Ship: Lams

Genre: Angst

OC?: Kathleen Hamilton-Laurens

Summary: Laurens and Hamilton learn to cope with their daughter's death in a school shooting.

AU: Modern!AU

Word Count: 683

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  Sugar Plum: The schools on lockdown

received 10:36am

read 11:10am

Sugar Plum: Daddy I'm scared

received 10:37am

read 11:10am

Sugar Plum: Someones banging on the door

received 11:09am

read 11:10am

Sugar Plum: I love you both

received 11:10am

read 11:10am

Me: What???? Sweetie, what are you talking about?????

received 11:11am

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   "Please don't do this. Please! What did I ever do to you?" Kath was panicking. Hyperventilating. Crying. The gun dug further into her shoulder blade.

   "Shut the fuck up, bitch!" He yells, looking over the crowd of people. "Are you that Hamilton girl?"

    "What does my dad have to do with this?" She whimpers, looking at her friends. Both are restraining themselves, trying not to get her killed.

    "Everything. Killing his little girl would get back at him for everything he's ever done to me."

    "You don't have to do this."

    "Oh but I do. See, girlie, your father got my buddies killed. So this is my payback." He tightened is finger around the trigger. "Say goodbye bitch."

    A gunshot.

    The wet sound of blood splattering into a grotesque painting with her body at the center.

    Silence, looking at her ashen face. Her labored breaths the only source of noise.

    Then the teacher and two other students wrestling the gunman to the ground, and the two falling to her side.

    "Kath, sweetie, talk to me." a weaksmile in response.

    "Kath, don't go to sleep. We're going to roll you over now, try to stop the bleeding. WE NEED A CLOTH OR SOMETHING OVER HERE!" Damien yells, and Sam quickly takes of her shirt, handing it to him as she kneels at her other side.

    "Count of three. One. Two. three." A bitten back shriek of pain and protest as they roll her on her stomach. The wound was a mess of torn flesh and fabric, and Damien presses the shirt to the bullet hole. The light fabric immeadiately starts turning coppery with blood.

    "You'll be okay, Kath. Don't go to sleep, honey. I know, it's tempting, but you can't, hon."

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    She had been in surgery for hours when the doctor came out, her shoulders slouched in defeat. 8 total hours of her slipping in and out of critical and stable condition. Her hands were covered in blood. The blue sterile gloves dyed crimson.  The men, who she assumed were her fathers, looked up at her. She gulped, taking a deep breath.

   "I am so sorry, Mr. and Mr. Hamilton-Laurens. She's gone."

    A bit of John died with those words, and Alexander felt his heart break in two.

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   The household held an absence of all color and cheerfulness. They had locked the door to Kath's room, blocking out thememories. Boxed up her drawings. stuffing away family photos. John had lockedhimself in their room, not even opening the door for Alexander.

    Alex spends endless hours in the small garden, and occasionally bringing up food and talking toJohn.

    "Babe, if I could bring her back, if I could trade her life for mine, believe me, she'd be standing here right now. And you would come out, and smile. And that would be enough." He started coming out of the room that day, sitting in the living room, going out tothe garden with Alex.

    He takes the shorter man's hand suddenly.

    "I miss her."

   "I do too."

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   "And that's your sister's story, Philip." Alexander sighed, closing the journal him, John, and her friends who still kept in contact with them, regardless of them graduating and moving away years ago.

   "I wish I could meet her. Kath seemed like a good person." A knock at the door makes Alex look up. He stands, handing Philip the book and walking to the door, opening it to find a note taped to the wood.

    "What on earth?" He says aloud, taking it off and opening it, and feels tears rise in his eyes as he reads it.

    I love you, Dad. Thank you.