Tar-Miriel sank beneath the waves (miriel) wrote in commonalities, @ 2016-06-16 03:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! complete, helen magnus, tar-miriel |
Have you ever thought about having children?
Who: Helen and Miriel
What: discussions about children turn darker
When: recent
Where: Helen's place
Status: complete
Rating: PG
Helen was sleeping less and less these days. On the nights she shared with Miriel, she usually at least managed to stay in bed until the first rays of daylight started creeping across the room, but tonight? Tonight she hadn’t even made it into bed.
First, she’d been in the lab, waiting to confirm what some part of her already knew, that Lucy was her daughter. A daughter she didn’t remember having.
Was it possible? Could she really have forgotten? Certainly not if it had happened in this world, in this lifetime. But in the other? The idea that such a memory could be stolen from her was somehow worse than all the other memories that had been taken.
It was almost too much to accept.
After, she’d made her way up to the roof, an old habit and a new one. Up here, she could think, sort through her feelings. It was peaceful, looking out over the city, and she hardly seemed to notice the slight chill that had settled in with the darkness.
Ever since the near drowning, Miriel’s mood had had it’s ups and downs. Usually she kept the ups (or faked them) around Helen, and kept the downs to herself. But she’d woken up from a particularly bothersome dream and had been alone. It left her feeling… cold. She pulled on a nightgown and went searching for her girlfriend. She leaned on the window and looked up at Helen. “Nice view?”
Miriel's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and it took Helen a moment to answer. "It's beautiful." She tilted her head, "Care to join me?"
“Yes.” Miriel crawled out of the window and up onto the rooftop settling next to Helen. She didn’t say anything else, simply leaned her shoulder against the other woman’s.
Helen was quiet as Miriel settled beside her, allowing herself to appreciate the warmth of the other woman against her side.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.” Even though they both likely knew by now she’d never really had any intention of coming to bed, the note of apology was genuine. “I had a lot to think about.”
“I understand. I haven’t been sleeping well, so I noticed.” She wouldn’t be angry or blame Helen, she wasn’t that kind of person, to manipulate her into feeling bad. Miriel was more likely to suffer alone. They both were, it was a potential drawback in their relationship. “If you want to talk, I can listen. Otherwise, we can enjoy the silence.”
“Have you ever thought about having children?” Helen was still looking out over the city, clearly still thinking, but she paused to give Miriel a chance to answer.
Miriel was glad she’d not been drinking anything. And had a better grip on the rooftop for fear of the question making her fall over. She still coughed a little in surprise. “Uhm. Once or twice, but never seriously. And after all those other memories, not at all.”
The startled cough caused Helen to refocus her attention on the woman next to her. Perhaps she should have saved that conversation starter for another time. But she wasn't sorry she'd asked. "It can change everything. If you let it. I found it incredibly rewarding, raising Ashley."
She nodded. “I can see how that might be. I always thought if I would have a child it would have been years ago.” There weren’t too many years before it would be unhealthy for her to have one herself, anyway.
"Our lives so rarely turn out the way we expect." Helen was watching her now, considering her next words carefully. She'd started this conversation with a somewhat different intention, but Miriel's reaction to her question was earning a slight detour now. "Your time isn't up, you know?"
She didn't know if it was truly something Miriel no longer wanted or if she simply didn't believe it would ever happen; but if there was a chance it was the latter, Helen needed her to know she wouldn't be the one to deny her that opportunity. She couldn't, not when she knew what her own daughter meant to her. And with Lucy quickly making space for herself in Helen's life, she was painfully aware of all the things she'd missed not being there.
“It’s close enough that by the time I decide on it it will be too late. Though I don’t know if my changes negate that.” As a Numenorean she certainly had at least another century. She just didn’t know if that translated here or not. Living another couple of centuries was a daunting prospect. As was the idea of giving that ‘gift’ to a child.
Helen shifted enough to take Miriel’s hand. She could probably find out how those changes had translated into this world, but she didn’t relish the idea of studying Miriel, not in that sense and certainly not now after everything they’d been through these past months. For the moment, she thought they could let the subject rest.
She stayed like that, quiet, for a long time, finally releasing a slow breath. “I’ve been thinking about Lucy.”
Miriel would be willing to be studied. She trusted Helen, and honestly she needed to know. In her heart she knew. She felt it. She just didn’t know if he was a thirty-five year old Numenorean, or she’d turned into one over two-hundred. That was a big difference, if she’d only turned into that sort of person but at the age she already was.
So that was where this conversation came from. She squeezed her hand. “Have you, now?”
They both, potentially, had such long lives ahead of them. It put everything into an entirely different perspective. Helen couldn't deny that at least a part of her was glad she wasn't facing those years alone.
"She's my daughter. There's a part of me that still says it isn't possible, but I look at her..." she shook her head, "Everything I know tells me she's mine, but I never had a second child and certainly not one outside of my marriage." What might John have done if she had? "That's not something I'd be likely to forget."
“No, it would be hard to forget giving birth.” Not impossible, though. Miriel trailed a finger over her own knee, making patterns in her skin. “Maybe it’s something you simply haven’t remembered yet. From your other place, your Sanctuary.”
“And if it is, what does it say that she’s here?” As if her more recent memories hadn’t given her enough reason to wonder if this reality was reality at all, now she had a daughter who shouldn’t natively exist in this world. She instinctively tightened her grip on Miriel’s hand.
“I don’t have an answer for that. But even if she were not biologically your daughter, she seems to remembering being so. What do you plan on doing?”
“Get to know her better, for a start.” Lucy certainly did appear to be remembering the same world she remembered, even if not all of the details seemed to add up. “She’s really a lovely young woman.”
“It’s a good start,” Miriel said. She trailed her finger along Helen’s arm. “See where it goes from there, no?”
Helen couldn't help a soft smile as she nodded. It was a start, maybe the best she could hope for. She hadn't been there, or even known she should be, but Lucy had turned out beautifully. She'd had a good life. Perhaps she should simply be grateful things hadn't happened differently.
"And what's keeping you awake at this hour? Anything you'd like to talk about?" She knew Miriel hadn't been sleeping well, and she genuinely regretted that she hadn't been there when she'd woken.
“The bed was cold,” Miriel complained. She flashed a cheerful smile at Helen, rubbing her thumb over Helen’s knuckles. “It was missing something important.”
"Ah, is that all?" she asked softly. "Well perhaps I can do something about that."
Miriel smiled softly, quirking her brow. “And just what do you have in mind?”