Silences
Title: Silences
WC: 1385
Characters: Jack and Meg Sloper, mentions of a smattering of others
Rating: Um, mild, for thematics
Summary: It was loss, bitter and deep. It was a hungering pain in the hollow of her belly. It was an empty bundle of blankets in a misty green room.
Notes: Written for hhhellcat. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the characterisation of these characters are based on the Walpurgis Night RPG.
[[Proem]]
12 February 1998. They had been 17 and 18, endured the terrible heartache that came with war, and had been married. Jack thought he'd suffered all the loss there was to suffer. Thought he'd given up every piece of his childhood, and with that heartbreaking aches of unexplainable, raw, loss.
[[Safe in my arms, you're only sleeping]]
She held the bundle of blankets in her hands and stared at the empty nursery in the middle of South Africa. She'd been silly to tell Jack, silly to mention the idea of a baby. He'd gone and owled William and Nick, and she'd shyly sent owls to Hestia and Tracey. And now? Now, not two months later, she held a bundle of blankets in a nursery Jack had painted misty green.
Puke. It looked like puke now. Like something sinister from their past vomiting up on everything that was supposed to be good in their life.
They'd been here four years, enough time to settle- enough time for Jack to know that he wanted to stay, and enough time for her to not want to run screaming back to London. Sometimes she still did. On days like this, on days when Jack came home with a new gash and a huge grin on his face, on days when post from Hestia came, or Tracey, or Hannah, or Sam, or Luna- all telling of what she couldn't have. It hardly seemed fair.
They were young, the other Healer on site told them after Jack rushed her to him, they were young and had plenty of time for more chances. It happened to many young couples.
Nearly five years they'd been married, and he still looked at her every day like he was still sixteen and madly in love with her. She was almost 23 and while she knew the Healer was right, knew there was nothing wrong with waiting, she still felt so old. Bill's twins were almost five; Isabella, Tracy's little girl, was going to be five, Hannah was working on child number three.
She didn't know how to explain how she was feeling. It wasn't quite numb. It was loss, bitter and deep. It was a hungering pain in the hollow of her belly. It was an empty bundle of blankets in a misty green room.
*
They could make it through anything, they'd vowed, and he'd written on their wedding rings. Anything didn't seem like it could come in the form of more loss- of painful loss. Of loss of potential to be. That hurt him more than anything, that it had been his and now it wasn't any longer. He and Meg had created something beautiful and now there was nothing but silence.
He threw himself into work, he didn't know what else to do. Came home with more bruises, cuts. Burns. And she always looked disappointed, like he was failing her for trying to forget about it.
She clung to him, but there was no affection.
It'll take time, the other Healer confided in him. Time heals all wounds. But all Jack could think about were the wounds and dying to save your best friend and not really dying at all. Time couldn't heal that. Time couldn't heal loss for them, couldn't stitch up the wounds and leave a tight scar. No, time scratched over the wounds, over and over again.
They slept on opposite sides of the bed. He dreamed of a little girl with green eyes and curly hair, but didn't dare call her his.
*
The letter changed things.
"You would not believe!" Megan seethed. "What she is doing! What she thinks I- we- but she really means I- need!"
Jack took the letter, silently read it. Cringed. "Both of them? For two weeks?"
Megan continued to rail, storming off to the kitchen to slam the pots around in some attempt at controlling her emotions. "She has her hands full with Sophie, and dammit Bill leaving again I ought to wring his neck for allowing-"
The clouds were low on the horizon, deep, black.
"Meg," Jack whispered softly, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Meg. It'll be fine. I'll take them to work with me-"
"Jack David!"
He threw his hand up quickly as the thunder cracked across the sky, "Ok, ok, I didn't mean to like, hurt them. Just that they're boys. Five year olds at that. They'll get a kick out of it and I wouldn't let them, you know, near the-"
She winced at the bright bolts of lightning, but barreled ahead, "I do not need some post-partum, hormonal woman after me because you slaughtered her children!"
He bit his lip as he looked out the window, "I know how to be careful. On the upside the ground hasn't had a good soaking in-"
She didn't yell his name this time, just stood, her own storm brewing around her. She swayed on her feet and Jack ran to catch her, carry her to the couch. He stroked her hair as the wind died down and waited until he could no longer hear the rolls of thunder to speak.
"Alright," he said quickly. "Shite, alright, Meg. How much time do we have? I'll appeal for some of my vacation days and we'll handle them. I mean, unless you want to go back to work, but after that … Can your body …?" He didn't know what he was trying to ask. Losing a baby and then losing her temper like that- he knew it wasn't good for her reserves. William would know what to say. William knew how to handle her temper after the attacks. He'd never really learned how, just faked it. It always seemed to be good enough. He stroked her hair some more.
Meg's anger was subsiding and she took several deep, calming breaths. She hadn't lost it like that in … oh, in years. Not even the night they'd lost the baby. Her face softened, "If you appeal for vacation now, that cuts out of the time we get to see Nick and William." It was already cut, likely, from her missing work, though she had been told not to worry about it- told that the Reserve had been just fine with only one Healer before. Still, she treasured every day with William and Nick on the farm.
"You go to work, I'll handle the boys."
*
They looked just like Tonks, except for the red hair and freckles. Definitely Bill's boys too. Which likely meant they acted just like Fred and George, who, no doubt, were teaching them everything they knew.
"Wotcher," said the one with Sebastian on his jumper.
The other, with his hand shyly over the 'Luke' that was emblazoned on his jumper, just smirked at her.
"Lebastian and Suke, is it?" she said, with a heavy sigh, and both boys grinned mischeviously.
"Girls, she muttered softly. "Please, whomever's out there? Girls."
*
"Never, Jack, I swear," Meg moaned, a damp cloth over her eyes as Jack rubbed her feet. "Ever, ever, again. Never. I can't stop saying it. Never, never, never never. I'm going to kill Bill. Kill. Murder with my bare hands.
"You should have let me take them down to see the Spiketail," Jack whispered, and to his relief, Megan only nodded.
*
It was still too soon to joke about other tries, still too soon to sleep in the middle of the bed, but there was a light back in both their eyes. He was promoted and she fretted, twisting her curly hair into a bun before chasing him around the small house with a wooden spatula after he teased about inviting Luke and Sebastian back down.
They both fell into the misty green room and silence enveloped them once more.
"Maybe," she thought she heard him say and she squeezed up her eyes, unable to hear it again.
"Baby," he said again, kissing the tip of her nose. "This is a terrible, terrible colour."
[[Coda]]
17 April 2003. They were 23 and 24, and suffered the loss of an unborn child. In the years to follow, she would find herself standing in that misty green room, wondering when it got to be her turn and she had something other than a bundle of empty blankets.
WC: 1385
Characters: Jack and Meg Sloper, mentions of a smattering of others
Rating: Um, mild, for thematics
Summary: It was loss, bitter and deep. It was a hungering pain in the hollow of her belly. It was an empty bundle of blankets in a misty green room.
Notes: Written for hhhellcat. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the characterisation of these characters are based on the Walpurgis Night RPG.
[[Proem]]
12 February 1998. They had been 17 and 18, endured the terrible heartache that came with war, and had been married. Jack thought he'd suffered all the loss there was to suffer. Thought he'd given up every piece of his childhood, and with that heartbreaking aches of unexplainable, raw, loss.
[[Safe in my arms, you're only sleeping]]
She held the bundle of blankets in her hands and stared at the empty nursery in the middle of South Africa. She'd been silly to tell Jack, silly to mention the idea of a baby. He'd gone and owled William and Nick, and she'd shyly sent owls to Hestia and Tracey. And now? Now, not two months later, she held a bundle of blankets in a nursery Jack had painted misty green.
Puke. It looked like puke now. Like something sinister from their past vomiting up on everything that was supposed to be good in their life.
They'd been here four years, enough time to settle- enough time for Jack to know that he wanted to stay, and enough time for her to not want to run screaming back to London. Sometimes she still did. On days like this, on days when Jack came home with a new gash and a huge grin on his face, on days when post from Hestia came, or Tracey, or Hannah, or Sam, or Luna- all telling of what she couldn't have. It hardly seemed fair.
They were young, the other Healer on site told them after Jack rushed her to him, they were young and had plenty of time for more chances. It happened to many young couples.
Nearly five years they'd been married, and he still looked at her every day like he was still sixteen and madly in love with her. She was almost 23 and while she knew the Healer was right, knew there was nothing wrong with waiting, she still felt so old. Bill's twins were almost five; Isabella, Tracy's little girl, was going to be five, Hannah was working on child number three.
She didn't know how to explain how she was feeling. It wasn't quite numb. It was loss, bitter and deep. It was a hungering pain in the hollow of her belly. It was an empty bundle of blankets in a misty green room.
*
They could make it through anything, they'd vowed, and he'd written on their wedding rings. Anything didn't seem like it could come in the form of more loss- of painful loss. Of loss of potential to be. That hurt him more than anything, that it had been his and now it wasn't any longer. He and Meg had created something beautiful and now there was nothing but silence.
He threw himself into work, he didn't know what else to do. Came home with more bruises, cuts. Burns. And she always looked disappointed, like he was failing her for trying to forget about it.
She clung to him, but there was no affection.
It'll take time, the other Healer confided in him. Time heals all wounds. But all Jack could think about were the wounds and dying to save your best friend and not really dying at all. Time couldn't heal that. Time couldn't heal loss for them, couldn't stitch up the wounds and leave a tight scar. No, time scratched over the wounds, over and over again.
They slept on opposite sides of the bed. He dreamed of a little girl with green eyes and curly hair, but didn't dare call her his.
*
The letter changed things.
"You would not believe!" Megan seethed. "What she is doing! What she thinks I- we- but she really means I- need!"
Jack took the letter, silently read it. Cringed. "Both of them? For two weeks?"
Megan continued to rail, storming off to the kitchen to slam the pots around in some attempt at controlling her emotions. "She has her hands full with Sophie, and dammit Bill leaving again I ought to wring his neck for allowing-"
The clouds were low on the horizon, deep, black.
"Meg," Jack whispered softly, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Meg. It'll be fine. I'll take them to work with me-"
"Jack David!"
He threw his hand up quickly as the thunder cracked across the sky, "Ok, ok, I didn't mean to like, hurt them. Just that they're boys. Five year olds at that. They'll get a kick out of it and I wouldn't let them, you know, near the-"
She winced at the bright bolts of lightning, but barreled ahead, "I do not need some post-partum, hormonal woman after me because you slaughtered her children!"
He bit his lip as he looked out the window, "I know how to be careful. On the upside the ground hasn't had a good soaking in-"
She didn't yell his name this time, just stood, her own storm brewing around her. She swayed on her feet and Jack ran to catch her, carry her to the couch. He stroked her hair as the wind died down and waited until he could no longer hear the rolls of thunder to speak.
"Alright," he said quickly. "Shite, alright, Meg. How much time do we have? I'll appeal for some of my vacation days and we'll handle them. I mean, unless you want to go back to work, but after that … Can your body …?" He didn't know what he was trying to ask. Losing a baby and then losing her temper like that- he knew it wasn't good for her reserves. William would know what to say. William knew how to handle her temper after the attacks. He'd never really learned how, just faked it. It always seemed to be good enough. He stroked her hair some more.
Meg's anger was subsiding and she took several deep, calming breaths. She hadn't lost it like that in … oh, in years. Not even the night they'd lost the baby. Her face softened, "If you appeal for vacation now, that cuts out of the time we get to see Nick and William." It was already cut, likely, from her missing work, though she had been told not to worry about it- told that the Reserve had been just fine with only one Healer before. Still, she treasured every day with William and Nick on the farm.
"You go to work, I'll handle the boys."
*
They looked just like Tonks, except for the red hair and freckles. Definitely Bill's boys too. Which likely meant they acted just like Fred and George, who, no doubt, were teaching them everything they knew.
"Wotcher," said the one with Sebastian on his jumper.
The other, with his hand shyly over the 'Luke' that was emblazoned on his jumper, just smirked at her.
"Lebastian and Suke, is it?" she said, with a heavy sigh, and both boys grinned mischeviously.
"Girls, she muttered softly. "Please, whomever's out there? Girls."
*
"Never, Jack, I swear," Meg moaned, a damp cloth over her eyes as Jack rubbed her feet. "Ever, ever, again. Never. I can't stop saying it. Never, never, never never. I'm going to kill Bill. Kill. Murder with my bare hands.
"You should have let me take them down to see the Spiketail," Jack whispered, and to his relief, Megan only nodded.
*
It was still too soon to joke about other tries, still too soon to sleep in the middle of the bed, but there was a light back in both their eyes. He was promoted and she fretted, twisting her curly hair into a bun before chasing him around the small house with a wooden spatula after he teased about inviting Luke and Sebastian back down.
They both fell into the misty green room and silence enveloped them once more.
"Maybe," she thought she heard him say and she squeezed up her eyes, unable to hear it again.
"Baby," he said again, kissing the tip of her nose. "This is a terrible, terrible colour."
[[Coda]]
17 April 2003. They were 23 and 24, and suffered the loss of an unborn child. In the years to follow, she would find herself standing in that misty green room, wondering when it got to be her turn and she had something other than a bundle of empty blankets.