Charlie Weasley (borntoresist) wrote in thedisplaced, @ 2017-12-03 16:07:00 |
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There weren't a lot of places in Tumbleweed that Charlie Weasley would rave about. JJ's was decent, and a place he'd frequent less if it weren't for Rocket, and the fact that Florean's existed did delight him. But he was one who would take a home cooked meal any day. Unfortunately, he wasn't the best at tossing together a proper dinner. He could grill and he could toss vegetables onto a roasting pan; but he didn't inherit Molly Weasley's skills. Thus there was no chance he'd make a meal for her. And taking her out felt just a bit more special anyway. He had chosen a BBQ joint that had decent potatoes and figured it would suffice, regardless of the very Texan decor upon the walls. He pulled out the chair for his Mother and offered a smile. He was looking forward to the time together but dreading the conversation. It was hard to gauge how she would react. If she were older, or he was younger, perhaps he would have had a better idea. But it was a matter of relearning their relationship with the shifts in norm. "They make decent potatoes," he decided to inform her once she had sat. To say that Molly was excited to have some one on one time with Charlie was an understatement. It wasn’t every day someone else treated her to a meal, mostly because she insisted she prepare a meal because she truly enjoyed it. However, with Charlie’s offer to take her out she couldn’t refuse. It was more about the company than the meal, anyway. American food was new to her. She was used to her own cooking, or else on the rare occasion that she and Arthur had an evening away from the children, occasionally something foreign. French food wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, in Molly’s humble opinion. She liked homey, down to earth meals. So this BBQ was entirely new to her. She had never even heard of it before tonight. She offered Charlie a smile, “Then I’ll have to try them.” She would see for herself if they were half as good as he insisted. Although, she was under the impression her son enjoyed her cooking and wouldn’t steer her wrong in this decision. "They smother them in cheese," he told her with a bit of a laugh, before he made his way around to the other side of the table and took his own seat. He didn't pick up the menu, knowing already what he intended to order for himself. Brisket was becoming a favorite since his arrival in Tumbleweed. "Do you want something to drink? Wine? Beer? They mostly have the weak American varieties but there is a local one that isn't half bad," he continued, watching her with a smile. “Cheese?” asked Molly, with surprise, her expression matching her mood. “Why on earth smother it in cheese? Seems a little overdone to me,” she said with a shake of her head. She put up a hand to stop herself, “But if they’re as good as you claim, then I will give them a fair try.” Molly wasn’t the best at trying other people's food, because she was so used to cooking for everyone else. She had a set way of doing things, so smothering a perfectly good potato seemed overkill in her mind. She looked over the menu, deciding she would try the chicken. That seemed a safe bet. For a split second she almost refused any sort of alcohol, but then remember she had no reason not to try it. She no longer had to completely care for little ones. “I’d like a glass of red,” she said with a little nod. “Is their chicken any good? I’m settling for that.” Charlie glanced down to try to shield the look of amusement that quickly spread across his face. He wasn't at all surprised by the surprise. Glancing back up, he continued to smile. "Americans are excessive," he commented. Then he nodded his head. He didn't comment about the drink choice and only gave indication that he had heard her. He had always been the one to keep silent, speaking when it felt necessary or when the mood suited. "They do. They serve it a few ways. I like the baked variety myself," he offered as a suggestion before letting his attention shift to the waitress. "A glass of red and a…" he hesitated, biting back the instinctual response of 'pitcher,' "...mug of whatever you've got for the seasonal tap." Then his attention went back to his Mother. "Got plans for what we're going to do when Ron is out?" “That’s an understatement,” Molly commented in return. “Americans could learn a thing or two about seasonings instead of dousing everything in chese. Cheese is meant to be savored.” As was most food, but the point was way too much cheese. Molly smiled and closed her menu, deciding on her order. “Very, well. Chicken it is.” It was still the safest bet in her book, because she wasn’t all that adventurous with food. She could have made her own cookbook with all the recipes she kept at the Burrow. Molly bit her tongue. It was so strange to her that her children drank alcohol. Sure, they were all fully grown in this reality, but it was still very strange to her. She remembered the other Charlie mentioning parties and drinking. It hadn’t settled well with her. She wondered if Charlie from her reality did the same and those thoughts were quickly extinguished, because she was still a young mother no matter her children’s ages and she was not prepared to imagine those things. A mug. That was safe. It wasn’t as though he had ordered every drink off the menu. She considered his question and had an answer ready, “I’ve already got a dinner planned.” Which was entirely the way of Molly Weasley. Molly, mother bear who had the insatiable need to feed everyone. "We could take a trip down South and try some of the Cajun food. I've been told that is all about seasoning," he offered with a tone of amusement. Of course, he didn't feel terribly different from his Mother on the subject. He was a meat and potatoes type of guy. It didn't need to be fancy. He expected a comment about the alcohol. The lack of one was a surprise but he didn't intend to bring it up. He instead folded his arms on the table and nodded his head. "I figured you might," he replied. He thought for a moment how she wouldn't know Ron's favorites from her point in time. As she already had a plan, however, he wasn't going to offer them up. They could have changed for all Charlie knew. "You know," he began before shifting to lean back against his chair, arm slinging over the back of it, "...Ron and I shared a space together. Briefly. When we were living in this place called Mount Weather." He paused. "Only time me and him ever did share." “Hm,” was the sound Molly made at the suggestion. She nodded her head slowly, thinking about that possibility. “That could be interesting. We don't need special identification for traveling outside of Tumbleweed, do we?” she asked curiously. “I suspect Ron’s favorites have changed a bit since he was a toddler. Hopefully his eating habits have gotten better and he doesn't sling his food around anymore,” she joked. “Do you ‘spose he'd like one of my casseroles? That's what I had planned, but if he prefers something else I can improvise.” Molly chuckled, “Why am I not surprised my boys don't share well?” She leaned back on her chair and crossed her legs. “Tell me about Mount Weather.” "No," he commented easily enough. "We are free to go as we please. They just don't want us making a seen. Need to be discrete and all," he explained, figuring she would assume he meant in regards to magic. "Ron likes food. Pretty sure he will be thrilled by whatever you opt for," he promised, offering an encouraging smile. Then he laughed. "Bill and I did just fine," he reminded her with a shrug of his shoulders. "And I'd have slept outside if you'd have let me." He paused for a moment. He didn't love memories of Mount Weather. He took in a breath. "Well, it was all under ground. It was essentially a nuclear fallout shelter," he explained. "We all had to come together as a unit to survive." Molly nodded, “Good to know on all accounts.” Molly surmised he meant to keep their magic on the down low. Considering they were expected to do that in Tumbleweed, she figured it extended to the rest of the country. It wasn't anything new to her. The Burrow had been charmed so that any muggles who came too close would instantly turn around, thinking they had a task to compete elsewhere. She suspected the Burrow here had the same charm. Molly beamed at that announcement, “I can always trust you boys to enjoy anything I make.” They were like trying to feed an army. A tiny army of redheaded boys. With Molly and Ginny being the only girls. She smirked, “I wasn't about to let my young child sleep outside by himself.” Molly frowned, not liking the sound of Mount Weather. “Oh,” she started, hesitating, “that… you don't have to talk about that if you don't want to. That sounds like a difficult time.” "I'll go ahead and warn you that you'll be fighting that fight all the way through my seventeenth birthday," he informed her with a bit of a chuckle. His desire to be outside of the Burrow grew in intensity every year as the younger children became more self sufficient. There reached a point where he had his very own treehouse out in the woods. In the beginning it wasn't even remotely safe, and he'd tried to hide it from his Mother's eyes, but it'd become rather sturdy as he began to read up on carpentry. He nodded his head a bit when she inferred about the Mountain. "A bit," he admitted before shrugging his shoulders. "But it wasn't all bad. A good portion of the community we have now was there, too," he explained, before glancing away when the waitress set their drinks down. He ordered and waited for his Mother to do so as well before he continued. In the interim, he'd picked up his drink and took a sip. Looking to her now, he cleared his throat. "You were there," he then said. "In the Mountain." He paused. "Not for long, though." Molly made an exasperated sound, “What else would you have expected from a worrying mother? I couldn't have my son out in the woods, alone. I suppose you went off on your own immediately upon completing Hogwarts.” Molly understood hard times. They weren't something she enjoyed discussing. Much of the time she had had to keep her boys occupied and distracted from what has happening outside the Burrow. It was hard, tiring work. The last year had been particularly difficult, especially for Molly. She hadn't let her young children see how broken she had been over the last year. Even here in Tumbleweed she tried to hide her own sorrow. “I'm glad you had people to look to. It's always good when times are tough,” she said reminiscent of her own hard times. “I was?” she asked, surprised. “I don't remember being there at all.” He just smiled at her. It had been easy to slip away as he'd grown older. Not that he was intending to tell her that. No need to give her needless anxiety, after all. But being one of the quieter ones, in contrast to the Twins, had it perks. He nodded his head in agreement though. "Romania," he replied. He'd went almost the moment Hogwarts was over. He'd been fresh faced and wide eyed and uncertain of how he'd succeed but he'd gone anyway with a grin on his face. "Not all of them are here anymore. Some have come back," he remarked, thinking now to Snow. That was the subject he needed to circle to but he had time. They had a whole evening, didn't they? Then he nodded his head as his thumb circled the lip of his mug. "Traditionally people don't remember being here. Sometimes they do, but rarely." He cleared his throat and looked down at the table, not trusting himself to not have a look about that statement. His eyes had a way of betraying him and if he had kept his gaze up, they'd have shown how Charlie had experienced this far more than he was letting on. "It was you, me, Ron, and Ginny around that period. And some of the kids," he explained, referring to his future nieces and nephews. Of those, only Albus remained. He drew in another breath then looked to her. "People come and go." There had been so much Molly had missed by being pulled from her time into this new age in which her children were all grown up. She smiled, albeit a little sadly, “Romania? Did your father and I ever visit?” She nodded at the explanation about people not remembering. “I see,” she said thoughtfully. “It must be part of the magic of this place.” She didn't like being pulled away from her small children, but her grown adult children would suffice. “I suppose they come and go often, judging by how many people arrive around the same time,” she said. She was glad Ronald was there now. That left Arthur, Fred, and Percy. "You did. Brought Ginny one Christmas," he replied, with a nostalgic smile. That had been a particularly enjoyable holiday as far as Charlie has been concerned. It wasn't necessarily a quiet one, however, what with it being the first that they'd ever really tried to accommodate Harry. He then nodded his head again. "Yeah, it is. Albus probably has theories on how it works and all but you'd have to talk to him," he said quietly. "They do," he added, rather quietly. Clearing his throat, he looked to her. "That's actually...kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Tonight." He'd mentioned wanting to have a chat with her. Obviously, spending dinner together was nice, too, but he'd wanted a chance to talk away from everyone else. “I did?” she asked with a smile. “I know she's grown here, but I can't help seeing her as four months old. Or any of you boys as my rambunctious children,” she confessed. She finally took a sip of her wine, making a sour face. “Been awhile since I've had any of this,” she said, smacking her lips. She sat up a little straighter. She drew in a breath and nodded, “Go on.” She was curious what was on his mind. Apparently it had something to do with people coming and going. She couldn't help being curious, and a little worried. She was always worrying over something. "My first one out of Hogwarts," he added with a nod of his head. It'd been the first one he'd really missed. Charlie had always been one to go home for Christmas when he'd been in school. "It's hard not to think of people as you know them. Sometimes, I forget how much older George is than me, and expect to see a young entrepreneur," he said, with a light chuckle. Then he nodded his head. "Someone I care about has come back," he began, hands moving away from the mug to resist the urge to pick it back up and take another swig. He dropped them to his lap, so he could clutch them together beneath the table. "You know Jo? She and I lived with this person, before, and when she left, we came to the Burrow because we had nowhere else to go. Our home had disappeared," he explained, before pursing his lips. "She's back and so is her house," he paused. "And I want to go back." Molly offered a warm smile. “I think even if I were older I'd still see you all as small,” she confessed. Even though Bill was headed for Hogwarts the following year in her reality, he was still her baby boy. The same could be said of all her boys. Ronald was still just a baby to her, and yet he had arrived as an adult. It would l take getting used to. Molly listened intently, nodding here and there. It wasn't easy for her to hear that her son wanted to move out, even if he was fully grown and probably should move out. If she was being completely honest with herself, she thought that maybe she had been too forceful as always and that she was partly to blame. She was quiet, not wanting to put the attention on herself because Charlie had come to her about this. It was about him. Not her. She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. “You would have stayed there if it had never disappeared?” "I would have," he reinforced. He didn't know if Jo would have. He suspected she probably would have but it wasn't his place to call. He didn't say more, just yet, but there looked as if he was holding a piece of the story back. Which, of course, he was. It wasn't a house so much that he yearned to go back to. Molly nodded slowly, frowning. She didn't like it. She still saw him as her little Charlie. It wasn't easy for her to just let her children go, even if they were all grown up with lives of their own. She sighed then, “Well, I'm not going to lie and say I like this,” she started. “However, I can't make you do what I want you to do. You're an adult who can make your own choices and if this is what you want I will support you.” Molly paused before adding, “You'll be living with a girl?” He didn't interrupt her. And he hadn't necessarily expected her to be thrilled, even though as an adult he'd long been out of the house by this age. But she wasn't used to a twenty year old. He was still nine for her so he suspected this declaration would be more difficult. Though, hopefully, not as difficult as an announcement that he was moving to Romania. "Thank you," was what he chose to say. Then he nodded his head. "Snow and her kids." Molly nodded once, “And who exactly is this Snow? And she has children? Is she married, or…?” She needed to know where her son was running off to. She didn’t know this other woman and it was Molly’s job to keep her children safe. From what she could tell she had done just that because they were all functioning adults with careers, and in some instances, families. Admittedly, it made her uneasy to imagine him running off like this. He anticipated the questions to some extent. He knew his Mother, after all. And he had already seen her try to leap to conclusions about Jo. But answers were more difficult. He didn't know what he and Snow really were anymore. He knew what he hoped might happen, one day, and he also knew he shouldn't hope for it. It was setting himself up for pain. "Snow White." As if that was going to really answer the question. "She was in the Mountain with me. For awhile, she was all I had." This was true. Sure, Tonks had been around, but the divide between them that was forming now had been set then. It was a ravine he didn't know how to shut. "Five of them. Blossom, Ambrose, Conner, Ghost, and Winter." He hesitated for a moment. "There are two others but they aren't here. Darien passed away and Therese didn't come with her when she arrived." He frowned, remembering how just last year, Darien had been one of Snow's ghosts. "Bigby. Her husband is Bigby. He isn't here." He cleared his throat. "He is a long story that isn't mine to tell but…" another hesitation, "...anyway." “I see,” she responded to the first bit. It was understandable to become close to others when they were the only ones who offered support or comfort. Molly had that in Arthur, but he wasn’t there so her personal comfort had to come from her children. Or at least, she allowed it now that she didn’t have her husband around to lean on. However, she didn’t like opening up to them about her brothers’ deaths. That wasn’t their burden and Molly didn’t want to place it on them. But she understood that companionship. It was a moment before Molly said anything else. “I understand it isn’t your place to tell that story, but it’s strange to me you want to go live with a married woman.” It wasn’t appropriate. If another man tried living with her, that wasn’t family or friend, Molly would shoo them away. He lifted a hand from underneath the table and rubbed at the back of his neck. "We don't always have the luxury of having people we want here with us. How long do you wait for them is a question a lot of us have to face," he murmured. He hadn't ever been sent home. He had to face that question with Emmeline. With Rose. With Snow. And Snow faced it with Bigby, once. Maybe now again. Molly’s eyes narrowed a little at that statement. True as it may be, there was something hidden in those words and Molly could practically smell it. “I would wait a thousand years for you father,” she said sharply. It was by no means a jab at him. It was more truth than anything. “Charlie, I feel like you’re not telling me something. What is your history with this woman and why is she so important that you need to live with her? And I don’t want to hear she was the only one there for a time. There’s more here and I want to know.” He glanced away now from his Mother and there was a flicker of an expression that Charlie had rarely shown to his Mother as a child. The look of aggravation and disagreement. It was one usually shown, in her years, when the boy was protesting coming indoors. Otherwise, he'd been an altogether agreeable child, and he'd left it up to his twin brothers to be the rebel rousers. He wait a moment before he spoke and his eyes weren't on her when they did. "I'm aware, but you won't live that long," he said. "Snow will. And that is a length of time neither you or I could properly comprehend the actual gravity of." It had clearly hit a nerve of some sort that likely was not Molly's intention. He folded his hands now above the table and glanced down at them. He suspected his Mother possibly would wait forever for Arthur. He didn't think that was necessarily wrong. But he also didn't think it was right to assume others would act similarly in her circumstance. He kept silent after that as he tried to think of how to answer her. How was he supposed to explain everything he wasn't telling her over one dinner? It wasn't something quite that simple. There was a little twitch of her left eye as he spoke. Molly wanted answers, she didn’t want to be pointed out that she wouldn’t live forever. She knew that. “That wasn’t the point,” she said. “The point is I will wait for your father for as long as possible.” Arthur probably would have been an excellent dinner guest for this particular evening. He could have steered Molly from interrogating their son. Her eyes narrowed more as Molly grew ever more suspicious. She had come to know that there was nothing romantic between Charlie and Jo. She thought Jo was a lovely girl and she liked having the Burrow full of people. Even just one person leaving made it feel empty. She sighed, “Charlie, I am not berating you. I want to know what this Snow is to you. Please just answer my questions. Do you have feelings for her?” Because he clearly was rather defensive about the subject. Only someone who cared deeply for another would become so defensive over them. "I know you would. That isn't a reality for everyone," he said, with his eyes still averted down, keeping firm tabs on his hands. He wanted to reach forward and take a drink. He did not. He drew in a deep breath before tilting his head up to look at her. He didn't answer the question but his face did him no favors. Charlie loved Snow. He hadn't stopped loving Snow even after she left. He'd just tried to tell himself it was for the best. He knew he was temporary in her life and he was afraid of the possibility of her eventually being all alone in a universe not her own. He'd tried to be happy. But it hadn't stopped him from missing her and sometimes wishing she'd come back, even though he'd immediately pull back the wish, because she ought to be in a world with her family and people like her. He didn't want her to ever be alone. But he loved her and it was clear because he was biting down on the inside of his lip, looking more vulnerable than he usually ever did. “The reality here is that it’s possible your father might not show up. But I’ve got my children and friends here. If your father doesn’t arrive I am content with taking care of those I love.” It was how Molly Weasley was. It was not in her nature not to care for others or to fuss over them, least of all to worry over them. Right now, she was worrying over Charlie. It was a harsh reality to come to terms with, the possibility of not seeing Arthur again. It tore her up inside to even imagine a world where he might never exist. She folder her own hands on the table and stared at him for several moments. “You do. Have feelings for her.” She sighed and leaned back in the chair. “You have to understand I’ve got my morals and this is a strange situation. I want you to be happy, Charlie.” It was so difficult to not see him as her nine year old. It was hard for her not to want to hold him, because in this moment that’s exactly what she wanted to do. It wasn’t officially an approval, because Molly did not approve of someone loving a married person. However, she wanted more than anything for her children to be happy and safe. “If this makes you happy I’m not going to hold you back.” Charlie repressed the urge to sigh. He wasn't trying to say she should move on from Arthur or that she ever could. He just knew not everyone would hold out. It was an unrealistic expectation. And he liked to think his Father wouldn't want her waiting for him forever. Not that he expected his Mother to be here long enough for that to ever be a question. When it came right down to it, Charlie was beaten down so much by departures that he didn't imagine a future with his loved ones remaining. It was a temporary moment of relative joy but he'd seen this song and dance before. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. "My feelings aren't part of this decision," he said quietly. He wasn't moving back to be with Snow. It hadn't even been discussed. Sure, he had hopes, but right now he just wanted to go home. He glanced down at the mention of being happy, as if he didn't actually think that was going to be in the cards. "And they aren't known." Meaning, she was right, but he didn't communicate the knowledge. Molly ran her fingers through her hair. “Of course they are, judging by how secretive you’re being. If you want to move back, I’m not going to stop you. I’m going to miss having you ‘round the Burrow and you’ll always be welcome.” Molly sighed then. Years had been ripped from her and it was unfair that she didn’t get to live those years with her children, even if they had turned out well. She Hadn’t actually watched them grow to that point. “Maybe people do come and go as you said, but I’m here now. I just want you to talk to me,” she said in an almost desperate voice. Maybe she didn’t know his history with anyone there, but she was still his mother and it pained her that he wouldn’t open up to her. There were few people she could truly open up to. She just wanted to be that person for her children. He took in a deep breath. "I'm not trying to start something with her," he clarified. Then he shook his head. "No one knew what we were when she was here the first time." Then he nodded his head. "I want to go." His eyes flashed up with the sound of her voice and he felt his heart sink, as though he had done something wrong. He unfolded his hands and moved one forward to take his mug. He lifted it and took a drink, long and without making eye contact as he did. Then it set down and he swallowed. "No one stays, Mama." He was so tired of going over things again and again. “Alright. You aren’t starting anything with her. So why the secrecy? I could be helpful if you allow me to be.” Maybe there was more disapproval in her voice this time than she meant. In truth, she was trying to mother him like she did when he was little. She wanted her boy to talk to her but he wouldn’t and it broke her. “Who’s to say I won’t stay? Who’s to say you won’t go back to the time you were pulled from? Shouldn’t we be making the best of our time now instead of being closed off?” Molly wanted to feed to world. She wanted to take care of others. It was in her nature to be the mother hen and keep everyone warm and well fed. So it hurt her physically that he wouldn’t open up to her. He was silent for a few moments, letting her words wash over him. He didn't want to argue. He was exhausted from arguing so frequently with Tonks. But he doubted he was ever leaving. He was an old timer. There were fewer and fewer of them but statistically they were the ones to bet on would still be around 6 months down the line. He didn't know if it was a blessing or curse. He used to demand he stay, because it was the only way to have Tonks still alive and well. But she left and left and they fought and fought. And everyone else went, too. He swallowed. "Okay," he said shakily. If she asked now, he would try. This was like pulling teeth. Molly wanted to be gentle, and yet she was growing impatient. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t just telling her how he felt. He had done that so often when he was a boy. What had changed? “Charlie, we are getting nowhere. You’ve told me bits and pieces and I’d like a full picture.” She drew in a deep breath and then leaned forward, reaching a hand out to his. “I’m sorry that people disappeared. It’s never easy when someone you care about is gone, but we can’t sit around moping about something we’ve lost.” This hit so close to home for Molly, because she had lost her brothers only months before. “Talk to me while I’m here. I regret not telling my brothers so many things before they were gone,” her voice was shaky then, but she had to put forth her own experience. "I said 'okay,'" he whispered. His eyes fell to her hand and he shifted, taking hold of it. He shut his eyes and shook his head lightly. "They come back here. They don't do that at home. You mourn them and then they come back. It isn't…" Every time Tonks left, he was afraid it'd be the last time. And yet each time she came back, he'd mess it up. "Just… what do you want to know, Mum? I'll try." He opened his eyes and looked at her, mind flashing to Fred. "I know." “It isn’t what?” she urged him. She wanted him to say whatever he needed to say. It was how she had begun to move on past her own grieving. “I want to know what’s wrong. What’s happened for you that you’re not telling me?” She had lost so much that year in her timeline. There wasn’t anyway of getting it back, no matter how much she missed it. She wouldn’t get Arthur, certainly not by sitting around waiting for him. So she occupied her time. She mothered the others living at the Burrow. It was all she knew how to do to pass her time. "Natural." He didn't want to sound like he was whining or complaining. He would take any extra day with Tonks or Fred or Gideon or Fabian. But that didn't mean it was easy to try to move forward and then be yanked back. "And it isn't the same when they go back to a place where you don't exist and then come back not knowing why you were important; but it hurts just as much." Then he wanted to laugh but he didn't care. He wasn't that rude to his Mother. "I don't know where to start with that, Mum." Tonks had demanded this out of him just before Molly showed back up. At least this time he wasn't drunk and he wasn't in a shouting match. “Oh,” she said quietly before nodding. “It’s isn’t. James and Lily are gone in my reality, but they’re here.” She wasn’t entirely certain how she would take her brothers appearing, alive and well. Or whether they would be from her time or from the Charlie’s who had grown up without her. She missed her brothers terribly, but at the same time she didn’t know how okay she would be with them suddenly being back from the dead. She nodded again, “I can’t imagine it’s easy at all.” “Just tell me whatever you want. I’m your mother. I’m supposed to help. I’m supposed to be the one you dump your pain on,” she said with a small smile. "Mhm," he agreed. That was a decent example that wasn't as emotional for them directly. Not that he didn't care for James and Lily. But it wasn't easy. It gave you unrealistic hope. He let his hand rest on his mug handle and stared into the amber liquid for a moment. "You know Emmeline Vance?" He chose. If they were going to do this, he needed to go very far back. Molly didn’t want to break down over her brothers yet again. Not in front of another of the children. She always meant to stay strong in front of them, but there were times when she simply couldn’t help it. Mentions of her brothers tended to be one such subject. She nodded, “Of course. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have taken being brought her much worse,” she admitted. Emmeline had explained things to her, even though Molly had been skeptical. It had taken seeing her children fully grown for her to come around. His gaze remained cast down. "I loved Emmeline," he admitted, without hesitation. His thumb was running over the glass back and forth. "Me and her are a generation apart back home. But here? It isn't the case, and she and I, we...are very much alike," he said, quietly. "She got sent home. And when she came back, she didn't remember me as anything more than her friend's' nephew. Tried again. We were happy for awhile," he continued. "And then she went. She didn't come back for months after that. And when she did, I didn't try again." He sighed heavily and let his hand drop to the table. "That is what happens here. It's what I deal with. And she isn't the only time." He frowned. "I can't decide if it is worse when they remember or when the forget." Well, Molly wasn’t expecting that confession. Molly felt a little lightheaded at hearing this news, because she had known Emmeline in her time. It was through her brothers but she still knew the woman personally. They were so close in age that her mind had a difficult time processing this. It was her turn to reach out for her glass and take a sip of her wine. Okay, two sips. Molly took in a deep breath as she set her glass back down. “You and Emmeline were together?” she clarified. She couldn’t get passed that. He watched her take a sip from the glass and gave the smallest smile of amusement, as he nodded his head in response to her question. "She was the first person I ever considered letting myself be in a relationship with," he told her, which was certainly true. He avoided relationships back home. He had a multitude of reasons for this but they didn't exist here. He could come up with a whole brand new list for this reality. "She is one of the best friends I have now, though," he added, opting to withhold the information about their recent escapades. Molly cleared her throat, feeling… well, rather uncomfortable with this news. She nodded slowly as he spoke. Charlie apparently hit the subject that made her quiet. Her children finding comfort in the arms of her friends. Molly nodded slowly, taking in another deep breath. “I’m glad you have a friend of her. She’s an excellent support to have.” But Molly was also glad to hear they were just friends now. “Is there anything else you needed to get out?” she asked curiously. He watched her for a moment before he lowered his gaze. That wasn't even the thing he had wanted to talk about. It just was tied into it. It kept happening. But he sensed her discomfort and really, the window of willingness to talk was a small window. He lifted his gaze again. "She is," he opted to agree before nodding. "Let's leave it at that for now." Really, he would be fine, wouldn't he? He always was. "Food should be here soon anyway." |