon it caught onto the drapes and then the whole room was ablaze.
I was so caught up with trying to get the children out that it was too late for me to go in and get Susannah. Much too late.
I tried to go back in, but there were five firemen holding me back, saying I would be killed if I went back in.
Well, good, I had thought then, then at least I would be with her. I've already been dead once, I can deal with it again. As long as I'm with her.
Along with her body, all of our pictures, everything in the house, was reduced to ashes. One lone picture had floated out of one of the blazing windows. I had caught it in the air.
Our wedding photograph.
And there is no god with a plan, it's sad
After weeks of waiting for her to return, in ghost form, to me, I realized that something was wrong. Very wrong.
She wasn't coming back.
I begged and begged God every night to bring her back to me. I had Father Dominic - and yes, even Paul - do everything they could to get her back to me.
But to no avail.
Father Dominic told me that it was just as well. Susannah was probably in heaven now. She was in a better place.
But this was untrue, I knew. She would have come back to me if she could, I know she would have.
Which led me to the conclusion that something was seriously wrong. Paul, surprisingly, agreed with me. He had told me that he would look into it.
But after months, he came back with no results.
Nothing. No explanation as to why she's gone.
And his loneliness is proof, it's sad
And now I'm here, all by myself. Well, I have my children. I have them to care for. Susannah, I know, would never want me to grieve for her so, and not care for them.
But it is difficult. Caring for four children when you could care less whether you live or die. So many times I have wished that something would fall out of the sky and crush me, or that I would accidentally get hit by a car and die.
But, knowing my luck, I would come back as a ghost. Again. And I would be worse off than before, because then my children would be without anyone.
That was the logic that kept me going.
He could only love you, it's sad
One love for all of eternity, she had once told me. I was that one love.
But shouldn't that have applied to me as well? Wouldn't she be my love for all of eternity? Fifteen years of knowing someone is not eternity, I will tell you that much.
The door swings through a passing fable
Which was another thought that kept me going. There had to be something behind it, I kept telling myself. But I could never figure out what it was.
The logical answer would, of course, be Paul. And no matter how suspicious I was of him, I knew it could never be him.
A fate we may delay, we say
Fate. A word that Susannah had used constantly. Was it fate? Could God have been so cruel as to deal me these cards?
I would have said yes, except I still had a little bit of faith left in me. Despite everything I had been through, God had come through for me one way or another. I had to give Him another chance.
Holding on, live within our embrace
But just how long, exactly, was I willing to wait?
Or was that just it? Was I not supposed to wait? Was I supposed to do something?
But I had no idea what there was to do. I needed a sign. Something, anything to point me in the right direction.
I sighed and looked at the picture again. The only thing in the room that seemed to lack color, actually.
But not the only one with her face on it.
There were pictures of her all over the room. After the tragic incident, her mother had taken to recreating the room into a sort of shrine to Susannah.
I smiled at all of them. In every single one of them, I could see her stubbornness, her bravery and defiance. Things that made her who she was.
Because despite the fact that she's been gone for almost two years, I still have faith that she will be back.
Eleven nights, he laid in bed
Hoping that dreams will bring her back, it's sad
And when I go to sleep at night, I wish that I would dream of her. But mostly they are just nightmares. Recreations of the fire. Except in those she was fully awake and I could do nothing to save her, just like in reality. Its funny how your dreams seem to make you feel worse.
Although, there are the occasional dreams where I just see her face and she's smiling at me. Or telling me that everything will be all right.
Is that, I wondered, a sign?
And his loneliness is cruel, it's sad
But how could I believe that everything would be all right? Nothing was fine. The only thing I had to be thankful for was that none of my children were hurt in the fire.
He could only love you, it's sad
He could only love you, it's sad
Which was what everybody kept telling me. Look on the Brightside…
What Brightside?I had wanted to yell. There IS no Brightside. There never WILL BE a Brightside!
But of course I know that they are just trying to help. Nothing, I realize, would ever help me with this. Not Father Dominic, not family, not religion or faith.
But just sheer dumb luck.
That is what my life has come down to. Wishing for luck.
But where is the good Catholic in me? Luck?
No, faith. It had to be faith. I needed to keep it. That's what Father Dominic keeps telling me. He is right. Even if he still believes that Susannah is in a better place.
Believe me, I want to believe that. But I cannot. Because I know that it is not true.
Holding his last breath, believing
He'll make his way
Susannah,I silently plead every night, come back to me, querida.
But she never does. And after I make that plead every night, I end up crying myself to sleep.
But she's not forgotten
I try not to be so…miserable in front of the kids. I mean, certainly they have noticed I am not a happy camper. And certainly they must be feeling horrible about their mother. I know they do.
Jacob, Sammy, and Helena all still cry when people mention their mother. Peter, however, is still too young to know what is going on. And too young to have that bond with his mother - one that he really never got the chance to experience, really.
And its funny, actually. For one who had done the haunting for 150 years, I myself feel as if I'm haunted. By her memory.
And not just her memory, but the fact that I feel like I can do nothing about it. Because I have that feeling that she was taken by force.
That force is still, unfortunately, unknown to me - or anyone, for that matter.
He's searching for escape
The misery and despair often take over me and I end up seeking solace in the bottle.
I know. I know.
I have children. I can't do that.
But I make sure that there is a babysitter there. Or I ask someone to take them for the night, saying that I need a night off. They, feeling bad for me, are only too happy to agree.
Or maybe they just think that I am a bad father, and want my children to be safe. From me.
If just one wish could bring her back, it's sent
"So this is Mommy's old room?" he asked. I nodded and he laughed. "Its so…pink."
It was kind of funny actually. I mean, the fact that it was pink. When it was so not Susannah.
I smiled at him and ruffled his hair. The smile, of course, was forced, but he did not know that.
"Why don't you go back downstairs, Jacob?" I asked him lightly. "I would just like to be alone for a little while."
He nodded and said, "Okay, papa." And then he ran out of the room and down the stairs again.
Loneliness. What a feeling. Considering all of the people I know that care about me, and despite the fact that I have four children, I feel it all the time now.
And his loneliness is proof, it's sad
Along with the sadness that comes right afterwards.
Nothing I can do, I realize, will make the pain go away. Thinking about her causes me great pain, but then, everything seems to these days.
He will always love you, he said
And I know that I will never be able to forget about her, no matter how hard I try. And its not just love, either. I know there's something wrong. Something, somewhere is keeping her from me, from her family, and one day, I will find out what that is.
"I love you, Susannah," I whispered to the room, knowing that somewhere, someplace, she could here me.
Our wedding picture fluttered to the floor as I heard a faint voice reply back, "I love you, too, Jesse."