take care of yourself

[attitude]

Every time that Faye thought she'd finally learned to accept her pregnancy in full, something came about to prove her wrong. In some ways, it felt like taking regular steps towards some blurred and as of yet uncertain destination. Telling Dean had been the first big step, one that left her feeling exposed and shaky at best, to learn that someone else was much more prepared for the changes to come than she was herself. Recognizing each symptom thereafter had been an almost painful process, one which drew out a sense of lingering paranoia. Were her aches caused by the pregnancy? Was she losing sleep because of anxiety? Was she, could she, had she— an endless myriad that never seemed to solve for itself, because some answers simply couldn't be had no matter how great the effort to root them out.

And that morning, she'd come across yet another problem: the clothes that she'd picked out for herself at the beginning of the month, skin-tight and every bit as capable of exuding confidence as the bright yellow she used to wear, were somehow too small around the waist.

Naturally, Faye knew that the changes had taken place since day one. But in some way, the baby was still a distant notion at the start. Fatigue, she could blame on the mental stress. Nausea, she could blame on poor eating habits. But a thickening of her waist felt somehow undeniable, because Faye Valentine was not one to let herself go to any extent, and her size had remained constant since she woke up in that chamber those few years ago.

Something else was changing, and still Faye felt like she was digging her heel stubbornly against all of it.

For the time being, her solution was to snag a shirt out of the several that Dean sometimes left at her place, before slipping on the loosest pair of jeans she had. Maybe she didn't look like much, but at least it masked the constant thrum of her chest as she took a deep breath, setting out for the common dining room, even if she had the lingering suspicion that her nausea would make it hard to keep anything down.


[ Dated April 20th, this is the post for anyone who knows Faye and wants to hear about baby stuff first-hand from her! ST/LT welcome, no limit, go wild. (Sorry for being slow enough to require backdating.) ]

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[attitude]

I catch his look, and that's when I know that Dean's told someone. I guess a part of me is glad that he can, because hell, he deserves to have someone he can talk to about this, considering the fact that I just can't deal half of the time. But that doesn't make it any easier to have someone's eyes over me and knowing when all I'm trying to do is... run, I guess.

That's what I do, after all. Ever since Sleeping Beauty woke up, all she's done is run.

But there's no running from this place, and probably no running from my body. God only knows my chest aches enough. So I lean further into the table, eyes narrowing slightly, although I don't have it in me to be angry. Not really.

"That's not usually where people look when I tell them 'eyes up here,'" I remark lightly, arching a brow.

[little_moons]

"Sorry, I'm not really a tits kinda guy," I admit, rolling my eyes, though I've got brains enough to at least seem halfway contrite.

After that, I don't know what the fuck to say to her. Everything I can think of, I know won't be met well. It's not like we're really close friends, anyway.

So, maybe poking fun at the awkwardness of the whole fucking thing, I say, "Nice fuckin' weather we're havin', huh?"

[attitude]

"Miserable. But not unlike how things were on Venus," I answer, because that much is true enough. I remember the way Westerns used to be when I was a kid, the scenery, the dialogue, all of it. Some of it's remained in present day back home, things like the wide-brimmed hats and, sometimes, for the die-hard, the boots. (I've got a mean pair of white boots myself, and of them I've always been quite fond.) But these days, it isn't usually the swirling dust that becomes the feature of the scene, but instead the endless spread of stars speckling the sky.

I'd say that's one of the few things that's improved. That aesthetic.

But Venus is much like this. Hot as sin, and the only people who like living there are the people who have enough to pay for air-conditioning. What I wouldn't do for some of that right now.

"So, out with it," I say. "Whatever questions or pearls of wisdom you're here with."

[little_moons]

"What the fuck makes you think I got any fuckin' pearls of wisdom?" I ask with a snort of laughter, rolling my eyes. I've got nothing to say to her that she wants to hear, I'm sure. I've wanted Dean to be able to have a family for as long as I've known him. I'm happy for him. I can't not be.

"And I've never been to Venus. Wouldn't know."

[attitude]

"You've got two girls that you're looking after; I thought all parents were up and eager to give their tips and warnings to those who haven't yet had the joy," I mutter, trying to keep myself from feeling too irrationally ruffled by his snort. He's just making sure I know he's got no plans to act superior about all this. That's all. I shouldn't be irritated; he's being friendly.

God, but it takes a lot more to rein my impulses in line lately.

[little_moons]

"I didn't carry 'em. I mean, in case you were confused 'bout that," I point out flatly. I was there, from the time they were born, but I didn't really got to know what the day to day'd be like, 'til they were about one.

Even so, that's not the kind of shit I feel qualified to give advice about, unsolicited.

[attitude]

"It's not carrying them I'm worried about," I fire right back, lips pressed thin in irritation. "I mean, sure, I don't like the idea of stretch marks and god only knows I don't need more help in the chest department, but carrying them's just about eating right, exercising... I can do that. It's the after that I don't have a club about."

I rub the heel of my hand against my eyes. "It's worse than flying blind."

Flying scared.

[little_moons]

"I think that's... kinda normal?" I say, which probably isn't much comfort. At all. But whatever. "I mean, the girls are almost five, and I'm still fuckin' terrified, most of the time."

They should be starting school, soon. Or whatever fuckin' equivalent we can come up with, around here. They're already learning their ABCs and simple math and they can parrot back some of the books I read to 'em. They're learning stuff everything single day, and they're getting so, so big. It's kind of crazy.

[attitude]

"But you know you want them," I interject. I don't think I'm being too unkind, but I can hear that there's tension in my voice. Maybe that's the nerves, too. I don't know. Everything's kind of a blur right now, as far as emotions go. "You know that you want them, and you had the choice to take them in. Doesn't matter what was fueling that choice, you still had it at some point. Could have handed them off to someone else."

Leaning back in my chair, I level Neil with a sobered look.

"I'll be honest, Neil, since I... get the feeling you can handle that," I say. I don't know why. Call it a hunch. "I don't know if I have it in me to love a kid. I'll try. But it kind of feels like I'm spending all my effort already on being afraid that someone's going to leave. Or resigning myself to it. Almost everyone I've known, long before I got here, almost everyone left. I don't think a baby's going to be miracle worker there."

[little_moons]

"I didn't know. I wasn't sure. When Mike and Tom disappeared, I... wasn't sure I wanted to keep 'em. I wasn't sure I should. And I know I had a choice, I still... I still felt responsible for 'em. I'm all they've got."

In the end, I would've chosen them, but as guilty as it makes me feel, I won't lie and say that I didn't think about finding someone else to take them.

"It won't be. Anybody who thinks gettin' married or havin' kids here is some kind of guarantee is in fuckin' denial. I wanna be happy for Dean and for you, and I am, but I'm not fuckin' stupid, Faye. I know this isn't like, an ideal situation."

[attitude]

I manage a grin. No, he's not stupid. Doesn't spend his days hoping for something that the island's never truly going to deliver. Sure, a few people get lucky, they look slated to have decades here without interruption. But are they the majority? God, no. And I've long since given up on beating the odds.

I mean, I'll gamble now and again, sure. But I don't actually expect to win.

"So I guess that brings us back to square one," I decide, leaning heavily against my palm. "You won't have all the answers, but c'mon, Neil. You've still been at this longer than I have. You've known Dean longer than I have. Welcoming any advice right about now."

[little_moons]

Rumbling out a laugh, I said, "I thought you didn't want any advice. I can't read your fuckin' mind."

I flash her a grin, but then I fall quiet, tracing my finger along the tabletop in front of me.

"I dunno. I mean, it's scary as shit, but neither of you are alone, you know? You need help with like, anything, you ask or... I dunno, I'll probably be gettin' in your fuckin' way when you don't ask. I mean, it's not much advice or whatever, but that's basically all that got me through. Havin' Dean and Kara and Charlie or whoever. And you and Dean've got that, you know? People who give a damn."

[attitude]

"I was being difficult," I tell him, arching a brow. "You'd better be prepared to learn how to spot that." It's not really a threat, but... well. If Neil plans on continuing to hang around Dean in the way that he has, it might be for the best if he learns the kind of person I am. And the first part of that is realizing that I, like everyone else in the human population, but perhaps on a greater basis, lie. I lie. I stretch the truth. Flip it on its side.

However it best suits me.

But I listen respectfully enough once he starts giving me what I asked for. It's a bunch of mushy stuff, really, nothing that I'd normally take to heart. Sometimes, though, I feel like I should try. I don't know what much I can say, but since I'm trying, I say to Neil, "People who give enough of a damn to help with diaper duty?"

God, diapers. That's going to take some thinking about. Later.

[little_moons]

"Hey, you'd be surprised," I say with a rough cough of laughter, knowing she's probably dismissing half of what I'm saying, but that's okay. It's bullshit, anyway. There's nothing to say, nothing to do, other than bothering to stick around, when they need me to.

"I changed a few diapers, when the girls were tiny, and it's not like I had to. I mean, Eostre probably would've bitten my head off if I hadn't helped out, but whatever."

[attitude]

I pause for a moment, and I find that the more Neil talks about Eostre, the more curious I am. Not that I need to know every detail of her life, but maybe I'm more inclined now to think about mothers and their parenting styles more seriously than I ever have before. Beyond that, though...

"Do they remind you of her?" I ask, eyes narrowed in thought. "Their personalities, I mean. Seems like she disappeared pretty early on."

[little_moons]

"Yeah, I... There are things 'bout her in both of 'em. I mean, they were only one year old when she disappeared, but... Like, Flo? She's softer, nurturing like Eostre could be, but she was also stubborn and filled up a room, the way Mack does," I say, smiling distantly while I talk about her.

For a long time, I thought about Eostre as little as possible, 'cause anything else hurt too fuckin' much. Now, that sense of loss, of guilt, has faded into something manageable.

[attitude]

"I hear that you can be pretty stubborn at times. And you care enough about Dean to be talking to me, of all people," I point out, almost managing a grin, although it doesn't quite make it all the way. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear, though. I'm hoping the kid takes after Dean. Also hoping he's a boy. Girls might get the better clothes, but something tells me all of the trade-offs still don't come out quite even."

It's the helplessness, my mind adds. Too many odds stacked against us as a group. Too few choices.