I decided to write this from Alison's point of view; I tried to write it in the way that Alison often talks, especially when she's upset, like when she repeats herself over and over... I think I've captured this.
This is set two years after the season two finale, I hope you all enjoy and I would also love to recieve any reviews, constructive critisism is welcome.
Do you know what I heard? I heard Jude's engaged to some bloke; some Richard or Raymond.
It's not fair though, Robert's only been gone for two years and she's moved on already, she was supposed to be his wife. She was supposed to love him!
He was my best friend and I miss him more than I can bear.
Whoever said time is the greatest healer was talking bollocks because with each and every passing day the pain of loss gets deeper and wider and I don't think I can cope.
I'm drinking more than usual, even though I can't really afford it, but I need it; I need it to fill the void. But I know I can never fill such a deep hole.
Robert's spirit was the last I ever put to peace. I had to be strong for him, show him that he would be okay and safe when all I really wanted to do was cling to his limp failure of a body and sob forever.
Other spirits have visited me, hoping to use me in order to find their way to peace but I don't do it anymore.
The more I drink, the easier it is to ignore them and, in time, they leave me alone and find someone else to help them.
Most of them leave me alone…
One girl, she's about six, maybe younger, maybe not, is relentless. She's been following me for almost a month and I can't stand it, I can't, I can't.
"Mummy? Mummy!" it's the only thing she ever says and she's driving me insane. She is, I swear.
"Shush," I try to sound threatening, instead I sound like I'm begging, my voice breaking like expensive china.
"I don't do that anymore" it's useless, trying to reason with such a little girl.
I want to take her shoulders, shake her and scream until she gets the point and goes.
Her wide green eyes glimmer like she's going to cry.
"I don't know who your mummy is. Please, go!" I slam my glass on the table and slop red wine of my hand, the stained burgundy spots bloom on my sleeve and it's all I can do not to turn the table and its contents over and sweep my ornaments from my shelves in my despair. I'm loosing my mind. I know I am. I'm nearing the end of my tether.
"Why won't you leave me alone?" I snarl at the girl in the corner of my room. Of every room.
She cocks her head to one side and speaks her first full sentence, "You don't choose the spirits,"
Suddenly she's mere inches away from my face, a blur of pale pink skin and wild blonde hair, "They choose you."
She stands there, so close to me that I can't avoid or ignore her.
She's so strong, so strong but so sad.
There's a noise; like almost like fingernails on a blackboard and I can't work out where it's coming from or if it's just inside my head, but then, out of the corners of my eyes I see.
It's the walls, near the floor, spirals of color and wobbly flowers. I understand. She's drawing on my walls.
The screeching of invisible crayons is coming from all around me. Looping patterns and confident scribbles, etched on all of my walls.
"Stop it." My voice is low, even.
"Stop it! Stop it, right now" I'm screaming so loudly that my chest aches with the effort and my neighbors must be able to hear me but I don't care, I just don't care.
She stops. And she's on the other side of the room again.
"Mummy" she's crying now, and because of me.
"I don't know who your mummy is" I tell her, keeping my tone firm but trying to be gentle too.
I gaze slowly around my room, at the scribbled on walls. It looks like a child should live here.
"Sorry mummy" she whispers.
Oh my God.
"What did you just say?" my voice is alien to me.
"Sorry mummy" she repeats.
I shake my head at the notion. I've never been pregnant before, never mind had a child who died. It's ridiculous.
"Mummy?" it's ridiculous but she's stood there with my untamable blonde hair billowing out in a cloud behind her.
"No. you're wrong" I say, almost viscously.
How dare she let me believe such a thing, even for moment? How dare she?
"I'm not wrong" she's defiant and more talkative that I realized she was able.
"I've never had a baby! I can't ever have a baby!" It's not fair. It's not fair. She's testing my weaknesses, one-be-one. First Robert, now the accident. What next – my mother?
Anger simmers away inside of me.
"I know, mummy" she's so vague; infuriatingly sweet.
She's beside me again. She raises her palms to me and at first I don't understand.
Then I see it.
"I'm not what was. I'm what should have been"
"Oh" I clap my hands over my mouth in order to keep my screams inside.
"You shouldn't have been on that train, mummy" she told me, pouting prettily and not seeming to understand the seriousness of her revelations.
"You weren't supposed to be in that train crash, mummy. You were supposed to move here, fall in love and have a baby. Me. Her voice grew meeker and weaker,
"but somehow you slipped past fate and got on that train. And it crashed and you got hurt and couldn't have babies anymore. You put up barriers and wouldn't let him fall in love with you. He should have been my daddy" she said, welling up this time.
"Who? Who, who, who, who?" I cry, my heart didn't break; it just shriveled up in my chest. A charred lump of cinder that ceased to beat for what felt like hours instead of just a moment.
I knew who it was.
It was Robert.
It was always Robert.
I was right.
She had my hair and Roberts eyes and she wasn't a ghost of the past, or even of the future. She was the ghost of what should have been.
I never shoulder have ignored her, or any of the other spirits who came to me, seeking help.
I was so caught up in my grief that I turned them away. I was selfish.
I had to put it right.
I had to make it better.
Gently I took her soft little hand in mine, held it tightly. Comfort for her and for me.
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry I ignored you and I'm sorry you can't stay here with me"
Her face crumpled at that, she'd thought we could have lived together forever, like a normal mother and daughter.
But it would never work. I'm alive and she was never born. And it's sad, it's so sad.
"But you don't have to be alone, darling, not ever. Because you have a daddy and a brother who will look after you" as the last word leaves my mouth the whole far wall lights up in brilliant white that burns my eyes but renders me unable to look away.
She turns and she knows.
"Don't be afraid" I murmur, finding myself talking her through this world to the next as I had done with Robert.
Two oddly shaped silhouettes form in the pure white; bodies that appear to be proportioned wrongly, I still recognize them.
"Robert," I say huskily. "Robert" I repeat. Louder. Clearer.
He looks up but does not speak.
He's holding Josh's hand protectively in his own.
I can't see his expression but I know what he's thinking 'Me and you, Alison? That's crazy!' and it is, and I am too.
I smile, despite myself and let go of the girl who should have been my daughter.
Reluctantly she moves toward the light until she too resembles Robert and Josh. Recognizable, but only just.
Robert knows her instantly. Maybe he sees the similarities in her of myself and him. Maybe he just knows.
"I love you, baby" I say thickly as they fade.
I think I heard a reply.
I think it said: "I love you, too"
I think I can cope because I think it was Robert.