NickVie one shots (fluff)

cold

Stevie's quiet sobs spread through the cold winter air alongside the warm clouds of her breath. Her tears ran and fell, the frosted grass beneath her feet catching them softly. The sky was sad and a young woman stood beside a six foot deep hole in the ground, in which her soul mate would lie for the rest of time.

We now commit her body to the ground,

Her hands shook as she lifted one to her cheek to roughly wipe the streams from her cheeks. The words seemed jagged in the otherwise silent graveyard. But Stevie's sniffles punctuated the cold and softened the harshness of the vicars voice. Breath hitching, she covered her mouth with another hand and blinked hard as more tears brimmed and fell. A deep sob rocked her body and she shook as an arm wrapped around her gently and rubbed her back. She rested her head against the person as she realised it was Robin. She had come from hospital just for today; to be there for Stevie when she still could.

Earth to earth,

Her eyes closed and a ragged breath filled her lungs. When she opened them again something caught her attention. The ring on her finger. Its diamond was blue, but in this light everything looked grey. The sky, the ground, her heart.

Ashes to ashes,

A sick feeling came over Stephanie and her head felt like it was somewhere else.

She was suddenly at home, the colour seeping back into the world. She was settled on the floor, on a large beautiful rug, with paints, brushes and cups of water all around her. A canvas was in her lap, and she was working on a painting of Chris, from a Polaroid taken when she wasn't looking. It had been Stevie's favourite photograph ever since she shook it into focus. Suddenly a bang was heard from another room, causing Stevie to look up. She waited a few seconds.
"Fuck!" She heard from Christine's studio.
She set her paints down and got up, rushing to see what was wrong. She arrived at the door frame, peeking round. Chris was holding up an unraveled tape which was dripping with coffee.
"I dropped my mug onto it and it all crashed to the ground. Fuck!" Chris exclaimed again.
"It was the instrumental parts to your birthday present. And it's ruined..."
Stevie walked over and smiled lovingly.
"Don't worry about it Chris. As long as I have you, I'll be the happiest woman alive."
"But your birthday is in five days! I have to get you something. I love you."
Stevie leaned in for a quick kiss. Chris mumbled but quickly changed her mind, softly putting her hands on either side of Stevie's face. They pulled away but rested their foreheads together and looked into each others eyes.
"At least the vocals are safe." Christine whispered. Stevie laughed breathily and stroked Chris' hair.
"Oh Chris... I love you too..."

Dust to dust,

Stevie was pulled back to the present by the jaggedness of the vicar and the grey returned. That had only been five days ago. Oh... Faint realisation sprang to her mind. It was her birthday today. And Chris wasn't here. Just a box in the ground with no connection to Chris at all. It didn't laugh like her. It didn't talk like her, with her deep voice and English accent. It didn't sing like her.
Nothing sang here; not even the birds.

in the sure and certain hope
of the resurrection to eternal life.

Stevie's tears kept running and wouldn't stop until she slept.

❄️

Stevie jerked awake. She was covered in sweat and was shaking all over.
"Chris..?" she said hoarsely, her throat raw from crying. She turned quickly to the other side of the bed, moving her hand to touch Chris' arm. Only she wasn't there to touch. And Stevie's hand fell to the empty sheets. They were cold, untouched for several nights. The tears brimmed again and Stevie sat alone and small in the empty bed. She slowly slid out of bed, landing on the floor with a soft bump. Out in the hallway she started walking to the bathroom, but something made her look behind her. She turned and saw the door to Chris' studio, abnormally shut. Chris had always left it open unless she was working particularly hard on something. Stevie choked up at the thought of seeing it empty and lifeless without her beautiful wife. Still, she stepped towards it, unable to shake the feeling that Chris might be there, at her desk,  just as it used to be.
Standing in the room it became all too real that Christine wasn't there, and would never be again. Before she left the room, she spotted something large on the desk that she hadn't noticed before. She stepped closer, wiping her eyes, and found a tape with a note attached to it.
"Happy Birthday Stevie!"
it read, and with trembling hands she lifted it from the table and held it gently. It was unmistakably Chris' writing . She stepped towards Chris' tape player and carefully slotted it into the machine.
Only a metronome could be heard at first, and then a voice like silk filled the room and Stevie's ears.

It was warm and beautiful and happy, and Stevie closed her eyes and imagined Chris singing to her as if she was in the room. She smiled for he first time in days. Tears filled Stevie's eyes again as Chris' words reached her and a flicker of the rush Stevie felt when she saw Chris rose in the depths of her heart.
But the song came to an end and the feeling died, leaving Stevie cold and alone in the darkness of the studio. The tape was still going.

"Happy birthday, sweetie. I love you so much and I couldn't wish to marry or know anyone more beautiful than you. I hope you know that and I hope your birthday is the best one yet. I'll make sure it is."

Stevie's tears fell, one after the other. More and more. But she didn't make a sound. She couldn't. Stevie was broken, and it would take only one person to fix her. But that person wasn't there, and never would be again.
This was made even clearer by the scattered contents of the studio that lay slowly collecting dust and the owner of which would never return to.

Stevie stayed there in Chris' chair for the rest of the night, her tears only stopping when she finally fell into a restless and nightmare-infested sleep. She knew, everyone knew, that she would never be the same again. A part of her was cold, with no warmth to heat it. And her eyes would always have that sadness in them, making even complete strangers know something had curled up inside her and shut out the rest of the world, forever.