InsaneJournal

WHO: Morgana, Gwen, Mordred, and Arthur. Also, baby Abigail.
WHEN: 15th, evening.
WHAT: Gwen and Morgana: Best Friends Forever. And baby Abigail steals the show, and quite possibly a piece of Mordred's heart. PART 3/3
WHERE: Arthur and Gwen's apartment.
Ratings: PG-13

The first time Gwen had woken had been to Arthur lifting the light weight from her chest, but it didn’t take much to get back to sleep. After all, she knew Abigail wasn’t awake or crying and Arthur could handle her if need be. So she had gone back to sleep with little hesitation, though as usual it was light. Light enough that she would be able to hear Abigail’s cry if it occurred, even though she knew Arthur would wake her if he needed her help. He was a more than capable father and she had every faith that, if he could, he would settle their daughter.

It seemed like she had been asleep for only seconds the next time Arthur woke her. She had barely a chance to ask if something was wrong with Abigail before he told her they had a visitor. Despite her sleepy state, her hair in disarray and her body clad in light sleeping trousers and one of Arthur’s shirts, she jumped up. Not that Morgana, or anyone in that room, would care. She was allowed to not be dressed perfectly at the moment.

After brushing past her husband and into the living room, her eyes didn’t take long to start to fill with tears, both at the sight of her best friend alive and at the sight of her holding Abigail. She had thought she would never see Morgana again and it took a lot for Arthur to make her stay put rather than rushing out to get her best friend. How she had managed to fall asleep knowing Morgana was alive in the first place was a surprise, and she fully blamed Abigail’s calming presence.

“Morgana...”

Her eyes glanced over Mordred for a second, but she only really had one thing to do. Within seconds, she was by Morgana’s side, reaching out to run a hand over her hair before her face was buried amongst the fine strands. She knew her tears were likely dampening her hair but at the moment was too busy taking her in to really care.

Morgana looked up sharply and it was barely at the last minute she kept herself from looking for what she couldn’t see. She didn’t have to wait for long because Gwen was upon her in seconds. She knew it was Gwen because it smelt like Gwen and soft curls pressed against her face. It was a balancing feat that had Morgana holding her breath but she managed to shift Abigail yet again in order to carefully wrap an arm around Gwen. She hoped that Arthur came to get his daughter soon because she wasn’t certain that she could adjust the tiny child yet again without dropping her the next time. She was reacting solely on instincts that she was grasping at, instincts that were naturally sharp but were also very unused to be stressed in such away, without sight to fall back on.

She didn’t know what to say to Gwen or what to do other than hold her, and blink back her own tears. It was as if these past few hours were a test to her self-control. As if some greater power was trying to see just how long Morgana could last before she broke down and started sobbing.

“Here. Let me just-” Arthur lifted his daughter out of Morgana’s arms, removing the burden of balancing a baby, a young child, and a sobbing friend. He stood, leaving room for Gwen to sit beside Morgana, rocking Abigail as he took small steps before them. She whined, unhappy with being moved so suddenly, but Arthur knew he was the only one prepared to keep a hold of her. There would be true tears should he put her down. It was simply easier this way.

The moment Abigail was removed from Morgana’s arms, Gwen’s own were wrapped fully around her friend. Her face buried more against her hair and she tightened her hold, as if she was hoping that holding her would make all the bad things that had happened disappeared. She didn’t know what to say, her thoughts were jumbled. But the thing that came out of her mouth she really hadn’t expected and probably could have left until a later time.

“”

Morgana stilled and she would have sworn that she heard the slow thudding of her own heart. It was as if all the blood rushed … somewhere. A slow warmth filling her as her mind just played and replayed what Gwen had just said. She recalled when she had mentioned it, teasingly, she hadn’t expected … she hadn’t thought … it … Her breathing grew shaking and hitched every once and awhile as she attempted to keep the tears from streaming down her face but she couldn’t. The had named her goddaughter after her. Morgana swallowed. For a moment it was as if she forgot how to breathe, mind blank, before, she redoubled her grip on Gwen and mostly gave into the tears, tears that lightly shook her slim frame.

She could feel the tears, the gentle shake of her shoulders and knew that it wasn’t just Morgana who was crying. Her fingers dug lightly into the other woman’s shoulders, but not in a way that could possibly hurt her. She was careful to make sure of that. But the tears wouldn’t stop coming no matter how much she held her. All she could do was sob and mutter over and over again.

“I missed you. God how I missed you.”

Morgana fought to get herself under control. “I’m .. I am so sorry, Gwen. I am so very sorry.” She would cut off her own arm rather than cause any of the people in this room harm. Morgana would have ripped a new one on anyone who had hurt Mordred, Arthur, and Gwen the way she had ended up causing them pain.

She was so frustrated with herself. And she was so very happy to be alive again. To have this opportunity.

“What are you apologising for, you silly thing?” She laughed lightly, pulling away a little to wipe the tears from Morgana’s face. She knew what had happened to Morgana’s sight and knew she wouldn’t know the state that they both had gotten into. How bad they must look by now. Gwen wiped her own tears away before reaching out to run her hands over Morgana’s face, tucking her hair behind her ears as she did so.

Mordred had scrambled off the sofa at around the moment Gwen had appeared, getting away from the two women and the emotion that he could feel flowing from Morgana into him until it was almost suffocating. Now he stood a few feet away, arms wrapped closely around his skinny chest, watching the scene play out with a careful, blank expression. He didn’t want Morgana to cry, hated it, but had no idea what to do. After all, that last time Morded had allowed himself to shed tears had been years ago. He hadn’t cried when his Father died, hadn’t cried when Emrys tore everything apart and hadn’t cried when Morgana had been taken days previously. And now he found himself completely at a lost, hovering at the edge of her reunion with Gwen, very aware of Arthur a few feet away.

He wanted to go home. But even if he could talk to Morgana without the others hearing, he wasn’t about to ask for that now. Instead Mordred looked around a little blankly, finally letting his gaze land on Arthur and the baby. Carefully, as if approaching some kind of dangerous animal that could turn any moment, the young boy padded over to the man, sharp gaze cautious and never leaving Arthur’s eyes until the moment when he could easily crane his neck to peer into Gail’s face again. The baby and the little boy looked at each other curiously, Gail in the safety of her Father’s arms, Mordred balanced on his toes and doing his very best not to accidentally brush against Arthur as he tried to ignore the sound of muffled sobs from the couch.

“Would you like to hold her?” Arthur asked, having watched Mordred approach him like a wary animal. It frustrated him endlessly that the little boy kept blaming him for events he never took part in, but he understood the slow burn of hatred. Not that he liked it. He lowered his arms, not quite crouching to see if Mordred would hold her. The distraction was needed. Arthur couldn’t watch Gwen and Morgana anymore than Mordred seemed able to be near them. The very fact that the little boy was in front of him now proved that.

Mordred started a little at Arthur’s voice, taking a hasty step back as his gaze was ripped from the baby’s face. Then, chewing methodically on his bottom lip, he took a quick glance in Gwen and Morgana’s direction. Arthur couldn’t hurt him now that Morgana was back. She wouldn’t let that happen. With that in mind, Mordred took a hesitant pace forward and held out his arms to take the baby a little awkwardly from Arthur.

She was heavier than he expected, and warm and wriggling, making a mewing noise as the boy took her, holding her in the awkward cradle of his arms. Carefully, Mordred sat down on the floor so he couldn’t drop her, eyes fixed on the baby, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. Then his tongue slipped out to wet his lips, and the boy actually croaked out a few words, not much more than a whisper and a little shaky with childish nerves.

“She smells nice,” he offered hoarsely, having only said three words to the man before and not looking at Arthur now, scared to break this moment of almost-truce between them. Mordred balanced the baby in his lap, cradling her head in the crook of one arm as his free hand touched the tiny starfish of her hand, watching small, chubby fingers latch on with an alarming amount of strength.

Morgana leaned into Gwen’s hand just savoring the warmth and the closeness to her best friend. She had felt Mordred shift away and had only relaxed when she had felt him still in the room. Morgana struggled her best to stem the flow of emotions and thoughts that he must be feeling. She tried to wall him out but it was difficult with all of these emotions getting the better of her.

She had been about to answer Gwen when what was happened between Arthur and Mordred snagged her attention. Sightless eyes turned toward the moment and her breathing caught. Morgana knew how much they must dislike seeing Gwen and her in tears, she could imagine how uncomfortable Mordred was feeling and how frustrating this all was for Arthur: Mordred’s unease and seeing two people he cared for so upset. Nevertheless, that tentative moment between the two of the stilled Morgana’s attempts to gain control of herself. It was sad and sweet and more than she had ever expected to occur with Arthur and Mordred.

Letting out a shaky breath, Morgana just leaned in and gave Gwen another tight hug. Choosing not to answer her friend and keeping a tight hold on her thoughts to keep them from leaking onto Mordred, she couldn’t help think: For leaving you. For hurting all of you. For being so reckless and stupid. Because it was true. She wouldn’t share those thoughts because she knew it would only upset them and have them trying to reassure her that it wasn’t the case when she knew better. And she was sorry for it.

Gwen’s eyes had gone to Mordred when Arthur spoke, and the sight she saw after warmed her heart. The boy never seemed to dislike her daughter, but he just did not seem too upfront with any of his emotions. To see him being so careful with her, and then to see Abigail respond with a grasp to his finger, simply made her smile. First at Mordred, then at her husband. But then she was being pulled back in against Morgana ans she ran a comforting hand over her back.

“She’s holding Mordred’s finger. It seems she is following her namesake when it comes to him.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed as Mordred took his daughter and sank to the floor, careful with her as he was with everything else. He rolled his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest, bereft of something to hold now. It was a near miss, but he almost toppled backward when Mordred spoke to him. He swallowed twice, finding any words stuck at the roof of his mouth, caught there from shock and the odd tremor that passed through him over the words. It was more than Mordred had spoken to him since he arrived in the city and it had blindsided him.

“She could do worse.”

Morgana pulled back at Gwen’s words, letting out a surprised, slightly wet laugh and she discreetly wiped at the corner of her eyes. “She truly could.” She answered, her tone filled with love and affection for her little boy, and gratefulness toward Arthur for saying what he had. It would, might, never be alright between the two of them - Arthur and Mordred - but it pleased her immensely that they were trying. That this moment was happening. Yes, even though she couldn’t see it.

Mordred sat cross-legged on the floor, Gail in his lap, his eyes fixed on the tiny figure in his arms and his face set in a thoughtful expression. Almost as if he was trying to figure her out. The adults were talking, their voices low and rich with emotion and easy enough for the boy to tune out as he focused on not dropping or hurting the baby.

Next time he looked up Morgana and Gwen had separated, and he absently adjusted his grip on the child. Now seemed a better time to ask his question. At least she wasn’t crying any more, and that itself lifted a crushing weight from his chest, so he could breathe again and concentrate on keeping the baby in his arms.

*Can we go home tonight?* he silently asked Morgana, his lips pressing together as he looked across at her. Even though she couldn’t look back.

Morgana frowned slightly before her mouth curled upward again and she nodded. She would call Morgause when they arrived home and tell her about the change of plans. Mordred deserved his own bed and she would have been lying if she had said that the thought of home filled her with as much comfort as it did trepidation. *We can.* She said softly, sending him warmth. *We can go home tonight.*