A Boundary They May Not Cross (gen, PG)
Story Title: A Boundary They May Not Cross
Genre: Gen
Character/Relationships: Amelia and Claire Novak, OCs
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count ~800
A/N: Unbetaed, written for the prompt "Time will tell" at spn_las. Concrit is welcome; anonymous commenting is enabled.
Amelia doesn’t talk about it with anyone for nearly a year.
She doesn’t even talk about it with Claire. She stops telling her daughter to pray for her dad’s safety, that if they have faith in God, one day he’ll return. But they don’t talk about what happened in the warehouse.
It’s hard being a single parent, Amelia discovers. She has no one to confer with when she catches Claire staring at a spot on the wall for hours at a time, or when Claire starts falling asleep in the middle of school (the doctors can’t find anything wrong, and Claire says she’s not even sleepy when it happens). Amelia holds her worry and fear inside until it feels like something vital inside her body is slowly shattering. But when Claire stops speaking in July, Amelia can’t take it any longer.
Laura is the assistant pastor at the church Jimmy grew up in. She teaches Claire’s Sunday school class and one day when picking her up, Laura cautiously mentions how much Claire’s behavior has changed over the past few months. Amelia is pretty sure Laura thinks she’s crazy, but the words spill out of her like water from a broken glass.
“I will pray for Claire, and for you too, Amelia,” Laura promises earnestly, as though she’s doing them some kind of favor. Her eyes are very wide. Amelia manages to hold back the bitter laughter that threatens to break free. “This sounds like a very…troubling experience. I’m sure that in time, Claire will improve. Have you considered taking her to a counselor, Amelia? Maybe you should see one, as well.”
Amelia learns to keep her fear to herself.
Their house is quiet for a month, until Claire suddenly begins speaking one day in early August, chatting like she’d never stopped. Claire is suddenly passionately interested in birds. She finds Amelia’s dad’s old binoculars and spends hours sitting on the back porch watching the birds and comparing what she sees to a list of local birds she found on the internet. Amelia can barely tell a crow from a blue jay and would ask Claire where her new hobby came from if she weren’t afraid of the answer.
“Do you think I’ll ever be able to fly?” Claire asks Amelia, as she stares out the window one morning between bites of her scrambled eggs. Her voice comes out slow and thick, like honey.
“We’ll see,” Amelia finally tells her.
-----
“Claire,” she says one day in September, after the school year has begun. She’s unloading the dishes from the dishwasher. As though it’s just an ordinary day Wednesday, like she doesn’t have to force the words from her mouth. “We can talk about it, if you want. When…with the angel. We can talk about your dad.”
Her daughter doesn’t look up from the math homework she’s doing at the kitchen table.
“I don’t want to,” Claire says softly.
Amelia is relieved. She is a terrible mother, she knows it, but the relief fills her lungs like air.
“Maybe in time, okay, baby girl?” These words are easy.
“Maybe,” Claire agrees. She pauses. “Sometimes I dream that I see Dad. In heaven. In the dream, heaven is the sea and I have to swim there. I just swim and swim and dad is there and it’s so cool.”
“Hmm,” Amelia says.
“Can I take swimming lessons, Mom?”
-----
Amelia is getting ready for work in October when Claire leaves. She’s downstairs, drinking a cup of coffee when she realizes that it’s been several minutes since she last heard footsteps overhead.
“Claire!” she calls. “What are you doing up there? We have to leave in just a few minutes so you’d better be dressed!”
When there’s no answer, Amelia doesn’t give a second warning. She’s up the stairs and searching frantically, her half-empty cup of coffee left cooling on the kitchen table.
Twenty minutes later, Amelia finds herself explaining to the police no, there’s no way she could have left without me hearing her and school seems to be going well and the doors were locked, officers. One of them was there when she reported Jimmy missing, and Amelia can tell he blames her. The temptation to throw her cup of cold coffee at him is overwhelming. Instead, Amelia sits down and tries to stop shaking.
The police eye the open window in Claire’s bedroom with interest, but there’s nothing to hold on to and the drop is too high.
“We’ll do everything we can, Mrs. Novak,” the officers tell her as they leave. Amelia stands in the foyer and watches them file out. Behind her, the emptiness of the house threatens to swallow her up whole. “We just need some time.”
Genre: Gen
Character/Relationships: Amelia and Claire Novak, OCs
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Word Count ~800
A/N: Unbetaed, written for the prompt "Time will tell" at spn_las. Concrit is welcome; anonymous commenting is enabled.
Amelia doesn’t talk about it with anyone for nearly a year.
She doesn’t even talk about it with Claire. She stops telling her daughter to pray for her dad’s safety, that if they have faith in God, one day he’ll return. But they don’t talk about what happened in the warehouse.
It’s hard being a single parent, Amelia discovers. She has no one to confer with when she catches Claire staring at a spot on the wall for hours at a time, or when Claire starts falling asleep in the middle of school (the doctors can’t find anything wrong, and Claire says she’s not even sleepy when it happens). Amelia holds her worry and fear inside until it feels like something vital inside her body is slowly shattering. But when Claire stops speaking in July, Amelia can’t take it any longer.
Laura is the assistant pastor at the church Jimmy grew up in. She teaches Claire’s Sunday school class and one day when picking her up, Laura cautiously mentions how much Claire’s behavior has changed over the past few months. Amelia is pretty sure Laura thinks she’s crazy, but the words spill out of her like water from a broken glass.
“I will pray for Claire, and for you too, Amelia,” Laura promises earnestly, as though she’s doing them some kind of favor. Her eyes are very wide. Amelia manages to hold back the bitter laughter that threatens to break free. “This sounds like a very…troubling experience. I’m sure that in time, Claire will improve. Have you considered taking her to a counselor, Amelia? Maybe you should see one, as well.”
Amelia learns to keep her fear to herself.
Their house is quiet for a month, until Claire suddenly begins speaking one day in early August, chatting like she’d never stopped. Claire is suddenly passionately interested in birds. She finds Amelia’s dad’s old binoculars and spends hours sitting on the back porch watching the birds and comparing what she sees to a list of local birds she found on the internet. Amelia can barely tell a crow from a blue jay and would ask Claire where her new hobby came from if she weren’t afraid of the answer.
“Do you think I’ll ever be able to fly?” Claire asks Amelia, as she stares out the window one morning between bites of her scrambled eggs. Her voice comes out slow and thick, like honey.
“We’ll see,” Amelia finally tells her.
-----
“Claire,” she says one day in September, after the school year has begun. She’s unloading the dishes from the dishwasher. As though it’s just an ordinary day Wednesday, like she doesn’t have to force the words from her mouth. “We can talk about it, if you want. When…with the angel. We can talk about your dad.”
Her daughter doesn’t look up from the math homework she’s doing at the kitchen table.
“I don’t want to,” Claire says softly.
Amelia is relieved. She is a terrible mother, she knows it, but the relief fills her lungs like air.
“Maybe in time, okay, baby girl?” These words are easy.
“Maybe,” Claire agrees. She pauses. “Sometimes I dream that I see Dad. In heaven. In the dream, heaven is the sea and I have to swim there. I just swim and swim and dad is there and it’s so cool.”
“Hmm,” Amelia says.
“Can I take swimming lessons, Mom?”
-----
Amelia is getting ready for work in October when Claire leaves. She’s downstairs, drinking a cup of coffee when she realizes that it’s been several minutes since she last heard footsteps overhead.
“Claire!” she calls. “What are you doing up there? We have to leave in just a few minutes so you’d better be dressed!”
When there’s no answer, Amelia doesn’t give a second warning. She’s up the stairs and searching frantically, her half-empty cup of coffee left cooling on the kitchen table.
Twenty minutes later, Amelia finds herself explaining to the police no, there’s no way she could have left without me hearing her and school seems to be going well and the doors were locked, officers. One of them was there when she reported Jimmy missing, and Amelia can tell he blames her. The temptation to throw her cup of cold coffee at him is overwhelming. Instead, Amelia sits down and tries to stop shaking.
The police eye the open window in Claire’s bedroom with interest, but there’s nothing to hold on to and the drop is too high.
“We’ll do everything we can, Mrs. Novak,” the officers tell her as they leave. Amelia stands in the foyer and watches them file out. Behind her, the emptiness of the house threatens to swallow her up whole. “We just need some time.”