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Room 317, Sunday Night
Jun. 19th, 2006 12:17 amZ stared out the window of her room at the stars. Days like this were always the hardest. Birthdays, Christmas, she'd gotten used to that whole thing a long time ago. At least on Thanksgiving she could count on a hot meal at one of the shelters. But Father's Day...before she ran, she'd always felt like such a liar when she made cards at school for her crappy foster father of the month.
She could vaguely remember her real father--a gentle voice singing a lullaby to her in Spanish, and big strong hands pushing her on the swings. She remembered really good enchiladas, too, but she somehow thought her grandmother had made those. She wished she could remember what had happened to him; how she'd wound up in foster care. She wondered if it had been her replicating. He wouldn't have been the last person to get rid of her because of it, so she guessed she couldn't blame him. But she didn't remember, and Jack was right when he said it didn't matter. They had each other. Or they had. Not any more, not with Jack in a capture card and her in this too-quiet, too-empty dorm room.
"Happy Father's Day, if you're out there," she told the stars and someone whose face she couldn't remember to save her life. "I guess you are, actually. I'm, what, one now? So you're still around." She wiped a tear from her face and swore. She was getting emo again. Jack would've teased her and poked her in the ribs until she cheered up.
But Jack wasn't here. She was fifteen years in the past and in Virginia and alone.
She could vaguely remember her real father--a gentle voice singing a lullaby to her in Spanish, and big strong hands pushing her on the swings. She remembered really good enchiladas, too, but she somehow thought her grandmother had made those. She wished she could remember what had happened to him; how she'd wound up in foster care. She wondered if it had been her replicating. He wouldn't have been the last person to get rid of her because of it, so she guessed she couldn't blame him. But she didn't remember, and Jack was right when he said it didn't matter. They had each other. Or they had. Not any more, not with Jack in a capture card and her in this too-quiet, too-empty dorm room.
"Happy Father's Day, if you're out there," she told the stars and someone whose face she couldn't remember to save her life. "I guess you are, actually. I'm, what, one now? So you're still around." She wiped a tear from her face and swore. She was getting emo again. Jack would've teased her and poked her in the ribs until she cheered up.
But Jack wasn't here. She was fifteen years in the past and in Virginia and alone.
