She never deserved you, that Travers woman.
Honestly? I never did have much use for you. But even as a child there was something about you - a light
that shone out rather strongly, obscured as it was by snark and misery.
You were your mother’s child; in so many respects, but the light I saw
in you was all your own.
It shines so fitfully, now.
Have you any idea how angry that makes me? You let that psychotic little strumpet you were so very enamored of almost snuff it out.
My poor William. . . sad, lost boy. . . .
You need someone to be strong for. She was as good a someone as any, I suppose - just not good enough for you.
How it pains me to see you unconscious in a hospital bed. . . a pale, miserable boy trapped in pale, miserable dreams. . . .
You could just as easily be dead, if -
- if it were up to me, you would be back where you belong: at home, complaining endlessly about anything and everything.
Would
it be - sentimental of me to imagine you get that from my side of the
family? Probably. But sentimentality seems to be my watchword, these
past few days. I miss your smile, your presence at home. I even miss
being called wicked-stepmum -
“Love. . .”
It hurts to see you so - diminished, but I can’t seem to look away, for fear you’ll slip away -
“Love, go home, get some rest.”
When
I can, I finally look up into his worried face with an ever-ready
smile. “I’ll be fine, here. You’re the one who needs to rest.”
His smile is sad and lost. Ah, William. . . you’ve made us all feel so sad and lost, haven’t you?
“You’ve
already done so much -” he sighs wearily. I stand up and pull him into
my arms. I don’t know which of us is being strong for the other. I
wonder if we can be strong enough for you.
“Dearest, he’s your son. Even if he wasn’t -”
“Ours.”
“What?”
He leans back and looks into my eyes. “Our son.”
Then
he’s holding me again, so tight I can barely breathe. Yes, it must be
lack of oxygen that makes me want to grin like a fool.
“Darling Ripper, must you be so sentimental?” I whisper. Yet I think I would give anything hear your voice, again. I find I miss that most of all.
"Lost"
"Father"
"Son"
"Prodigal"
"Mother"
"The Ballad of Spike and Angel"
"The True Meaning of Family"
"Each Day Is Valentine’s Day"
"The First Move"