The Weeping Willow [Dean Thomas]

chapter six

Dean had no idea what to do, as he looked at the girl in his arms who only recently decided she did not despise him. He was used to comforting people having sisters prepared him for that, but Leta was a whole new can of worms he barely even knew how to make her happy let alone comfort her after finding her missing parents Death certificates. All he could do was hug her while she violently cried into his chest and hope that it would be enough.

Time painstakingly ticked by with Leta showing no signs of calming down, her sobs slowly subsided into ragged breaths and whimpers, still clutching tightly to Dean's now wet jumper. Dean hesitantly stroked Leta's back before speaking in a low soft voice.

"Leta, d-do you wanna get up off the floor, we can go down to the living room and wait for your nan to get back?". Lowering his head, while Leta just slowly blinked before nodding. Getting her down the stairs was a more complicated affair than getting her to hang out with him, her legs were weak and she clung to Dean like life support; every step was slow and shaky.

Dean guided Leta to the sofa before setting off into the kitchen to make her a hot drink, it was around 3:30 pm so Dean figured Dionne would be home soon. As he waited for the milk to heat, he stared back out of the window, rain beginning to drizzle down the windowpane, dark clouds looming overhead; the faint 'ding' of the microwave in the background brought him back to reality. Walking back into the living room Leta still had the lifeless look swirling in her eyes as she stared at the rain outside. He set the hot drink down on the table before sitting next to her.

"Do you want me to do anything?"

silence

Dean began to rack his mind of something to say, some kind of sentence where he could get any kind of reaction because while he had no idea how Leta must be feeling right now, he couldn't stand her not saying anything at all. She was always the liveliest person in the room, the one whose laugh was beyond infectious, she was the one who would make her friends feel like they were all that mattered. But at the moment she needed not only her friends but Dean the most, and he couldn't so much as utter a word of support. The wheels behind his eyes were working ten to the dozen, distracting him from Leta's slow movements to face him.

Her voice came out as nothing but a croaky whisper, "I-i just don't understand". Dean's head snapped to face her. He stared at her not wanting to say or do anything to stop her from talking, She was picking at her fingers, "I don't understand why my nan wouldn't just say they were...".

She choked on a sob as she continued "dead, if-if she had just told me from the beginning that... that they were gone, I could have coped with it, i-i could have come to terms with it". As she continued it was visible Leta was getting more upset, "she could have stopped me from 15 years of pain and hope". She shot up her eyes flashing a luminous green, the rain outside had begun pelting down a low rumble of thunder vibrating across the street, "SHE COULD HAVE JUST TOLD ME, BUT INSTEAD, SHE MADE ME BELIEVE THERE WAS A CHANCE"

Her breaths were becoming shallow again and the green flash in her eyes disappeared as she sat down again, her eyes welling with tears threatening to spill. "A chance that they were still alive, that one day they will come home and I would have my parents back".

Leta slumped as she began to cry again, Dean just stared at her visibly uncomfortable unsure of what else he could do, he took her hand and squeezed it, "Leta I have no idea how you are feeling, and I couldn't begin to imagine it, but I do know something, and you can tell me to go to hell and never speak to you again if you want".

His eyes meeting hers, laced with trepidation, "I have known you for 15 years, and one thing I'm certain of is that your nan adores you, I don't think she would keep something like this from you unless she had to, I-I think you should hear her out. She might have an explanation for it all". For what felt like the thousandth time his eyes darted hesitantly to hers, her eyebrows were furrowed, a blank expression adorned on her face.