Be Still My Heart [Part Two: Reunion]
Title: Reunion
Fandom: Dead Like Me.
Characters: George, Reggie.
Rating: R for language and character death.
Word Count: 917.
Spoilers: None, it's AU.
Summary: Being apart had a way of showing you that big changes happened bit by bit and if you weren’t there every day, you’d miss something and things would be nowhere near how you’d left it.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nadda. Zip, zero. Goose egg. Character death, angst, sadness, etc. Second part to Don't Hold Your Breath.
Third part: In Memoriam
George stood in the bathroom, that old familiar room that hadn’t changed much since she’d last used it back when she was alive, and stared at the bathtub. It was porcelain white and she could remember taking showers there, the water beating down on her back. But she wasn’t there to shower; she was there, waiting for the person to die. It had taken a lot longer than she would’ve thought, a lot longer than the movies led you to believe, and she started wondering why someone would slit their wrists. It was bloody, painful (she imagined) and rather slow; at least pills were painless.
She touched the smooth porcelain of the sink, remembering brushing her teeth every morning after her mom woke up her. She could remember glaring into the mirror as she brushed her hair, angry that she had to face another day. Now she missed that; the sound of her mom rudely waking her up because she was late, the feel of her old bed. You’d think, after a few years, she would’ve gotten over her life but George found herself almost daily thinking about what-was and what-could-have-been.
She looked in the mirror, watching her little sister in the bathtub. There was a final breath, and then the soul came out, startled and confused. George stepped away from the mirror; she couldn’t let Reggie see her face for as long as she could manage it.
“What happened?”
It was the same voice she’d heard so much, but it had changed; which was to be expected, George assumed, when they’d missed so much time together. Being apart had a way of showing you that big changes happened bit by bit and if you weren’t there every day, you’d miss something and things would be nowhere near how you’d left it.
“You died,” she said quietly, ignoring the tears that burned behind her eyes. “If you don’t believe me, your body’s over there, in the tub.”
Reggie turned around, looking down at her lifeless body in the tub and she frowned. She didn’t think she’d actually be able to go through with it. “Who are you?”
George took in a breath and lifted her head, looking into the mirror again; past her reflection to she could see Reggie. The soul looked up, her eyes widening as she saw the real identity of the woman who’d tripped and fallen outside her house twenty minutes ago. “George?” The question was soft, timid, scared. She nodded and turned to face her sister, hating the fact that they’d come back together just before she moved on, went to Heaven, crossed over. Whatever the fuck they called it.
Reggie broke her focus long enough to glance back at her body, the limp limbs and the red blood pooling at the bottom of the tub, slowly making its way towards the drain. The contrast of the darkness against the white amazed her for a moment, the blood so dark and thick that for a moment she didn’t think it was real.
“Why...” She looked back to George, her eyebrows pulled together in question. “How?”
“I’m a grim reaper,” George whispered, fighting her emotions for control over her voice. She said this all the time; explained who she was and what was going to happen next. But for some reason, knowing the person who died made it too hard. She wanted to tell Reggie that she would be okay, that they’d be able to stay together, but she knew she couldn’t promise that. “I took your soul before you died so you wouldn’t feel anything. You’re supposed to move on now.”
Reggie shook her head defiantly. She finally had her sister back and she’d be damned if she had to give her up once again. “No,” she said, enforcing the answer.
George sighed and looked away, ignoring the tear that slid down her cheek. “Reggie, you can’t stay. You have to move on.” She looked down at her hands, picked at her thumb nail just so she wouldn’t have to see her sister’s face anymore. It was too hard; what made Rube think she was ready for this?
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t lose you. And what about mom and dad?”
George shook her head, “You have to. You have to move on, cross over. Mom and dad will deal. They’ll find your body, they’ll have a funeral. At least they’ll have your body in one piece,” she said, her eyes lifting to see her sister. Reggie moved forward, opening her arms to hug George which was something they’d never done when George was alive, but the younger girl just passed through her body.
“You have to go, Reggie,” she said softly.
The light filled the small bedroom and George glanced up, looking at the dog that she could never be able to touch, wagging its tail and barking at Reggie. As she passed, she looked at her older sister and gave her a timid, watery smile. “I love you, George,” she said. “Keep an eye on mom and dad.”
George nodded, watching the light and her sisters fade, finally allowing herself to break down. She slid to the floor and covered her face, letting the sobs echoing around her in the empty bathroom. She stayed like that until she heard the door open and her mother call Reggie’s name out.
She left the bathroom and raced to her old room, crawling out the window before she could hear her mother’s scream.
Fandom: Dead Like Me.
Characters: George, Reggie.
Rating: R for language and character death.
Word Count: 917.
Spoilers: None, it's AU.
Summary: Being apart had a way of showing you that big changes happened bit by bit and if you weren’t there every day, you’d miss something and things would be nowhere near how you’d left it.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nadda. Zip, zero. Goose egg. Character death, angst, sadness, etc. Second part to Don't Hold Your Breath.
Third part: In Memoriam
George stood in the bathroom, that old familiar room that hadn’t changed much since she’d last used it back when she was alive, and stared at the bathtub. It was porcelain white and she could remember taking showers there, the water beating down on her back. But she wasn’t there to shower; she was there, waiting for the person to die. It had taken a lot longer than she would’ve thought, a lot longer than the movies led you to believe, and she started wondering why someone would slit their wrists. It was bloody, painful (she imagined) and rather slow; at least pills were painless.
She touched the smooth porcelain of the sink, remembering brushing her teeth every morning after her mom woke up her. She could remember glaring into the mirror as she brushed her hair, angry that she had to face another day. Now she missed that; the sound of her mom rudely waking her up because she was late, the feel of her old bed. You’d think, after a few years, she would’ve gotten over her life but George found herself almost daily thinking about what-was and what-could-have-been.
She looked in the mirror, watching her little sister in the bathtub. There was a final breath, and then the soul came out, startled and confused. George stepped away from the mirror; she couldn’t let Reggie see her face for as long as she could manage it.
“What happened?”
It was the same voice she’d heard so much, but it had changed; which was to be expected, George assumed, when they’d missed so much time together. Being apart had a way of showing you that big changes happened bit by bit and if you weren’t there every day, you’d miss something and things would be nowhere near how you’d left it.
“You died,” she said quietly, ignoring the tears that burned behind her eyes. “If you don’t believe me, your body’s over there, in the tub.”
Reggie turned around, looking down at her lifeless body in the tub and she frowned. She didn’t think she’d actually be able to go through with it. “Who are you?”
George took in a breath and lifted her head, looking into the mirror again; past her reflection to she could see Reggie. The soul looked up, her eyes widening as she saw the real identity of the woman who’d tripped and fallen outside her house twenty minutes ago. “George?” The question was soft, timid, scared. She nodded and turned to face her sister, hating the fact that they’d come back together just before she moved on, went to Heaven, crossed over. Whatever the fuck they called it.
Reggie broke her focus long enough to glance back at her body, the limp limbs and the red blood pooling at the bottom of the tub, slowly making its way towards the drain. The contrast of the darkness against the white amazed her for a moment, the blood so dark and thick that for a moment she didn’t think it was real.
“Why...” She looked back to George, her eyebrows pulled together in question. “How?”
“I’m a grim reaper,” George whispered, fighting her emotions for control over her voice. She said this all the time; explained who she was and what was going to happen next. But for some reason, knowing the person who died made it too hard. She wanted to tell Reggie that she would be okay, that they’d be able to stay together, but she knew she couldn’t promise that. “I took your soul before you died so you wouldn’t feel anything. You’re supposed to move on now.”
Reggie shook her head defiantly. She finally had her sister back and she’d be damned if she had to give her up once again. “No,” she said, enforcing the answer.
George sighed and looked away, ignoring the tear that slid down her cheek. “Reggie, you can’t stay. You have to move on.” She looked down at her hands, picked at her thumb nail just so she wouldn’t have to see her sister’s face anymore. It was too hard; what made Rube think she was ready for this?
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t lose you. And what about mom and dad?”
George shook her head, “You have to. You have to move on, cross over. Mom and dad will deal. They’ll find your body, they’ll have a funeral. At least they’ll have your body in one piece,” she said, her eyes lifting to see her sister. Reggie moved forward, opening her arms to hug George which was something they’d never done when George was alive, but the younger girl just passed through her body.
“You have to go, Reggie,” she said softly.
The light filled the small bedroom and George glanced up, looking at the dog that she could never be able to touch, wagging its tail and barking at Reggie. As she passed, she looked at her older sister and gave her a timid, watery smile. “I love you, George,” she said. “Keep an eye on mom and dad.”
George nodded, watching the light and her sisters fade, finally allowing herself to break down. She slid to the floor and covered her face, letting the sobs echoing around her in the empty bathroom. She stayed like that until she heard the door open and her mother call Reggie’s name out.
She left the bathroom and raced to her old room, crawling out the window before she could hear her mother’s scream.