All That We Can't Leave Behind
A look into Claudia's possible future.
Rated: PG
Warning: Character death and angst abounds
All That We Can't Leave Behind
By Zombiechick
Warning: A bit of a tearjerker but inevitability.
Claudia Donovan entered her office at the Warehouse and, after hanging up her leather satchel, tossed a large pile of mail on her desk. A few minutes later found her, large mug of coffee in hand, sorting through various manila envelopes that contained possible case information, some junk mail, and a few personal correspondences.
There was a rather austere card from Mrs. F; white with silver lettering that read, "Happy Birthday." Inside, Mrs. Frederic had simply written her name. Claudia smiled and shook her head, feeling the usual bafflement that was often connected with Irene Frederic.
The return address on one overly large pink envelope made her smile; she grabbed the blunted dagger that lay nearby and opened it. The outside text of the card read, "Forty isn't old..." Claudia flipped it open to read, "if you're a tree! Happy birthday, anyway."
She groaned out loud, "Jeez, Pete, you'd think that, after twenty years, a guy's humor might improve."
A further message, written in Pete's scrawling handwriting, read, and “Wish I could be there to help you celebrate becoming an old lady. We are all so proud of you. Kelly and the kids send their love. Yours, Pete."
Claudia's eyes stayed trained on the word "we" in Pete's message. "Not the same 'we' that started out," she began and then stopped herself when a sob threatened to escape her throat. She had woken from the all too familiar dream again last night and she could swear that she still heard Myka's final screams wringing in her ears.
A soft, warm, wind moved the hair that rested on Claudia's shoulders, "Don't," a voice murmured low in her ear.
"Can't help it," Claudia answered as her fingers swept over Pete's message.
"Don't," the voice murmured once again and this time Claudia felt a phantom hand rest on her shoulder, a thumb gently brushed her bare neck.
Claudia laughed and then sniffed as she wiped away an arrant tear, "Thought you told me there's no such thing as ghosts, Artie," she whispered.
She smiled at the answering chuckle that had faded into silence by the time she had turned her chair around to look. "Happy birthday, Claudia," she whispered to herself and heard her words echo back slightly in the quiet of the Warehouse office.
Rated: PG
Warning: Character death and angst abounds
All That We Can't Leave Behind
By Zombiechick
Warning: A bit of a tearjerker but inevitability.
Claudia Donovan entered her office at the Warehouse and, after hanging up her leather satchel, tossed a large pile of mail on her desk. A few minutes later found her, large mug of coffee in hand, sorting through various manila envelopes that contained possible case information, some junk mail, and a few personal correspondences.
There was a rather austere card from Mrs. F; white with silver lettering that read, "Happy Birthday." Inside, Mrs. Frederic had simply written her name. Claudia smiled and shook her head, feeling the usual bafflement that was often connected with Irene Frederic.
The return address on one overly large pink envelope made her smile; she grabbed the blunted dagger that lay nearby and opened it. The outside text of the card read, "Forty isn't old..." Claudia flipped it open to read, "if you're a tree! Happy birthday, anyway."
She groaned out loud, "Jeez, Pete, you'd think that, after twenty years, a guy's humor might improve."
A further message, written in Pete's scrawling handwriting, read, and “Wish I could be there to help you celebrate becoming an old lady. We are all so proud of you. Kelly and the kids send their love. Yours, Pete."
Claudia's eyes stayed trained on the word "we" in Pete's message. "Not the same 'we' that started out," she began and then stopped herself when a sob threatened to escape her throat. She had woken from the all too familiar dream again last night and she could swear that she still heard Myka's final screams wringing in her ears.
A soft, warm, wind moved the hair that rested on Claudia's shoulders, "Don't," a voice murmured low in her ear.
"Can't help it," Claudia answered as her fingers swept over Pete's message.
"Don't," the voice murmured once again and this time Claudia felt a phantom hand rest on her shoulder, a thumb gently brushed her bare neck.
Claudia laughed and then sniffed as she wiped away an arrant tear, "Thought you told me there's no such thing as ghosts, Artie," she whispered.
She smiled at the answering chuckle that had faded into silence by the time she had turned her chair around to look. "Happy birthday, Claudia," she whispered to herself and heard her words echo back slightly in the quiet of the Warehouse office.