who→ Stella & Scott with brief mentions of the Maddon parents & Finnegan Wallace
what→ Parts 5-8 of an 11 part Stella-palooza (parts 1-4 can be located here)
when→ the end of April, May and June 2015 (parts 5), June 2015 (part 6), July 2015 (parts 7 & 8)
word count→ Part five: 1131, Part six: 640, Part seven: 722, Part eight: 521 for a total of 3,014 words
warnings→ death. lots of death. seriously. there’s so much death in here that not even the river Styx has enough boats. And with the death comes mourning
She could barely hear what he was saying over the crackle of the phone, but for Stella, it was enough to settle some of her worries. It was late for her to even be awake but for Scott, she made that exception like she did when he wasn’t in a dangerous area. She had settled into bed, pulling the hockey jersey she had stolen from Scott closer to her and tucking her legs under her body. A soft laugh escaped her as she heard bits and pieces of the story he was recounting to her about what something one of the men in his company had done a few days before. Stella was holding it together for him, knowing that their conversation would have to tide her over for what could be months before the next time she heard his voice. She held onto that glimmer of hope, knowing that the two of them were marking the days in their calendars before she’d be at the airport to welcome him home. Despite the crackle of the static over the phone, Stella had her security blanket assuring her he was fine and staying as safe as he could and she held onto that. He had done this before, he wouldn’t have re-enlisted if he wasn’t prepared for this. Scott was going to come home to her and that helped to keep her going.
In the background, Stella could hear the shouts of some of the other men followed by what sounded like gunfire. Before she could ask what was going on, much more alert now that the white noise in the background had dramatically shifted, Scott told her to hold on, presumably leaving the phone on the nearest surface. Stella found herself holding her breath as she listened to the commotion on the other end of the line: men shouting, gunfire, boots crunching on gravel and then…silence. Stella could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for some sort of clarification, silently praying that it was all a drill. Everything would be okay, it was a drill and that in a few seconds, Scott would continue with whatever the story was.
It took a few more moments of silence before footsteps could be heard and the sound of the phone being picked up met her ears. The person on the other end of the line was breathing heavily and the breath she herself had been holding had been released. Stella knew those heavy breaths, everything was alright, Scott was safe.
Then all hell broke loose.
“I’ll call you as soon as I can. I love you.” Before Stella could or Scott could even hang up, an explosion sounded, followed by a piercing scream from Stella. Her phone clattered to the floor, the dial tone of their disconnected conversation humming from her end. Her worst nightmare had come true and all she could do was sit in the darkened bedroom in silence, her heart shattering as it all began to sink in. Stella let out a choked sob, shaking her head, as if the motion would change the past. She clutched a pillow to her chest, replaying the last five minutes over and over again. Each time the explosion was deafening, Scott’s final words growing softer and softer.
Scott Briggs was g o n e. Lost forever.
Little by little, Stella went numb, the reality of what was going to happen next hitting her like a ton of bricks. In a few days time there would be a knock on her door and she would open it, the notifying officer and a chaplain there to deliver the bad news and offer her their condolences, a medic on standby and another officer should she get violent. She would be as prepared as possible to handle it, or so she hoped, nobody wanted to relive the worst day of their life over and over again. Stella knew what would happen and knew what she would have to do but that was a phone call she didn’t want to have to make. Not while she was still processing it herself. Not while those words echoed.
‘I’ll call you as soon as I can. I love you.’
There was no sleep to be had that night for Stella Maddon. She had nobody to turn to at such a late hour, she had nobody to comfort her. Her comfort was taken from her and he was going to be gone forever. It was one of the few times that she wished she believed in a higher being, so she could bargain with them, with anybody. The next week found Stella in a state of shock, there was still no word from the military and still no word from Scott. She managed to remember to call into work, her voice raspy with lack of use, but shut herself in, only ever venturing outside to take Tycho out but it was never for long and she never strayed very far from the door.
She reemerged three weeks after, a shell of the person she had once been. She spoke softer and avoided many points of conversation that would have once gotten her riled up. She still hadn’t returned to work, going in to the station to formally request an extended leave of absence. The station manager granted it, if only for the hopes that when she returned she would come back to them.
What was left of her heart sunk as she arrived home one afternoon, finding a very official looking vehicle outside and two men waiting at her front door. She froze in her tracks at the sight of them, the confirmation she didn’t want waiting for her. Slowly, Stella approached the men, preparing herself for what they were going to say.
“Miss Maddon?” the rest of what the men had to say fell upon deaf ears. She had heard it herself those weeks ago, replaying the nightmare every moment since. She accepted their condolences and entered her home, closing the door behind her. She waited until the car had left before making any sort of move, reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone. With trembling hands she slowly dialed a number, working to keep her breathing steady as she waited for the answer.
“St-Stephanie? I-it’s Stella. They just came by the apartment. H-he’s gone.” Stella remained silent, wiping at the tears streaming down her cheeks as the other woman processed the news. A simple ‘thank you, I’ll tell Owen’ was the reply before she hung up. She dialed another number, hesitating before hitting call. It continued to ring, despite Stella’s better wishes that they pick up.
‘You’ve reached Scott, I’m not available at the moment but leave a message and I’ll get back to you ASAP.’
It had been four weeks, three days and fifteen hours since the explosion. Even less time since the notifying officer and chaplain were at her front door. Even longer since Stella had a good night’s sleep. If one were to look at her call log, they would see plenty of incoming phone calls from her parents, concerned co-workers and friends. The amount of outgoing calls however, was twice as much, each one the length of a long voicemail, each one to the same person. The desk calendar still had a diagonal line going through each day, counting down until the day in 2016 when everything would be right again.
It had been six days, two hours and twenty minutes since Stella received confirmation of what she already knew. The outgoing calls were still made, the days were still being crossed off, the routine had become even more normal than her former usual routine. Stella had made the room in her home for well-wishers, people that were there for her sake and they all were equally concerned when the woman would step outside for ten or so minutes to make a phone call and return looking as drained as over.
It had been one hour, forty-six minutes and eight seconds. Nine. Ten. Eleven. They left her alone, standing at the gravesite, giving her that time to herself. Nobody dared to try to get her to move, Xavier and Loren the only ones daring to stand at a close enough distance to make sure that Stella didn’t do anything drastic. They watched her crouch down, dropping the flower she had clung onto for the past hour and fifty-two minutes into the hole and stand up once more, turning to face them. Loren made the first move, wrapping her daughter into a tight hug, only to have one half-heartedly returned.
“I forgot to mark the calendar this morning.” Stella commented after a few moments, her lips forming into a frown. Her parents exchanged a look before tucking her under their arms and ushering her towards the car. “I called him but I forgot to mark the calendar.” a derisive laugh escaped her as she got into the car, Xavier sitting in the back with her while Loren took to driving.
“Stella,” he started, another look shared with his wife through the rearview mirror, “do you remember what we told you when your grandma died?” Stella nodded, turning to look out the window as they headed off to where the post-funeral reception would be held.
“You said Grandma was going to become the star the twinkled the brightest in the night sky. I was five, I didn’t understand what you meant. That star is Sirius, the twinkling is due to our atmosphere passing in front of the light molecules, it’s not Grandma, it won’t be Scott. He’s fine.” Xavier cleared his throat, preventing the chuckle that wanted to escape from fully sounding. It was all well and good until the kid got old enough to know the names of the stars and how astronomy worked. “I already told that to Owen, he won’t speak to me at all, but I gave him that to hold on to.“
“He’s missing, they couldn’t produce a body, he’s just missing.” Stella’s voice was firm, the first time in weeks. “Don’t take that away from me. Come next September, he’ll be home. He wouldn’t do that to me. To Owen. He’s coming home.” Her eyes met her father’s, face hardened. Xavier backed down at the look, sighing in resignation.
“You’re right. We just want you to be as okay as possible. We’re overstepping, you knew him best.”
“Just-” Loren sighed, “just remember what we told you when you were five when you go outside and look at the sky. You’re both looking at the same sky, Stella.”
Sympathy was a terrible thing to be the recipient of. The hushed tones, the gentle touches, the constant need to know how she was doing. Denial had left Stella and numbness returned, leaving her in a catatonic state. She stayed on a delay, everything taking a few passing seconds to reach her and a few more before she responded. Her answers became monosyllabic, short, detail free. It quickly became the new norm for her. There were a select few people who didn’t show Stella sympathy, made her feel a little bit human and treated her as they did before. The novelty of someone else’s tragedy was wearing off and Stella could see that while those sympathetic to her continued to walk on eggshells around her, they were beginning to crack a few.
She had gone back to work some two weeks after the funeral and she was put on light duties: morning forecasts at 6, 6:30, 7, 9 and 10. She was home by eleven and watched as the news team turned from the light hearted news in the morning to the heavier things that would be elaborated more on the 5 o'clock news. It annoyed her to some extent, the eggshells of not wanting her to hear about darker material and having a break down at work. She appreciated the concern for her wellbeing and she could only insist she was fine for so long before they either believed her or she truly was fine. Stella wanted to get back to normal and work was the best way to do it. Slowly but surely, things were pointing towards Stella returning to some sort of version of herself.
Then her birthday drew near. She was anxious, (who wouldn’t when they were now five years closer to forty?) and there was a bit of fear written on her face whenever someone brought the new month into conversation. She never cared much about her birthdays in the past, choosing to not celebrate them as they were close to the fourth of July. Stella had to remind herself that it was just another rotation around the sun. Nothing more, nothing less.
There was a knock on the apartment door causing Stella to look up from the computer. There were no visitors to expect and she hadn’t ordered anything lately. Besides, anybody that would be coming over would have at least sent her a message letting her know they were coming. She looked through the peephole and took a step back at the sight of a bouquet of flowers. Her interaction with the delivery man was short, Stella taking the flowers and thanking them before shutting the door. The bouquet was beautiful, hues of purple sweet peas and anemone with the odd baby’s breath for effect and for a moment, Stella was stunned. She plucked the card from the holder and read over it before dropping it to the floor. Her eyes turned towards the vase in her hands, the flowers, ordered months in advance, the card on the floor with the simple message, the thought that was put into this surprise.
The vase crashed against the wall, sending flowers, water and glass spraying everywhere, waking Tycho from his nap at the noise, causing him to bark a couple of times. Stella stared at where the vase had landed, chest heaving with unshed anger. She slid against the door, letting out a groan of frustration, anger, resentment. Stella’s hands covered her face, doing her best not to cry or scream or do both. How could she have forgotten? Of course this would happen, Scott had always sent her flowers for her birthday and this year wouldn’t have been any different, knowing that he was going to be gone. Stella cursed to herself, cursing Scott, cursing that she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for this. She didn’t deserve this, it wasn’t supposed to happen to her, she wasn’t supposed to receive such a lovely gift to only chuck it at the wall. She was done with it all. Slowly, she stood and moved towards the kitchen to get the broom and dustpan to sweep up her mess, slowing her breathing in order to focus on the task at hand. Stella would have to work through it one step at a time. One long step at a time.
She woke up in a cold sweat, clutching her heaving chest as she glanced around the room, taking in her surroundings. The alarm clock on the side of her bed blinked a glaring red time at her. It took a moment to adjust to the time. 2:14 AM. She swallowed, breaths slowing down as the room came into focus around her. Stella threw the blankets off of her and scooted off of the bed, deciding a glass of water would help her. Stella padded out of the room and down the hall towards the soft glow of the living room where she must have left the TV on in her desire to go to bed. How she got into bed, she couldn’t quite remember but she must have gone before sleep completely took her over.
A figure was slightly slumped over on her couch, the soft sounds of a Ken Burns dustbowl documentary reaching her ears as she approached. Stella smiled softly at the sight of Finn fast asleep on her couch. Instead of going to get the glass of water she had wanted, Stella grabbed the throw blanket on the opposite corner of the couch Finn was on and sat next to him, tucking her feet under her body. Stella covered the two of them up with the blanket, resting her head against his shoulder. Finn shifted before turning his head to meet Stella’s, resting it on top of hers. “You didn’t have to stay.” she mumbled, raising her hand to card through his hair. “I appreciate it.”
“I didn’t want to leave you by yourself after earlier.” she nodded, allowing her hand to rest on his cheek, fixing him with a tired smile. Finnegan put his hand over Stella’s, squeezing it lightly. They sat there for a moment, eyes fixed on the black and white pictures as Ken Burns droned on, filling them with facts, old and new on the Dust Bowl. “Are you okay? I know the fireworks weren’t the best idea you’ve had lately.” he could feel her flinching against him, the memory of just hours before still fresh in her mind. Finn rubbed her shoulder in a comforting manner, pressing his lips against the crown of Stella’s head as he did before. It was all he could do for Stella to keep her from fully lashing out early on.
She stilled in his arms again, holding onto Finnegan a little tighter than before. It wasn’t the greatest moment for her in recent months, but then again, she was still waiting for things to get better for herself. Having Finn with her at the time was a great help, as it had been over the course of the past month or so. Slowly, he became the person she called in the middle of the night with whatever nightmare had woken her up and if she was completely distraught, he would come over if Hazel couldn’t. Stella nuzzled into Finn’s shoulder, making a soft noise of contentment before her eyes trailed up to him.
“I’m fine, you staying with me has helped a lot. Thank you, Finn.”