time is the wound

My take on a Blue-centric Lisa Frankenstein au of TRC"Maybe it was simply that he was here when the boy she had loved was not. Blue tended to his grave whenever possible, leaving him lilies or one time, a pair of her mother’s earrings.“They’re Turkish eyes,” said Blue. “They’re supposed to protect you. But I feel kind of sick whenever I wear them. And since your grave doesn’t have protections on it, I thought you should have them. And Maura – I called my Mom by her first name, she always wanted me to feel like she was a peer – she’d want you to have them, I think. Because you're alone and she never thought anyone should be alone. And because you help me.” She’d smiled, and turned away from the grave, ready to head back home before it was too dark out.Now, Blue crouched in front of the statue. Not to pray, she hadn’t been raised to be religious. Just to wish. “I wish I was with you.” She let the tears fall finally, now that no one could see her, now that they would only mix with the rain.