but my ★ it's not your time // alex oneshot, TW
Aug 18, 2019 22:11:20 GMT -5
Post by Stare on Aug 18, 2019 22:11:20 GMT -5
TW: implied murder/suicide
[attr="id","alexBody"]
She dreamt that her soul was a star and that a comet came, shattering it into a million pieces. The fractals shimmered and swirled into their own galaxy, and then suddenly she was on Earth, in a crowd of thousands, staring up at her glittering essence scattered across the sky.
Alex woke up cold, exhausted, but feeling lighter than she had since Danny died.
"I've submitted an application for funding from the Capitol," she said after lunch that day as she stood over the sink doing dishes. Rachel LaChance sat at the rickety kitchen table behind her. The same table where they had watched Rory die together.
"For what?" Rachel sounded dubious as she tried to steady her hands enough to sort through some of the money Alex had brought back from the clinic the night before.
"An orphanage."
Alex heard Rachel pause. Then, cautiously, "A what?"
"An orphanage," Alex repeated, trying to rub the cloudiness in a glass. "I want to start one. Get some of the kids off the street."
"That's ambitious."
"Yeah, well, since it turns out I'm going to have about sixty more years than I was expecting, I thought I should find something to fill the free time."
"Alex." Rachel said her name like a warning, the way she would speak to a child who had just announced that they were going to sail around the world. "You've been through... a lot. You need to give it time."
"I’m not dead and I’m not dying, even if people look at me like I am. I don't need time."
"Maybe others do." The older woman was dancing around a landmine and they both knew it, so Alex was surprised when she continued. "A Brooker orphanage? After everything that's happened?"
She had a point. People had left flowers at first, sunflowers and black-eyed-susans and chicory for the girls whose parents couldn't handle the strain of one and a half dead daughters. But even those strangers knew that petals and bright hues couldn't heal the festering wounds left behind by a shouting match, a sickening scream, and then deafening silence. Alex had sat there, still and silent, until she’d heard the neighbor who had come to check on the noise start shrieking. That was when she had known for sure. She hadn't even needed to go see. She had simply packed a bag, pulled Josephine out of her crib, walked past the kitchen without daring to look inside, and left for the LaChance household before the Keepers arrived with brightly colored tape and two body bags.
Rachel hadn't asked questions, but the next day she'd gotten answers anyway. The horrific news spread through Three like a wildfire.
Alex shrugged, glancing out the window at the sunny midday sky. "They'll forget."
"Forget?" The LaChance mother scoffed somewhat bitterly. "You think people are just going to forget about the two Brooker orphans after all that scandal?"
"Joey is not an orphan." Alex set her jaw stubbornly, glancing back. "She has a perfectly good mother."
Rachel sighed. "You can say it as much as you want, but she's going to find out eventually. We can’t keep pretending."
Alex knew it was true. They couldn't keep the reality - that Joey came from a family mostly dead by the time she'd learned how to properly speak - from her forever. But Alex had been forged in the fires of a broken family and come out all too aware that the end product wasn't worth the pain. "I know. But she doesn't deserve to grow up in that shadow. We'll tell her when she's old enough."
"You'll tell her." Rachel's tone was surprisingly resolute, a firm reminder that not everyone could escape their death sentence. "And now you want to bring in even more children. You can't give a mother to every abandoned kid in District Three, Alex."
"I can try." As she finished drying a pot she caught sight of her warped reflection. Even though the curved metal spread her image like an oil slick, she could spot some of Danny's features. Some of Rory's, too. It was the reason Alex did her best to avoid mirrors most days, unwilling to look at the dead faces staring back. "No one deserves to be abandoned by their family. I can at least give them a new one."
"You could learn to be a little less selfless."
Alex set the pot down. "You're right. I could be a self-absorbed bitch, like Danny."
"Alex." Rachel's tone was sharp, a warning. "Don't talk about your sister that way."
Alex scoffed. "Why not? That's exactly what she was. She was dying, and then she volunteered, and she still didn't have the guts to look me in the eyes and say goodbye. She was a selfish coward and a murderer."
"Rory was a murderer, too." The words were almost a whisper and for the briefest moment Alex wondered what it must feel like to watch a baby girl become a killer.
She turned to face Rachel directly. "Who do you think I'd rather be? Danny lived selfishly, knowing she was going to die, and then she did die. Rory lived selflessly, thinking she was going to live, and then she died, too. I thought I was going to die, but now I'm not." Alex flung her arms wide. "So who am I, hm? Danny or Rory?"
"You're Alex." Rachel's voice was soft, halfway between gentle and wary.
"Screw that. I'd rather be Rory."
"Rory gave too much of herself. Just like you will if you choose to go through with this."
"This isn't a choice." Alex's voice finally wavered. "I have to do this. I have to do something. Anything to get away from their ghosts."
Because they were everywhere. At the clinic, in the square, in the new tributes' faces, in her face. Because she hadn't realized how ready she was to welcome death until she was told she was going to live. Because when Rory died, everything had hurt.
Everything except Joey.
"Alright." Rachel passed a trembling hand over her face, heavy with exhaustion. Rory had mirrored that expression almost every day when she was alive. "Alright. You do what you have to do."
"Mama?"
In an instant the older woman's expression went from exhausted to aching.
Alex wore her smile like a suit of armor as she reached out for the curly-haired toddler that had appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Hey, baby. You done with your nap?"
Joey staggered toward her on small, unsteady feet, rubbing one eye groggily. "Mama, I'm 'ungry."
Alex embraced her, kissing the top of her head through the curls. "I'm sure you are, sweetie. Let's get you something to eat, okay?"
Rachel gave her a weighted look but Alex returned it steadily, lifting her chin slightly.
After Rory’s funeral, Alex had gone to Rachel’s house, unwilling to return to the mess that had been her home at the time. Sitting on the worn couch, she’d stared at the pictures on the wall emptily. “Why didn’t she tell me the truth?”
Rachel had pressed a cup of peppermint tea into Alex’s hands. Alex had pointedly ignored the way some of the hot water sloshed over onto her fingers. “For the same reason you didn’t tell your parents you were sick when they were pregnant with Joey. Same reason Danny didn’t ever tell them.” She had sat next to Alex and smiled - actually smiled - up at a fading photograph of six-year-old Rory dressed up in a doctor’s costume that was at least two sizes too big for her. “Sometimes the truth hurts the people we care about. So we lie, and then we call that lie love.”
"Is it actually love?" Alex's tone had been bitter, still stinging with betrayal.
Rachel had stared up at the photos thoughtfully. "I'm supposed to say no. But I think it is. It's the kind of love that hurts."
Now Alex put some water on the stove to boil and thought about all the love that had hurt. Rory loving her dying mother, Rachel loving a daughter who would outlive her, Alex’s father loving Rachel, Alex’s mother loving Alex’s father, Alex loving Danny, Danny loving Aiden, Rory loving Ronan and Severus and Raven.
A pair of small hands clung to her knee and Alex glanced down, smiling at Joey. For the first time in months, it felt genuine. And it didn't hurt.
Because Alexandria Brooker was not a dying girl anymore.
And she had work to do.
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[attr="class","atriangle"]
[googlefont="Noto Sans:400"].She dreamt that her soul was a star and that a comet came, shattering it into a million pieces. The fractals shimmered and swirled into their own galaxy, and then suddenly she was on Earth, in a crowd of thousands, staring up at her glittering essence scattered across the sky.
Alex woke up cold, exhausted, but feeling lighter than she had since Danny died.
"I've submitted an application for funding from the Capitol," she said after lunch that day as she stood over the sink doing dishes. Rachel LaChance sat at the rickety kitchen table behind her. The same table where they had watched Rory die together.
"For what?" Rachel sounded dubious as she tried to steady her hands enough to sort through some of the money Alex had brought back from the clinic the night before.
"An orphanage."
Alex heard Rachel pause. Then, cautiously, "A what?"
"An orphanage," Alex repeated, trying to rub the cloudiness in a glass. "I want to start one. Get some of the kids off the street."
"That's ambitious."
"Yeah, well, since it turns out I'm going to have about sixty more years than I was expecting, I thought I should find something to fill the free time."
"Alex." Rachel said her name like a warning, the way she would speak to a child who had just announced that they were going to sail around the world. "You've been through... a lot. You need to give it time."
"I’m not dead and I’m not dying, even if people look at me like I am. I don't need time."
"Maybe others do." The older woman was dancing around a landmine and they both knew it, so Alex was surprised when she continued. "A Brooker orphanage? After everything that's happened?"
She had a point. People had left flowers at first, sunflowers and black-eyed-susans and chicory for the girls whose parents couldn't handle the strain of one and a half dead daughters. But even those strangers knew that petals and bright hues couldn't heal the festering wounds left behind by a shouting match, a sickening scream, and then deafening silence. Alex had sat there, still and silent, until she’d heard the neighbor who had come to check on the noise start shrieking. That was when she had known for sure. She hadn't even needed to go see. She had simply packed a bag, pulled Josephine out of her crib, walked past the kitchen without daring to look inside, and left for the LaChance household before the Keepers arrived with brightly colored tape and two body bags.
Rachel hadn't asked questions, but the next day she'd gotten answers anyway. The horrific news spread through Three like a wildfire.
Alex shrugged, glancing out the window at the sunny midday sky. "They'll forget."
"Forget?" The LaChance mother scoffed somewhat bitterly. "You think people are just going to forget about the two Brooker orphans after all that scandal?"
"Joey is not an orphan." Alex set her jaw stubbornly, glancing back. "She has a perfectly good mother."
Rachel sighed. "You can say it as much as you want, but she's going to find out eventually. We can’t keep pretending."
Alex knew it was true. They couldn't keep the reality - that Joey came from a family mostly dead by the time she'd learned how to properly speak - from her forever. But Alex had been forged in the fires of a broken family and come out all too aware that the end product wasn't worth the pain. "I know. But she doesn't deserve to grow up in that shadow. We'll tell her when she's old enough."
"You'll tell her." Rachel's tone was surprisingly resolute, a firm reminder that not everyone could escape their death sentence. "And now you want to bring in even more children. You can't give a mother to every abandoned kid in District Three, Alex."
"I can try." As she finished drying a pot she caught sight of her warped reflection. Even though the curved metal spread her image like an oil slick, she could spot some of Danny's features. Some of Rory's, too. It was the reason Alex did her best to avoid mirrors most days, unwilling to look at the dead faces staring back. "No one deserves to be abandoned by their family. I can at least give them a new one."
"You could learn to be a little less selfless."
Alex set the pot down. "You're right. I could be a self-absorbed bitch, like Danny."
"Alex." Rachel's tone was sharp, a warning. "Don't talk about your sister that way."
Alex scoffed. "Why not? That's exactly what she was. She was dying, and then she volunteered, and she still didn't have the guts to look me in the eyes and say goodbye. She was a selfish coward and a murderer."
"Rory was a murderer, too." The words were almost a whisper and for the briefest moment Alex wondered what it must feel like to watch a baby girl become a killer.
She turned to face Rachel directly. "Who do you think I'd rather be? Danny lived selfishly, knowing she was going to die, and then she did die. Rory lived selflessly, thinking she was going to live, and then she died, too. I thought I was going to die, but now I'm not." Alex flung her arms wide. "So who am I, hm? Danny or Rory?"
"You're Alex." Rachel's voice was soft, halfway between gentle and wary.
"Screw that. I'd rather be Rory."
"Rory gave too much of herself. Just like you will if you choose to go through with this."
"This isn't a choice." Alex's voice finally wavered. "I have to do this. I have to do something. Anything to get away from their ghosts."
Because they were everywhere. At the clinic, in the square, in the new tributes' faces, in her face. Because she hadn't realized how ready she was to welcome death until she was told she was going to live. Because when Rory died, everything had hurt.
Everything except Joey.
"Alright." Rachel passed a trembling hand over her face, heavy with exhaustion. Rory had mirrored that expression almost every day when she was alive. "Alright. You do what you have to do."
"Mama?"
In an instant the older woman's expression went from exhausted to aching.
Alex wore her smile like a suit of armor as she reached out for the curly-haired toddler that had appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Hey, baby. You done with your nap?"
Joey staggered toward her on small, unsteady feet, rubbing one eye groggily. "Mama, I'm 'ungry."
Alex embraced her, kissing the top of her head through the curls. "I'm sure you are, sweetie. Let's get you something to eat, okay?"
Rachel gave her a weighted look but Alex returned it steadily, lifting her chin slightly.
After Rory’s funeral, Alex had gone to Rachel’s house, unwilling to return to the mess that had been her home at the time. Sitting on the worn couch, she’d stared at the pictures on the wall emptily. “Why didn’t she tell me the truth?”
Rachel had pressed a cup of peppermint tea into Alex’s hands. Alex had pointedly ignored the way some of the hot water sloshed over onto her fingers. “For the same reason you didn’t tell your parents you were sick when they were pregnant with Joey. Same reason Danny didn’t ever tell them.” She had sat next to Alex and smiled - actually smiled - up at a fading photograph of six-year-old Rory dressed up in a doctor’s costume that was at least two sizes too big for her. “Sometimes the truth hurts the people we care about. So we lie, and then we call that lie love.”
"Is it actually love?" Alex's tone had been bitter, still stinging with betrayal.
Rachel had stared up at the photos thoughtfully. "I'm supposed to say no. But I think it is. It's the kind of love that hurts."
Now Alex put some water on the stove to boil and thought about all the love that had hurt. Rory loving her dying mother, Rachel loving a daughter who would outlive her, Alex’s father loving Rachel, Alex’s mother loving Alex’s father, Alex loving Danny, Danny loving Aiden, Rory loving Ronan and Severus and Raven.
A pair of small hands clung to her knee and Alex glanced down, smiling at Joey. For the first time in months, it felt genuine. And it didn't hurt.
Because Alexandria Brooker was not a dying girl anymore.
And she had work to do.
if your light goes out tonight, it will end up in the sky
but my star it's not your time, it's not your time
and we'll wish up upon you, and you'll wish down on us too
but your time is not tonight, it's not tonight, it's not tonight
lyrics: stand tall, voila
but my star it's not your time, it's not your time
and we'll wish up upon you, and you'll wish down on us too
but your time is not tonight, it's not tonight, it's not tonight
lyrics: stand tall, voila
[newclass=#alexBody]width: 430px; background-image: url("https://i.imgur.com/NunT16e.png"); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-color: #000000; color: #2676c0; line-height: 14px; font-size: 11px; text-align: justify; padding-right: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle"]float: left; clear: left; height: 12px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(1)"]height: 153px; width: 450px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(2)"]width: 257px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(3)"]width: 259px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(4)"]width: 243px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(5)"]width: 225px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(6)"]width: 211px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(7)"]width: 201px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(8)"]width: 190px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(9)"]width: 182px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(10)"]width: 182px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(11)"]width: 178px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(12)"]width: 168px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(13)"]width: 157px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(14)"]width: 145px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(15)"]width: 132px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(16)"]width: 122px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(17)"]width: 114px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(18)"]width: 98px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(19)"]width: 80px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(20)"]width: 50px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(21)"]width: 28px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(22)"]width: 14px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle"]float: left; clear: left; height: 12px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(1)"]height: 153px; width: 450px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(2)"]width: 257px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(3)"]width: 259px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(4)"]width: 243px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(5)"]width: 225px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(6)"]width: 211px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(7)"]width: 201px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(8)"]width: 190px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(9)"]width: 182px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(10)"]width: 182px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(11)"]width: 178px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(12)"]width: 168px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(13)"]width: 157px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(14)"]width: 145px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(15)"]width: 132px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(16)"]width: 122px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(17)"]width: 114px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(18)"]width: 98px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(19)"]width: 80px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(20)"]width: 50px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(21)"]width: 28px;[/newclass]
[newclass=".atriangle:nth-child(22)"]width: 14px;[/newclass]
