InsaneJournal

El woke with the sun peering in from between the blinds, something he'd not experienced often in the past three years of living in Tumbleweed, save for weekends and Cruises. When Tumbleweed was on its regular set course? El was up before the sun, making lunches for Fray, getting his things together for his commute to the school. And if the sun was any indication?

He was late.

Laying there in the bed, memories came back quickly and there was an immediate shut of his eyes as he suppressed a sigh. A turn to press his elbow to the mattress and a quick scan of the room. Guest room. Nearly empty martini glass on the bed. Pipe discarded at his hip. He groaned, head reminding him that he was no longer in his early twenties, he moved to stand regardless of the spinning. It didn't take him long to find one of the bathrooms, ducking his hands under the faucet and cupping up several mouthfuls of water to guzzle down. With a swipe at his mouth from the back of his arm, he emerged into the hall and made a beeline for the nursery. He didn't know if Fen was awake by now. He suspected Ren was at work. Eliot would need to follow suit shortly.

But first?

He wanted to see his girls and two out of three were likely still home.

He came up to the crib, hand reaching down to stroke at the soft layer of hair on his daughter's head, before retracting his hand slowly. He didn't want to wake her. Her bedtime hours were precious for being so few. Turning his head towards the connecting door, he pulled in a breath, before making his way towards it. He pulled it open and lingered in the door, eyes peering around for Fen. "Fen?" He said delicately.

Babies had so much laundry. Little onesies. Teeny socks. Soft knit caps. Tiny duplications of grown up clothes. It looked so cute on hangers and as gifts. But on Earth, babies went through so much more clothing than people. Making messes on themselves, on others. At least the washing machines were better than beating the clothing against rocks.

Fen had been organizing the laundry, folding it up, letting the baby sleep. It was an amateaur mistake. Sleep when the baby sleeps. But there was too much to do, and Fen was anxious with Tumbleweed’s latest round of antics.

She didn’t even look up at the sound of his voice.

“Have fun last night.” It wasn’t really a question or an accusation. It was exhaustion. Her shoulders remained tensed. If she allowed them to relax, Fen felt she might collapse on the floor. At least she had Ben. If Ben and Eliot had both come undone. If all three of them had somehow changed?

They needed backup parents. Had other new parents done that? It would probably be a good idea. Counting on at least one of them to remain unchanged sounded like a recipe for disaster.

He hesitated for a moment as he watched her fold a garment. Often, he took the shortcuts that his talents allowed him. He'd have done a tut and had the laundry folding itself. But not always, especially when it came to Hanna. He took time to appreciate what their daughter had and all who had gone out of their way to give to her.

He pulled in a breath and came up by her side. Hands reached out to take one of the onesies from the pile, hands beginning to fold alongside her. He didn't take a moment to glance at her just yet now that he was at her side.

"I did." That was not worth denying. His younger self had sought out a distraction and found one. And now he was left to filter through the damage. "Less thrilled about it this morning," he added, laying the onesie down gently on the finished pile.

Fen paused when he started folding. Young Eliot would have never. If he had helped, or been shamed into helping, it would have been with magic. When she looked up, she saw the difference. In hair, in demeanor. It probably wasn’t just a hangover, right?

“Oh thank gods,” she said. She held any other gratitude in. Was she supposed to embrace him? Be mad at him for something he couldn’t control? Was it unfair to be mad? Or to be glad?

“So…” Fen wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. “...You remember everything?” She didn’t ask if he had slept with anyone. Fen assumed he had, and tried her hardest to make peace with it.

He took note of her stillness but didn't acknowledge it yet. Instead, he picked up one of the tiny socks and started pushing garments aside to look for it's mate. Socks were prone to being separated and lost by the time they were clean. And it would only get worse once she discovered how to kick them off whenever she pleased.

Finally locating it, her turned to look at her. The smallest of smiles was given. A smile to say he was happy to see her. A smile to say he was amused by her words. A smile of hope for forgiveness.

"Mhm," he vocalized, eyes turning back to the socks. He turned the tops of the pair down together before setting it down.

Fen swallowed her feelings down, down, down to where she could almost make them disappear. Or at least, she could pretend she couldn’t see them. Pretend there was no problem at all. It was a technique Fillorians were excellent at when one of the gods made trouble. Just keep smiling, don’t make anyone angry or things would most certainly get worse.

“Great,” she said. Her hands continued folding clothes.

"Only in knowing how I was treating people," he countered. When the options were waking with no memory and uncertain of why there was possible tension or remembering exactly why? He was going to take the knowledge.

He took in a breath and glanced down. He moved a hand over to rest over top of the nearest of hers to stop her from folding. And if she allowed it? He'd turn it gently till he could thread their fingers together.

Fen shivered slightly at his touch, but didn’t stop him from holding her hand. “You had no control over what the portal did to you. It wasn’t like you chose to be the person you were for an entire week.” She’d make the excuses for him and then everything would be fine. She even smiled. And if she smiled long enough she’d start to feel that everything was fine. Eventually.

"Doesn't matter." He tilted his gaze up to look upon her, trying to read her expression. He noted the smile. He wasn't certain if he believed it. His hand squeezed hers tighter. "Me having control or not doesn't change that I, think, I hurt you." Perhaps he was wrong. He doubted it.

Fen frowned. She didn’t mean to show her hurt. She didn’t want to hurt him. That would be unfair. Wouldn’t it? She swallowed again. “It’s just… you’re not like this back home.”

Fen surprised herself when she said something. Worse, she was unable to stop.

“You’re more like… that. And I know you weren’t excited about being married to me at first, or maybe ever. It’s just here, here it feels like… if just one thing happened differently…” Fen preemptively touched the back of her hand just under her eyes to prevent herself from crying.

He didn't interrupt, instead listening to her words and giving them space in the event she wanted to add more. Eyes were fixed on her, however, and taking in the expressions. A frown was summoned as he did so. He hadn't been wrong and looking at her was clear.

"Fen..." He began, trying to think of a way to speak to that without discrediting her feelings, "...you aren't wrong." He pivoted so he could face her properly, still holding her hand. "But...that's true of everything. It isn't isolated to just us." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "How I felt before isn't how I feel here."

“It’s just so terrifying, having what I’ve always wanted. And it feels sometimes like it must be a trick. I have two beautiful daughters, and two wonderful husbands, and this perfect family that I love more than anything I have ever loved in my life. More than knives. More than Fillory. I keep waiting for something terrible to happen and…” She sighed. “This last week felt like a reminder of that.”

He brought up his free hand, resting it against her cheek. "I didn't want to believe in what we have," he whispered, because it was the root of it. His younger self was terrified of the possibility of being truly happy. He understood it, because it was his past and what he'd wrestled with for years, but that didn't make it right. "He was too afraid to see how good we have it now." He sighed in turn. "I can't stop the Portal from bringing those reminders. But...I did what I could to stop anything terrible coming from home." He paused. He'd not told either of his spouses that he'd finally taken the potion, over two years after the fact. It hadn't felt necessary to make a production of. He'd just wanted to ensure he was here and nothing from home would somehow change that.

"I don't want to know anymore about Fillory or Monsters or apocalypses. I don't want to wake up and have my stomach tore open again. I just want to be here. With Hanna, Fray, Ky, and you." Another beat. "My wonderful wife."

Fen raised up on her toes and swiftly kissed him. As if that would seal his words and make them impossible to take back: his wonderful wife.