Topic: Grieving

Jonathan Granger

Date: 2012-01-18 19:08 EST
Two deaths in as many days were almost too much for Jon to bear. Something had gone wrong, and Frank had died in surgery after donating a kidney to Cian. The doctors tried to explain, but all Jon heard was that he was dead. Cian was still alive, barely. He was in a coma, and the doctors didn't yet know if he was going to survive. Even if he did survive, there was no way of knowing if he'd ever fully recover. Terasa refused to leave his side. All they could do was pray and wait.

It seemed that only recently there had been so much to celebrate. A wedding, a birth, an engagement, and now suddenly, another funeral. It hadn't been that long since Dom had buried his wife, and now this. As if Frank's death wasn't enough to deal with, Katt was dead, too. Jon didn't understand what had happened exactly. All he knew was that dozens of innocent people had been killed or injured in some explosion in the Marketplace, and Katt had been one of them.

Bad news and more bad news. Jon stood outside the Bon Bon, looking over the still smoldering rubble, wondering what had happened there and why. He hadn't seen Katt in several months, and he was full of regret. She'd repaid the money Jon had lent her to get the Bon Bon going, but it didn't matter. It was only money. She was gone, and there wasn't enough money in the world to replace her. He stood there a long time, still as stone, but for the silent tears that were sliding down his face, his heart feeling like it was breaking. He wished he'd had a chance to see her one last time, to tell her how much she meant to him, but it was too late. He remembered the first time he'd met her. How she'd told him of her dream, and he had lent her the money. He would have simply given it to her, but she'd insisted on paying him back. It didn't seem to matter anymore. He made arrangements for an anonymous donation to the Riverview Clinic in Katt's memory. It seemed fitting somehow. After a long while, Jon stepped as close as he dared to what remained of the Bon Bon and leaned over to leave a single white rose on the pile of smoldering rubble, along with a note. It was a short note, brief and to the point. He'd never been very good with words, better at reciting them than writing them. "A rose for remembrance. I will never forget. Jon." He stood there a moment longer before wiping the tears from his face and turning away with a heart that was heavy with grief and loss and guilt. There were those who had said not to give up, not to lose hope, that death wasn't always final on Rhydin, but he didn't want to hold onto false hope. It would only make things harder. He'd said goodbye to Katt, and now it was time to say goodbye to someone else. A cousin he hardly knew, except for a few harsh words exchanged during a time when emotions were running high. Frank's accusations had wounded him, and now that Frank was dead, Jon would never have a chance to forgive him, except in his heart.

Two souls lost in as many days, and yet, life went on. Somehow, amidst all the tragedy and sadness, Jon had to find the strength to go on, but he wasn't sure how anymore.

Victoria Granger

Date: 2012-01-21 14:05 EST
Later that night ...

There were few things that could get Vicki away from Dirty Dancing and big bowl of popcorn, but Jon in pain was always going to be one of them. It didn't matter how late, what the weather was like, whatever she had planned for the next day - if Jon needed her, she'd be there. She hadn't even bothered getting dressed, clambering out of her car outside Luks Condos to jam her thumb on the call buzzer with just a jacket on over her pyjamas.

The first thing Jon had done after getting home from the inn was take Cosmo for a walk. The dog had been home alone for a few hours and was craving human attention. Jon had greeted him with a hug about the neck and the usual words of praise, but even the dog seemed able to tell something was wrong and had given Jon an extra dose of affection. The second thing he'd done was call Vicki on the phone. He'd managed to keep it together, not telling her the reason for the call, just asking if she could come over for a while, that he needed to see her.

Thankfully, someone was coming out as Vicki abused the buzzer. She caught the door and let herself in, running up the stairs three at a time to skid to a squeaky halt in front of Jon's door, thanks to her wellies. Her hands went to her pockets, searching again for the keys she knew she'd left on the table in her kitchen. "Bloody buggering hellfire," she muttered, lifting her hand to knock on his door. "Jon' It's me, Vicki!"

He didn't hear the buzzer at first, deeply lost in his own thoughts as he sat on the couch, Cosmo at his feet. His ears heard it, but it was slow to register in his brain. It was Cosmo who finally pulled Jon out of his thoughts, his head lifting and looking toward the door, barking to announce Vicki's arrival. Jon gave the dog an affectionate rub between the ears and moved over to the door to let her in.

The moment the door opened, she started talking, moving inside to wrap her arms around Jon tightly. She was very obviously still in her pyjamas, her legs bare and covered in gooseflesh from the trip through the wintry weather. "I'm so sorry, I left my keys on the table," she apologised, closing the door behind her. Drawing back, she stroked her cool fingers against his cheeks. "What is it, what?s happened" You sounded so ....odd, on the phone."

Though it was open, he hadn't even taken his coat off, and his cheeks were flushed from wearing too many layers of clothing in the warm apartment. He hadn't thought to eat either and his breath smelled like liquor, though he seemed perfectly sober. It had only been one drink. As soon as she hugged him, he wrapped his arms around her, needing to feel her close. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening, opening them only when she drew back, failing to hide the grief, despite all his years of acting.

"Frank..." he started, only managing one word at first, his voice catching in his throat.

He was a good actor, but not that good. Vicki frowned, shrugging out of her coat and moving to help him out of his. "I know, I heard," she told him quietly. "I didn't want to intrude. Have you eaten" Come on, into the kitchen." Her fingers entwined with his, pulling him with her into his own kitchen with an absent-minded scratch to Cosmo's ears.

He had only started to tell her. A one-word explanation that explained nothing. He wasn't sure he could tell her the rest. The news hung like a heavy weight on his heart and his shoulders. Numbly, he let her help him off with his coat, half realizing she was only half dressed. She had apparently hurried over to see him without even changing, and the thought of that, for some odd reason, touched him to the core of his being, and his throat tightened with emotion.

Once into the kitchen, the redhead pointed to a seat at the table. "Sit," she told him firmly, turning away to put the kettle on. "And stop trying to be so bloody strong and manly. This is me, Jon. I've seen you at your worst, and I didn't go running for help. So stop hiding it and start feeling it."

He made no argument, shuffling into the kitchen and dropping heavily onto a chair. She was right. She had seen him at his worst, or very nearly, but this was different. This wasn't about him. It was about someone else. Two someones. One he hardly remembered and the other he'd come to care for almost like a little sister. He clenched his jaw, unsure where to begin, wishing none of this was real. Silent tears slid down his cheeks and he lifted a hand to brush them away.

Vicki let him have the silence for a few minutes, busying herself with making him a mug of tea that had far too much sugar in it. She wasn't very good at looking after anyone who had been bereaved, falling back on ages out of date first aid training for shock instead. Coming to his shoulder, she set the mug down in front of him, stroking her fingers through his hair tenderly as a soft sigh escaped her. "I wish I could make things easier for you, love."

He wrapped his hands around the mug, staring into its murky, muddy depths, knowing he had to tell her, had to tell someone, but the words wouldn't come. Why had everyone at the inn seemed so callous, so unfeeling" All but one. "Something terrible's happened." He wasn't sure if she'd heard the news. Maybe she had. Apparently, it was travelling like wild fire, but having been too busy dealing with family matters, the news had escaped him.

Her brows drew together as she watched him. This was more than just grief over the loss of a family member who had meant little to him, she could see that now. Lowering into a seat beside him, she pulled it closer, looping her arm about his shoulders. "Tell me." It was softly spoken, but definitely a command. He had to vocalise this if he was to have any hope of getting over it.

"There was an explosion in the Marketplace..." he began, lifting his face toward her, tears gathering in his blue eyes again. "Katt..." He didn't know if she knew Katt or of his friendship with her, but she probably at least knew of her. "She's dead." Apparently, along with a lot of other innocent people, or so he'd been told, mostly women and children.

"Oh dear God ..." Shock blossomed in Vicki's blue eyes. She hadn't known Katt very well herself, having only met the merry little baker once, but she knew Jon was - had been - close to her. What a horrible way to die. "Oh, Jon, I'm so sorry ..." Leaning close, she kissed his cheek tenderly, wrapping her arms tight around him once again.

It seemed that once her arms went around him again, something broke inside him, like a dam breaking and releasing a flood of tears. He had tried to hold it all inside - Cian's accident, Frank's sacrifice, and now this. They say tragedies happen in threes. He wasn't sure he could handle another.

"Shh ..." Her hand went to his neck, stroking lovingly against the nape as she rocked him very gently, prepared to weather the storm of his tears as long as they went on. "It's alright, love ....let it all out. I'm not going anywhere, you're safe with me."

"I don't understand why this had to happen," he told her in a voice broken between sobbing breaths, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close, to gather what comfort he could. It wasn't just grief that was making him cry, but anger and frustration that this had to happen. "I hate Rhy'Din..." he muttered, not really meaning it. It was home, after all, but hating all the horrible things that seemed to happen there.

It was, unfortunately, incredibly uncomfortable to be hugging someone taller than herself while sat next to him. "No, you don't," she murmured softly against his hair, rising to her feet to gather his weeping face close against her tummy as her arms wrapped rather more successfully around him. Her head bent to brush kisses to his hair as he cried. "You hate the absolutely sh*t things that happen here."

He followed her movement, his arms going around her waist now, clinging to her, burying his face against her. Now that he'd opened the floodgates, there seemed no end to his tears. "Why her" She never hurt anyone."

"No one can answer that," she murmured to him, fairly certain he wasn't hearing a word she said anyway. Her fingers scratched gently against his scalp as he cried against her, her cheek lying against his head. "Life is utter crap, and the worst things happen to the best people. It's bollocks, but that's the way it is."

On the contrary, he heard every word she said, taking it all in, and though he knew she was right, it was little comfort. All any of this did was remind him how precious life was and how very short it could be. He clung tightly to her, shoulders shaking with heart-wrenching sobs, not just for Katt, but for Frank and Cian and Gabi and Tera and everyone else he cared for and knew had suffered or was suffering from the tragedy that life sometimes dished out.

Victoria Granger

Date: 2012-01-21 14:09 EST
Such a release was cathartic, good for him. He hadn't had a proper release of his tightly-wound emotions in all the time they'd been together, not even in the aftermath of the vampire incident. Though it broke her heart to know he was in pain, Vicki couldn't help feeling relieved that finally Jon was letting himself feel what plagued him almost every waking moment. It was appalling that it had taken the deaths of two people to bring him to this point.

He cried for Lena and Eli and all the innocent people hurt in the explosion. He cried for Humphrey, knowing the man he was slowly coming to care for as a substitute father wasn't going to live forever. He cried for Dom and for Gwen, his late wife. He cried for the kids he had visited at the hospital who only wanted to be healthy again.

Good though the tears might be, too much and Jon would start unravelling at the seams. Vicki had spent too many hours looking after crying interns on film sets to even consider letting Jon cry himself to the point of no return. "Alright," she told him gently, drawing back. "That's enough for now. Come on, calm down." Lowering herself to a crouch in front of him, she wiped his tears away with her thumbs.

He broke away from her gently, lifting his head away from her as she crouched down in front of him, meeting her gaze with watery eyes. "Vicki, I don't want to wait four months," he admitted, out of the blue. Life was too damned short. He wanted her with him now, not four months from now. For one so young, he was impatient with life, suddenly wanting everything to happen now, wanting to embrace it all in an instant and not wait for what might never happen.

To her credit, she kept the wince from her face as he spoke, knowing straightaway what he was referring to. "Jon, I know it seems like a good idea right now, but you should never make any big changes in the wake of a loss. Wanting changes is part of the grieving process but ..." She sighed softly, pulling her chair close again as she enfolded his hands in hers. "They're less likely to satisfy, far less likely to stick, if they're made too soon after a bereavement." But it felt too much like she was taking all his hope away from him with callous uncaring. Her palm stroked against his jaw tenderly. "If you still feel this way in a month, tell me. But I'm not going to let you make a mistake because of grief."

The look on his face was pure grief, so much sadness in so little time, and yet, there she was - a beacon shining through the darkness to lead him back home. His light, his hope, and despite all the sadness, he knew he was luckier than most, and it was in part, because of her. He was making a fresh start and learning to live again. He listened, a little disappointed, but understanding. She didn't want to rush things, and neither did he. He didn't want to make any mistakes this time. He wanted to be sure, and he wanted her to be sure, but he knew in his heart that he wasn't going to change his mind. He had met his match, his soul mate, the one person he wanted to spend the rest of his days with, and nothing and no one was going to take that from them. "I won't change my mind," he told her quietly, covering her hand with his own. The storm had passed. The heartache remained, but with it hope.

She wasn't going to budge, though. She loved him too much to let him make a decision like this when he was so fragile emotionally. "Ask me again in a month," she said quietly, squeezing his hand fondly as she leaned close, brushing her lips to his. Her forehead rested against his, warm and fond and entirely focused upon him. "And before you ask, yes, I am staying tonight."

A smile broke through, like sunshine on a stormy day. "You know me too well," he admitted. Asking her to stay the night was going to be his next question. He knew the days ahead were going to be hard, but somehow he'd get through them. He seemed to just notice that she was in her pyjamas. "Anyway, you came dressed for it."

She laughed softly, looking down at herself. "I'll have you know I don't tear myself away from Patrick Swayze's sexy dancing for just anyone," she teased him gently. "Nor do I wear purple wellies in bed." She lifted her feet, still encased in those wellington boots from her rush to get out of the house. "What do you think" Could I start a new trend" Pyjama chic?"

He smiled and lifted a hand to wipe away whatever tears remained on his face. "Should I be jealous" I've been known to do a little dancing on occasion." He looked her over, wellies and all, thinking her absolutely adorable and glad she belonged to him. "Probably, but do you want to?"

"Not if it means driving around in my rusty old banger in just my jammies in the middle of winter again," she grinned back, lowering her feet to the floor. "Did you eat anything today?"

"I'm not hungry," he replied, leaning over to pull those silly purple rain boots from her feet. She didn't need them now that she had decided to stay the night. "I'll eat a big breakfast. Promise."

Vicki chuckled, leaning back to pull her feet out of the boots as he tugged on them. "Never make promises like that, you never know when I might decide to cook," she threatened impishly, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "What do you say to putting something mindless on the telly and vegging out for a while" You're too keyed up for bed yet."

"Hoping to catch a bit of Swayze before we turn in?" he teased, smiling at the affectionate ruffling of his hair. "I think I'm jealous. You're supposed to dream of me, not him."

"Hardly," she snorted, wriggling right off her chair and over his lap, straddling him comfortably as her nose bumped his. "You could always dance for me instead, of course." Blue eyes twinkled as she eased her arms around him. It might have seemed that she was taking his grief lightly; but how could she expect him to move on from his darker moments if she encouraged him to stay there"

As grief-stricken as he was, he knew life went on. Life was still worth living. No matter what happened, he would never forget Katt, never forget her sweetness and the way she'd befriended him, but she wouldn't have wanted him or anyone to stop living. Only to remember, and he had already promised never to forget. The hell with the television. There were better things to do. His arms went around her waist again and he moved to his feet with her wrapped around him. "I can do the horizontal mambo just fine."

Vicki burst out laughing, wrapping her legs snug about his hips as he stood up. "And you say I have a one track mind," she giggled. It was hardly an objection, but this was a regular trend between them now; at some point in a given week, one would accuse the other of only ever thinking about sex. True or not, it was one of the oddities of their relationship, a little quirk that Vicki revelled in as being just theirs.

He smiled, the sound of her laughter filling the empty place in his heart with warmth and affection. "You do. I'm just very in tune with your thoughts." He started toward the bedroom, pausing in the doorway between the kitchen and living area. "If you'd rather watch TV, I can make some popcorn and we can even have a pillow fight later."

"Now, you see, I'm just seeing that as a waste of time now," she grinned sweetly, nipping at his lips. "One condition, though. This time, I get to do the exploring and you keep your hands to yourself until I say you can join in."

Despite everything, he actually chuckled. "Keep my hands to myself, huh' Poor me. You going to seduce me, Miss Marshall?" He headed for the bedroom, Cosmo hot on their heels.

Grieving or not, life still went on, and with Vicki in his arms, there was a lot of life to be thankful for still. Frank, and most especially Katt ....they would not be forgotten, nor would the pain of their loss heal over quickly, but in time, perhaps, Jon would be able to think of them with a smile.

Jonathan Granger

Date: 2012-02-06 13:53 EST
Over the next few weeks, Jon dealt with his grief in the only way he knew how - by throwing himself into his work, giving Rhy'Din the performance of a lifetime as Faustus, a man damned to Hell by his own selfish choices.

It wasn't all that much of a stretch for Jon. He'd suffered through the consequences of his own folly in the past, and it was those experiences he drew upon to make the character of Faustus come alive. Too alive, perhaps. It wasn't always easy casting off the character and reclaiming himself when the performance was over. It took hard work and lots of practice. A lot more work than he let on. Making it look easy, that was the real trick.

Jon had never received any formal training in acting, but a school teacher on Rhy'Din had once told him that in order to be a good actor, one had to not only pretend to be someone else; one had to become someone else, if only for a little while. One had to be able to call upon a range of emotions at any given time. Love, hate, joy, sorrow, anger, despair, fear, courage, and so on. To be able to convey those emotions so powerfully that the audience was feeling what the character was feeling, whether it be comedy or tragedy. One was just as challenging as the other, and while capable of performing a comedic role, Jon's true talent had always been drama.

The Academy be damned. Jon didn't need them to acknowledge him and give him an award for his part in Crowes or any other role. He knew he'd given it his all, pouring his heart and soul into the part. The tears he'd cried at Juliana's death were his own tears. He felt the role, just as if he was Charlie Dekker. He'd breathed life into the character and made him his own, making the audience believe that what was happening up on the silver screen was more than just a story. It was real, if only for a little while. And he was doing the same with Faustus.

Turning those emotions on and off had never been an easy task, and some roles were more challenging than others. Faustus was one of them, but Jon needed to work, especially now. He needed to immerse himself in the role for a little while and give the pain and grief he was feeling some direction, but beneath it all, when he took off the makeup and went home at the end of the night, he was still just Jonathan Granger, actor.

Thankfully, he had Vicki. If it wasn't for her, he wasn't sure what he'd have done. She was his anchor, his safety net, his light in the darkness, his beacon that helped him find his way back home.

It was her he came home to at night, exhausted from work, having poured his heart and soul into the part, night after night. It was her arms he found solace in, her voice that soothed him, her heart that loved him. Unlike Faustus, Jon's soul had been saved by an angel, and the name of that angel was Victoria Marshall.