017 - text

[cauchemal]

[Background: This morning, after sleeping off a couple of days' worth of child-induced exhaustion, Mal turned up at her breakfast shift on time, but was moody and uncommunicative and eventually made her excuses to Iroh and the rest of the team and left about half an hour early. She's been moping in her room since, and about midday, she posts the

Comments

Private

[naughtbutlife]

No apology necessary, madam. You deserved a rest.

Thank you, Mal.

Private

[cauchemal]

You're welcome.

Angelica, may I ask you something? It's probably better discussed in person.

Private

[naughtbutlife]

Aye, of course. Come to my cabin, madam, for I would very much like to see you.

[cauchemal]

[And moments later there's a knocking at Angelica's door. When she answers, she will find Mal with red-rimmed eyes, clearly having been crying not all that long ago.]

[naughtbutlife]

[Angelica's face is dry, but only because she had done most of her crying the day before. She answers the door and takes Mal by the hand, gently leading her inside and swiftly shutting the door behind her.

It isn't that difficult to guess what is wrong.]

[cauchemal]

[Mal's trying to get through this first bit without just breaking down, but the sight of Angelica, restored to adulthood, dents her resolve pretty severely. She puts her hands in her pockets, wrapping the fingers of her left hand around her totem and clutching it so hard that it almost hurts. Her voice trembles when she talks.]

Angelica ... when your mother ... when she left. Why did she go? How old were you?

[naughtbutlife]

[Normally it would have been an incredibly uncomfortable topic for Angelica, but Mal's seen for herself what sort of childhood she had. There's no reason to hide it. She closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath, her hand placed to her bodice.]

Six. I was six. She was a Papist, but to practice Catholicism was treasonous in England. Her priest was hanged by the local villagers the day I was born.

[Angelica grimaces. The experience is still too fresh in her mind to push deep down, and she finds her voice beginning to waver.]

The Virgin Mary told my mother to leave me for God. She stepped over me as I laid down in the tide, hoping she would take pity on me and not get on that boat for France. [Her voice breaks completely] I never saw her again.

[cauchemal]

[Mal pressed her hand to her mouth in horror.]

Oh, Angelica, I am so sorry.

[And then her own resolve breaks down, and she sinks slowly to her knees.]

Oh god. You tell me this and all I can think of are my babies, my Philippa and James, left behind, and I never--I never said--

[She can't continue and she starts crying again, terrible grieving sobs.]

[naughtbutlife]

[Angelica's quickly on the floor beside her, pulling her into her arms as Mal had done when she was sobbing about her mother as a girl. She had been expecting this, though actually witnessing Mal mourn the loss of her children gives her a sharp, aching pain in her chest.]

I know, sweet-heart, I know. It is all-right to cry.

[She knows Mal loved - loves - her children dearly, and isn't willing to pass judgement of how she threw it all away at this very moment. She just holds her, letting her grieve, willing to listen if she should talk.]

[cauchemal]

[It's a while before Mal can say anything, and her words come out thickly and choked with sobs.]

... and all I can think now is, will they remember me? And if they do, will it hurt them as you hurt ... will they think of me and only remember me as someone who left, who is gone ... will they remember the fights, or will they remember that I loved them ...

[There is a lot of pain spilling out. Most of it entirely incoherent, and Mal has to cry it all out before she's even remotely able to regain control of herself again. Finally the sobs subside, and there's only her laboured breathing.]

[naughtbutlife]

[For a while Angelica says nothing at all. She listens carefully to all the hurt that spills forth and desperately tries not to cry herself. When the sobbing eventually fades into struggling breaths, Angelica rubs the woman's back and murmurs small words of comfort.]

Mal...[Recalling the days spent with Mal as her caregiver, she smiles softly to herself.] I wish I knew for certain, but...did you do the things with them that you did with me? Did you hold their hands? Did you embrace them as they cried? Did you laugh with them as they played? Were you patient and understanding?

[She pauses, smile hinting briefly at the sadness underneath.] Did you tell them that you loved them?

[cauchemal]

[Mal leans her head on Angelica's shoulder, too worn out now to move.]

I was the best mother I could be to them. Kissed their hurts, played their games ... I loved them so much, Angelica. And I told them so every night.

[She closes her eyes against a rising tide of shame.]

But then ... after Limbo, I--oh god. The things they must have heard me say. The fights I had with their father, and I know they must have been behind the doors, listening, and ... They won't forget that, will they?

[naughtbutlife]

[As she strokes Mal's hair and listens to her speak, the dull ache returns to her chest.]

Tis possible, but children...they wish to remember the best of things, you know. [And as long as their father isn't a spiteful person, her children should have happy memories of their mother. This is her hope anyway.]

Even though my mother chose to leave me, and chose selfishly I should say, I missed her every day - nay, miss her every day still. I mourned for her, and the woman never once held my hand. If you gave your children good memories, then they shall cling to those and not the negative.

[cauchemal]

I hope you're right. I hope so very much.

[Angelica's words offer some comfort, though, and Mal finds herself growing somewhat calmer. But there's a slowly rising anger at Dom at work now. She's only just aware of it, and she forces herself to sitnup and she wipes her face.]

I am so sorry. You are most patient with me.

[naughtbutlife]

Please, do not be sorry, Mal. There is nothing to apologise for, and I...know the sorrow of separation.

[She watches Mal very closely, as calmness with her inmate always leaves her weary. In this moment, she blames it on the exhaustion that comes from weeping.]

You did more for the little girl that I was than you may ever know, and I am grateful for it. Patience is plenty for those who try as hard as you do.

[cauchemal]

It ... it was good to have little ones to care for again, if only for a while. And you were a lovely child, talk of devils or no.

[A small, sad smile. She sighs and gets to her feet, offering Angelica a hand as she does so. She's quiet for a minute and puts her hands in her pockets, seeking her totem. She frowns slightly. Then, half to herself:]

He could not have known it would come to this.