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theatrical_muse Prompt: 317
Jan. 13th, 2010 02:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asingledropleftIt isn't something he'd tell anybody about unless asked and thankfully people don't ask. There are Taboos and sacred cows in human society and one of them is that the dead and their wishes are not disturbed. It's part of the reason he cannot fathom them returning to the world of the living. Their word is so final-no one should hold that much power, to request to those left behind instructions be followed to the letter and then return with a smile and a wave and go about their business.
He was appointed executor of Elizabeth Dalton's estate. Money was evenly distributed between his brother and himself-something went to her cousin back in Kansas and her sister and his cousins in New York. She requested her good jewelry go to "the wives of my sons" and Ed had carefully set it aside for the day that either he or Frankie were married. She wanted her clothes donated (which had caused a scandal in and of itself-2E worked at a good will store but 3C worked at a "thrift" store and just who would get the goods?)
Her photo albums he keeps in his bedroom closet. Pictures of he and his brother, Frankie laughing and Ed standing solumnly by the little boy's side. Trips to Disneyland, to the local park, "Eddie's science projects" Frankie in the hospital the year he broke his arm-standing with relatives it's like looking at ghosts.
The last box is delivered by his mother's lawyer boyfriend as Hank (Hank, who the hell dates a man named Hank?) passes it to him.
"She asked me to deliver this personally to you."
Ed remembers thinking it might hold a bomb and asking Hank who denied any knowledge and shook his hand for the last time before going away forever. Taking it into the room he opened the box.
And stared at it's Contents
Tucked between his paws was a note signed with his mother's characteristic flourish. She'd been a teacher.
Dear Eddie.
I know you hate being called that. You were always so serious. If I fault your father for anything it's that he taught you that being you meant being nothing but a man and that real men didn't have feelings or any of that utter nonsense. He did his best. Be grateful you didn't know your grandfather.
I wanted you and Frankie to have the best of everything but between the two of you existing at two opposite ends of a spectrum I don't think I did the best I could-
He dragged a finger across his eye as he finished the line, setting the letter aside for just a moment.
Well. I saved this. Do you remember him? I bet you do. When you were younger he was your very best friend in the whole world. You cried when I wouldn't let you take him to school and refused to leave the house. Your father dragged you out the door. From that point on it was "that damned bear".
When Frankie came around you left the bear behind and I could have killed your father for patting you on the back with a good old atta' boy. It may be just because I was a girl "and only girls play with such things" but I find it hard to believe that the love you and this bear shared was something awful like your father seemed to think.
I think the worst part was you trying to share him with Frankie. Your father took him away from you and tossed him in the trash and when we moved from Buena Park I...took him too but by the time I thought to pass him to your brother you both were too far gone for me to reach.
You have him Ed. You have Franklin Dalton, he's what I gave you and he'll be here long after I'm gone but you need more then that. Frankie can't do it all by himself sweetheart, just like you can't be alone.
So, I brought you a little back up.
You used to call him Ursie. I think you were trying to say Ursula. Most of the time it came out Urrd. or Bear. You keep him. You show Frankie the picture. He ought to get a kick out of it.
Be good to each other and remember, you can't do it alone,
Love,
mom.
Ed stared at the animal, patched and worn with time and sewn in several places before setting the letter aside. At the bottom of the box was a snapshot-two children-a laughing infant and for the first time Ed realizes that he's smiling too-holding onto the baby and the bear at once.
"Is that us?" Frankie laughs, "so I was always adorable."
"And annoying."
"what's that?" He squinted at the picture, "some kinda dog thing?"
"Childhood toy. Nothin' important."
Frankie snorts, "Probably in some kid's attic somewhere right?"
------------------
"Sir?"
"Yes I'd like to make a deposit."
"Cash Mr. Dalton?"
"No uh-" It bulges oddly in his briefcase, "I need to put something in my safe deposit box."
"Yes sir."
------------------------
Ten years later he deposits his death certificate as required by law. Grim faced he practically throws open the door to reveal his childhood perfectly preserved.
It's the most emotion he'll ever show, clutching at the box and trying not to cry. Take care of each other, you can't do it alone.
He slammed the box shut walked outside into the night and bought a pack of cigarettes. Too. Damn. Late.
Fandom: Daybreakers
Community: Theatrical Muse
Wordcount: 926
He was appointed executor of Elizabeth Dalton's estate. Money was evenly distributed between his brother and himself-something went to her cousin back in Kansas and her sister and his cousins in New York. She requested her good jewelry go to "the wives of my sons" and Ed had carefully set it aside for the day that either he or Frankie were married. She wanted her clothes donated (which had caused a scandal in and of itself-2E worked at a good will store but 3C worked at a "thrift" store and just who would get the goods?)
Her photo albums he keeps in his bedroom closet. Pictures of he and his brother, Frankie laughing and Ed standing solumnly by the little boy's side. Trips to Disneyland, to the local park, "Eddie's science projects" Frankie in the hospital the year he broke his arm-standing with relatives it's like looking at ghosts.
The last box is delivered by his mother's lawyer boyfriend as Hank (Hank, who the hell dates a man named Hank?) passes it to him.
"She asked me to deliver this personally to you."
Ed remembers thinking it might hold a bomb and asking Hank who denied any knowledge and shook his hand for the last time before going away forever. Taking it into the room he opened the box.
And stared at it's Contents
Tucked between his paws was a note signed with his mother's characteristic flourish. She'd been a teacher.
Dear Eddie.
I know you hate being called that. You were always so serious. If I fault your father for anything it's that he taught you that being you meant being nothing but a man and that real men didn't have feelings or any of that utter nonsense. He did his best. Be grateful you didn't know your grandfather.
I wanted you and Frankie to have the best of everything but between the two of you existing at two opposite ends of a spectrum I don't think I did the best I could-
He dragged a finger across his eye as he finished the line, setting the letter aside for just a moment.
Well. I saved this. Do you remember him? I bet you do. When you were younger he was your very best friend in the whole world. You cried when I wouldn't let you take him to school and refused to leave the house. Your father dragged you out the door. From that point on it was "that damned bear".
When Frankie came around you left the bear behind and I could have killed your father for patting you on the back with a good old atta' boy. It may be just because I was a girl "and only girls play with such things" but I find it hard to believe that the love you and this bear shared was something awful like your father seemed to think.
I think the worst part was you trying to share him with Frankie. Your father took him away from you and tossed him in the trash and when we moved from Buena Park I...took him too but by the time I thought to pass him to your brother you both were too far gone for me to reach.
You have him Ed. You have Franklin Dalton, he's what I gave you and he'll be here long after I'm gone but you need more then that. Frankie can't do it all by himself sweetheart, just like you can't be alone.
So, I brought you a little back up.
You used to call him Ursie. I think you were trying to say Ursula. Most of the time it came out Urrd. or Bear. You keep him. You show Frankie the picture. He ought to get a kick out of it.
Be good to each other and remember, you can't do it alone,
Love,
mom.
Ed stared at the animal, patched and worn with time and sewn in several places before setting the letter aside. At the bottom of the box was a snapshot-two children-a laughing infant and for the first time Ed realizes that he's smiling too-holding onto the baby and the bear at once.
"Is that us?" Frankie laughs, "so I was always adorable."
"And annoying."
"what's that?" He squinted at the picture, "some kinda dog thing?"
"Childhood toy. Nothin' important."
Frankie snorts, "Probably in some kid's attic somewhere right?"
------------------
"Sir?"
"Yes I'd like to make a deposit."
"Cash Mr. Dalton?"
"No uh-" It bulges oddly in his briefcase, "I need to put something in my safe deposit box."
"Yes sir."
------------------------
Ten years later he deposits his death certificate as required by law. Grim faced he practically throws open the door to reveal his childhood perfectly preserved.
It's the most emotion he'll ever show, clutching at the box and trying not to cry. Take care of each other, you can't do it alone.
He slammed the box shut walked outside into the night and bought a pack of cigarettes. Too. Damn. Late.
Fandom: Daybreakers
Community: Theatrical Muse
Wordcount: 926
