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Being Her

A series of one-shots in Claire's perspective throughout the series For Her.

Um, will not go in any order. they come as i get bored enough to write them. PSSSTTT if you want a new story, go review with her!

49. A Modest Proposal

Rating 5/5   Word Count 714   Review this Chapter

The monitor beeps twice. I want to scream, to cry, to throw it across the room as it turns black, only a single flat line indicating there was ever any life there. I close my eyes in frustration, and horror.

If only she’d taken the freaking medicine when I asked! Could a human life be this delicate? Really? Was existence so fragile that it could be lost instantly?

Could my life end that quickly?

It is my fault that this poor old lady will never breathe in again. I could have stopped it. But I didn’t. I didn’t.

I make it through the rest of the day in a haze. The world seems to fuzz over, but I breathe in and out, and thank God for it. At least I am alive. It’s a gift I find myself thankful for. I have a new chance.

I walk out of the hospital at the end of my shift.

A new chance… it strikes me, that horrible recurring thought.

I don’t have the strength for it, or so I would have thought. But now I’ve seen, closer than most people ever get, like it means to have truly no power. I’m going to do it.

I’ve made up my mind.

I wince, closing my eyes. For this decision, tears escape my eyes.

When I arrive home, he shoots a curious look at my misery. I explain, a little. “Someone died, Quil. I was standing right there, trying to convince her to take her medicine. And she just died. While I watched… oh, Quil!”

I am pulled into a huge embrace, soft, sheltering, strong. The hug carries me to safety, but I know it will end. I have to end it. “Sweetie, I’m so sor… I wish you didn’t have to see that.”

He’s perfect. God, he’s perfect. Remembering something like that, but still finding a way to comfort me. How am I supposed to do this? “It’s all right. I chose this job, and I knew I’d have to see things like this.”

He slips away from me. I watch him sink to one knee, a little too fast, so the ground hurts him when he bumps into it. I want to laugh. And then I want to cry. Because as beautiful and tender as his words are, I know my answer already, unfortunately.

“Claire, you know I love you. I would do anything for you. You are everything in the world to me, as I’ve said time and again. I want to make you mine as I am yours. Claire, beautiful, beloved Claire, will you marry me?”

I close my eyes. I want to. God, I want to! It’s a new, sudden discovery. I want to be with him for the rest of my life. I want to trust him with everything. I want to be his, completely. But every word he speaks just reinforces it. Anything for me. Anything I want. But what does he want? “No.”

“Why not?” he asks, tenderly.

I lie. “Because I’m scared.”

“I thought you didn’t want to let him win, Claire. Do you want to give up a chance to be happy?”

If it means you don’t get a choice, yes. I want you to have whatever you want. I want you to choose it. “No. But I don’t want to be trapped. I don’t… I don’t want there to be nowhere for me to go.” As a lie, it works.

“Is there any way I can make you feel like that isn’t going to happen?” he asks desperately.

“I don’t think so.” I can think of four off the top of my head, even if it actually were a problem. “I’m sorry, Quil.”

“No sorry,” he answers automatically. I smile a little.

“You’re tired, Claire. Go to bed. Don’t be sorry.”

I turn and run to my room. I try to cry quietly into my pillow. I really hope I don’t have to explain.

I really wish I didn’t have to do this. I love him. I love him so much. And I have to leave him.