I lay the flowers in silence.
Even after all of these years, this day still makes my stomach turn. I don't deal with it any better now than I did when it first happened.
My sweet little girl who didn't deserve to die like that. Bringing my hand to my lips, I kiss my fingertips and then lay them gently on the small memorial that rests in the ground. "I love you my beautiful Isabelle."
I walk away from the cemetery, letting the tears fall, unashamed.
Every year I come here, every year I kiss the memorial that shows of my little girl who lived for little more than three days. Every year I tell her that I loved her, still love her. Every year I wish her father was here to share this special, and horrific day.
Every year I cry as I walk back to my transport.
The trip from the deserted cemetery to Washington Park is quick, and very easy. The technology is wonderfully timesaving, I'll be the first to admit that. But sometimes, only sometimes, I miss the sheer joy of driving a car to wherever my destination may be. Cars are still around, but few and far between. My Mustang is considered a collector's item now, it's in storage somewhere.
Dismissing my thoughts about my beloved car, I follow the path through the gardens and find the open café where I know he'll be waiting. He's always waiting for me on this day, he never comes to the burial plot with me.
"Have you eaten?" I ask, sitting down in the chair opposite him.
"Yeah honey, I'm sorry I had to." He answers.
Despite not wanting to bring it up on this particular day, I can't let my appointment with Berillian leave my mind. "I just found out." I tell him, and shake my head no.
He doesn't need to ask what I'm referring to. Every time I'm late we are both reaching for the nearest pregnancy test. "Honey I'm sorry."
"They say it isn't either one of us," I continue, pushing my discomfort aside temporarily. "That we just have to keep trying." I swallow more tears, determined not to let them fall. I worked hard enough to cover my last lot of tears. I don't need to do this here.
"I don't mind trying." He smiles. "I just. . . I thought we'd be working on our second child by now." He sighs.
That hurts.
*Our* second child.
No, Joe, I'm so sorry.
But you're so very wrong.
Ten years with Joe, and we haven't been able to conceive a child. One night of pure passion with Jack, just under three months before my wedding to Joe and it resulted in Isabelle.
I told no one.
Joe assumed it was his, Jack and I never spoke again.
My plan was to take my secret to the grave with me, but Isabelle took it to her grave instead. It makes me almost glad that Jack never knew, he couldn't handle loosing a child for a second time. Joe wants a child, I know, I can see it in his eyes, but he doesn't visit Isabelle, he never truly accepted her as his own. Maybe he knows, I've gone past caring these days. Joe wants a child. I want my little girl and her father. Looks like neither of us will get what we want.
~*+*~
The End.
Story Notes: Author's notes: I got the idea for this while watching that scene from 2010. When Joe mentioned working on their second child, the look on Sam's face pretty much said it all. This was my nice little angsty- shippy POV.
Feedback: Hell yeah! Don't make me beg.
Feedback: Hell yeah! Don't make me beg.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]