Heavenly Reunion (Golden Girls; Blanche/Dorothy; G/K; #358: Reunion)

[katleept.livejournal.com]

Title: Heavenly Reunion
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy
Rating: G/K
Challenge: #358: Reunion
Warning(s): Character Deaths, Future Drabble
Word Count: 500
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.



Bright light surrounds her. She winces habitually as she narrows her eyes for a better look around at her surroundings. It doesn't seem like she's still laying in that hospital bed, but then she realizes she's no longer hurting. Her pain is gone, and all she sees are white wisps of clouds. A shiver runs through her, but yet she's not really scared. Something is about to happen. She doesn't know what it is, but she senses it's going to be something great.

She steps forward, or tries to at least, but there is no ground or floor beneath her feet. Her high heels are gone. She's bare footed, and she's not entirely sure she's wearing any clothes. It doesn't matter. She knows her body is old and wrinkled, not at all what it used to be, but she's no longer ashamed of it.

"H-Hello?" Her voice echoes. She tries again to see through the whiteness all around her. All she sees is clouds.

Until some one answers. "Blanche!" A figure moves forward.

She leans toward it, trying harder to see. "George?" she asks uncertainly. Her heart tells her it's not her dead husband.

"No, honey, it's me." The voice is rough and certainly not her husband's. It is as familiar as her own, however, and Blanche recognizes its owner a second before she steps out of the clouds.

"Dorothy!"

But now Dorothy hesitates. "Would you rather it be George?" she asks, trying not to reveal her own pain. "Do you want him here instead to welcome you?"

Before Blanche can say anything, she barrels into Dorothy. Her arms go around her. There's never been a more natural or wonderful feeling than being in her arms. Her Dorothy left her, though. She left her for a man. Her words catch in her throat.

"Blanche, answer me," Dorothy demands. "Do you want George instead?"

"No!" Blanche gasps out at last. "Dorothy, I want you! It was always you!" She hugs her tightly, afraid that, at any second, she might be taken from her. "But . . . How are you? You died! Ah was at yoah funeral!"

Dorothy strokes her hair with a tenderness she only showed when they were alone together in Blanche's boudoir. "Blanche," she asks softly, "do you know where you are? Where we are?"

She hears the faint strands of music playing somewhere nearby as she pulls just enough out of Dorothy's comforting arms that she can see her face. Her wrinkles are gone, and her beauty shines. "No," she says, dabbing at her tears.

Dorothy takes her hand in hers and uses her other hand to wipe away her tears. "We're in Heaven," she says. "We made it. We both made it."

"Heaven?" Blanche repeats in a hushed whisper. She hugs Dorothy again, and there, in her tender, loving embrace and their quiet hour, she realizes she already knew the truth. After all, Dorothy's arms have always been Heaven for her. "We're together. That's all that matters." Their future seals with a kiss.

The End