Chapter: Count The Headlights
A/N: This story idea is very much in fact completely inspired by Elton John's Tiny Dancer. Every second as I write this I listen to the song because it fuels the my need for inspiration, and does so very well. I haven't wrote fiction for a long time and I've been stewing over this for a long time now so I hope this piece is a lot better then my other pieces of fiction I have wrote.
"Are you sure
you want to do this honey?" a man asked his wife.
"I'm sure, the public will know sooner or later, and I want to do it before it happens," his wife replied. This had been the scene fifteen minutes ago in a large New York house. Mark and Dawn Andise had discussed over the past few months wether or not to make their baby public knowledge. While this may not seem like a big deal for most couples, this couple happened to be very protective, and famous.
Mark was a famous piano player and singer/songwriter, who's works were compared to many musical geniuses, and in a time where piano music was replaced by hardcore guitar solo's and screaming that passed for music, many older people especially liked his music. The women also found the twenty-four year old rather attractive. Standing six foot two, and weighing only two hundred pounds (all of which was muscle,) he had short cut brown hair, and as Pi-Weekly Magazine put it, "had fair facial features." He was born in Canada, but had lived in New York since he was eighteen.
Dawn on the other hand was born in Russia and moved to New York when she was twelve. She herself was quite tall, five foot nine to be exact, and thin (when she wasn't carrying another person inside her), but not thin so much in the day and age where you had to be ninety pounds to be socially accepted as thin. Her light blue eyes shone when she smiled, lighting up her beautfiful face. Dawn was a professional figure skater of world renowned class. She had met Mark at one of her Olympic training sessions when she had put out a call for songwriters to write her a song to use a routine to in the olympics. Mark came up with a song called "Paccbet's Overture". The song was good, and the two fell in love over the next few weeks, wasting no time in getting married after the Olympics. The song had stole her heart, and the two had decided one day that they would have a kid.
Now they were on their way in their '69 Camaro (Mark had a love of classic cars) headed towards The New Apple Center, one of the newest buildings used for hockey games, speeches, concerts, and the like. The road was completely empty except for their car, as it was still early in the morning. Dawn was seven months pregnant and the tabloids had given up guessing on why she had not performed for the last ten months. Mark was adamant that they keep the pregnancy secret for as long as they could, to protect the child but she felt the public had the right to know. "You know we're going to have to have bodyguards posted twenty-four seven around our little girl right?" Mark said to his wife who laughed and said "You're way too overprotective honey, she'll be fine," and as she reached for his hand the two heard a loud pop, and Mark lost control of the vehichle. One of his tires had been blown out. He swerved wildly, two hands on the wheel now, trying to keep control of his car. Mark was so focused on trying to keep the car straight, he didn't see the Silver Porsche hit him on the passenger side until the last second. As the car hit the barrier and flipped over, he would remember the license plate number of the car forever as it sped past. CLD CUT. The car flipped and landed on the passenger side, and Mark hit his head on the steering wheel and blacked out.
It was awhile later when Mark came too, he opened his eyes and he saw himself being pulled out of the wrecked car by firefighters and paramedics. "Wheres my wife! I demand to see my wife! Now!" he yelled at the nearest paramedic. The man nodded grimly and pointed over to a stretcher and Mark ran over to see his wife, bleeding from many wounds, bruised all over (he himself was only minorly injured) and a baby in the hands of another paramedic. "Mark, I don't think I'm going to ma... make it. Call her Anna... please. Я люблю Вас." and as he grabbed her hand she died right there. Mark cried for the longest time, sobbed openly before someone said "The news hasn't got here yet, we can still get you out of here before they learn anything." Mark nodded and picked himself up and grabbed his baby from the paramedics' arms. He turned to face his wife and said "I love you too," before getting in the back of the ambulance and there was only one thought on his mind.
He would name her Anna.