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Message-ID: <35299asstr$1014066611@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Jamie Norwood <mistwolf@mushhaven.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} Lynnea - Prolog (ff no-sex rom bi hs death)
Date: Mon, 18 Feb 2002 16:10:12 -0500
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This is my first attempt at a story. It is inspiried by the general             
lack of romantic coming-out stories out the of late. I eagerly hope             
to hear feedback on this, positive or otherwise. I'm undecided if I             
will write the rest, but I would certainly like to, so any advice               
is GREATLY appreciated.                                                         
                                                                                
The first part of this set things up a bit, and I warn you, is not              
the happiest bit of story out there. This starts at the end of the              
story, and if there is interest and feedback, I will write the rest.            
                                                                                
Any commentary can be sent to mistwolf@mushhaven.net.                           
                                                                                
So here it is! Thanks for writing!                                              
                                                                                
Jamie                                                                           


<1st attachment, "lynnea-prolog.txt" begin>

				Prolog



   I sat  in the chair next  to Lynnea's bed, quietly  holding her hand.
She was  sleeping now, something she  did a lot of  late. Sleep, though,
was rarely  the comfort we  hoped it would  be. For some,  sleep brought
about  a relaxation,  an easing  of mind  and body.  I suppose,  to some
degree, this was  true of her... But  not much. Even in  sleep, her face
showed  pain and  sadness.  No, for  her  sleep was  no  escape. As  she
confided in  me in one  of her more verbal  moments, sleep was  a robber
that took away what little time she had left.

   I sat there, holding her hand and watching her face. I was alone with
her now. Her family was away, taking a rare break to go home and freshen
up. There wasn't much  time left for her, but one could  only go so long
without a  shower, without a few  hours sleep in a  comfortable bed, and
the sheltered comfort of each others arms beneath a warm blanket.

   They were  a close  family, and  they had  accepted me  easily, which
still surprised me. I didn't come from a tolerant family, and in fact it
had been a long time since I had exchanged more than polite pleasantries
with my  parents. For  almost two  years now, I  had all-but  lived with
Lynnea and her parents. They treated me as if I were their own child, or
at least, as much as anyone married into the family could be. They never
judged me, never second-guessed Lynnea's choice of mates, never tried to
tell us we were too young for the decisions we made, or too immature for
the emotions we felt. And that acceptance was about all I had keeping me
going, keeping  me from loosing  myself in  the grief and  frustration I
felt.

   A small sound brought me out of my musings; Lynnea had shifted a bit,
causing the sheets  to rustle. She was  awake now, and smiling  at me, a
weariness beyond  her years in  her eyes. "For  a moment there,  love, I
almost thought it was  a bad dream..." She said in  a husky whisper. She
didn't talk much these days, it was  too hard on her. "You almost looked
happy... You were smiling, and it's been days since you did that."

   I blushed and  looked down, "I was thinking of  us," I answered. "How
wonderful your family has been." She squeezed my hand, and I looked back
up. A sudden rush of emotion tightened my throat, and tears welled in my
eyes. "Not  many families, even  in these days,  would be so  willing to
accept that their daughter was in love... Let alone when her chosen mate
was another girl."

   She smiled a bit  more for a second, then it  faded again. "They just
wanted  me to  be happy,  dearheart. We...  We knew,  even then,  that I
didn't have  enough time on this  world to be picky."  She sighed, then,
and looked  away. I  could feel her  hand tensing a  bit, and  I waited,
knowing more was  coming. Her voice, rougher than normal,  showed me the
tears my  eyes could not  see. "I'm sorry,  Chelsea. I... I  should have
told you, long before I did, before...  Before you fell in love with me.
You don't deserve to have this happen to you..."

   I squeezed her hand tenderly, "Shh, beloved. We've talked about this
before... I came to  terms with it long ago, and  even now... I wouldn't
do anything different.  There is nowhere in  the wold I want  to be more
than at your side."

   She turned back, and  gave me a small smile. Her  face had lost more
of it's color, and she looked so  very tired. I glanced at her monitors,
weeks of watching the doctors and nurses care for her telling me what to
look for. I frowned slightly at what I saw. A squeeze at my hand brought
me back to her with a start. Her  expression was sad, but had a peace to
it that could only really mean one thing. She nodded, slowly, and looked
over towards the  door. "Don't go... They will come  soon enough, and we
both know they can't do anything." She coughed a little, and sighed.

   I whimpered softly,  and held onto her  hand as if it  would keep the
inevitable from happening.  My voice was thick with  tears, "No, love...
They can... They can keep you  here..." The words were hollow. There was
no cure for what she had, and everyone knew it. "Besides, your mom isn't
here, or your dad, and I can't do it alone, I don't want to be alone..."
I was babbling, words  pouring out. She let me, quiet  as the torrent of
words came out. Finally, the words ran out.

   "Tell mom  I love  her. And dad."  Was her simple  answer. As  if she
hadn't told them both  that a million times. "Take care  of them for me.
They are going to need you." An  almost clairvoyant moment hit me, and I
knew for  certain she'd  told them  the same thing  about me.  I nodded,
throat too tight to answer. I tried to tell her I loved her, but I could
make  my voice  work. So  I simply  held her  hand, smiling  at her  and
watching as her eyes went all unfocused.

   There are  no words  to describe  what it feels  like, or  even looks
like, to hold your lovers hand while they died. The world, to me, simply
ceased to exist. It wasn't until I  felt a warm hand on my shoulder that
I knew the doctors were there. He offered me a sad smile, a vain attempt
to be  comforting as he  reached over and  turned off the  monitors that
were making a commotion. We'd all  long since agreed that when she went,
we wouldn't fight it. It was what she wanted, her last wish if you will,
and none of us had the strength to fight her on it.

   And it wasn't until  I woke up the next morning, alone  in the bed we
had  shared, that  I  truly realized  what was  going  on. Her  parents,
huddled together  on the living  room couch, pulled  me into a  hug with
them, and we all shared a few moments of quiet tears together like that.
After, Lynnea's mother spoke.

   "I'm sorry,  Chelsea. We... We should  have been there with  you. You
shouldn't have  had to  do that  alone." Her  voice was  raw and  it was
obvious she had been crying most of the time since Lynnea had passed.

   I shook my head in violent  denial, "No! You shouldn't apologize... I
mean, how  could we know?  If you had, you  would have been  there..." I
looked at her,  and my throat tightened, again robbing  me of speech. It
was then I  realized that I had  gotten the better end of  things. I, at
least, had  gotten to say  goodbye. I  whimpered softly, and  hugged her
tightly.

   She cradled me to  her, and petted my hair. It  was a very comforting
gesture from someone that  was more like a mother to  me than my mother.
"You are welcome here, Chelsea, for as  long as you like to stay. I know
your family... Would never understand, never accept. Either you, or what
you have been through.  At the least... We hope you  will stay until you
graduate." I  nodded at  her, and  whispered a  soft thank  you. Looking
around, and at  my mate's parents, I felt my  emotions welling up again.
Lynnea's mother offered a sympathetic  smile, and nudged me back towards
the  stairs, "Go.  We'll be  Ok,  here. I  think... You  need some  time
alone."

   I nodded, and smiled thankfully. She  truly understood me, and I knew
she would respect  my needs and not feel slighted.  I returned to our...
To my bedroom, and  sat on the bed. My tears, while  quiet, were no less
intense.

   After a  while, I looked  around. I  noticed, then, something  on the
bedside  table, and  leaned over  to pick  it up.  It was  a small  box,
wrapped with  a bow,  and on  it was  a note.  It said,  simply, "Lynnea
wanted us to give this to you. She said it would help you. -Mom"

   I opened the  box carefully, and my eyes widened  at what was inside.
It was my journal,  the one I had thought destroyed.  It had been ripped
up, destroyed in an event I won't get into here. How she had gotten what
remained of it, and how she had repaired it, were a mystery to me at the
time.

   There was a bookmark  in it, and I noticed the date  with a smile. It
was  the  day I  had  first  met Lynnea.  How  little  I knew  then,  my
adolescent mind prattling on about the  new kid at school. A small piece
of paper was  there, and I read it  with a hear that felt  like it would
burst.

   "Chelsea, my love,  my beloved. I know nothing can  magically fix the
pain you are feeling....  I think, truly, I have the  easier role. All I
have to do  is die... You have to  live without me for the  rest of your
life. I know, if I lost you... I wouldn't be able to go on. But you can,
because  you are  strong.  After  your mother  found  your journal,  and
learned just what we were, and you  had that big argument... You were so
broken up about how she had destroyed it. So when your brother showed up
later with the  remains, I knew that I  had to fix them. It  took a long
time, and I only finished a short  while ago... Your mother is very good
at destruction,  which I guess suits  her. I have marked  the page where
you met me... Please, for me, start  reading there, and read to the end.
The day we met was the day my life began, and I hope that by reading it,
it will be like  I am there, if only a little bit.  I love you, with all
my heart and soul. -Lynnea"

   I sniffled,  and wiped the tears  from my cheeks. Huddling  back into
the pillows, I started reading. I'd always kept a detailed journal, so I
would always know  were I came from,  and this brought my  past to vivid
life. Reading the words, I could almost see the past...

To be continued (?)...


<1st attachment end>


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