One shots of the UnOrdinary kind

Because I Love You...

For as long as his mind would allow him to remember, John believed in one thing regarding his mother: she hated them.

Why else would she have left him and William? Why else would she have abandoned him before he could even remember the sound of her voice or see her scribble down corrections on his dad's drafts?

Why would she leave them if they loved her...?

But deep down despite his better judgement, he knew something remained. Some longing, searing hope that his mother, held him in some regard.

He didn't want to hope. It would've been foolish to do so. But sometimes when life was hard, he'd lay awake in bed at night, staring at the popcorn plaster on the ceiling. He'd let his eyes dimly trace over the faint shadows casted in the dark and wonder if she thought about the son she left behind.

In the end by the time the sun rose, these thoughts would vanish into the shadows, never to be seen until he was certain no one else would see them. No one else but him.

That had been the plan. Hide these cursed thoughts and only bring them out when he was sure he would be the only one to see them.

But then Sera had told him.

She told him a tale of technology being used by Spectre they had stolen how it gave people another ability like what he could do...

About how a woman named Jane was being held in a lab.

A woman with long white hair, brown eyes that shone gold, and of a haunted look to her gaze as she stared at the lens of a camera.

'What are the chances?' he thought. 'What are the chances that it's her?'

He wanted to believe that it was just a freak coincidence; a once in a lifetime occurrence.

He didn't want to believe it; even flat out denied the genuine and real possibility that it could be her. He didn't want to think about it.

He didn't want to think about the woman who could pull such a painfully raw expression from his dad whenever he asked. He didn't want to dwell on thoughts of a woman who would rather abandon him at the ripe old age of three than stay around and raise him as her son.

She had abandoned him. It was as simple as that and there wasn't a shred of evidence that would tell him otherwise.

Even as he laid awake in Darren's apartment that night, couch cushions stiff against his back, he couldn't shake the thoughts of 'how' and 'why' now circling among the many other thoughts tumbling in his brain.

And again, that tiny flicker of hope he'd tried to stomp out of existence burned a little brighter.

But he wished it didn't...

For giving in to hope was a dangerous thing he knew all too well.

.

.

.

Was there a way to deal with despair? John wasn't sure. He'd known was it was like to feel anger, pain, sadness and whatever else was out there.

But he couldn't ever recall a time he felt like this before. Where he felt like his world had been torn up right before his eyes and then flipped upside down.

Even now, as John stared at the letter crumpled up in his hands, all he could think about was this strangely alternating combination of everything and nothing all at the same time.