sim_spiration 11/10/10
More sim_spiration for you all. I’m not quite sure how to categorise this drabble. I suppose AU fits best, and if Marina wants to treat this as canon to her apoc, that’s cool. If not, that’s cool too. This is a little scene that I can easily see happening back in Regalton, once Stuart graduated and returned from Sierra Plains. I also want to say, that although the events that Bertie goes through in each mini verse are very different, somethings are the same as is the end result. So this is also a sneak peek at future!Bertie for you all.
***
It should have been me and you / It could have been you and me/[girl] you broke my heart and now I'm standing here" ("Photographs" - Rihanna)
“Post for you Bertie,” said Eddie as he entered the dining room one morning, just as his family had sat down for breakfast.
“Thank you father,” replied Bertie, putting down his knife and taking the proffered envelopes.
“Your paper Stuart,” Eddie handed his youngest son a folded newspaper.
“Thank you Father.”
“There is a package for you Emmi.”
“Thank you Papa.” She took the package and prodded at it. “It feels like sheet music. I keep saying that I do not need it,” replied Emina, placing it on the table beside her breakfast plate.
“I know Emmi, but remember what I have taught you. It is never a bad thing to have sheet music as well.”
Bertie absentmindedly picked up his butter knife as he watched his brother unfold his paper. “Is that the Sierra Plains paper again?” He flicked the knife through the flap of the envelope, causing his wife to tut. “Dear, would you like me to go and fetch your letter opener?”
“Hmm, no thank you, this will suffice.” Bertie waved the implement in question before turning back to his brother. “Well Stuart?”
“Yes it is,” replied the younger man. “I spent four years of my life there. I would like to stay up to date with current events.”
Bertie nodded and started to read his letter. Stuart settled down to read his paper, the babble of his family washing over him, as he did so. It was true, he liked to know what was going on there, and he always checked the situations vacant page, just in case there was a job opening that really appealed to him. He turned a page, to see the birth, marriages and deaths columns. He also liked to check those. He still had a lot of friends in Sierra Plains, and although he had regretfully declined to attend several of their weddings, he had always sent a telegram, and liked to see if there was anyone getting wed he did not know about. He was checking for one announcement in particular, and always felt relieved when he didn’t see it.
Today he found it.
There it was, towards the bottom of the page. A two line announcement, just the name of the bride and groom and a date several days previously.
The sight of it made him feel sick.
“…right?”
He realised that Bertie was talking to him, and that the rest of the family were staring at him.
“I am perfectly fine,” he replied tersely. “Please excuse me.” He stood up abruptly and threw his napkin onto the table, before dashing to the French windows that led out onto the garden.
“What is wrong with him?” asked Emmi stunned.
“I do not know,” replied Carmen. Bertie was the only one not watching Stuart practically running down the garden. He had snatched up the paper from where Stuart had thrown it and was now scanning the page. He found the announcement and swore, “damn.”
His wife sighed, and turned from where she was trying to feed the toddler in the high chair. “Really Bertie, not in front of the baby.”
“Apologies,” Bertie was already pushing his chair back from the table as he spoke. “If you will excuse me,” he followed Stuart out of the door.
By the time he was in the garden, Stuart was no where to be seen, but Bertie ducked beneath the arch set in the left hand hedge. Again, he couldn’t see his brother down by the pond, or in the kitchen garden, but he continued to the very edge of the property and a hole in the hedge separating their garden from the common. It seemed much smaller to him now than it had when he was a child, but it bore the unmistakable signs of someone having pushed through it very recently. Swearing at the twigs scratching his hands, and pulling at his hair, Bertie too pushed through it.
Once he was through, he looked up to see Stuart running towards the big oak they used to hang out around as children and teenagers. “Oh please Stuart, do not climb that,” he murmured, before setting out after him.
He needn’t have worried. He approached the tree to find his brother sitting in its shade, tears coursing down his face. Wordlessly, Bertie sat down next to him.
“It could have been me, it should have been me,” Stuart said at last.
Bertie nodded. “I saw the announcement. I will not insult you by asking if you are alright.”
“I knew she would marry him,” continued Stuart, showing no signs of having heard his brother, “but seeing it there in black and white… It hurts more than I thought it would. I feel as if I should have done something to prevent it.”
‘Yes, you should have done,’ thought Bertie, but he remained silent, letting his brother pour his heart out.
“I think I had hope before, and that hope has died. It sounds silly, but I had fantasies of her turning up on our doorstep one day, telling me that she was sorry about the argument we had had and how she wanted to give us another chance. That will never happen now.”
‘No,’ thought Bertie, ‘but you could have gone to her instead of waiting for her to come to you, if that is how you really felt,’ but still he said nothing. His brother did not need to hear recriminations.
“I still love her Bertie. I love her and I do not understand why this has happened. It should have been so easy,” his voice cracked.
“Love is never easy,” Bertie spoke at last. “Look at Papa and Kasan. Look at how long it took for the two of them to discover how much they loved each other, and during that time, Papa had to put up with that bitch mother of ours. Hell, look at me and my wife. First time I met her, I thought her to be an insufferable know-it-all. I invited her to a concert and then…humiliated her.”
“And yet she married you.”
“Yes, she married me. If it is in the Creators’ plan for you and Mrs Fitzhugh to be together, then you will be. If it is not, then you will find someone else and be equally as happy.”
“The Creators’ plan," repeated Stuart bitterly. "The Creators must hate me to put me thorough this.”
Bertie shook his head. “I do not believe that, and I doubt you do either.”
“Why make me suffer so if they do not?”
Bertie sighed and shifted closer to his little brother. “Because life is a journey full of lessons we need to learn. Pain is part of that, and there is no getting away from it.”
“But I want it to stop,” Stuart’s voice was plaintive as he spoke. “Tell me what I can do to make it stop hurting.”
Bertie put his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “That is something I cannot do, because I do not know how to make it stop. All I can tell you is what you have to do while hurting.”
“And that is?”
“You play with your niece and look after your nephew. You come down the pub with your brother, your father and your friends. You accompany your sister on the piano and you help your kasan in her garden. You find yourself a job, and you meet new people. In short, you live.”
Stuart was silent for a moment. “When did you become the wise one?”
Bertie gave a small smile. “Stuart, I’ve always been the wise one. It just took a bit of living for me to realise that.”
***
It should have been me and you / It could have been you and me/[girl] you broke my heart and now I'm standing here" ("Photographs" - Rihanna)
“Post for you Bertie,” said Eddie as he entered the dining room one morning, just as his family had sat down for breakfast.
“Thank you father,” replied Bertie, putting down his knife and taking the proffered envelopes.
“Your paper Stuart,” Eddie handed his youngest son a folded newspaper.
“Thank you Father.”
“There is a package for you Emmi.”
“Thank you Papa.” She took the package and prodded at it. “It feels like sheet music. I keep saying that I do not need it,” replied Emina, placing it on the table beside her breakfast plate.
“I know Emmi, but remember what I have taught you. It is never a bad thing to have sheet music as well.”
Bertie absentmindedly picked up his butter knife as he watched his brother unfold his paper. “Is that the Sierra Plains paper again?” He flicked the knife through the flap of the envelope, causing his wife to tut. “Dear, would you like me to go and fetch your letter opener?”
“Hmm, no thank you, this will suffice.” Bertie waved the implement in question before turning back to his brother. “Well Stuart?”
“Yes it is,” replied the younger man. “I spent four years of my life there. I would like to stay up to date with current events.”
Bertie nodded and started to read his letter. Stuart settled down to read his paper, the babble of his family washing over him, as he did so. It was true, he liked to know what was going on there, and he always checked the situations vacant page, just in case there was a job opening that really appealed to him. He turned a page, to see the birth, marriages and deaths columns. He also liked to check those. He still had a lot of friends in Sierra Plains, and although he had regretfully declined to attend several of their weddings, he had always sent a telegram, and liked to see if there was anyone getting wed he did not know about. He was checking for one announcement in particular, and always felt relieved when he didn’t see it.
Today he found it.
There it was, towards the bottom of the page. A two line announcement, just the name of the bride and groom and a date several days previously.
The sight of it made him feel sick.
“…right?”
He realised that Bertie was talking to him, and that the rest of the family were staring at him.
“I am perfectly fine,” he replied tersely. “Please excuse me.” He stood up abruptly and threw his napkin onto the table, before dashing to the French windows that led out onto the garden.
“What is wrong with him?” asked Emmi stunned.
“I do not know,” replied Carmen. Bertie was the only one not watching Stuart practically running down the garden. He had snatched up the paper from where Stuart had thrown it and was now scanning the page. He found the announcement and swore, “damn.”
His wife sighed, and turned from where she was trying to feed the toddler in the high chair. “Really Bertie, not in front of the baby.”
“Apologies,” Bertie was already pushing his chair back from the table as he spoke. “If you will excuse me,” he followed Stuart out of the door.
By the time he was in the garden, Stuart was no where to be seen, but Bertie ducked beneath the arch set in the left hand hedge. Again, he couldn’t see his brother down by the pond, or in the kitchen garden, but he continued to the very edge of the property and a hole in the hedge separating their garden from the common. It seemed much smaller to him now than it had when he was a child, but it bore the unmistakable signs of someone having pushed through it very recently. Swearing at the twigs scratching his hands, and pulling at his hair, Bertie too pushed through it.
Once he was through, he looked up to see Stuart running towards the big oak they used to hang out around as children and teenagers. “Oh please Stuart, do not climb that,” he murmured, before setting out after him.
He needn’t have worried. He approached the tree to find his brother sitting in its shade, tears coursing down his face. Wordlessly, Bertie sat down next to him.
“It could have been me, it should have been me,” Stuart said at last.
Bertie nodded. “I saw the announcement. I will not insult you by asking if you are alright.”
“I knew she would marry him,” continued Stuart, showing no signs of having heard his brother, “but seeing it there in black and white… It hurts more than I thought it would. I feel as if I should have done something to prevent it.”
‘Yes, you should have done,’ thought Bertie, but he remained silent, letting his brother pour his heart out.
“I think I had hope before, and that hope has died. It sounds silly, but I had fantasies of her turning up on our doorstep one day, telling me that she was sorry about the argument we had had and how she wanted to give us another chance. That will never happen now.”
‘No,’ thought Bertie, ‘but you could have gone to her instead of waiting for her to come to you, if that is how you really felt,’ but still he said nothing. His brother did not need to hear recriminations.
“I still love her Bertie. I love her and I do not understand why this has happened. It should have been so easy,” his voice cracked.
“Love is never easy,” Bertie spoke at last. “Look at Papa and Kasan. Look at how long it took for the two of them to discover how much they loved each other, and during that time, Papa had to put up with that bitch mother of ours. Hell, look at me and my wife. First time I met her, I thought her to be an insufferable know-it-all. I invited her to a concert and then…humiliated her.”
“And yet she married you.”
“Yes, she married me. If it is in the Creators’ plan for you and Mrs Fitzhugh to be together, then you will be. If it is not, then you will find someone else and be equally as happy.”
“The Creators’ plan," repeated Stuart bitterly. "The Creators must hate me to put me thorough this.”
Bertie shook his head. “I do not believe that, and I doubt you do either.”
“Why make me suffer so if they do not?”
Bertie sighed and shifted closer to his little brother. “Because life is a journey full of lessons we need to learn. Pain is part of that, and there is no getting away from it.”
“But I want it to stop,” Stuart’s voice was plaintive as he spoke. “Tell me what I can do to make it stop hurting.”
Bertie put his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “That is something I cannot do, because I do not know how to make it stop. All I can tell you is what you have to do while hurting.”
“And that is?”
“You play with your niece and look after your nephew. You come down the pub with your brother, your father and your friends. You accompany your sister on the piano and you help your kasan in her garden. You find yourself a job, and you meet new people. In short, you live.”
Stuart was silent for a moment. “When did you become the wise one?”
Bertie gave a small smile. “Stuart, I’ve always been the wise one. It just took a bit of living for me to realise that.”