Title: Lost Author: Lala Pairing: Slight Ellie/Sean. As in, one mention.
Rating: PG Summary: "Don't make a scene, Eleanor, just shut up, smile and wave." Ellie's mother reflects somewhere after Don't Dream it's Over.
Spoilers: Whisper to a Scream, Don't Dream it's Over, Take on Me Author's Notes: Sorry if all the "she's" in this fic confuse you, I tried to make it as clear as to who I was referring to as possible.
Disclaimer: None of the characters within belong to me.

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Quiet voices wake her. Her head's pounding and she wants to snap at Eleanor to shut up but she can't find the energy. There's a vague notion that something important was today; she should have remembered something but she can't.

She's not quite sure, but did Eleanor just laugh? She can't remember the last time Eleanor laughed.

As though from a great distance she hears the front door closing. Then she hears footsteps but can't bring herself to open her eyes.

A minute later she senses someone leaning over her then a blanket's being draped across her.

"Night, mom."

Then the person's leaving, their whisper ringing in her ears.

She should get up. She should go upstairs and find Eleanor and ask how her date - she thinks it was a date? Went. Yes, she's remembering something; she was with Shane, wasn't it?

That's what a good mother would do; go upstairs and ask their child all kinds of embarrassing questions. She used to be a good mother. She and Eleanor would make cookies and Eleanor would smile and laugh all the time.

But then her husband started leaving and she missed him so much and the alcohol dulled the pain and now she can't stop. It's dulling her life into a blur until she's barely able to tell when one day ends and the next begins. She only knows that she can't possibly go one day without some alcohol and she's afraid what would happen if she does.

The only downside to the alcohol is Eleanor. She barely speaks to her anymore; barely even sees her. She knows she should talk to her daughter about what's been happening in her life; but she's usually too drunk to form coherent thoughts, let alone actual sentences.

She wonders sometimes if Eleanor hates her. She would hate her, if she were in her daughter's shoes. And yet she hopes she doesn't because she loves her Ellie, so much.

She wonders sometimes if Eleanor misses her; misses their talks and days spent together. She wouldn't miss her, if she were in Eleanor's position. But she's not in Eleanor's position and she misses her little girl so much. Her little Els, who's had to grow up so fast all because her mother wasn't strong enough. Her Ellie, who's more of a mother than she will ever be.

She can only pray her baby's happy. Hope that she really did hear Ellie laugh; hope that she'll maybe see her smile, just a little.

Eleanor's done so much; sacrificed so much. Given up her childhood to care for her mother and herself. And a part of her is grateful for her daughter but a bigger part aches for the things she stole from her.

She wonders if Ellie's strong enough to give her one more I love you.

Author's notes: Sorry for abrupt ending, the muse left. Got feedback?