First off: this fic is the product of four cans of generic cream soda, a =
bad
case of insomnia, and a little romantic nostalgia on my part. It is now 1=
:30
here in Texas.

And yes, that IS Jessie narrating. Not Hadji or Bandit or Race.

And so, here y=92all go.

Jonny=92s Rose
By LesliWeird

        The flowers are beautiful. The ones in the back are fading a bit, but I
don't mind. They drown out the scrubbed down smell of my hospital room.
Everyone pitched in a little. I smile as I think of all my friends at the
lab. If I look closely enough at the flowers, I can tell who sent them. J=
anet
sent the irises, she always loved the color, and the sunflowers must be f=
rom
David. Every one of my closest friends is here... except for him. I guess=
 he
wouldn't know to send anything. After all, I was fine just yesterday. My
T-cells were high.
        Its not really fair.
        I close my eyes and pretend I don't feel tears on their rims. There aren=
't
any roses. Maybe because no one alive loves me that way anymore...
        I remember Jonny. He was the first one to ever give me a rose. I think,
looking back, that I couldn't have taken flowers from anybody else. I was=
 too
independent. Too in love with my own strength. It wasn't much of a rose, =
I
recall with a small laugh. He saw me crying after that awful fight that M=
om
and Dad had. I sigh here. I wish they could have made their peace.=20
        Jonny ran into the street, to one of those old men selling flowers for a
church, or charity, or a bite to eat. It was the kind of red that paint c=
an
never recreate. The kind you only find in a once in a lifetime sunrise, o=
r
your first rose. I grin again. Even if it WAS turning a little brown at t=
he
edges. I remember how awkwardly he stood as he gave it to me, shuffling h=
is
feet in the grass, trying to be nonchalant. That was the only time I ever
remember kissing him. I know there were other times, but it was so long a=
go
that only that one stands out.
        I left for college a few years later. He didn't mind much. We were more
friends than anything after all, and we both had separate dreams. Then ca=
me
Charles. He was handsome, and a poet, and four years older than me. I let
myself smile sadly. I was so young. I think that I really did love him, b=
ut
my soul was yearning for something else.=20
        I remember the roses he gave me. He saw how much I loved the color green=
,
and every chance he got, hidden away somewhere, I would find a fresh whit=
e
rose, with a little note tied to it by an emerald ribbon. He always said =
I
was everything pure and holy in his world, an angel who had lost her wing=
s.
He was the one who taught me how to fly. I remember him most, not looking=
 at
him, but turning away and=20
seeing a single white rose fall down onto my discarded dress.
        I've gotten many roses since then, each a different shape and color, eac=
h
the heart of someone special.
        And then there was Jeremy's rose. I remember how I first met him and a
little laugh escapes my lips. It turns too quickly to a cough. But I don'=
t
care so much. I'm lost in my memories of my husband. I ran into him,
literally, my first day at the lab. He was reading a print out as he dash=
ed
to show off his findings. He was always so excited with his work. I remem=
ber
him, the sparkle in his hazel eyes. I've heard it said that a great man i=
s
one who has never lost the soul of a child.=20
        The room gets a little colder with that thought. That was one of the thi=
ngs
they said in his eulogy. He died of pneumonia almost two years ago.=20
        It had been so much easier when we were together. Jeremy would laugh and=
 dry
my tears away, and say that the two of us would live forever. And then he
would give me one of his roses. They were blue, almost the color of his e=
yes,
or the sky in spring. He had stumbled onto the idea one day in his resear=
ch,
and he couldn't resist. He had to surprise me.
        "Sure, another guy could give you chocolates and roses," he would say, "=
but
how often do you see THIS?" And I loved him for it. He was like wings to =
me,
to lift me so high off the ground that the stars seemed within reach.
        We never knew...
        He had lost so much blood that night. I remember screaming, and
crying,sobbing into the arms of some stranger. It was so cold that night.=
 The
two cars' lights bounced wildly off the wet street. The yellow flashed. I
remember him, half dead. I remember the IV going in...
        We didn't know till five months later.
        By then, both of us were HIV positive.
        No one took it well. I was the worst. I cried all night long. Jeremy was
there, holding me, keeping me sane, with a little blue rose. Saying we wo=
uld
always be together.
        Oh God it hurts.
        I squeeze my eyes together tightly and breathe. In and out. Slow and dee=
p. I
can fall asleep now, if I just try hard enough. I can make it stop.

        I'm sitting in the chair next to the bed. I don't remember getting up.
Truthfully, I didn't think I had the strength. There's a knock on the doo=
r.
        "Come in" I say. My voice is strong. I feel much better. The door creaks
open. A familiar blonde mop pops in from the hall.
        "Jessie?" He speaks softly. As if a loud word now could shatter me. My G=
od,
could I have been that fragile?
        "Hi Jonny!" I'm jubilant. I didn't think he would know. And I never thou=
ght
he would come in person.
        "I was afraid I would come too late." He doesn't look up at me. He is
standing there, awkwardly, shuffling his feet, trying so hard to be
nonchalant. I can't help but smile. Both hands are behind his back. I kno=
w
he's hiding something back there. Some "get well" surprise.
        "Don't look so sad!" I smile, "I feel wonderful! Lets see what you broug=
ht
me! Don't be shy."
        He doesn't answer. He walks toward me, his head bent. No, he isn't walki=
ng
toward me. He's walking to the bed at my side.=20
        I go numb. It can't be. Oh please God, no!
        I turn. It takes all of my will. Jonny is crying as he looks down at my
body. His hand comes forward. A faded rose. Its red, like my hair, like
Jeremy's blood, like a sunrise that only comes once in a lifetime. Like m=
y
first rose.
        "It was all I had time to buy. You can probably never forgive me, but I
didn't want to waste any time getting here. And now I'm too late."
        So, I'm leaving you again Jonny. Please don't cry. I try to speak, but I
can't. You couldn't hear me anyway. I reach out to touch your lips. I wan=
t to
kiss you more than anything. We were more than friends, I see that now, b=
ut
now we're both going our separate ways....


Fin

So I guess that would be, what, HR and Angst?
Comments are encouraged!

Romantically Hopeless
LesliWeird

(c) Lesli Weird 1997