Fallen from Gracie ((Bryce))

[Weetzie O'Keeffe H7]

Weetzie loved Hogmeade weekends. It meant she could visit her grandparents and find out what's going on with the rest of the O'Keeffe family. On Hogsmeade weekends, Weetzie usually felt a sense of joy, something that made her naturally high all day. Today was no different. She had bounced around from griend to friend, but always returning to Bryce with an exuberance that is ten-fold the amount of energy she had socialized with everyone else with. She had barreled through lunch with an ease and when the time came to leave, she was out the door faster than she could say Quidditch. Weetzie and Bryce had made plans to meet up at the cottage after he did what he had to do She went immediately to her grandparents' cottage and threw open the white picket fence with a gaiety unlike her. She hummed as she walked up the walkway that was lined with pretty flowers.

Her brown hair was straightened today and she wore her green and blue plaid pants with her black rock on baby tee. Her boots clunk-clunked as she walked, but to Weetzie's ears, they were a happy type of clunk-clunk. She smiled as she opened the front door, ready to shout a greeting to her grandparents, when she spotted her aunt and uncle seated on the couch; a wizarding official in front of them - taking notes on a memo-pad with a quill. Weetzie wondered how he wrote without dipping it into the ink. She wondered this because she wouldn't allow herself to wonder what was going on.

Weetzie was always capable of focusing her attention on the silliest of things when she knew the alternative couldn't be anything good. She silently closed the door behind her as her mother entered the living room. Immediately, Weetzie's mind went to her grandparents and whether or not they were okay. Her fear swam over her, but it was quickly put to rest when her grandparents filed in soon after her mother. They looked even older than they were the last time Weetzie had seen them. Her grandmother's hair, which had a lot more red in it before, was now clouded in gray. Her grandfather's eyes did not hold the mirth they usually did, and his voice... oh Lord his voice... "Weetzie, honey, what're ye doin' here?" His voice, with it's thick accent, had no happiness. In its place was sadness and pain. She had never, not once, heard the suffering that she now heard in his voice; even though her grandfather had been through quite a lot. Now, she was seeing a side of him he had always kept under wraps, and Weetzie felt uneasy about it. "Well, no matter is it? Yer here now, isn't ye? I t'ink we should tell 'er, Lizzie." Weetzie's eyes widened as she looked to her grandmother. Tell her what? "C'mere an' sit nex' to me, darlin'." Weetzie moved slowly next to her grandfather's chair and immediately he pulled her into a hug. He smelled of pipe tobacco and peppermint.

"What's going on?" Weetzie squeaked out in alarm as her grandfather's tears fell on her head. Her aunt stood abruptly and left the room, biting the knuckles of her right hand. That's when Weetzie noticed how quiet it was. How melancholy. How Graceless. It was as if the world was torn from underneath her at that exact moment. Images of what could have happened to her little cousin flooded her mind. Images of Gracie drowning, getting hit by a car, of her frozen somewhere. All of these things flooded her mind at once. But nothing could prepare her for the truth. As she was told what had happened, her stomach churned. When everyone had finished talking, there was silence. Weetzie sat still against her grandfather, and then stood and left the room without a word. No one followed her, and if they would have - Weetzie would have glared them away. She made her way into the backyard and sat down on the swing stiffly. She didn't push it. She just sat there, staring into the sky. Half of her wished that the previous images she had conjured had actually happened to Gracie. At least, that way they'd be at ease. They'd know. They'd know instead of being in the dark. They wouldn't have to threaten giving up hope. They'd know.

Inside the house, Maire looked out the window at her daughter, her arms crossed over her chest and her blue eyes tired. There was a knock on the door at that moment, and Maire tore her gaze away from her daughter. She opened the door and let out a small gasp, "Bryce, hi there." She smiled softly and opened the door wider for him to enter, "Weetz's in the back, maybe you can help her... she'll fill you in on everything, I've got to go take care of my sister..." Maire frowned and her eyes dimmed before patting Bryce on the shoulder and heading down the hallway. Back in the yard, Weetzie had started to swing slowly, she didn't even notice when Bryce entered the back yard. Her eyes had glazed over as she swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

((Yeah, yeah, told you I'd bury you. ))

[Bryce Alexander]

Bryce went over the mental checklist once again as he looked at the bags in his hands. He had a new robe and potions gloves to replace the ones that he had accidentally burnt during a rather complicated lesson that Snape had insisted was at a novice level. The fact that the open flame that burst from his cauldron was one of the minor issues that day indicated that Snape was surely undermining the true difficulty of the lesson. In another bag, Bryce had a whole load of candy. His sweet tooth had gotten the best of him, and so he bought everything that looked good. He even picked up a bag of Bertie Bott's for when he and Weetzie would hang out. They had a lot of fun seeing who could get the nastiest flavors. Finally, in a third bag, Bryce had a gift that he had bought for his mother's birthday. It was a bottle of charmed perfume that was designed to mimic the scent most appealing to whomever might be close enough to smell it. The thought seemed interesting, and Bryce couldn't pass it up when the aroma of freshly baked peach pies filled his nostrils. He was a sucker for his mother's homemade peach pies, which he rarely had the chance to eat. She did make it a point to have one waiting for him when he would visit her in Paris though.

Deciding that he had accomplished what he had sent out to do in Hogsmeade, Bryce remembered that he had promised Weetzie his last stop would be by the cottage. They didn't really have any set plans but just to hang out. Bryce loved when he could hang out with Weetzie, because it meant he could just relax and throw all of his worries away. It was a chance for him to be carefree- or at least more carefree than he usually was. Not much stressed Bryce out, but he still loved the light-hearted fun that he and Weetzie shared. Making his way out of the welcoming village, Bryce walked toward the direction of the cottage where he would meet Weetzie. He figured they could break open the jellybeans and have some fun with her family. Especially, he looked forward to seeing Gracie. She was such a bundle of fun, and Bryce had a ton of fun when he could team up with Gracie to pick on Weetzie.

As the cottage came in sight, Bryce picked up his pace, happily swaying back and forth as he reached the threshold of the tiny house. With a few loud knocks on the rough, wooden door, Bryce was soon greeted by Marie. Her first reaction caught Bryce off guard, and he wondered why she seemed so dull and out of it. Nonetheless, he listened to her with a confused look on his face as he headed to the back where he found Weetzie on the swing. Weetzie too looked a bit out of it as Bryce hopped in front of her, attempting to pull the lost look from her face. "Heya, Weetz!" he greeted with a large smile. He took the one side of the swing's chain with his hand and spun Weetzie slowly in a circle, spinning her up a bit before letting the swing naturally spin the other way as it returned to the original position. Noticing his actions nor words had done nothing to help her snap out of whatever trance she had been in, he bent over to the side and looked Weetzie dead in the eyes. Her eyes however were still gazing way beyond him standing there. It was more than obvious to him now that something must be really wrong if Weetzie was still lost in her own world of thoughts. "What's the matter?" he asked, his voice instantly holding much more concern than before. "Weetzie, look at me," he begged, holding his hands on each of her shoulders as he crouched in front of her as the swing finally stopped moving completely. "What's wrong?" he asked again, finally seeing that she seemed to make eye contact with him.

[Weetzie O'Keeffe H7]

Weetzie was vaguely aware of Bryce spinning her swing. She was vaguely aware of the swing spinning down again, but she couldn't tell the difference. Her world was spinning out of control, slowly, but surely out of control. It felt no different from her spinning world. Bryce immediately caught on that she wasn't happy. She wasn't anything. She was numb. She was tired. She was not Weetzie O'Keeffe. This was not Weetz. This was not the laughter, the smiles, or the carefree. This was not the happiness. This was the pain. This was the suffering. Bryce knew it. He was kneeling in front of her, begging her to look at him, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. It was so hard. So hard to look at anything, or anyone. Slowly, though, she lifted her eyes to meet his and painfully the emotions she had been numb to before were flooding over her. Washing her. Tainting her almost completely. Weetzie's eyes filled with tears. Tears. Tears? Weetzie had tears? Weetzie never had tears in her eyes. She never cried. But here she was. Tearing up. Almost crying. No. She was crying.

Tears rolled down her cheeks slowly, one by one as she stared into Bryce's eyes, "The...they... Gracie... gone..." Her eyes looked so confused. So lost. What was she without her mini-Weetz? Weetzie put her hand to her mouth and looked away as more tears rolled silently down her cheeks. She seemed to completely deflate as the words tumbled from her lips, "Gracie was outside with Steph at their new cottage. Steph went inside for one minute, one minute, Bryce, to get a bottle of water. Do you know how much can happen in one minute?" Weetzie looked at him now, the tears locked in her eyes, blurring her vision. "A bomb can go off, a train can wreck, a building can collapse, a fire can start, all those can happen in one minute. But you don't think about them, do you? If the bomb goes off, it's because it was planned in advance. If the train wrecks, it's because the railways were faulty. If the building collapses, it's from years of rotting wood. If the fire starts, it's usually from a careless mistake. But if a mother says 'I only took my eyes off her for one minute, one minute' do you know what happened in that one minute?" By now, Weetzie was shaking, and the only thing that was keeping her steady was Bryce's hands on her shoulders. She suddenly felt a wave of gratitude rush over her for him being there. "She could have gotten hit by a car. She could have fallen down a well or something. But she didn't. No, in that one minute, Gracie was kidnapped.

"Kidnapped, Bryce! She was taken! Away! They... they don't know where she is or if they'll ever find her! She could be anywhere in England, in Europe, in the world!" Weetzie reached up and grabbed Bryce's hands, falling to her knees in front of him on the ground - her tears pouring freely now. She threw her arms around his neck, throwing them both off balance a bit, and hid her face; shaking from the crying she was now doing. Weetzie's whole world had been taken away from her in one minute. Everything she had been through, everything she had been so happy about only moments before; it wasn't anything now. The only thing that mattered was that Gracie was gone. Weetzie might never see her mini ever again. That little girl was everything to Weetzie. She was her world. That little girl held everything Weetzie had ever loved. She had no sister, and when Gracie was born - Weetzie had taken the position as the older sister. Gracelynn O'Keeffe was more like Weetzie's child than she was Steph's.

[Bryce Alexander]

It only took seconds for Bryce to realize the urgency of the situation. As he crouched before Weetzie in front of the swing, Bryce could only listen to the terrible news of Gracie's kidnapping. It was one of those things that was so unexpected that Bryce literally couldn't even think of anything to say. A rush of sympathy poured over him though as he thought of how devastated Weetzie must have been. He really didn't have to imagine her horror though, as it was quite apparent through her sobs and the terrified look that was plastered on her face.

As Weetzie finally collapsed into Bryce's arms, he closed his eyes and hugged her tightly. Her trembling sobs were muffled by his jacket, and once he finally worked up the ability to speak, he muttered the only words that seemed appropriate. "I'm so, so sorry, Weetz. I'm sorry. I'm... I... I don't..." he trailed off. He realized it was only the thought that mattered, and he could be muttering curses under his breath that would be just as helpful as the pathetic sorries ever could be. Bryce, knowing how much Gracie meant to Weetzie, felt as though he were powerless in the situation. Basically, he was powerless. Even if his being there were the slightest comfort, Bryce knew that the only thing that could really bring Weetzie from her state of shock and grief would be for him to bring back Gracie. At that moment, the thought of that happening seemed almost impossible. Almost.

"We'll find her," he said adamantly, still trying to speak over the soft sobs coming from Weetzie's seemingly lifeless body. It was though a part of her was missing, and the only thing assuring Bryce that she wasn't dead was her slight trembling. Even as part of him warned that he shouldn't promise anything, Bryce wanted so badly to promise Weetzie that they would find her. He wished that he could assure Weetzie that everything would be ok and that Gracie was going to be alright. He knew better though. He knew that it was wrong of him to promise that, but at the same time he knew he could try. Bryce knew that trying was about the best thing he could do for Weetzie. And so he would try.

"Come on Weetz, you've gotta come back to me here." Bryce gently shook her lifeless body as he begged her to come to. "If there is any chance at all for Gracie, I need your help. If we hurry, we just might be able to help." He desperately tried to get Weetzie to respond. As hard as he knew it would be for her to press on and find a glimmer of hope, Bryce knew that it was their only chance. It was a long shot, but his only shot at helping Weetzie out. "You need to be strong Weetzie. Gracie needs you to be strong." Standing up, Bryce quickly pondered how quickly he had managed to shift into action from the original shock that had overcome him. Still, he knew it was only because he wanted nothing more at that time to help Weetzie thorough this. Not even wanting to begin to think what he would do assuming they wouldn't find Gracie, Bryce hung on to the small thread of hope he had managed to weave into his thoughts as he reached down to grab Weetzie's hand and pull her to her feet. "Come on Weetz," he begged again. "Every second matters."

[Weetzie O'Keeffe H7]

Weetzie felt Bryce hug her back as she continued to tremble from the sobs that were issuing from her. She kept her face hidden as she cried, extremely grateful that Bryce was there. There wasn’t anything they could do about it, at least, that’s what Weetzie kept telling herself. There wasn’t any way to fix this. If the police didn’t find her, no one would or could. So, having Bryce there – even as a means of comfort – was absolutely amazing compared to the alternative of being alone in this whole ordeal. She could have support from her family, but then she wouldn’t feel right. She shouldn’t be this torn up over this… she was acting more like the mother instead of the sister-figure. Gracie had a mother, she had Steph and although Weetzie understood this – she wouldn’t ever be able to say that Steph was more of the mother to Gracie than she was. Weetzie was the one who taught her how to walk, how to talk, and how to do half the things Gracie now did. Weetzie was the biggest influence in Gracie’s life. Steph only supported her financially, and sometimes she didn’t even do that.

As Bryce spoke, at first it was just simple apologies – sympathies, but then something happened. His tone changed. Weetzie stopped crying a little, but not much, to listen to him. They’d find her, he was saying. They would find Gracie. Could they? Would Weetzie allow herself that false hope? Was it even a false hope? Could they really find Gracie, or was Bryce just saying it to make Weetzie feel any better? Weetzie stopped crying a bit more, her sobs now quiet and almost nonexistent. She still shook in his arms, though, as he continued to speak. She knew he was right. If there was any chance of finding Gracie, Weetzie needed to pull herself together and be able to think clearly – and she just couldn’t do that if she were sobbing and falling to pieces. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm her trembling, and trying to prevent more crying from occurring. She still clung to Bryce as if he were her last hope, though.

Weetzie continued to breath in deeply and let the breaths out slowly as Bryce stood, saying that every second mattered. She nodded and took his hand to pull herself up from the ground. He was right, she knew he was right. Weetzie wiped at the tears on her face and took several more deep breaths before grabbing Bryce’s hand and looking at the cottage. She stood there for a moment in silence and then she broke it, but still looked at the cottage, “If… if we don’t find Gracie, Bryce…” she didn’t, couldn’t, even finish the thought. It was too much to bear. Weetzie sighed and started toward the cottage, her hand still clinging to his for support. She needed him at that moment. She had never needed anyone. Weetzie was, and always had been, an independent spirit. She prided herself on the fact that she had gotten through her five years of Hogwarts without needing anyone like everyone else did. But at that precise moment, she needed Bryce there to help her feel like her world wasn’t completely disappearing from underneath her.

Whether or not Weetzie was completely aware of it, Bryce had become a huge part of her world and having him there steadied her rocking and trembling world. It was something Weetzie was thankful for, and the only way she could think of showing her thanks at the current state she was in, was to pull herself together and be able to get through this in one piece. That was all she could do, all she had the will power to do, and Weetzie knew Bryce would understand. Weetzie looked over at Bryce as she opened the back door to the cottage quietly, she stepped inside to the deadly silent house – trying to block out all the memories that had begun to pour over her. All the Gracie moments that had previously made her laugh that would now make her cry. She held onto Bryce’s hand as she lead the way down the hall to the bedrooms, stopping at the one with the wooden plaque that said “Gracelynn.” She pushed open the door, knowing she’d find Steph in there. “Stephie…?” Weetzie’s voice was small as she dropped Bryce’s hand and moved over to her aunt slowly.

She hadn’t called her aunt Stephie in years. Not since she was 6. “Weetzie-baby, come here…” Weetzie sat down beside her aunt on Gracie’s little bed. Steph placed Gracie’s stuffed bunny her hands and pulled Weetzie into a hug. Her aunt always smelt of the same thing. Roses and honey suckle. It had so many good memories, that smell, but right now all it did was make Weetzie want to throw up. Weetzie hugged her aunt back and whispered in her ear, “We’re going to find her, Stephie. I promise.” The promise was foolish, but Weetzie was determined. She kissed her aunt’s cheek and pulled away, returning to Bryce’s side, the bunny still in her hands. She led him out of the room and back down the hallway to the living room and out the front door, her legs carrying her at a dizzying speed. “The first place to start is at their cottage. It’s just down the road.” She couldn’t stop, she wouldn’t stop. She just… if she did her mind would collapse again and she wouldn’t be able to help at all. Weetzie needed to help. She just had to!

((I know I might not have given you much to go off, but if you can’t get anything out of it – let me know and I’ll just write up another post. Sorry, I missed you last night, too. I was so upset when I got on and saw you weren’t on. ))

[Bryce Alexander]

Bryce felt a sense of relief whenever Weetzie suddenly seemed to take hold of the hope he had offered her. As she came to her feet as well, he followed her into the cottage where they found Stephanie. Bryce stood leaning against the frame of the door while Weetzie hugged her aunt and then told her that they would find Gracie. Bryce hoped that his telling Weetzie they would find her wasn’t going to just lead to her own disappointment. He knew that they could possibly find her, but at the same time he knew that the reality was that Gracie may not be found. He didn’t want to believe it, for Weetzie’s sake mostly, but he knew that it was still a possibility.

Seeming quite determined, Weetzie said that they should start at Steph’s cottage. She walked with a sure purpose, Bryce right behind her. As he caught up, he placed his arm around her shoulder. “Weetz,” he began, wondering if he should maybe try to prepare her for the worst. “… just be strong,” he said, deciding that the less he said might be the best. “Just be strong for Gracie, no matter what. Can you do that, Weetz? She needs you to be strong for her.” Bryce knew it wasn’t fair. Weetzie had already been so much for Gracie- he was well aware of that. But he knew that Weetzie loved Gracie like nothing else. He knew that Gracie meant everything to Weetzie, and that loosing her would bring Weetzie’s world crashing down from all points. The more he thought about it, the more Bryce realized that maybe he needed to be ready to be strong. If Weetzie’s world came crashing down, who would be the one there for her to hold it up? With another small hug, Bryce pulled Weetzie toward him as they walked. The cottage came into view, and Bryce stopped for a second. Before he could say anything though, Weetzie took off in a half-paced jog. Closing his eyes for a few seconds, Bryce then followed her, every step seeming to bring him closer to something he wasn’t sure he was ready to confront.

[Weetzie O'Keeffe H7]

Weetzie didn’t shrug Bryce off, even though she felt the urge to. She heard him speaking, but she didn’t listen to him. By now she was in action mode and she was determined to find Gracie. She just had to find Gracie. SHE HAD TO. Her feet carried her to Steph’s cottage, the sun was on her but she didn’t feel its warmth. How could she feel anything when she felt so cold inside? So absolutely numb? Gracie might be dead! They might never find her ever again! Just the thought made Weetzie want to… NO. Focus on finding Gracie! She must focus on finding Gracie! There! The cottage, just there! Weetzie broke away from Bryce’s embrace and started toward the cottage, jogging a bit but not fast because she really couldn’t feel her legs. She pushed open the wrought iron fence and stepped onto the pathway. There had to be something here that could give her a clue as to where Gracie was or who had taken her. Weetzie stopped, breathing heavily from jogging and the anticipation of finding or losing Gracie, and looked around the small yard. There were flowers underneath the windows on the left of the house that looked into the living room, and there were children’s toys lying about. They had just moved in and already Gracie had made a mess. Weetzie smiled slightly at that thought. Gracie was capable of making a mess without a problem.

Pulling herself back to the present situation, Weetzie continued to look around the yard. She spoke in a quiet, almost dead tone as she stepped over the rocks that separated the stone pathway to the front door and the grassy lawn, “She was over here, playing with her dolls. Probably singing a song.” Weetzie knelt down by a discarded doll and picked it up, letting the soft hair fall through her fingertips. She looked at the doll before letting her eyes wander along the ground, “There’s got to be something here, Bryce. Something, anything.” She hugged the doll to her and closed her eyes a minute as a breeze blew her hair behind her. She was quiet and then when she opened her eyes and set the doll down, her eyes caught on something in the bushes along the fence. She narrowed her eyebrows and stood up, walking over to the object and picking it up out of the green. The silver satin ribbon felt smooth in her hands as it fluttered in the wind to the East. Weetzie followed the end of the ribbon, she didn’t know why, but she felt she should, and her eyes landed on an object on the outside of the gate. Without a word, she stuffed the ribbon in her pocket and hopped over the fence to pick up the tiny shoe. “It’s a trail,” she said to herself but also to Bryce as she looked around for another piece of clothing, “She left a trail! Why didn’t they see that?”

Why the police didn’t see that there was a trail wasn’t important to Weetzie as she started down the hill to the next object she had spotted, this time a sock. She wondered how Gracie had managed to take off her shoe and sock while she was being abducted. Something didn’t sit right with Weetz, but that wasn’t important either. What was important was finding Gracie. She continued to follow the trail until she came to a jacket and they had reached an abandoned cottage with boarded up windows. Weetzie stopped in her tracks, her breathing slow now because she was worried. Instinctively, she reached out for Bryce’s hand before she started the walk to the cottage. Once she reached it, she peered inside one of the broken boards. It was dark and musty inside with very little light, but she knew that must have been where Gracie was. Weetzie’s stomach churned as she made her way to the front door and pulled on the door knob. It didn’t open. She bit her lip. It needed to open. Letting go of Bryce’s hand, Weetzie took a few steps back and then lifted her leg and kicked in the door. There was a loud crack! and the door opened. Without hesitation, Weetzie entered, her eyes adjusting to the dim.

It was a one room cottage, nothing like hers or Steph’s. There was a small tub in the corner next to the oven and a rickety table. A wooden crate was turned over, probably a makeshift chair. There was a single candle on the table, but it was more like a stump of one than an actual candle and Weetzie doubted it would light. The worst thing, though, about this cottage was what was in the center of it. Weetzie had frozen. Gracie. There lying on a blanket was Gracelynn, her red hair fanned out around her as she was curled in the fetal position. After Weetzie regained her composure enough to move forward, she rushed to Gracie and wrapped her arms around the tiny frail body. That was when she realized that the tiny frail body was lifeless. “No…” Weetzie turned Gracie over in her arms, her eyes filling with tears as she surveyed the blood on her head and the cut that looked like it had been fatal, “No…” she whispered as she cradled Gracie in her arms, the tears pouring now. All at once, her world fell away. She forgot that Bryce was there. She forgot that she was in an abandoned cottage. She forgot everything. Weetzie held Gracie’s lifeless body to her and rocked back and forth, sobbing and saying ‘no’ over and over again.

((Now, the way I see it you can do two things. You can have Bryce post and explain how he ran back to the cottage and brought Weetz’s mum over or you can just not post. If you have a better idea, go for it. But I’m finished! Yey!))