denver kingswood ❀ gale hawthorne (huntress) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-01-15 22:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * kit, c: denver kingswood |
WHO: Denver Kingswood -> Gale Hawthorne
WHEN: Tuesday, January 15, 2018; Late Afternoon
WHERE: Somewhere that sells baby clothes?
SUMMARY: Denver is shopping for her nieces and has a flash of Gale’s future, which makes her reflect on her own.
WARNINGS: None?
Shopping for children’s clothes had not been something Denver had anticipated needing to do. Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she’d mentally prepared for the eventuality of of being an aunt to Evan’s some day, far in the future kids, but that had been such a distant thought that it really hadn’t even been a thought, at all. But here she was, fingers brushing across ribbons and lace hanging prettily from tiny dresses and one-pieces, wishing more than she cared to admit that she could buy her new nieces one of everything. It was unfair, she thought, for each outfit to be even cuter than the next and, though she hadn’t been able to meet the girls in person, yet, she couldn’t help but to imagine them in each one she picked up. She moved on past the clothing racks and turned to face a wall of blankets, instead, wondering if maybe the littlest one needed more blankets, or if all of those sorts of things had already been handled in the several days leading up to Alex and Annie’s return to Dunhaven. A lovely soft yellow blanket caught her eye and Denver idly picked it up, holding it without thinking to her face to touch the soft fabric of it to her cheek. She closed her eyes and smiled but, when she opened her eyes again, the store had disappeared and she stood in the middle of a modestly sized nursery, instead. The tiny child gurgled and cooed in Gale’s arms, tiny bubbles popping at the corners of her mouth as her hands waved aimlessly, occasionally making contact with his shirt. For the first time in too many years, he felt whole again, like every bit of his heart was finally beating. He’d had months to prepare for her as his wife’s middle grew rounder and the days counted down closer to the baby’s arrival, but nothing could have quite prepared him for what it would feel like to hold this little girl in his arms and know that she was the one thing he’d given to this world that was pure, and good, and right. It had been ten years since the war had ended, and no more than half of that since Gale had begun to put his pieces back together. This child’s mother had helped with that. The pair of them had both been broken by the struggle for freedom and justice, but they had each been what the other needed to fill the spaces between the cracks. It had taken him too long to know he was allowed to be happy, and not too much longer than that that he’d asked his now wife to be the person he could spend everyday making happy, too. And now here they were, their family growing in ways he’d always wished for but never dared to hope he could really have. “How loved you are, Lark,” Gale murmured, his calloused thumb brushing gently across the baby’s brow as he swayed slowly back and forth. “My little songbird,” he amended, voice quiet, enamored. His family had already been enough for him, more than he could have wished for himself, but Lark was something he would never question. A small squeal escaped from the child’s lips as he started humming an old tune from his life back in District 12 and, though Gale had never been the one whose talents lay in song, his melody made his baby girl smile. He couldn’t help the joyful tears that welled in his eyes as he held her close and leaned down to press a kiss against her head. He loved her unconditionally. He had always loved her, he thought, even all those years ago sitting in a meadow dreaming of things that weren’t possible. Lark was his little miracle. She was his baby girl. Denver came to, still clutching the blanket in her hands and the warm wetness in her own eyes was undeniable. She’d spent over a year sharing Gale Hawthorne’s memories, probably not even all of them yet, and she’d assumed as much as he had that his story would not have a happy ending. She’d assumed the same for herself, too, and she knew that wasn’t where the parallels between the two of them ended. She had never expected a love like the one she had with Bash, hadn’t expected to be loved the way he loved her. She certainly hadn’t anticipated one wanting a family of her own, having decided too many years ago that it wasn’t the life she deserved. But maybe she and Gale could both have hope for the future. And as she placed the blanket back on the display, still feeling the weight of little Lark in her arms, she thought maybe it wasn’t just that she did deserve it, but maybe that she really wanted it, too. |