Disclaimer: I don't own Legally Blonde.
A/N: This idea came from a quote I read from Laura Bell Bundy. I actually completely forgot about this idea until just recently, when I found this file saved on my old hard drive. Hope you enjoy it!
Emmett Forrest glanced anxiously out the window, where a nurse was leading his wife around the courtyard of the nursing home. He'd arrived minutes ago and had been sent to the dining room to wait for Elle to finish her morning walk.
Watching her, he was struck with how frail she looked. He noticed, for the first time, the lines that creased her once smooth skin: lines on her forehead that told the tale of the stress of many late nights at the office in search of the evidence that would prove her clients' innocence; lines on her hands that had nurtured their children into the adults they had become; lines around her eyes and mouth that chronicled their wonderful life together.
Emmett had become so lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the nurse approaching until Elle asked curiously, "Who's this?"
It took every ounce of effort to maintain his composure at his wife's lack of recognition. He was transported to the day several years earlier, when the doctor had given them the initial diagnosis. "It's Alzheimer's," he had simply said. Emmett couldn't believe it. Elle was fine; she was perfect. Sure, she'd been more forgetful in the past few months than she normally was, but a few missed hair appointments and the time she had put the milk in the cupboard instead of the refrigerator was just a natural part of aging. Elle nodded bravely at the diagnosis and asked the doctor about possible treatments, as well as asking what they would need to do to prepare for the future.
"This is your friend," the nurse replied, bringing Emmett back to the present. Her smiled never faltered, bringing Emmett little comfort.
"Good morning, Elle," he said, standing up and offering his hand for her to shake. "I'm Emmett."
"It's nice to meet you," Elle answered, unsure as she took his proffered hand.
"Would you like to join him for breakfast, Miss Elle?" the nurse asked as Emmett came around to hold the chair out for her.
"Well, I suppose that would be all right."
Emmett pushed her chair in and returned to his own seat. They made small talk until their food arrived, Emmett always careful not to mention the past. After breakfast, he helped her walk to the sitting room, where the Game Show Network played quietly in the background. As he led her to a chair near the window, she turned to him and said, "Emmett, these shoes are hideous. Where are the ones I bought a few weeks ago in Milan?"
He swallowed against the lump in his throat as she sat down. "I'll look for them in a bit."
"Look for what?" she asked, and with that, the brief glimpse of the woman she had once been was gone.
Emmett shook his head and sat in the chair across from her. Reaching into his shoulder bag, he produced a few magazines he'd picked up on the way to the nursing home. "I brought these for you," he said, handing them to her.
She leafed through them, reading off the titles, "Vogue… Town and Country… Elle." She smiled and looked up at him. "That's my name."
Emmett nodded and grabbed the magazines from her hands. "Would you like me to read you some of the articles in here?" he asked. When she nodded, he opened the issue of Elle and began reading about the latest fall trends.
When the nurse came around to let them know lunch was ready, Emmett stood up and said, "I'd better get going. It's my grandson's third birthday."
"That's sweet," Elle replied. "I'd love to meet your family one day."
"Of course, I'm sure they'd love to meet you, too."
Emmett had nearly reached their daughter's house when he remembered. Cursing under his breath, he made an illegal U-turn and sped to his house- in the complete opposite direction. Once he made it, he jumped out of his car, leaving it idling on the street, and ran inside. After tearing apart his closet, he found what he was looking for and jumped back in.
The receptionist at the nursing home looked slightly confused by the frazzled man as he ran into the lobby, but greeted him. "It's good to see you again, Mr. Forrest."
Panting, he set the shoes- a fashionable yet sensible pair of Gucci flats- on the desk and, in between breaths, managed to say, "Can you give these to Elle?"
"Absolutely," the receptionist replied with a smile, "but may I ask why?"
"Because," he replied, "Elle Woods would never wear hospital shoes."
A/N: Probably should have spent more time on this, but it's 1 AM and I have to get up early in the morning. Still, I wanted to post this tonight. :)