FIC - Fall Leaves
Title: Fall Leaves
Author: Wheelie47
Warning: Character Death
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Luke/Noah
Summary: Noah remembers...
Written for the nuke_anon
A sudden gust of wind caught up the haphazard pile of crisp fall leaves, tossing them into the air. A myriad blend of subtle shades of golden brown shifted and swirled as if dancing to the cadence of an orchestra unseen.
The wind had a chill edge to it, pushing back the fading warmth of fall and heralding the colder, bleaker auspices of winter.
The drop in temperature had the handful of people in the cemetery hurrying about their business with their collars upturned and thoughts of heading home to warm fires and cozy armchairs in their minds.
All except one solitary old man sat on a bench opposite a headstone.
He seemed oblivious to the world around him as he sat with his large aged hands curled loosely in his lap, occasionally only moving to reach up to his neck and smooth down the tie he always wore when he came here.
The material under his arthritic fingers spoke to him across the years of memories that were so vivid it could have been yesterday.
“Let me know if it’s too tight.”
“Okay.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
The corners of his mouth curled into a small sad smile when his lips tingled as if in their own memory of the kiss that followed those words so long ago.
It was long moments before his gaze lifted again to the granite headstone. The weak rays of fading sunlight highlighted the coloration and gave it an almost heated caramel appearance, making him glad he had insisted on that particular shade. The hue reminded him of the eyes of the man that lay beneath the stone - always so warm and embracing in life.
His husband, his lover, his best friend, his life, his Luke.
His own rheumy eyes scanned the elegant, flowing script on the headstone for the umpteenth time.
Luke Snyder-Mayer.
His gaze avoided the dates, not wanting to be reminded of how soon his love had been taken from him. They had spent decades together but it was still too soon… way too soon.
They said it would get better. They said that the passage of time would ease the desperate pain of loss. But it did not. And he didn’t want it to. He never wanted it to be okay that he was without his Luke.
Every time he came here he stayed a little longer, wanting to leave this world behind and return to his lover’s embrace.
But he could not.
He cleared his throat with a choked cough and reached up with a shaking hand to brush away a tear before adjusting his glasses and reading on.
Beloved husband of Noah.
Loving father to Max, Cleo and Shelby.
And devoted grandparent to Leone and Joshua.
A swell of pride rose in his chest; they had done well - him and Luke - with their little family. But oh how he yearned that his husband could be here to see their grandchildren grow.
The wind suddenly swirled and eddied, depositing a single leaf into his lap.
His hand closed loosely around it before it could be caught up again
Rich golden brown was interspersed by flecks of persistent green. With trembling fingers he traced the fine veins and delicate surface almost as if with a lover’s soft touch.
There were reminders of Luke everywhere it seemed.
He heard the car pull up behind him and heard the doors open. They had come for him. But he did not want to leave yet… did not want to leave his husband here all alone in the fading light.
Closing his eyes he ignored their presence and concentrated on the feel of the leaf under his slowly moving fingertips.
The strength of the wind dropped and softened a little. It seemed to be caressing his age worn cheek and he swore he could hear the whisper of his name on its rise and fall.
“Noooah.”
He knew it was only his own wishful imagination but that didn’t stop him from leaning into the sensation, desperate to believe.
“Noah, my love.”
A heartfelt gasp escaped his lips. “Luke?”
“Don’t give up. Keep the memory of me alive through your life, Noah. I will be with you… always.”
He frowned, trying to focus on the murmured words when there was a sudden lull.
“Luke?”
“Go to them… for me. It’s not your time. But when you are ready, Bubby, I’ll be here waiting for you. I love you.”
Suddenly Luke’s presence seemed to evaporate as a small hand alighted onto his palm, trapping the leaf between them.
He opened his eyes to look straight into the upturned gaze of Leone. The child was normally a ball of contagious energy - just like her grandfather.
But not now.
Now she looked pensive and sad, her young shoulders bowed by the heavy weight of a loss she didn’t quite fully comprehend.
“Grandpa,” she began, her head tilted as if she was trying to understand the confusion of thoughts swirling in his head, “Mama says it’s time to leave. It’s getting cold.”
He breathed deeply as he tried to calm his emotions. Looking about him, everything appeared as before.
Leone tugged at his hand. “Grandpa?”
He looked down at their intertwined fingers, hers seeming so small even against his age worn skin.
Still holding the child’s hand he twisted awkwardly on the bench to see their daughter waiting by her car. Cleo lifted her hand in greeting and took a hesitant step forward; concerned for her father but not wanting to intrude on his time alone by his husband’s graveside.
He waved back and gave her a small gentle smile of reassurance.
Looking back over at Luke’s headstone and then down at their granddaughter’s still upturned face, he finally came to a reluctant decision.
He turned their hands over and released his grip but held on to the leaf. His old shoulder joints twinged in protest as he tossed it up into a graceful arc.
For a moment it appeared it would simply drift back down to the ground but then it was caught up by a sudden gust and once again joined the continued golden brown dance.
He smiled fondly at that. Luke would have liked it; his husband probably would have said that it was fate or some such nonsense.
He looked down at Leone. “Whadaya say we get your mom to make that special hot chocolate? You know the one your granddaddy used to like so much?” He clearly remembered the ‘big kid’ look of wide-eyed excitement on Luke’s face when they realized Cleo had inherited grandma Emma’s knack for making the delicious brew. He couldn’t get enough of the stuff.
A smile spread across their granddaughter’s face and she grabbed his hand again, tugging to help him off the bench.
“Hey, easy on the old guy!” he chuckled softly, happy to see a smile on her young face again.
He moved over to the headstone on legs made unsteady by age.
Bringing trembling fingers to his lips, he pressed a kiss to the tips and lightly touched them to the cold granite.
“Sleep well, my love.” He would not say goodbye… he couldn’t.
Feeling small fingers squeezing his hand, he gently squeezed back and slowly turned and began to walk away, hand-in-hand, from his husband’s graveside.
He was suddenly comforted by the feel of a residue of Luke’s presence walking by his side, so close to almost brushing his hand, and by the knowledge that - when the time was right - he would be drawn back into his husband’s warm embrace to the only home he had ever truly known.
THE END
Author: Wheelie47
Warning: Character Death
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Luke/Noah
Summary: Noah remembers...
Written for the nuke_anon
A sudden gust of wind caught up the haphazard pile of crisp fall leaves, tossing them into the air. A myriad blend of subtle shades of golden brown shifted and swirled as if dancing to the cadence of an orchestra unseen.
The wind had a chill edge to it, pushing back the fading warmth of fall and heralding the colder, bleaker auspices of winter.
The drop in temperature had the handful of people in the cemetery hurrying about their business with their collars upturned and thoughts of heading home to warm fires and cozy armchairs in their minds.
All except one solitary old man sat on a bench opposite a headstone.
He seemed oblivious to the world around him as he sat with his large aged hands curled loosely in his lap, occasionally only moving to reach up to his neck and smooth down the tie he always wore when he came here.
The material under his arthritic fingers spoke to him across the years of memories that were so vivid it could have been yesterday.
“Let me know if it’s too tight.”
“Okay.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
The corners of his mouth curled into a small sad smile when his lips tingled as if in their own memory of the kiss that followed those words so long ago.
It was long moments before his gaze lifted again to the granite headstone. The weak rays of fading sunlight highlighted the coloration and gave it an almost heated caramel appearance, making him glad he had insisted on that particular shade. The hue reminded him of the eyes of the man that lay beneath the stone - always so warm and embracing in life.
His husband, his lover, his best friend, his life, his Luke.
His own rheumy eyes scanned the elegant, flowing script on the headstone for the umpteenth time.
Luke Snyder-Mayer.
His gaze avoided the dates, not wanting to be reminded of how soon his love had been taken from him. They had spent decades together but it was still too soon… way too soon.
They said it would get better. They said that the passage of time would ease the desperate pain of loss. But it did not. And he didn’t want it to. He never wanted it to be okay that he was without his Luke.
Every time he came here he stayed a little longer, wanting to leave this world behind and return to his lover’s embrace.
But he could not.
He cleared his throat with a choked cough and reached up with a shaking hand to brush away a tear before adjusting his glasses and reading on.
Beloved husband of Noah.
Loving father to Max, Cleo and Shelby.
And devoted grandparent to Leone and Joshua.
A swell of pride rose in his chest; they had done well - him and Luke - with their little family. But oh how he yearned that his husband could be here to see their grandchildren grow.
The wind suddenly swirled and eddied, depositing a single leaf into his lap.
His hand closed loosely around it before it could be caught up again
Rich golden brown was interspersed by flecks of persistent green. With trembling fingers he traced the fine veins and delicate surface almost as if with a lover’s soft touch.
There were reminders of Luke everywhere it seemed.
He heard the car pull up behind him and heard the doors open. They had come for him. But he did not want to leave yet… did not want to leave his husband here all alone in the fading light.
Closing his eyes he ignored their presence and concentrated on the feel of the leaf under his slowly moving fingertips.
The strength of the wind dropped and softened a little. It seemed to be caressing his age worn cheek and he swore he could hear the whisper of his name on its rise and fall.
“Noooah.”
He knew it was only his own wishful imagination but that didn’t stop him from leaning into the sensation, desperate to believe.
“Noah, my love.”
A heartfelt gasp escaped his lips. “Luke?”
“Don’t give up. Keep the memory of me alive through your life, Noah. I will be with you… always.”
He frowned, trying to focus on the murmured words when there was a sudden lull.
“Luke?”
“Go to them… for me. It’s not your time. But when you are ready, Bubby, I’ll be here waiting for you. I love you.”
Suddenly Luke’s presence seemed to evaporate as a small hand alighted onto his palm, trapping the leaf between them.
He opened his eyes to look straight into the upturned gaze of Leone. The child was normally a ball of contagious energy - just like her grandfather.
But not now.
Now she looked pensive and sad, her young shoulders bowed by the heavy weight of a loss she didn’t quite fully comprehend.
“Grandpa,” she began, her head tilted as if she was trying to understand the confusion of thoughts swirling in his head, “Mama says it’s time to leave. It’s getting cold.”
He breathed deeply as he tried to calm his emotions. Looking about him, everything appeared as before.
Leone tugged at his hand. “Grandpa?”
He looked down at their intertwined fingers, hers seeming so small even against his age worn skin.
Still holding the child’s hand he twisted awkwardly on the bench to see their daughter waiting by her car. Cleo lifted her hand in greeting and took a hesitant step forward; concerned for her father but not wanting to intrude on his time alone by his husband’s graveside.
He waved back and gave her a small gentle smile of reassurance.
Looking back over at Luke’s headstone and then down at their granddaughter’s still upturned face, he finally came to a reluctant decision.
He turned their hands over and released his grip but held on to the leaf. His old shoulder joints twinged in protest as he tossed it up into a graceful arc.
For a moment it appeared it would simply drift back down to the ground but then it was caught up by a sudden gust and once again joined the continued golden brown dance.
He smiled fondly at that. Luke would have liked it; his husband probably would have said that it was fate or some such nonsense.
He looked down at Leone. “Whadaya say we get your mom to make that special hot chocolate? You know the one your granddaddy used to like so much?” He clearly remembered the ‘big kid’ look of wide-eyed excitement on Luke’s face when they realized Cleo had inherited grandma Emma’s knack for making the delicious brew. He couldn’t get enough of the stuff.
A smile spread across their granddaughter’s face and she grabbed his hand again, tugging to help him off the bench.
“Hey, easy on the old guy!” he chuckled softly, happy to see a smile on her young face again.
He moved over to the headstone on legs made unsteady by age.
Bringing trembling fingers to his lips, he pressed a kiss to the tips and lightly touched them to the cold granite.
“Sleep well, my love.” He would not say goodbye… he couldn’t.
Feeling small fingers squeezing his hand, he gently squeezed back and slowly turned and began to walk away, hand-in-hand, from his husband’s graveside.
He was suddenly comforted by the feel of a residue of Luke’s presence walking by his side, so close to almost brushing his hand, and by the knowledge that - when the time was right - he would be drawn back into his husband’s warm embrace to the only home he had ever truly known.
THE END