Storms To Weather - M. Shadows fanfic

Part 3 - Hiding

The cool light of a grey morning crept in through the window, rousing Matt from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes as the fog of sleep gradually lifted. He'd tossed and turned a lot last night. New Year's Eve, another first without Lizzie. He hauled himself upright, assessing the damage from the previous night. The blanket he'd huddled into was all twisted from his restlessness, and Chinese takeout cartons littered the floor. He put his head in his hands, quietly groaning to himself. He'd not touched a drop of alcohol last night, in fact he'd not even seen the new year in. He'd left some ghastly shopping channel running on the TV, ordered takeout that he'd managed maybe three mouthfuls of and curled up on the sofa at 9pm and cried himself to sleep. What a pathetic existence, he thought, looking around miserably. And what did he have to show for it? He'd probably woken up feeling worse than the majority of the nation that had partied the night away in celebration.

He'd left the Haner's household the day after the party. After their oddly private moment of toasting Lizzie in the darkened bedroom, Mariana had somehow convinced him to join the party downstairs. He'd been welcomed with open arms by his entire family. Perhaps it was the jovial mood or maybe the alcohol consumption prior to his arrival, but no one had looked on at him with sadness in their eyes. They'd been happy to see him. The whole experience had given him a false sense of confidence, and the next day he'd returned home, determined to try and live as an independent adult once again.

Of course, things are never as simple as they seem, and he'd inevitably ended up marooned on his sofa as he had been for the past 10 months, not daring to go back upstairs to his bedroom. He'd dipped in and out to get clothes since she'd gone, but he'd avoided looking at Lizzie's clutter and there was no way he'd even consider sleeping in their bed alone. The emptiness of her side was overwhelming to even think about, let alone lay next to, and so he'd done the natural thing and hidden from the issue.
With a great deal of effort, he pushed himself up from the sofa and traipsed over to the French doors. They swung open eagerly, letting the fresh, chilly ocean air pour in. He'd not realised how musty the room had felt, but the cool, salty scent seemed to blossom within his lungs, a gentle reminder that he should probably open the windows more often. He turned back to survey the scene. The slovenly mess of unadulterated grief turned his stomach a little. How had he become this? Was he going to live like this forever? Was he going to hurt this badly forever? Not for the first time, he wished he'd gone with her.

"Ten months I've lived without you, Liz," he said out loud, as if she were present and listening. Was it living though? It just felt like existence to him, and not an easy one. He was only alive to be alone at this point, what was even the point anymore?



"Promise me you'll find happiness," she whispered, sipping at her coffee. "Don't stop living just because I have to."

"Jesus, Lizzie," he groaned, pressing his palm into his forehead. "I can't have this conversation in a Starbucks' car park."

"It's as good a time as any," she shrugged, setting her cup down in the holder. She pulled at her cardigan, wrapping it around her body tightly. She was always cold these days. "What's wrong with now?"

Matt sighed, finally admitting, "It's not now, it's talking about this at all."

"We have to face up to it, Matt," Lizzie replied quietly, "I'll be gone soon, and I want you to be alive even when I'm not."

He fidgeted with his coffee stirrer, avoiding her gaze which he could feel boring into the side of his face. "I won't survive without you, Liz."

"Of course you will," she scolded, "Death isn't contagious."

"You know what I mean," he mumbled. "You'll go, and my heart will break. That's all there is to it."

Lizzie softened, picking up her coffee and wrapping her bony fingers around the warm cup. "A broken heart won't kill you," she replied, giving him a sad smile, "but I know it will be hell on earth for you. Even though I'm scared out of my wits about having to go, I sometimes think it's worse for you than it is for me." She paused before giving him a despondent look. "I'm sorry."

"You can't apologise for this," Matt shook his head firmly. "It's not like it's your fault."

The once red-haired woman adjusted her head scarf a little and inspected her appearance in the visor mirror. Sallow skin and dark circles stared back at her. "At least you won't have to clean up my vomit anymore," she joked half-heartedly, trying to lift his spirits.

It didn't work at all, in fact it had quite the opposite effect. Matt felt his eyes beginning to leak. He looked up from his hands at her, "I would do it every day if it meant I could spend the rest of my life with you."

She let out a heavy sigh, blinking her own tears away. She'd been so composed until now, but as she grew weaker, more tired, it began to sink in. She was dying. Soon enough she'd be incapable of normal activities like getting coffee, not that even that was enjoyable anymore – the chemo made everything taste like shit – but at least it was normal. Up until now, Lizzie could pretend that there wasn't much wrong with her, but Death was starting to creep up on her, and she could feel him breathing down her neck.

She looked over at the tearful man in the driver's seat. Her one and only, the love of her life, already broken by her impending departure. She hated that he had to go through this with her. She'd tried to get him to leave when she'd first been diagnosed as terminal to spare him, but he'd been a steadfast fixture since she'd first met him and he wasn't going anywhere. The sight of him now crushed her heart, the thought of leaving him sent her into a dizzying panic.

"I'm scared," she breathed, her voice wobbling. She set her coffee down as the feeling of dread washed over her. "I don't want to go, Matt. I don't want to go."

He wasted no time in reaching out and pulling her slight form into his strong arms. They both forgot where they were as she leaned into his chest and cried her eyes out.






Matt pulled himself from the car lot and back into the present. Her words echoed around his mind. Don't stop living just because I have to. He looked around the room at the physical manifestation of his grief. Christmas was done, New Year's was nearly over. He'd tumbled over the latest emotional hurdle, but he was over it nonetheless. Lizzie would have gone apeshit over this all this mess.

With the scolding he would have had if she was still there ringing in his ears anyway, he gathered up the blankets that were strewn around and folded them neatly. Empty beer cans were next on the agenda, all crushed and tossed into the garbage can. He inhaled deeply; the whole house smelled musty. He threw open a few more windows, letting the fresh air sweep into the stale rooms.

Satisfied that Lizzie would have been at least slightly proud with his efforts he set about his final task, but as he gathered up the various takeout cartons, he heaved a sigh. His motivation was already beginning to leave him. He tossed them into the trash wearily. Lizzie wasn't here anyway, why was he even bothering? He didn't care if he lived in filth for the rest of his natural life if he couldn't be with her. This was all for nothing.

The doorbell rang out, cutting through the silence. Grateful for the distraction, Matt plodded down the doorway, wondering who could possibly be calling so early on New Year's Day. The bell rang out again as he reached the door, and he pulled it open to find Mariana with her finger still raised.

"Oh," she gasped, pulling her hand away quickly. She looked him over, taking in his dishevelled appearance. "You look like I feel! Did I wake you?"

"No," he muttered, a flush of embarrassment washing over him as he tried to flatten down his hair with his fingers. "No, it's fine. I'm kind of surprised to see you, though. Is something wrong?"

"No, no," she answered hurriedly, "nothing's wrong." She gestured to the large array of tubs on the floor by her feet that he'd not yet noticed. "Mom hasn't changed," she grinned knowingly. "She boxed up all the left over dinner for you, said you're looking skinny lately."

He laughed as she bent down to pick them up. As she straightened herself, she gave him a small smile. "How are you feeling today? Brian told Zach that you left the day after the party to come back here and of course, Zach told me." She cast her eyes downwards awkwardly, "I thought maybe I'd upset you."

"No," he protested, "not at all. In fact, kind of the opposite." He tried to muster up a smile to reassure her, but couldn't. "After our talk, I felt brave enough to come home, so I should be thanking you really."

She peered around his shoulder at the layer of dust that carpeted everything. "How long have you lived here?"

"I bought it with Lizzie four years ago."

"It's a beautiful house," she remarked, looking up at the stonework. After a quick appraisal of the outside of his house, she shook one of the tubs at him. "You need help bringing this stuff in?"

He stiffened a little at the idea. Someone else in his house? The idea didn't sit too well with him. He'd let people in as little as possible, worried that their presence would somehow taint the memories that existed there. Right now, he could still hear Lizzie's voice echoing throughout the house as she called him down to taste test a new recipe, or her sweet, soft humming as she dusted her beloved ornaments. Every time someone else came in, he feared they would somehow erase her lingering presence with their own, like scribbling over a priceless artwork. At the same time, he was so lonely. He ached for the company of friends, for distraction from the emptiness of his house. It was a constant tug of war in his overwhelmed mind, the emotional rope beginning to fray with the stress.

"I'm okay," he said slowly, making the decision for solitude as he accepted the tall collection of boxes from her hands. He turned away towards the kitchen and instantly the teetering tower wobbled precariously, the boxes at the top threatening to tumble from his arms.

Mariana swept in around his side and reached up her arms, swiftly steadying them. "Let me help, Matt," she insisted, plucking a few boxes from the assortment. "I swear I won't outstay my welcome. It took me two trips to get them from the car to the door. We can get it done in one go together."

Matt hesitated before finally relenting. "Okay," he agreed, gesturing down the hallway with a nod of his head. "Kitchen's that way."




The pair set the boxes down on the table. Mariana looked around at the expansive kitchen. It was beautiful, though the layer of dust had extended its way through from the hallway. Dishes were piled in the sink and a box of cereal lay on its side on the counter, seemingly abandoned. She couldn't blame him. It was clear that he had a hard enough time just being here in this house, let alone the finding the energy to give it the wipe over it needed. It wasn't filthy by any measure, just needed some TLC by the way of a mop and bucket, but it wasn't her place to weigh in.

"Well," she announced, looking over at Matt, who was hovering uncomfortably, "I'll get going. It was nice to see you again. I'm looking for an apartment around here now, so maybe we'll see each other around in future."

"You're not going back to Florida?" he asked curiously.

"No," she shook her head. "Dad and I haven't been getting along very well recently, so I figured I'd keep out of his way."

"Oh," he replied, giving a small nod. "I'm sorry about that."

Mariana shrugged, "It's okay. I never made many friends there so I'm not dwelling on it. It's nice to be back - I always preferred the California summers." She smiled, "Anyway, I won't keep you any longer. I'll see you around, Matt."

She turned to leave, and suddenly, the last threads of the tug of war rope snapped, sending him crashing into the need for company. "Do you want a coffee?" he blurted quickly, his eyebrows lifting hopefully. "It was kind of you to bring this stuff round, so it's the least I can do."

Mariana looked over at him, assessing the authenticity of his request. "I'd love to, as long as I'm not intruding."

"Of course not," he assured her, opening a cupboard to retrieve mugs. There were none. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks. "I just need to wash a couple of mugs."

"I'll help," she smiled, twisting her ink black hair onto her head and securing it with a few bobby pins that she seemingly conjured up from nowhere – a skill that only women possessed.

Matt waved her away, "It's fine. It won't take two seconds. I'm sorry about the mess, I'm just a little behind on the cleaning."

"Go on," she smiled, "We can get the whole lot done in no time between us." She rolled up her sleeves eagerly, "Throw me a towel. You wash, I'll dry."

She'd not left much room for argument, and Matt somehow found himself running the hot water and reaching for the detergent.

It felt strange at first to do something he'd done so frequently with Lizzie with someone else, but as Mariana chattered away about this and that, he found himself distracted from the odd feeling that swirled inside. She spoke about coming home, about the beach and the ocean. She asked whether the diner a few streets away was still open (it was), and whether it still served the best fries in Huntington Beach (it did). She asked about his home; what had made he and Lizzie choose it, had they decorated it, did he spend much time in the beautiful garden? She flitted between subjects with ease, and he found her casual approach of topics, including that of Lizzie, made it easy for him to slip into them with her. Before he knew it, he was plunging the last dirty fork into the suds. Mariana gave him a warm smile as he passed it to her.

"Good teamwork, Sanders," she winked. "Now, how about those counters?"

Before he could stop her, she'd wrung out a dish cloth and was wiping away the accumulation of crumbs and dust that had gathered. She continued to talk lightly as she did so, not giving him the opportunity to stop her. As she finished up and tossed the cloth back into the sink, she leaned back against the counter, looking completely relaxed.

Matt looked at her oddly. It was confusing to him that he didn't seem to mind her presence. Perhaps because she'd never known Elizabeth, she didn't feel the heaviness that he did in the air. His friends all felt it, and any time he'd been brave enough to let any of them into the house, they'd been crushed under its weight. They'd sit hunched over, making awkward attempts to talk about life, carefully making sure to sidestep the topic of Lizzie for fear of upsetting him. It had been uncomfortable enough that he'd avoided it as much as possible, until now.

Mariana tilted her head as he continued to watch her. "You okay?" she asked, to which he nodded. She looked around the kitchen, admiring their handiwork, until her eyes fell upon the coffee maker. "Hey, we never had that coffee," she remarked, glancing over at him. "Maybe another day though, I've taken up enough of your time."

"No way," Matt protested, shaking his head firmly. "I definitely need to make it up to you now. Sit," he instructed, gesturing to a chair.

Mariana moved across the kitchen, but instead of sitting, she grabbed the broom. "Might as well finish the job," she shrugged when she saw Matt raising an eyebrow. "You get on with the coffee – I'll be ready for it when I'm done."

He smiled at her bold instruction and busied himself gathering up a couple of mugs and the cream from the fridge – which was thankfully still in date. As he waited for the coffee to brew, he watched Mariana make light work of sweeping the floor. Once she'd finished, she brushed up the little pile and tipped it into the trash before turning to him with a smile.

He gave her a nod, "Thanks. You didn't have to do all that."

"It's no trouble," she replied, a twinkle in her eye. "You can repay me with that coffee you've been slaving over, and maybe some of those pizza slices," she grinned, nodding towards one of the many Tupperware boxes that sat atop of his table.

"Knock yourself out," he laughed, pouring two cups of coffee for them.

The combination of leftover pizza and fresh coffee paired together rather well, and Matt even found himself heartily joining Mariana in scarfing down pizza as she filled him in on Zacky's disastrous New Year's Eve choices.






They'd demolished the entire box of cold pizza slices and had just finished their third coffees when Mariana's phone lit up with a call from her brother.

"Oops," she laughed, noticing the time. "I was meant to pick up smokes for Zacky on the way home. They probably think I got lost on the way back or something." She swiped the call away, silencing her phone and gave him an apologetic look, "Sorry for eating all your pizza."

"It's cool, there's enough food here to feed an army," Matt smirked, standing as she did. He followed her down the hallway to the front door, watching her reach for the handle. "Hey, Mariana?" he asked, before she could yank the door open. She turned to face him with a quizzical expression, her delicate features illuminated softly in the grey daylight. "Thanks for everything today. I don't find the motivation for much since Lizzie, and it's good to have a sparkling kitchen again."

"Any time, Matt," she answered, giving him a genuine smile.

"Maybe we can hang out soon if you feel like it?"

"Sure," he returned, "That would be good."

She opened the door, letting the daylight pour into the hallway and stepped out into the cool January air. She turned and gave him a little wave before skipping down the steps and clicking the lock on a set of car keys. He watched her slide into the driver's seat and wondered if Zacky knew she'd 'borrowed' his car. He found himself smiling as he watched her pull away. It had been nice to let someone in, someone who didn't feel like another rain cloud in an already dark sky. A little burst of sunshine had lifted his spirits a little (and cleaned his kitchen).

He closed the door as Zach's car disappeared down the street, and somehow, his house didn't feel quite as lonely as it had two hours ago.

- You can find more of my work at www.A7Xfanfic.com under the name RamonaFoREVer -