Mon Cher ~ GT oneshot

Faith.
It doesn’t take much to have it. Or may take so much to have it. There is no in between. There either no faith- mostly like from one who has seen none from others or has once had it but lost it due to a tragic incident- or so much faith, the person is fueled by it- mostly from those raised in faith or those who have pushed themselves so far that is all they can rely on.
‘Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration.’ Thomas Edison once said. Maybe this was the genius that Edison was talking about. She had been over that cliff so many times, never once harming herself in during so. She’d wake up on the fuzzy, soft, brown carpet of the giant’s home.
He’d welcome her, let her sit with him as they read together, sipping black tea and eating strawberry tarts when they got the chance. Sometimes the fire would catch in her eyes, and she’d drift off into a day dream, thinking of what those at the foster home would say when they found out about her tales and adventures with a giant. What would they think when they found out she threw herself over a cliff everyday only to wake up and want to curl up in a giant’s palm while he read to her?
They had in fact had wild adventures and tales to tell. Tales of dragons and hydras. Tales of witches and wizards, banshees and ghouls.  Tales of mythical creatures far and wide. Tales of a world… just for giants. She had been with him the whole way. He had filled that hole in her heart that no one else could try.
He had met her when she was five, shoved over the edge of the cliff by s band of teenagers with no shame in bullying a little girl, curled up on his rug like a sleeping puppy. He was adorable to him then, and she still was, even at the ages of 70 and on. He had filled the position of a father for her, being the biggest he could be for her.
Her laugh never ceased when with him, and it made him happy. He had sometimes asked her to stay permanently, but every time, she’d refuse saying “somewhere out there, I’ll be a hero for someone. If I stay here, who’ll be their superwoman?” He’d laugh, making her frown and pout, whining about how it sounded childish, but really it was her biggest dream. She didn’t care for anything else, she only wanted to help someone someday.
By the time she was fifteen, they had been more than just father and daughter, she wouldn’t even act like he was a father, but a best friend he could be around anytime. And by twenty, she had a job and found her passion- art. No matter where she was, she’d draw and draw until her back ached from leaning over too much.
Thirty had come too fast for him, and by then it truly bothered him. He aged so much slower than her. He was still twenty-one while she was hitting thirty fast.  She had once confessed that she loved him more than a father, and as much as he began to feel the same way, he knew it would only cause her pain in the end, so they never made it official; but they did stay the same as they were, never changing one bit, just how they liked it.
Forty came, and she still visited when she could. He knew she was getting old, retiring soon and most likely wanting to settle down with someone soon if not too late for her. But even then she refused saying he was the only one.
Around forty-five, he had finally begged her to stay with him again, this time she agreed. There was so much he did for her then. More than he ever had. He had made a small reading room and office for her for reading and art when she wanted. He had given her a tiny kitchen hidden away at the side of the end cabinet. He had done it all to supply her for her stay.
When he worded it like that, it made him furious and sad all in one. He sounded like it was a short stay, but for him, it was. To him, one year seemed like an hour when around her. Before her, each year felt like a minute each ten years only feeling like ten minutes. It was torture for him. But not after her.
Fifty, sixty, seventy- all in a flash. She was older now, much older. Greying hair, wrinkling cheeks and skin thinning some, even her eyes became a bit foggier than her younger foggy grey eyes. Now they were like misty mountains. Darker in the centers and grey clouding them beautifully. Despite her wrinkles and thinning, veiny skin, she was still a marvelous creature to him- beautiful in every way.
Eighty had only come for a few months before she had grown ill. He wasn’t sure what it was, neither was she. But they didn’t care. They had prepared for this, they had promised each other that in the end, he’d stay happy and smiling for her. He’d move on after her, and find a new happiness. He refused the latter though. “I can’t forget you. How could I ever? You, the one person to stay with me your entire life and care for me so much… No one could forget you, not even one with amnesia.”
In her last few days, they looked back over it all. They day he had found her, they day he taught it to her all, the crazy adventure days, the days where they would just sit back and read but the fire. They remembered the days he had first carried her on his shoulders, on his palms and even in his shirt pocket once or twice. They remembered how he had kissed her every night going to sleep and sometimes when they’d have the cute fluffy moments. It was all she ever talked about on those days.
- - -
He stood in the field, a bundle of forget-me-nots in his hand, carefully wrapped up like a beautiful bouquet. The cherry blossom was in full bloom, the wind blowing the small pink petals around. A few landed on the small square of skipping rocks, a larger rock resting at the head. Written on it was this:
Even when times steals away our youth,
Our happiness remains for eternity.
~1930-2010~
Mon Cher*
Tears stained his cheeks and dropped down onto the tiny stones and grass at his feet. He kneeled and lied the flowers on top of the grave. He clutched his hands tight and let his bangs cover his eyes. “Je vous remercie, mon cher. Merci pour m’avoir premis de faire Plaisir. Je taime.*"
And she whispered back to him, letting her hand slip away from his and back to her side and her eyes close tight. “Je t’aime Toujours.*"