InsaneJournal

Who: Zoë Griffin
When: Saturday night, January 8 2011
Where: Zoë's apartment in Seattle
What: After Presley's funeral
Rating: None
OOC Note: Inspired by the AU memories in this thread. Written to Congratulations by Blue October and You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC



It had been one of the longest days of Zoë's life, and it'd all gone by in a blur. If you asked her what the weather had been like, or about the people that had come up to her at the funeral to give their condolences, she wouldn't have been able to tell you. She only remembered the little things. The color of Griff's tie that she'd had to tie on for him that morning (she wouldn't love him nearly as much if he could do even the simplest things for himself). The jagged ends of one of the white lilies placed on Presley's grave, Zoë had stared at that single flower forever, willing it to fix itself. It was out of place. She was out of place. This was all so very out of place.

She couldn't shake that almost nauseating feeling of deja vu. She'd been here before, only not really. Griff had died too, only he hadn't actually. Those memories from that alternate reality had never left her, they still clung to her like she was clinging to them now. Griff and Presley's funerals were near identical, give or take a few new faces. This time instead of Presley, Griff was sitting to her right, and Dominick sat to her left. She barely noticed either of them, her eyes remained fixed on the closed casket until her eyes were blurred over with tears because she'd forgotten to blink. Or at least that's what she told anyone that asked. The whole service was just a blur of random images to her now. People filing in and out. The pastor opening his bible (Presley wasn't even religious) before he began to speak. Griff crying. Zoe had never seen that before. Presley's casket lowered into the ground. Dominick whispering something to her that she didn't hear. And just like she'd never been there at all, Presley was gone.

---

The apartment was dark and quiet. A few people had stayed over after the service, including Mickey who was by now sound asleep on the couch. She'd told Dominick she wanted to be alone tonight, though now she'd wished she hadn't. Even though she knew she'd see him in her Dreams anyway, thank god she still had him. That was a small comfort. Zoë opened the freezer and looked blankly into its contents before pulling out a bottle of whiskey, Presley's favorite, and wandering down the hall to her bedroom. Her bare feet padding silently down the carpeted hallway like she wasn't there either. She felt like a ghost in her own apartment, and she knew why she felt so empty. Losing Griff, even if it hadn't really happened, had rocked her. But losing Presley... This had actually happened, and it couldn't be changed. She had actually lost a part of herself that she knew she couldn't get back.

"So, how 'bout it, babycakes? Be my groupie?"

Zoë blinked. The sound of Presley's voice, even in memory awoke her momentarily from her daze, now realizing she'd been standing in her bedroom doorway for about half an hour. Wearily, as if it took great effort to move a single muscle, she dragged herself into the room as if she were following the voice. She eventually found her way to her desk where she sat the bottle of whiskey down and went searching for a shot glass. At the very least she could be responsible enough to keep track of how much she was drinking. After ten minutes she realized she was having a hard time finding anything because she'd never turned on a light, so she did, squinting into the harsh bedroom light as it finally hit her what had been bugging her about the funeral.

"You think Griff would have hated his funeral? I always thought he'd be the type to request one of those Irish style wakes, you know those ones that are more party then funeral, but we never talked about it. Not something you really talk about if you don't expect to die young, I guess..." -- "He would've hated it. I fucking did. Can we please not talk about this?"

Presley had been right, Griff would have hated his funeral. Would Presley have hated hers? Had Zoë gotten it wrong again? Maybe they should have had a party. Zoë made a noise of frustration, mostly at herself as she finally located a shot glass on the top shelf of her book case and made the long, slow trek back to her desk. Everything she was doing took too much effort, even breathing. She just wanted it all to stop, all the worrying, all the what if's. No, she wanted Presley to still be alive. That's what she really wanted. Why was that so hard to ask?

She hadn't even died as a casualty in this stupid, never ending war. She'd been shot by a desperate mugger. Her Presley. Their Sirius. They'd been taken from them in a random, mindless act of desperation. And Zoë hadn't been there, she'd been helpless to help them. What good was she for if she couldn't be there when their friends needed them the most? It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to stay this time, things were supposed to be different this time around. Sirius. Presley. They were supposed to stay. Why was Remus always the last one left standing? James was still here, but maybe it was only a matter of time before they lost him too. It seems they were still doomed to suffer the loss of everyone they loved long before their own departure from this earth as well.

It was hours before Zoë even realized she was trashed. She'd been throwing back shots on her bed until she'd lost count and then she'd kept going. She couldn't shake the feeling that Presley was watching her somehow and she knew Presley wouldn't want to see this but she couldn't make herself stop. The pain of losing her was still too fresh, too horrible to bear. The girl she'd grown up with, Zoë's best friend and the one person who had always made her feel completely whole was gone. And she was never coming back. Zoë had never even told her. A twenty-two year friendship and Zoë had never even bothered to tell her. But she had to know, didn't she? Presley had to know what she'd meant to her. What was Zoë without her? Nothing. Just a very dull person with a very dull life who spent all her time in the Agency basement cataloging. Who would want that.

She knew exactly what Presley would say to that too, and Zoë rolled her eyes at thin air like Presley was there with her. She'd honestly never understood what Presley had seen in her, what had made Presley talk to her that day in kindergarten, though she'd never stop being grateful for it. Even now. A tiny whirring noise brought her out of her thoughts, telling her that her stereo had been left on, possibly for days. Zoë couldn't remember clearly when she'd used it last, so she slowly hoisted herself up from her lying position on her bed and stumbled over to the stereo. The whirring noise was getting louder and much more irritating, how had she not noticed it before? She banged on it a couple times, her brow creased in frustration when that did nothing and with one more hit to it, the CD started playing.

The faint but distinctive beginnings to AC/DC began and Zoë was lost in memories of a time that had never actually taken place. Zoë drunk and singing off key on her living room floor. The look of uncharacteristic disapproval Presley had written all over her face that Zoë wasn't drunk enough not to notice. Presley's soft skin. The way she buried her head in Zoë's lap, the way they fit together so perfectly. That earth shattering, life changing kiss that changed nothing at all once they'd woken up in their own time. Most of all Zoë remembered the way her friend looked at her, like she'd never love anything else in the world. Zoë knew right then that she could have felt the same way. And now that person had been ripped from her. Ripped from Remus. Again. When would they ever learn?

"I mean it. You're all I've got. Don't change. Stay you so you can stay mine. Or... something. I don't know what I'm saying anymore."

With the very last ounce of her sobriety, Zoë's face screwed up in an expression of utter anguish as she sank to the ground and for the first time since she'd heard the news of Presley's death, she started to cry.