Always Candle

[karter]

Story Title: Always Candle

Type of story: One-shot.

Main Characters: Roman, Martha

BTTB rating: T

Genre: General.

Does story include spoilers: No

Any warnings: None

Summary: It Lindsey’s Birthday.

A/n-This may be a bit late, but I was inspired by Martha’s line about Lindsey the other night, hope you like it.

One-shot.

A single candle glowed in the dark; it wavered slightly as the cake it was attached to was carried ever so gently over to the table. Roman placed it down softy, noticing how the small light gave presence to the tears in Martha’s eyes, she gave him a watery smile as he sat down, taking her hand gently in his under the table.

They sat in silence for a few minutes just watching the wax roll down the side of the candle, pooling at the bottom, on top of the chocolate mud cake. It was both their favourite, they figure it was genetically impossible for Lindsey to not love it as well.

“Happy birthday.” Martha could only manage a whisper but it was enough for Roman to continue on from, “Happy first birthday Linds,” It would have been his nickname for her, he liked shortening names, only ever called Nicole “Nicole” when she was in trouble, which was most the time. He would never have had to use Lindsey for her; it would always have been “Linds.”

Martha tried to picture her face; it never came out right, always to much of her or Roman, never a balance. She knew Lindsey would have her smile and his eyes but that’s were the image faulted. Would she have blonde hair? Black? Would she be tall or short? Would she have Roman’s slightly crooked nose? Broken one to many times or Martha’s perfectly straight, with a bump in the middle? She didn’t know. She wished she did.

The candle was half gone now, the liquid pink rolling downwards and melting through the icing.

“Will we do this next year?” Martha asked, her voice again a whisper, in the dark room of Roman’s kitchen, devoid of anyone but them it seemed to suit.

Roman nodded silently. “Every year.” He answers in the same tone.

“A year from today.” Martha added.

There was no way they could know the exact day that she would have been born, premature like Martha or late like Roman but it was the date that felt right, roughly nine months, it was a compromise.

“What happens when we’re not here anymore?” Martha asked, a single tear slipping from her eyes as the candle continue to burn.

“Won’t matter.” Roman replied, “We’ll be where she is then.” He wasn’t religious, didn’t have to be, he just thought it, plain and simple.

The wick was reaching its end, and now all that was left was a flickering light in a pool of milky white and pink, a whole in the centre of the cake, wax rolling off its slopes and splashing onto the table.

Roman squeezed Martha’s hand. She squeezed back.

The candle went out

Until next year.

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Its very short, i know, but i would appreciate your thoughts.

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