Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Who Needs Tears ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: This is an original story. I own both the characters and the content.

 

 

Who Needs Tears

The discarded pink petals from the cherry trees lie clotting in the gutter, the relentless onslaught of rain having ripped them prematurely from their blooms.  A shroud of grey hung low over the mourning hills obscuring the view from the rain streaked glass.  She turned from the window and back to his bed.  The machines that surrounded him continued their steady rhythm, now and then punctuated by a loud beep or a flashing light that would bring a nurse running to punch a button, check a monitor or change a hose.  This was their life now.

She couldn't look at him long; the swollen limbs, the sunken eyes and the ragged rise and fall of each breath more painful to her than the original accident.  She knew that the doctor would be by soon.  She clenched her jaw and turned back to watch the rush hour traffic.  She really didn't want to talk to him anyway.  His good news always seemed to come with a price; there's no sign of intestinal infection, but we think that there may be some neurological damage.  There was always the “but” and she hated it, or more correctly she hated the stabbing pain of self imposed isolation that inevitably followed it.

She knew that sometimes the family worried about her.  She had never been the type to show her emotions, but it was only at times like this that anyone thought to question it.  He had been the only one to recognize her silence for what it really was; internal tears that often threatened to drown her.  It was only at night when she lay in the uncomforting darkness, now without him, that she could find the freedom to relinquish her stoic control.  The rest of them didn't seem to realize that it was because of them, because they had relied on her for so long to be the strong one, that she could no longer open herself up around them.

She let the grey reflections of the cars on the wet pavement entrance her. Who needs tears when you have the rain, she thought, who needs the warmth of compassion when one has the cold embrace of the city. She felt the ache starting in her chest and the lump forming in her throat. She stared on as the red and white lights of the passing cars blurred before her eyes. She heard footsteps and a light knock on the door.

“Miss Deslaurier, I have some good news…”

She could already hear it in his voice; that word that she knew would come next, that one little word that was slowly rending her life in two.

 

“But…”