December posting 18: Sparks and Memories, HL, complete
For 
sharpest_asp 's prompt: Immortal and Mortal of your choice. How the mortal birthdays affect both halves of the pair.
Thank you. I hope I did it justice. At the AO3 here.
Sparks and Memories
"Papa? Can I have a candle?"
Connor put down the wax he was working into a maple breakfront and smiled at Rachel. "Of course you can, lass. What do you need it for?"
She almost met his gaze, then sighed and looked him in the eyes. "It's almost sunset."
Connor raised an eyebrow. "So it is. But it's not Friday night?"
Rachel shook her head. "No, but… tomorrow was, would have been, Abba's birthday."
Connor blinked, then smiled at her, remembering the trip he'd made to a small church in England before they took ship at last for the States. "And I light a candle for Heather."
Rachel nodded at that. "So I want to light one for Abba." She gave him a worried look, more insecure for a moment than she had been in weeks. "Do you-- is it okay?"
Connor settled down onto a knee beside her, so they'd be at the same level and she could see he wasn't upset. He was her second father, not her first; he wasn't so small-hearted he needed to be her everything, and even without the threat of the Game, he wouldn’t have tried to be.
"It's perfect, Rachel. You loved him; of course we'll light a candle for him. Tomorrow, you can tell me any other birthdays you remember. And if you don't remember, we'll pick a day for them, hmm? Tonight, let's put these things away and we'll go upstairs and light a candle for your Abba. If you want to tell me about him, you can. If you don't, that's all right, too."
"I start crying," she said softly.
"I know." He smiled and passed her his handkerchief, just in case. "I want to, too, some days, you know. But if you tell me about him, or write it down, you'll remember it in a few years and it will hurt less then. If you don't tell someone - your diary, or me - you might not remember later. It will be worth the tears now to have the stories then."
Rachel considered that and then wrapped her arms around him, already sturdier than she'd been when Connor got her safely to New York at last, if no taller yet. "Can I come get hugs after?"
"Always. Lass, I'll sit with you and do my accounts while you write," he promised, "so you can ask me about spellings or just come steal my lap for a few minutes. As many nights as you need, to get it all written down."
She hesitated, too aware already that it was going to hurt. To Connor's pleased surprise, Rachel tried haggling with him. She was feeling more secure here. Good!
"Will you tell me stories about Heather?"
Connor laughed. "Help me put this away," and he put the lid back on the wax as Rachel started tidying up the rags and brushes, "and I'll tell you about the time Heather chased me around the fair with her new broom until I tripped over her father's foot."
Rachel stared at him, eyes no longer so prominent in her face and new goals clearly being filed away in that sharp mind. "She did?"
"She did. She was a bonny lass, my Heather. I'll tell you about her while we fix dinner, and you can tell me about your father while we eat." Connor scooped his daughter up into a hug and carried her up the stairs from the shop to his apartment. She still didn't weigh enough, but she was getting steadily bigger and stronger. It would do. "I love you, Rachel."
"I love you, too, Papa."
Heather would have loved you, too, he thought, and reminded himself to tell Rachel that later.
Later. After he'd told her enough stories about Heather that his Rachel would have no trouble believing it.
Original post on Dreamwidth | Leave a comment on DW | Read
comments on DW
Given the new LJ 'design' decisions, please comment on DW if you can.
sharpest_asp 's prompt: Immortal and Mortal of your choice. How the mortal birthdays affect both halves of the pair.
Thank you. I hope I did it justice. At the AO3 here.
Sparks and Memories
"Papa? Can I have a candle?"
Connor put down the wax he was working into a maple breakfront and smiled at Rachel. "Of course you can, lass. What do you need it for?"
She almost met his gaze, then sighed and looked him in the eyes. "It's almost sunset."
Connor raised an eyebrow. "So it is. But it's not Friday night?"
Rachel shook her head. "No, but… tomorrow was, would have been, Abba's birthday."
Connor blinked, then smiled at her, remembering the trip he'd made to a small church in England before they took ship at last for the States. "And I light a candle for Heather."
Rachel nodded at that. "So I want to light one for Abba." She gave him a worried look, more insecure for a moment than she had been in weeks. "Do you-- is it okay?"
Connor settled down onto a knee beside her, so they'd be at the same level and she could see he wasn't upset. He was her second father, not her first; he wasn't so small-hearted he needed to be her everything, and even without the threat of the Game, he wouldn’t have tried to be.
"It's perfect, Rachel. You loved him; of course we'll light a candle for him. Tomorrow, you can tell me any other birthdays you remember. And if you don't remember, we'll pick a day for them, hmm? Tonight, let's put these things away and we'll go upstairs and light a candle for your Abba. If you want to tell me about him, you can. If you don't, that's all right, too."
"I start crying," she said softly.
"I know." He smiled and passed her his handkerchief, just in case. "I want to, too, some days, you know. But if you tell me about him, or write it down, you'll remember it in a few years and it will hurt less then. If you don't tell someone - your diary, or me - you might not remember later. It will be worth the tears now to have the stories then."
Rachel considered that and then wrapped her arms around him, already sturdier than she'd been when Connor got her safely to New York at last, if no taller yet. "Can I come get hugs after?"
"Always. Lass, I'll sit with you and do my accounts while you write," he promised, "so you can ask me about spellings or just come steal my lap for a few minutes. As many nights as you need, to get it all written down."
She hesitated, too aware already that it was going to hurt. To Connor's pleased surprise, Rachel tried haggling with him. She was feeling more secure here. Good!
"Will you tell me stories about Heather?"
Connor laughed. "Help me put this away," and he put the lid back on the wax as Rachel started tidying up the rags and brushes, "and I'll tell you about the time Heather chased me around the fair with her new broom until I tripped over her father's foot."
Rachel stared at him, eyes no longer so prominent in her face and new goals clearly being filed away in that sharp mind. "She did?"
"She did. She was a bonny lass, my Heather. I'll tell you about her while we fix dinner, and you can tell me about your father while we eat." Connor scooped his daughter up into a hug and carried her up the stairs from the shop to his apartment. She still didn't weigh enough, but she was getting steadily bigger and stronger. It would do. "I love you, Rachel."
"I love you, too, Papa."
Heather would have loved you, too, he thought, and reminded himself to tell Rachel that later.
Later. After he'd told her enough stories about Heather that his Rachel would have no trouble believing it.
Original post on Dreamwidth | Leave a comment on DW | Read
comments on DW
Given the new LJ 'design' decisions, please comment on DW if you can.