Title: Forget Me Not
Rating: um, PG-13 if you read between the lines.
Warning: angst, adult (uncomfortably squicky) themes; kind of ties in with part two of my story, Stand Still, Look Pretty, but can be its own dark little entity.
Pairing/Characters: Whitney/Fox, hints of past Whitney/Chad, mentions of Theresa/Ethan, Little Ethan, others.
Word Count: 466.
Summary (for chapter): prompt: forget. Whitney prays to forget.

Miles grows big, grows strong, grows ever like the father he must never know, and Whitney wants to forget, wants to wash it all away, wants to hold him close (wants to push him away) because he's so beautiful (so innocently wicked), and he shouldn't exist, he simply shouldn't be, but he does. He does.

He does.

Whitney prays to forget.

Fox falls in love with the boy, falls in love with her, gives them both his name.

Whitney watches Theresa with Ethan and Little Ethan and wonders how she does it, how she doesn't break under the weight of her lies, how she merely bends; it's something she herself hasn't mastered yet—bending.

Miles is a happy child. He skips through the halls of the drafty old Mansion, brightens the shadows with his smiles, giggles whenever Little Ethan discovers his (not-so-hidden) hiding spots, shrieks when Fox swoops to his rescue (Daddy!).

Whitney watches them and feels another little piece of her soul splinter, pierce her fragile heart. She prays for peace. She prays for forgiveness she can never ask. She prays he (her son, his father) never knows the truth. She prays to forget.

Lies come to light. Secrets fall apart and scatter like the wind.

Theresa is strong, willful, ever-defiant. ("He got the letter, Whit. I just made sure he never read it. I didn't think it was that big of a deal. Ethan loves me. He chose me. Why would he be interested in anything she had to say anymore?" ).

Whitney is bone-weary, tired of it all, the pressure of pretending a truth, privately suffering for her own sins. She goes to Father Lonagin, gives herself up to the mercy of God ("Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.").

Fox is angry, disbelieving at first, resigned all-too soon.

Miles cries, reaches for her as she pulls his arms from her neck, sends him away.

That night, cold and alone and bare of the chains around her heart, broken, Whitney prays. She prays to forget.

The child is handsome, joyful, an irresistible light in the darkness, yet she still feels uneasy in his presence, shaken in a way she cannot explain by the fierce twinkle in his eye, the sly curve of his mouth as it twists into a half-smile. He's so familiar to her, so achingly familiar, but she can't quite grasp why. The reasons sift through her consciousness like sand through her open fingertips, ands she's dismayed with the realization that she's been caught staring.


She startles, turns her head, and the child is gone, swallowed up by a converging sea of children.

"Sister, come along now. There's work to be done, new children to welcome, prayers to be said."

She dutifully follows, meekly bows her head.

So...there you have it.

Short and, uh, not very sweet.

Don't ask me where this one came from. It was partly inspired by one of my prompts lists, and the last chapter of Stand Still, Look Pretty (not that that chapter was this angsty, jeez). Guess I'm in a bit of an angsty mood, because SSLP so wasn't supposed to go there, at least not yet, and it did. It *so* did.

Feedback would be lovely. Flames, preferably not. ;)

Thanks so much for reading.