Not Born Alone – Random Ramblings

We must all be alone right by each other. –from Spamalot

 

I’ve heard that people are alone no matter what they do. That they were born alone and that they will die alone.

But…

But that can’t be right…

When someone is born they have to at least have a mother with them, right?

Where else would they have come from in the first place?

Trust is a Funny Thing

“Forgiveness is not forgiveness if it is worked for. Forgiveness is a gift. Trust is worked for.” –Bramble, from The Most Unlikely of Times

Alex knew that he’d gone too far on this one, knew it from the very bottom of his soul, but at the same time he wasn’t sorry.

After all, finding out that the more than questionable venture that you’d begun funding several years prior to your ‘younger’ sister even discovering that there was a fertility problem and somehow causing her to become pregnant via complete override of her husband’s own genetic code (supposedly) and actually doing it on purpose were two completely different things.

The outcome was the same, though, and he would never be sorry whenever he looked into the dark blue eyes of his nephew.

Alex knew that Mary would find out. She always did whenever it came to this kind of thing.

And if by some miracle she didn’t find out, then Warren certainly would.

The two of them were really quite perfect for one another and Alex would forever be grateful that neither really had the head to manage a business or his little business empire would be in a great deal of trouble.

As it was, he was still in trouble, but it would only be against his own peace of mind as a part of a family rather than as a mogul of the economy.

Funny how he would rather it be the other at this point…

Losing the trust of his sister would likely put a strain on their relationship, and though they would try to not let it affect any relationship between him and his nephew, it would. Whether they wanted to or not, children always picked up on this kind of thing.

“Alex, stop looking like your life’s about to end just because it’s your turn to change Terry’s diaper.”

Make the Most – Serious Snippet

Make the most of the role you’ve been given because anyone can become the hero if they play it right. –Shin-bee, from Angel Cup by Jae-ho Youn

 

Sometimes he wondered if any of his former companions remembered the help he’d been and the blow it had caused when he’d Fallen.

Sometimes you’ve been the Hero so long that you’ve forgotten what it even means and so you must rediscover yourself in a completely different way.

And become the Villain in the process.

He’d lost who he was and all of the moves and actions he’d made had simply become reflexes that held little to no meaning to him.

So he’d Fallen.

And discovered far more than he’d ever wished about who he was and why he had done the things he’d done.

It was a pity that he could never go back.

Pencil of God

I am only a pencil in the Hand of God; He is the one who writes. –Mother Teresa

 

I was watching the movie made about Mother Teresa recently and found the above statement hit me profoundly. She could have used the tool pen instead of pencil. A pen’s ink lasts longer than a pencil’s lead as well as having the actual tool last longer as well. Pens are easier to repair and if they are made of truly wonderful materials they can last for centuries.

Pencils, on the other hand, don’t last quite so long, especially if they are used often. They wear down or break until they are gone and you can’t repair them.

But in a way the fleeting nature of this tool can have all the more to it because of what it can do in the amount of time it has.

Monetary

Money felt lonely to me.

 

“Why did you adopt her?”

Alex turned and looked at the boy that was his nephew if only on paper.

“You could have had anything, anyone that you wanted. You didn’t have to make her your sister in order to have her in your family. No one would have questioned you for any of it.”

The old man smiled at the much younger man in front of him, “I wanted to make sure that, in the very likely case of my death, the money would go to someone who wouldn’t appreciate it.”

Matt blinked, “What?”

“Your mother wasn’t ever very big on monetary things. She absolutely hated the fact that we lived in a mansion whenever we went to visit anywhere outside of the city. She wouldn’t appreciate anything that cost money from me, but she wouldn’t waste it either, so it had to go to her. The best way to do that without having someone take her to mediation was to adopt her as my sister.” The bald man smirked mischievously, “I toyed with the idea of making her my daughter, but Mary threatened to disappear whenever I entered a room if I did that.”

“So you made her your heir in the event that you had no children.”

Alex’s smirk dropped, “I had a son once. He died. I could have no others after him.”

Matt was silent for a moment, remembering the young man whose paternity had always been in question for some reason even though he had the same looks as his father. It had only been covered in history class because of the status of the father in the making of their country.

“Mary didn’t want money, what she wanted was family and I could understand that. Money never brought me any family, but your mother. For that alone, I would have her be my heir and through her, you and your brother.”

Heart Beat

“I can hear your heart beat.”

“It’s saying I love you.” –father and son, from a story whose name and author I can’t remember…blast it!

 

He’d been in love once with a young woman. They had met, become friends, fallen in love, gotten married and had a small family.

It was perfect.

And then, it wasn’t.

It wasn’t perfect anymore because the love of his life, the mother of his children, his best friend was sick.

And she wasn’t getting better, if anything she was getting worse. And they didn’t know why. They tried everything, exhausted every resource that they could get their hands on and still, nothing.

He didn’t know what to do.

His children would likely soon be motherless and he would be without his wife.

He’d be alone.

“Daddy?”

He turned and met his son’s eyes, they were the same shade and shape of his wife and he tried to hold back the wince.

“Yes, son?”

The little boy held up his arms and he bent to pick him up. Once his son was in his arms, the boy leaned forward and put his ear against his father’s chest.

“Daddy, can you hear my heart beat?”

The man chuckled lightly, “No, son, but I’m sure you can hear mine.”

The boy nodded before sitting up and reaching up to pull his father’s head down against his own chest.

“Now can you hear it?”

“Yes, son, I can hear it.”

“Mommy says that whenever a heartbeat is heard, the person hearin’ it’s bein’ told ‘I love you.’ Did you know that?”

He smiled, “No, son, I didn’t know that.”

Maybe he wouldn’t be as alone as he thought. It would be just like his darling wife to remind him without even being there that he wouldn’t be alone anymore no matter what.

Holes

“It tears holes in people in different ways.  Holes you can’t fill.  That’s not what you’re trying to do.  You’re not trying to fill it.  You’re trying to help them live with it.”

 

“Star, you need to grieve.”

“I have.”

Solaris shook her head, the earrings on her ears tinkling as the symbols on them making the soft noise, “You haven’t, Star, you really haven’t.”

Star says nothing; the black of her suit doesn’t sparkle the way it used to, the way it’s supposed to as a representation of the night sky.

“Star-“

The young-seeming woman turns and for the first time since Solaris has been crowned the Solar Monarch walks away without so much as a gesture to the woman she’s sworn to protect and obey until the day the Solar Monarch is laid to rest in the ground.

Solaris watches with sorrow-filled eyes as her oldest friend walks away from her.

“Oh, my dear friend, just because she is lost doesn’t mean that your sister won’t ever be found.”

Star doesn’t hear her, she’s too far away, lost in the grief that she won’t let herself feel.

Once and Again

Because hate is easier than hope, and anger is easier than faith… –blackkat, fanfic author

 

Alex had given up once.

Once.

And though that once had lasted several decades before he’d take up his life to actually live rather than survive didn’t mean that he didn’t remember the bitter taste of hatred guiding his actions and anger clouding every thought that he had.. So yes, he’d given up once and it had destroyed who he was and what he could have become.

But then hope appeared before him and faith invaded his life once more and he had learned to live again.

So he kept those memories of bitter despair and unforgiving defeat always in his mind to remind himself of what the other option in his life was. He wasn’t about to go back to that existence no matter what the payoff appeared to be at the time.

He had a lot to live for even if it was only one small person who was held safely in his arms.

“You’ll be a good uncle, Alex.” Mary looked exhausted though it had been several weeks since she had given birth and been released from the hospital, but a new baby, even with the help of her husband, is still a lot of work.

Especially for someone who had long since given up on the thought of ever getting to hold a newborn in her arms in the middle of the night, night after night and knowing that this tiny life was hers.

“How can you be sure of that, sister, you know what I am.” He whispers quietly.

It had taken him almost an hour to get his little nephew to go to sleep and he’d only offered and kept to it because Mary looked like she was going to break into hysterical tears as Terry continued to cry and Warren couldn’t take any more time off of work or he’d lose his job. (It wouldn’t be lost for long, but Warren and Mary were proud and didn’t want to accept a job from Alex that they felt hadn’t been earned and Warren’s supervisor was a jerk.)

Mary just sighed, sounding even more tired and Alex absolutely did not cringe. Outwardly.

“You are an idiot, brother mine.”

Her voice is so very tired that he finally does cringe.

“Alex, it’s all right for me to have faith in you. There’s nothing wrong with that and I’m going to continue to teach Terry that you are a good person no matter what you think about yourself. If I can’t change your mind, then I’m certain that my son can do it for me.”

Nothing else was said as she finally gave in to the call of her pillow and passed out, leaving Alex to hold his still sleeping nephew.

Well, nothing said other than the murmur of Alex’s voice as he speaks to his little nephew about this or that which happens to cross his mind. Words of science and mathematics a soothing lullaby for the sleeping child.

“Even if I can’t have faith in myself, little one, I can trust in the faith your mother has.” He whispers into the down hair, “She has seen me at my worst and still loved me enough to stay when others, friends and family, have left me in the dust. Too much of a monster for them to try and coax me back.”

What is Light Without Dark?

“The closer one gets to the light, the greater the shadow he casts.”

 

With Comet gone, things were…different. The two had been so good at working together partially because one would work in the light while the other worked in the shadows. As their names often pointed out, Star was better at working in the light, her abilities far flashier along with her name. Comet was quiet and subtle, only noticed when the consequences of her actions were inevitable.

Comet was a force that could not be swayed once her course was set in.

Star was an immovable object that would burn up whatever tried to make her move in the first place.

One was the light, bright and burning and always there; the other was the shadow, cold and dark and just passing through.

Now the shadow was gone, but the need for it was still there.

Star closed her eyes and felt the bond between her and her sister knotted and choked off. It was forever bleeding between them, though the leakage would only flow over on her side. (She hoped that was true, hoped and wished so very hard.)

She felt when the blood seeped over her half of their shared soul crystal enough to stain it red.

The Crimson Warrior opened her eyes once more.

There is work to be done.

Just Stop

I didn’t want to exist anymore, so I stopped existing.

 

Sometimes she just wanted everything to stop. To not be there at the back of her head so that she could finally not be that person anymore.

The person whose parents didn’t even know she existed until they were trying to kill her.

The person who had to all but rip her sister’s mind apart in order to fix it. Twice.

The person who would be trapped forever watching over a family that, while the main line would live long would eventually grow old and die.

Leaving her alone.

She just wanted it all to stop so that she didn’t have to look at the long and lonely years that stretched before her without end.

She wanted to stop existing.

But she couldn’t.

To do so would require all of the stars in the universe to stop shining, ending life as anyone knew it.

She couldn’t be selfish like that.

So she kept going.

No matter how much she was dead inside.


Why am I writing this depressing thing? Because it wanted to be written that way.