Work Text:
Tom
The thing I remember the most is her face. She was just lying there, eyes closed, as if she were just sleeping, her dark lashes brushing against shockingly pale cheekbones. But it was the nearly translucent tone to her skin that held my attention the most. It made the dark bruises stand out even more vividly, the purple quickly fading as there was no blood pooling to the injured area anymore.
Her pale skin reinforced the fact that she was not just sleeping.
My wife was dead.
She was dead and I was now a single father with three children, (one of which was missing) stuck in a war-torn world, fighting a war that I didn't think could be won.
Rebecca was dressed in her finest clothes, her hands clasped together and lying gently on her stomach. The boys didn't know, but the clothes hid the worst of her injuries. The Skitters hadn't been kind to her.
I forced the tears back as I stared at her still form. I had to be strong for Hal and Matt. They were in mourning as well – mourning the loss of their mother and struggling over the sudden disappearance of their sibling. If I couldn't hold it together for them, then who would?
Matt was crying. His curly golden hair fell into his eyes as he swiped a hand across them, trying to erase the salty drops from his face. I watched as he blinked rapidly, tears falling from golden lashes and trailing down his face. He looked up; his arm falling to his side as he once again caught sight of his mother lying very still in a make-shift casket.
He burst into tears and I felt my heart shatter all over again. I started to reach over to comfort my youngest son, only to be halted as my eldest wrapped an arm around Matt.
I stood there and watched as Hal knelt down to his brother's eye level and pulled him into a tight embrace; his head resting on Matt's shoulder as the younger sibling cried into Hal's shirt.
I screwed my eyes shut, trying – and failing – to stop the tears from falling. This wasn't fair. I didn't deserve to lose my wife and my boys definitely didn't deserve to lose their mother. And then with Ben missing…
It wasn't the first time in the few, long days since Rebecca's death that I wondered if I would be able to bring my boys through this tragedy. Was I really equipped to deal with this? I was a history professor, not a soldier of war. Both Hal and Matt had had better relationships with Rebecca than I. She'd been able to connect with them on a better level than I. I… I'd been closer to Ben. Mainly because we had much more in common than the other two – Ben and I could stay up for hours talking about books, lessons and other such things.
But don't get me wrong, I love my other sons just as much as I did Ben. I just wondered how I was supposed to help Hal and Matt through this terrible time when I didn't have the faintest idea on how to.
How does a parent help his children through an alien invasion, the death of their mother and disappearance of their sibling? How on earth was I supposed to cope?
"May we have a moment of silence for the dearly departed…"
I froze when the priest spoke up. My eyes drifted back to the inert form of my wife before slipping over to where Hal and Matt were standing. Both of their eyes were rimmed in red, tears making tracks down their pale faces.
We had one last chance to say goodbye to the woman I loved. Matt hesitantly approached Rebecca, his lower lip trembling. He reached out with a shaking hand and placed it on his mother's cold face before leaning down and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. I felt my heart explode.
"Bye Mommy…"
"I love you, Mom. Rest in peace…" That was Hal, his voice shaking ever-so-slightly, betraying the calm his body was portraying.
Then it was my turn.
I approached my wife, staring at her cold and unmoving body with tears in my eyes. Copying my youngest son, I leant down and kissed her blue-tinged lips.
"I love you. I'll take care of the boys, Becca. You look after them from up there and I'll do my best to take care of them down here. Rest in peace…"
Standing, I reached out and gripped Hal's hand with my right and Matt's with my left.
It was time.
I watched as several men stood and lowered the lid on the hand-crafted casket. It was nailed shut with several deafening thuds, the sound echoing through my mind. The men then pulled out the wooden planks from underneath the wooden box, and gripping the ropes strung tight, began to lower the casket into the freshly dug hole.
It was to be Rebecca's final resting place.
I was no longer Tom Mason; history professor, wife to Rebecca and father to Hal, Ben and Matt. I was Tom Mason; war survivor, widower, single father to Hal, Ben (I refused to think that he was dead) and Matt.
Even now, I struggle every day. We found Ben after months of searching and it's been a long and arduous journey since that day of Rebecca's funeral. My kids are growing up in a world full of chaos, death and destruction. They're growing into soldiers, fighting a war that never should have begun in the first place.
And me?
I'm a soldier – a commander for a militia regiment, fighting against the invading forces. I watch every day as my friends, comrades and children go off and fight, never knowing whether they'll come back in one piece. I fight, and I kill. Life goes on.
But inside?
Inside I'm falling apart.
And it started with the day my wife died.
But I'll continue to fight. As long as there is breath in my body, I will fight. I'll fight for my deceased wife; I'll fight for my friends and comrades.
But most of all, I'll fight for my children.
I made a promise all those months ago – a promise that I'd do my best to take care of them. And I will do that, to my dying day.
I'm Tom Mason and I'm a father, doing my best to protect my children.