Scared (Patrick Stump Imagine Short Story)

Part 13 (Alternate Ending)

Author's Note: Hey guys! I know this is long overdue, but I recently re-read this book of mine and I don't know what it was, but I was inspired to write this last part. If you're reading this, thanks for sticking around and I hope you like it! -Rachael

You turn the car off and Gabby immediately unbuckles her seat belt, pushing out the car door and jumping out, taking a bag with her. "Gabby! Wait!" You call out to her. She groans and stops in the middle of the graveyard basking in the sun shining brightly in the cloudless blue sky, turning around and waiting for you to catch up to her.

Pete, who's sitting in the passenger seat (since you picked him up along the way), chuckles, "Well someone's excited."

You shake your head and get out of the car, Pete mirroring your actions. You open the car door opposite the one Gabby opened to reveal your two-year-old son, Zach, in his car seat, asleep. You heave a sigh, debating whether or not you should take him with you or just leave him be.

"Come on, Mommy! Hurry up!" Gabby whines, "I want to give him his present!"

"I will! Calm down!" You yell back, losing your patience and making the rash decision to take Zach with you. You take him in your arms and he stirs awake, but to your relief, he doesn't cry or freak out. Pete helps you by closing the car door and you smile at him appreciatively. He nods his head and the two of you go to meet up with your daughter.

"Finally," She mutters sassily before turning around and skipping ahead of you. You roll your eyes and follow after her.

Eventually, the four of you reach the spot you've come to countless times before and Gabby sits down in front of the headstone, holding the bag to her chest and smiling.

"Hi, Daddy," She whispers quietly. You and Pete stand behind her, both staring down at the grave with Patrick's name etched into it. You can feel tears come to your eyes and threaten to roll down your cheeks the longer you look at it.

The now-seven year old glances back and mutters, "Say hi, guys."

"Hi, Patrick," The two of you say upon Gabby's request, Zach resting his head on your shoulder as he takes in the scene before him, still not understanding it.

Gabby grins and pulls something out of the bag she had in her possession. That something is a photo frame, containing a picture of you, Gabby, and Zach. She leans forward and sets it up against the gravestone, "Here. We thought you might like this, even though you're not here."

The corner of your lip perks upward as you try to keep yourself from crying.

"Hey, Mommy, can I talk to Daddy in private?" Gabby asks you sweetly. You nod your head and take Pete back to the car with you.

"Well, Daddy, today's your birthday," Your daughter murmurs once you're gone, the smile on her face fading, "Do they celebrate birthdays up there? I hope they do. And I hope they have birthday cake. I know it was your favorite. But at the same time, I wish you were here. And I don't mean here in spirit or whatever Mommy always tells me. I mean here like...here. So I could hug you and wish you a Happy Birthday myself and watch you blow out your candles and open your presents and..." Her voice trails off as she starts picking at the grass growing over Patrick's casket that six feet under.

She sits there for a little doing that before going on to say, "It's not easy without you here. Mommy's got to take care of me and Zach, and sometimes she gets really mad. She yells and cries and throws things around. She yells a lot about how it all isn't fair. But sometimes she yells about how it would be easier if she never had kids, or if she never met you. Those days are really bad and I don't like them at all. I get really scared when she's like that. Because I don't want Zach growing up seeing her like that, because it's not her. She hasn't been the same since you got sick, since you died."

Your daughter glances back over her shoulder to see you and Pete leaning against your car, talking to each other while you wait for Gabby to finish.

"She tries to act like nothing's changed when she's around other people. She smiles and she laughs, but I know it's all fake. She just does it to hide the fact that she frowns and cries when she's at home with Zach and me."

She returns her attention to the gravestone and heaves a sigh, "I really miss you, Daddy. A lot. And so does Mommy. I don't think Zach does, though, since you died before Mommy had him. I don't think he even really knows who you are. But Mommy tells him about you all the time. She tells me about you a lot too, about what you were like before I was born."

The seven year old tilts her head down, murmuring under her breath, "I just really wish you were still here. I think we all do."

She stands up and brushes the dirt off the bottom of her dress, shouting, "Okay, Mommy! You and Uncle Pete can come back now!"

"We're actually ready to go home, Gabby!" You call back to her, "You come here!"

"Oh, okay," Your daughter replies dejectedly, running over to you.

"Did you wish him a Happy Birthday?" You inquire as you step to the side and Pete opens the car door for her.

"Yeah, I did," She answers, climbing in and buckling herself in. She looks at you and Pete and says, "I'm ready to go now."

"You sure?" You ask her, bouncing on the balls of your feet to keep Zach from getting cranky.

"I'm sure," She replies, smiling.