from me: to earnmysong
wait around, i'll smile again
fringe
pg | etta bishop | 818
spoiler/warnings: all aired episodes, character death.
summary: she used to dream about them.
WAIT AROUND, I'LL SMILE AGAIN
She used to dream about them. Built memories, ideas, thoughts in her head on how they'd be. When she was younger she thinks she remembers crying for them every night, waking up from dreams thinking it had all been a nightmare that day in the park, and then the reality would set in and she would remember she never made it to her parents arms.
There were stories about them, too. She learned later.
Not just hers, but from others, and when she got older she started to listen.
She dreamt that one day she'd be part of those stories: fighting the Observers, saving the world, saving them. She used to think about the day she'd turn around on the street and there they'd be, arms open, still waiting for her to rush into them.
She got even older and these dreams turned into cold harsh realities. She trained herself into only thinking certain things.
Dreams are wishes your heart makes. She thinks she remembers someone (old and funny, with a wrinkled face and kind eyes, someone who smelled like red and candy) telling her this in a story once. Her memories of them sometimes feel like they've been ambered inside her head. Crystallised in bright yellows and golds, protected from the world (from the Observers) and the passage of time.
When she finds them Etta almost laughs at how true this ended up being.
They are not as tall as she thought they'd be, yet she feels small between them.
Walter is so everywhere and loud. It's almost unsettling. Nobody is ever loud anymore. Nobody ever lets their limbs loose and unguarded. He stays between them too; Etta wonders if it's because he feels small or because he feels protected.
He smells like red and candy, touches her face like he's watched an old photograph come to life.
Peter looks at her that way too. Like he can't believe she's in front of him. It's in his eyes that she understands, that before they were ambered, they searched for her too. Her mother… is everything Etta thought she would be. She's strong and steady and warm. She's careful to touch Etta, like she's afraid if she does Etta will fade away, whereas her father reaches out every moment he gets.
(She doesn't really remember Astrid, except for the odd memory of: coloured cereal, fresh milk, and the sound of sound of cartoons and Walter.)
Etta understands her mother better; she's afraid to touch them too. They've been mirages, dreams, memories, glimpses in the corner of her eyes, hopes, and goals. Now they're real. People say the feeling most common when getting what they want most is disappointment. People are wrong. Etta can't be. They came back to her whole when she would have taken them broken. Came back strong when she would have taken them weak.
They came back to her when she thought them lost.
When her father smiles at her Etta wants to cry.
When her mother cups her face and Etta wants to sob.
The same tears shine back at her.
Simon once asked her if what she was risking was worth it. If her half built hope to rebuild her family - The Fringe Team, the legends - was worth what she could lose.
She hadn't answered and pushed through the doors to the next clue. Simon didn't ask again, she's almost sure because he knew what she would have said and wish it different.
When Widmore fires the round into her she already knows they're coming for her. She hates what they'll find. Feels the blood seep out of her.
They reach her sliding to the ground, her mother's hand going straight for the wound, her father's to her face, their voices trying to keep her with them. Walter, Gramp she used to call him, smells like red and candy.
Their faces are the last thing she sees in the world and thinks, yes, it all worth it.
(Etta used to have a dream that was more of a memory, more like a nightmare, about when she loses her parents on a sunny day in green park. She never goes to parks anymore; hates them like she hates the Observers. It's a good thing they barely exist. On the dirty ground of the warehouse she orders her parents away from her, the bomb ticking down at her side. There will be nothing left of her body. Only memories.)
Somewhere in the future past a little girl opens her eyes, the sun bright across her window and smiles. She had a strange dream that she already barely remembers. Climbing out of bed she grabs her favourite stuff toy, Mr. Papaya, a gift from Gramp, and pads towards her parents bed.
Jumping on their bed, she announces she wants to go the park to the laughing sound of her name.
fringe
pg | etta bishop | 818
spoiler/warnings: all aired episodes, character death.
summary: she used to dream about them.
WAIT AROUND, I'LL SMILE AGAIN
She used to dream about them. Built memories, ideas, thoughts in her head on how they'd be. When she was younger she thinks she remembers crying for them every night, waking up from dreams thinking it had all been a nightmare that day in the park, and then the reality would set in and she would remember she never made it to her parents arms.
There were stories about them, too. She learned later.
Not just hers, but from others, and when she got older she started to listen.
She dreamt that one day she'd be part of those stories: fighting the Observers, saving the world, saving them. She used to think about the day she'd turn around on the street and there they'd be, arms open, still waiting for her to rush into them.
She got even older and these dreams turned into cold harsh realities. She trained herself into only thinking certain things.
Dreams are wishes your heart makes. She thinks she remembers someone (old and funny, with a wrinkled face and kind eyes, someone who smelled like red and candy) telling her this in a story once. Her memories of them sometimes feel like they've been ambered inside her head. Crystallised in bright yellows and golds, protected from the world (from the Observers) and the passage of time.
When she finds them Etta almost laughs at how true this ended up being.
They are not as tall as she thought they'd be, yet she feels small between them.
Walter is so everywhere and loud. It's almost unsettling. Nobody is ever loud anymore. Nobody ever lets their limbs loose and unguarded. He stays between them too; Etta wonders if it's because he feels small or because he feels protected.
He smells like red and candy, touches her face like he's watched an old photograph come to life.
Peter looks at her that way too. Like he can't believe she's in front of him. It's in his eyes that she understands, that before they were ambered, they searched for her too. Her mother… is everything Etta thought she would be. She's strong and steady and warm. She's careful to touch Etta, like she's afraid if she does Etta will fade away, whereas her father reaches out every moment he gets.
(She doesn't really remember Astrid, except for the odd memory of: coloured cereal, fresh milk, and the sound of sound of cartoons and Walter.)
Etta understands her mother better; she's afraid to touch them too. They've been mirages, dreams, memories, glimpses in the corner of her eyes, hopes, and goals. Now they're real. People say the feeling most common when getting what they want most is disappointment. People are wrong. Etta can't be. They came back to her whole when she would have taken them broken. Came back strong when she would have taken them weak.
They came back to her when she thought them lost.
When her father smiles at her Etta wants to cry.
When her mother cups her face and Etta wants to sob.
The same tears shine back at her.
Simon once asked her if what she was risking was worth it. If her half built hope to rebuild her family - The Fringe Team, the legends - was worth what she could lose.
She hadn't answered and pushed through the doors to the next clue. Simon didn't ask again, she's almost sure because he knew what she would have said and wish it different.
When Widmore fires the round into her she already knows they're coming for her. She hates what they'll find. Feels the blood seep out of her.
They reach her sliding to the ground, her mother's hand going straight for the wound, her father's to her face, their voices trying to keep her with them. Walter, Gramp she used to call him, smells like red and candy.
Their faces are the last thing she sees in the world and thinks, yes, it all worth it.
(Etta used to have a dream that was more of a memory, more like a nightmare, about when she loses her parents on a sunny day in green park. She never goes to parks anymore; hates them like she hates the Observers. It's a good thing they barely exist. On the dirty ground of the warehouse she orders her parents away from her, the bomb ticking down at her side. There will be nothing left of her body. Only memories.)
Somewhere in the future past a little girl opens her eyes, the sun bright across her window and smiles. She had a strange dream that she already barely remembers. Climbing out of bed she grabs her favourite stuff toy, Mr. Papaya, a gift from Gramp, and pads towards her parents bed.
Jumping on their bed, she announces she wants to go the park to the laughing sound of her name.