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rainbowfic2012-03-04 05:08 pm
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2012-03-04 05:08 pm
Blue 4, Neon 3: Black Friday
Author: Kat
Title: Black Friday
Story: In The Heart
Colors: Blue 4 (out of the blue), neon 3 (Black Friday) with Kelly's paint by numbers ("I would pay a lot to see you up that early.")
Supplies and Materials: Eraser (AU George), feathers (use three of the following: an empty jail cell, "Do I?", melted ice cream, a long elevator ride, lost in a crowd, reoccuring dream, found art), chalk (a woman holding a small boy tight), acrylic (missing something big), seed beads.
Word Count: 1530
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: She's had the dreams ever since Matthew was born.
Warnings: none, though parents may want to read with care.
Notes: This is so not what I thought I was going to do with the neon prompt.
The dreams started after Matthew was born, after she held her miracle son in her arms. He was so tiny and fragile, so infinitely breakable-- and she knew better than anyone else that not all miracles brought joy. She knew it every time she looked at Hugh, at the shadows in his eyes, the way he looked ten years older whenever he thought of his lost daughter. She knew how children could destroy you.
She dreamed it first just after they brought Matthew home, with Hugh by her side and Matthew wheezing gently in his crib at the foot of their bed.
She is sitting on a beach, vast and empty, holding her son in her arms and watching the waves rush in. She bends down to kiss Matthew's head and suddenly he's gone, vanished from her arms like smoke. She looks up to find him and the beach is gone; she's in Times Square, crowded end-to-end with people rushing about their own business. She darts from one to the next, pulling at sleeves and elbows, begging them to help her find her son, but no one seems to see her or hear her. They trample back and forth, their eyes focused on their phones and technologies and Matthew...
Matthew is gone.
She woke with a gasp, to find tears on her cheeks.
--
The dreams grew worse around the time Matthew's heart murmur was diagnosed; from perhaps one a month to two and three a week. They got so bad that, for a while, she took to sleeping in the rocking chair in Matthew's bedroom, so she could reassure herself that he was still there, every time she woke panting with tears on her cheeks. He breathed so softly when he slept, the only sound a soft whistle of air through his pursed lips. She would stand over the crib sometimes, watching her baby breathe, waiting for the next miracle that would take him away.
At Matthew's two-year-old checkup, the murmur was nearly gone; at his thirty-month checkup, it had vanished completely. She breathed a little easier. The dreams decreased.
They did not stop.
She knew Hugh was worried about her. He never said anything-- they didn't talk to much, preferring as they did to just soak in each other's presence-- but he was there more often, wrapping his arms around her waist, bringing her tea, smoothing her hair back from her face. He coaxed her back to sleeping in their bed, woke her up when the nightmare trapped her, held her tight against his heartbeat until she stopped crying, brought Matthew to her when even that didn't work. She knew she was scaring him.
She didn't know how to stop.
--
"I can't believe you're braving Black Friday," Hugh said, as they put away Thanksgiving dinner. Matthew played in the living room, making soft vrooming noises as he drove his truck around and around the coffee table.
She raised an eyebrow, and passed him a plate to dry. "Can you deny that we need a new TV?"
He glanced somewhat ruefully at the television, currently lying on its side by the door. Matthew had somehow contrived to knock it off its stand and shatter the screen last week, although thankfully he hadn't hurt himself or anything else. "I cannot deny that, no."
"It'll be much more affordable on Black Friday," she said, and hoped that would end the argument. "You know we don't have that much money to spare."
"We can certainly afford to avoid Black Friday," Hugh said.
"Not with Christmas coming up," Joanna said, positively. "And not with how much I spent at Eid."
Hugh winced at the memory. "That was a lot. Did your mother have to reserve the entire amusement park?"
Joanna rolled her eyes, and handed him another plate. "Apparently it's some kind of tradition. Which is funny, because we never did it when I was growing up." Matthew ran his truck into a chair leg and made a sputtering crash sound; she looked up and smiled at him. "Matthew enjoyed it, though."
"Matthew didn't have to help pay for it," Hugh said, rather caustically, then shook his head. "All right, I see your point, but are you really going to get up at two AM?"
"No," she said, shaking her head for emphasis. "Mercy, no. I was planning to go in the morning."
Hugh paused, and then set the plate down on the counter. "Did I tell you I have to work tomorrow?"
She nearly dropped a plate at that, but caught it in time and ran it under the water to rinse it. "Do you? I thought you had the rest of the weekend."
He sighed, and took the plate from her. "That was the idea, but one of my patients has a really serious knee problem that I need to keep an eye on. I'm going to see her and then get some paperwork done. Before you ask, Caroline can't cover for me; she's in Michigan until Monday."
And he couldn't take Matthew with him-- bringing their child to a doctor's office, swarming with sick people at the best of times, was tempting fate beyond bearing. "I see," she said, and then, "I'll just take him with me, then."
"Are you sure?" He didn't sound worried, but she knew he was. "You look a little white."
"Do I?" she asked, forcing her voice to calmness. She hadn't had the dream for almost two months now, and even if Black Friday was a very good place to... to lose children, it was all the more reason not to let Matthew out of her sight. "I'm sure I don't know why. I'm only buying the one thing, and I won't let go of his hand. It'll be fine."
--
Tempting fate. She'd tempted fate, and now it was all coming true.
I won't let go of his hand. It was all very well and good to say, but three people had shoved her from three different directions, and in the crush Matthew's hand had slipped out of hers. And Matthew, just three, newly independent, had gone running off among the sea of legs, and now he was gone.
Matthew was gone.
She reached out blindly, searching for him or help, she didn't know, grabbing at sleeves and arms and products and whatever came her way. People shouted at her, shook her off-- not quite ignoring her, but close enough, and Matthew was gone, and she didn't...
"Ma'am?" She blinked, and turned, found herself looking at a bespectacled store clerk with worried eyes and freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. "Are you all right?"
"Matthew," she said, idiotically, and blinked back the tears. "My son, he got away from me, he's..."
"Right," the clerk said, and lifted a walkie-talkie. "Boss, we got a Code Adam." He looked at Joanna. "You said his name was Matthew? Can you give me a description?"
"Matthew," she said, still bewildered. "Yes. Matthew Marhenke. He's three years old, pretty small, with dark brown hair, curly. Skin like mine--" She lifted a hand. "Brown eyes. He's wearing a blue jacket, a burgundy t-shirt with a gecko on it, and blue pants. And boots. Black boots."
The clerk relayed that into the walkie talkie, then took her arm, gently. "If you'll go ahead and come with me, ma'am, I'll take you to the information desk and we'll wait there."
She pulled against him, blindly. "But he was just here..."
"Ma'am," the clerk said, still very gently, "all of my co-workers are looking for him right now. We've got people on all the doors so we'll catch him if he decides to go outside. Somebody's going to find him, and you look like you need to sit down."
"Matthew," she said again, and then the clerk's walkie-talkie crackled.
He held it up, said, "Yeah," listened to the incomprehensible crackling voice, and then asked, "Scuse me, ma'am, is your name Joanna Marhenke?"
She nodded, frantically. "Yes, yes, that's me, I have ID..." She dug through her purse, found her driver's license and held it out to him in shaking hands.
The clerk took it, compared it to her, then said into the walkie-talkie, "Code Adam cancelled, repeat, Code Adam cancelled, we found him." He handed her license back, and smiled. "Smart kid you got there. He walked right up to my manager and told her he was lost and could she help him find his mommy. He's over at the information desk, waiting for you."
Joanna closed her eyes, and swayed on her feet, so relieved she could barely stand. "Allah be praised," she whispered.
--
She dreamed that night, but differently. Instead of nameless, faceless people, she knew everyone she could see-- her siblings, Hugh, her coworkers, even the bespectacled store clerk with the freckles. Instead of frantically pushing through an uncaring, ignorant crowd, every cry brought her more people, all of them searching for her son.
And at the end, someone called her name over the loudspeaker and Matthew ran to her, arms open, to be swept up and held tight against her chest.
She never had the other dream again.
Title: Black Friday
Story: In The Heart
Colors: Blue 4 (out of the blue), neon 3 (Black Friday) with Kelly's paint by numbers ("I would pay a lot to see you up that early.")
Supplies and Materials: Eraser (AU George), feathers (use three of the following: an empty jail cell, "Do I?", melted ice cream, a long elevator ride, lost in a crowd, reoccuring dream, found art), chalk (a woman holding a small boy tight), acrylic (missing something big), seed beads.
Word Count: 1530
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: She's had the dreams ever since Matthew was born.
Warnings: none, though parents may want to read with care.
Notes: This is so not what I thought I was going to do with the neon prompt.
The dreams started after Matthew was born, after she held her miracle son in her arms. He was so tiny and fragile, so infinitely breakable-- and she knew better than anyone else that not all miracles brought joy. She knew it every time she looked at Hugh, at the shadows in his eyes, the way he looked ten years older whenever he thought of his lost daughter. She knew how children could destroy you.
She dreamed it first just after they brought Matthew home, with Hugh by her side and Matthew wheezing gently in his crib at the foot of their bed.
She is sitting on a beach, vast and empty, holding her son in her arms and watching the waves rush in. She bends down to kiss Matthew's head and suddenly he's gone, vanished from her arms like smoke. She looks up to find him and the beach is gone; she's in Times Square, crowded end-to-end with people rushing about their own business. She darts from one to the next, pulling at sleeves and elbows, begging them to help her find her son, but no one seems to see her or hear her. They trample back and forth, their eyes focused on their phones and technologies and Matthew...
Matthew is gone.
She woke with a gasp, to find tears on her cheeks.
--
The dreams grew worse around the time Matthew's heart murmur was diagnosed; from perhaps one a month to two and three a week. They got so bad that, for a while, she took to sleeping in the rocking chair in Matthew's bedroom, so she could reassure herself that he was still there, every time she woke panting with tears on her cheeks. He breathed so softly when he slept, the only sound a soft whistle of air through his pursed lips. She would stand over the crib sometimes, watching her baby breathe, waiting for the next miracle that would take him away.
At Matthew's two-year-old checkup, the murmur was nearly gone; at his thirty-month checkup, it had vanished completely. She breathed a little easier. The dreams decreased.
They did not stop.
She knew Hugh was worried about her. He never said anything-- they didn't talk to much, preferring as they did to just soak in each other's presence-- but he was there more often, wrapping his arms around her waist, bringing her tea, smoothing her hair back from her face. He coaxed her back to sleeping in their bed, woke her up when the nightmare trapped her, held her tight against his heartbeat until she stopped crying, brought Matthew to her when even that didn't work. She knew she was scaring him.
She didn't know how to stop.
--
"I can't believe you're braving Black Friday," Hugh said, as they put away Thanksgiving dinner. Matthew played in the living room, making soft vrooming noises as he drove his truck around and around the coffee table.
She raised an eyebrow, and passed him a plate to dry. "Can you deny that we need a new TV?"
He glanced somewhat ruefully at the television, currently lying on its side by the door. Matthew had somehow contrived to knock it off its stand and shatter the screen last week, although thankfully he hadn't hurt himself or anything else. "I cannot deny that, no."
"It'll be much more affordable on Black Friday," she said, and hoped that would end the argument. "You know we don't have that much money to spare."
"We can certainly afford to avoid Black Friday," Hugh said.
"Not with Christmas coming up," Joanna said, positively. "And not with how much I spent at Eid."
Hugh winced at the memory. "That was a lot. Did your mother have to reserve the entire amusement park?"
Joanna rolled her eyes, and handed him another plate. "Apparently it's some kind of tradition. Which is funny, because we never did it when I was growing up." Matthew ran his truck into a chair leg and made a sputtering crash sound; she looked up and smiled at him. "Matthew enjoyed it, though."
"Matthew didn't have to help pay for it," Hugh said, rather caustically, then shook his head. "All right, I see your point, but are you really going to get up at two AM?"
"No," she said, shaking her head for emphasis. "Mercy, no. I was planning to go in the morning."
Hugh paused, and then set the plate down on the counter. "Did I tell you I have to work tomorrow?"
She nearly dropped a plate at that, but caught it in time and ran it under the water to rinse it. "Do you? I thought you had the rest of the weekend."
He sighed, and took the plate from her. "That was the idea, but one of my patients has a really serious knee problem that I need to keep an eye on. I'm going to see her and then get some paperwork done. Before you ask, Caroline can't cover for me; she's in Michigan until Monday."
And he couldn't take Matthew with him-- bringing their child to a doctor's office, swarming with sick people at the best of times, was tempting fate beyond bearing. "I see," she said, and then, "I'll just take him with me, then."
"Are you sure?" He didn't sound worried, but she knew he was. "You look a little white."
"Do I?" she asked, forcing her voice to calmness. She hadn't had the dream for almost two months now, and even if Black Friday was a very good place to... to lose children, it was all the more reason not to let Matthew out of her sight. "I'm sure I don't know why. I'm only buying the one thing, and I won't let go of his hand. It'll be fine."
--
Tempting fate. She'd tempted fate, and now it was all coming true.
I won't let go of his hand. It was all very well and good to say, but three people had shoved her from three different directions, and in the crush Matthew's hand had slipped out of hers. And Matthew, just three, newly independent, had gone running off among the sea of legs, and now he was gone.
Matthew was gone.
She reached out blindly, searching for him or help, she didn't know, grabbing at sleeves and arms and products and whatever came her way. People shouted at her, shook her off-- not quite ignoring her, but close enough, and Matthew was gone, and she didn't...
"Ma'am?" She blinked, and turned, found herself looking at a bespectacled store clerk with worried eyes and freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose. "Are you all right?"
"Matthew," she said, idiotically, and blinked back the tears. "My son, he got away from me, he's..."
"Right," the clerk said, and lifted a walkie-talkie. "Boss, we got a Code Adam." He looked at Joanna. "You said his name was Matthew? Can you give me a description?"
"Matthew," she said, still bewildered. "Yes. Matthew Marhenke. He's three years old, pretty small, with dark brown hair, curly. Skin like mine--" She lifted a hand. "Brown eyes. He's wearing a blue jacket, a burgundy t-shirt with a gecko on it, and blue pants. And boots. Black boots."
The clerk relayed that into the walkie talkie, then took her arm, gently. "If you'll go ahead and come with me, ma'am, I'll take you to the information desk and we'll wait there."
She pulled against him, blindly. "But he was just here..."
"Ma'am," the clerk said, still very gently, "all of my co-workers are looking for him right now. We've got people on all the doors so we'll catch him if he decides to go outside. Somebody's going to find him, and you look like you need to sit down."
"Matthew," she said again, and then the clerk's walkie-talkie crackled.
He held it up, said, "Yeah," listened to the incomprehensible crackling voice, and then asked, "Scuse me, ma'am, is your name Joanna Marhenke?"
She nodded, frantically. "Yes, yes, that's me, I have ID..." She dug through her purse, found her driver's license and held it out to him in shaking hands.
The clerk took it, compared it to her, then said into the walkie-talkie, "Code Adam cancelled, repeat, Code Adam cancelled, we found him." He handed her license back, and smiled. "Smart kid you got there. He walked right up to my manager and told her he was lost and could she help him find his mommy. He's over at the information desk, waiting for you."
Joanna closed her eyes, and swayed on her feet, so relieved she could barely stand. "Allah be praised," she whispered.
--
She dreamed that night, but differently. Instead of nameless, faceless people, she knew everyone she could see-- her siblings, Hugh, her coworkers, even the bespectacled store clerk with the freckles. Instead of frantically pushing through an uncaring, ignorant crowd, every cry brought her more people, all of them searching for her son.
And at the end, someone called her name over the loudspeaker and Matthew ran to her, arms open, to be swept up and held tight against her chest.
She never had the other dream again.