As You Wish

Forever

Fifty or so years later (Approx. 1950)

You knew this day would come. You couldn't stay here forever. You had to die. You'd lived a wonderful life. You found love, hope and peace during your time, and you'd seen the world change, some ways for the better, and in others, for the far, far worse.

Two wars, global in scale, followed the prosperity of the turn of the century. The booming, thundering parade of free market economics, of trade and progress, the titans of industry, all came crashing down in the end of the 1920s. The rains inundating the dirty streets of New York, Paris, Berlin, and London as poor souls sloshed through unemployment lines reminded you of your youth- when you'd run though the East End, the future ahead of you bright and open, the darkness of your world years away.

Years seemed longer then. As you grew, first into a young woman, then a wife, a mother, (you'd adopted the orphans. They were twins. Thomas and Beatrice. They were nice kids, and they never knew who their parents really were.) and now, to your relative chagrin, a grandmother. Tom went to Weston. Her Majesty pulled some strings before she passed. She was old. She died happy, though. She was excited to see Albert again. She'd been mourning him for so long. Tom did well, and met a noble girl. She didn't care that he was an orphan, or not of her station. Her family was in on what had happened. Elizabeth and Beatrice got along famously, and she ended up finding love as well with Lizzie's help. She wouldn't let anyone call her Elizabeth anymore. She never got engaged again. She maintained the only one for her could ever be Ciel Phantomhive. You understood her more than she knew, as you only heard from her on rare occasion. You didn't want to explain yourself too much outside of what was sufficiently necessary. It was what Ciel wanted, for all of you.

Tom named his daughter after you. Beatrice named hers after her daddy. Little prat. You told her to call him father. Tom got it. She reminded you of yourself, though. So, you couldn't stay mad. She wasn't going to do things any way but her own. They were good kids. If their parents would have been alive to see them, they'd be proud.

The wars took a great deal away from those around you, and you couldn't do anything to prevent them coming on. You'd asked Sebastian, but evidently more so Azazel, if he had the power to help, if he could do anything, but it was already clear from the start: this had to happen. It was all part of the plan.

You couldn't imagine what part of God's plan would include the abandonment of his chosen people. The Nazis were worse than any legion in Hell. They were satanic. They had to be. Humans were just as terrible sometimes. You cried when you saw pictures of the death camps, and you hoped they'd be sorry for what they'd done; you couldn't hate them, because they didn't know what awaited them, just like those men all that time ago, just like the man who'd brought you into this world. You'd forgiven him too, now. Time healed all your wounds, now that it was up.

You had no hate left in your heart. You never could hold onto it. It was too much of a burden. 

Tom and Beatrice were with their families, and though you loved them, you wanted to be alone with him when you died. Your husband. They'd miss you, and you'd miss them, but this was coming for a longer time than they could truly understand.

You forced him to look old. You made sure he'd tone down his appeal, and he listened, but somehow he was the most attractive elderly man in all of France. Bastard. You weren't ugly, and to your great joy, you still had all your teeth. Perhaps years of eating like a hunter made you savage enough to be more carnivorous than not, and your teeth reflected that. You smiled, despite the fact that this time, you were dying, and nothing anyone could do could prevent it.