Disclaimer: not my characters. just for fun.
Warnings: spoilers for movie
Pairings: mentions of Jason/Alexia
She dreams of butterflies. Mom is at Jason's meeting—Emily'd insisted she go, said it was important, that she needed to be there.
"It's because of you, Mom," Emily whispered. "That he's doing it. Because of you."
"No, sweetie," Mom whispered back. "It's because of you."
So Mom kissed her forehead goodbye and said she'd be back later, bringing Jason with her.
And Emily's so tired. She's been tired for so long now, but terrified to sleep, scared she'd just drift away. Scared she'd leave Mom alone.
Mom. After she dies, what will Mom do? She's lived for Emily for eleven years… eleven years. She'll never turn twelve. Never do so many things…
And she's tired. Just so tired.
Momma's at a meeting with Jason, changing the world. Making it a better place. Doing something good, something right.
Emily dreams of butterflies. Their wings are stained glass and they alight feathersoft on her skin, tickling her. She giggles, whirls, feels strong for the first time in a long time that she can remember. She spins through the field, surrounded by more butterflies than she can count. The sun is soft, the air neither too hot nor too cool—perfect. The sky is cloudless, a blue like she's never seen.
And she follows the butterflies.
Mom's at a meeting with Jason—and Emily spares them one thought, one moment of regret and sorrow, but she's tired, so tired. But dancing in the field, strength suffuses her body, a strength she hasn't known in years.
"It's alright, Emily," a man calls from across the creek. "It's time."
He's young, dark hair, kind eyes. Looks a lot like Jason, she thinks, and jumps over the water. The butterflies still circle and she laughs as one—purple and gold and blue—brushes her cheek.
"You've been good to my grandson," the man says, offering her a hand. "Thank you so much for that."
She takes his hand and smiles up at him.
And they follow the butterflies down the path.