Log: Rights and Choices
Who: Hattie, P'draig, Elaruth, Jekzith
When: day 22, month 13, turn 22 of the 10th interval
Where: Getaway Island, Somewhere Out There In the Ocean
What: Paddy invites Hattie for a little getaway and finds out about the baby. Colossal argument ends in tentative truce.
It's early in the day at Fort, when the brightly hued bubble floats toward Elaruth from afar, holding within it the image of a sunwashed shore, waves on the beach and it comes with a merry request: << Would you and yours like to come swimming with us?! We'll be there after our sweeps in about an hour! >> There's a little pause and then: << P'draig would like to apologize to yours for not coming by sooner, he's had a lot of responsibilities and then he was sick. >>
It might not be anything out of the ordinary for Elaruth's response to be completely wordless at first, just mist curling gently around that bubble while she conveys information and continues on with a long - long, long - silence until an argument or mere exchange has been had. What she eventually rushes - or is finally allowed - to say is, << She says there is no need to apologize. She could not have strayed far for long until recently. There has been much to do. >> And then, of course, there's more silence. << We will be there shortly, >> she agrees with quiet certainty, that is, for once, not her rider's. And so it turns out that Fort's juniors likely make it to that beach before Jekzith and P'draig, but, even with however long they've been there, Hattie hasn't strayed far from her queen's side and sticks there, one hand pressed to pale hide.
<< We'll see you soon then! >> Jekzith answers with typically bright-hued excitement though he's careful to temper it a little for Elaruth's benefit. When the brown breaks out of Between, he does a few lazy loop-de-loops over the beach before landing and it's a laughing P'draig who climbs off his back and loosens straps promptly, pulls a well-packed bag down along with, then turns toward the waiting pair with a wide smile still on his face. "Heya," he says gaily and looks visibly pleased to see queen and rider, though his expression shifts to sudden surprise as he gets close enough to catch on to Hattie's present condition. Straps and bag are both dropped and Paddy moves forward to close the distance between them, hand reaching for the one not pressed against Elaruth's side. "Hattie?" he questions and stops there, like he's not quite sure what to say next.
Elaruth's attention drifts to Jekzith once brown and rider have arrived, yet she doesn't abandon her rider, who would, it looks like, dearly like to cling on to her hide for dear life and not let go. It's with another curl of mist that she greets Jekzith, intent to shortly bound into the ocean conveyed by the gentle rippling of the shallow water beneath that mist. Hattie, meanwhile, hasn't even managed a 'hello' and seems quite like she'd like to bolt, except, well, there's a whole lot of Elaruth there stopping her. Fingers curl against hide as P'draig gets closer and it's right after that question that she blurts out, "It's not yours," as though she's been accused of something. It seems that that's all she'd say, staring stubbornly up at him and completely unsure just what to do with her free hand, except she looks away and after a long silence, admits, "At least, I don't think it is," words forced out.
That curl of mist is answered by a rainbow of prismatic colors, though he lingers for a moment, watching, then steps out into the surf. << When you're ready, we can chase fish! >> That stubborn look seems to perplex P'draig and for a moment, he's stuck, clearly trying to get brain to catch up. In the end though, all he does is try to pull Hattie into his arms. "Okay," he finally says, rather lamely and lets out his breath all at once. "Okay," more decisively.
Once her rider's hand lifts away from her side and she's sure that she's not about to change her mind and demand to leave, Elaruth carefully sidles away and slinks off down the beach after Jekzith, trotting along with her paws picked up quickly to keep them from too long against sand. << Now we can find the fish, >> she calls quietly, just as paws find the surf. Hattie doesn't really fight much against P'draig pulling her closer, if not moving very much at all can be read as not fighting. She still doesn't appear to know what to do, expression unaltered save for the widening of her eyes into a careful blankness. "I don't want anything from you if it is," she says lowly, almost harshly.
<< They're out there! >> Jekzith says confidently and ducks his head under the water, starts eeling out deeper, sharing the feeling of cool water on hide, though there's a thread of something that might indicate he's still staying clued in with his rider. P'draig's arms curl around the goldrider but her manner seems to confuse him further and he's quiet for a while, brows knitted together, though not in anger. After a moment he asks softly: "What if I want to give whatever I'm able to?" One hand lifts, seeks out her cheek, the touch gentle. "Even if it's not mine?"
Elaruth, on the other hand, seems to be distracted by, for once, actively trying to block out her rider, either because she disapproves of her behaviour or simply just so as not to get overwhelmed. << They might hide well, >> she teases gently, dipping beneath the water herself. Hattie's hands lift and mean to awkwardly settle at the brownrider's hips. "I don't want anyone... interfering," she states firmly. "I don't want anyone telling me what I can do and what I can't do and what I /have/ to do, because it's /my/ baby. I'm its mother. I decide what's right or wrong for it." Looking up at him again, she says, "I wouldn't have told you, you know. Really. I wouldn't have come here today. But Elaruth..." The tilt of her head against his hand is all that takes the edge from her posture and her voice. "And if it's not yours, then that's just ridiculous."
"Interfering," P'draig echoes slowly and his forehead crinkles up all the more, a breath drawn though he doesn't look away and there's a lot of conflicting emotions in his eyes. "Why is it ridiculous to want to help support someone you care about? To be there for you, or for this little kid who's not going to be sure about who his or her father is?" the brownrider continues and swallows hard. "You really wouldn't have told me, if you were sure it was mine?" he asks after a moment and there's a heaviness in his tone.
Hattie really quite clearly doesn't this other point of view, that lack of comprehension clear in her gaze."Because it's not your duty. It's not your problem; it's mine. I can take care of myself. I've always taken care of myself and I'll look out for this child, one way or another. I won't have my reasoning questioned or someone there to tell me I'm getting it wrong and being a bad mother." She looks away, down at the sand, dark eyes fixed there like there's something of great importance that needs watching. "No, I wouldn't," the goldrider says steadily. "You have enough to worry about without my giving you another kid. I haven't told the other possible father and won't."
"Being a parent ... is hard and one of the most important jobs a person can ever do," Paddy says quietly. "And parenting a kid with someone doesn't always mean one telling the other they're wrong. It's something that you have to figure out as you're going along and try to get right even when you do screw up." Again he exhales and his chin lifts a little. "And I'd rather be involved in my kid's life, than not." He pauses again, frustration edging his voice. "Shells, Hattie, Jenivrys and I disagree about Jaivery's upbringing sometimes, but we have enough respect for each other to work it out, to talk it through and make those decisions together. Do you think we couldn't do the same?" His hands shift, curl around her upper arms. "I don't know about this other guy, Hattie, don't know how well you know him, if you're close, if you care for him. But I thought you did care about me and frankly, it hurts that you'd keep me from a kid who was just as much mine as yours. I get that sparing me the concern comes from a good place. But taking away my choice to shoulder my share of responsibility ... is that really fair or right?" There's no anger in his voice, just an edge of hurt and definitely frustration, which makes Jekzith's head lift up out of the water and look back over his shoulder toward the beach. He lets out a low sound, then dives back beneath the waves, on the trail of a school, tracing their path through the water. << They /do/ hide well! >>
The weyrwoman's hands lift again; make to push P'draig away from her with a fair amount of power behind the move, though it's not a sharp thing, meant to do no more than create space and give her back hers. That it's accompanied by a mutter of something that could be deciphered as 'just fuck off' is just unfortunate. "You see this... /this/ is why I didn't want to tell you," Hattie claims, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "You care too much and me? I can't afford to. I don't want to spend the rest of my life being a bitch to you because we might have a child that we disagree about. I would end up not speaking with you at all or even worse," she laughs humourlessly, "caring about you too much. I don't care about the other guy. I barely know him. And he'll never know. I don't know /how/ to do this with someone else and I don't /want/ to. I /am/ aware that I'm hurting you now and that's why I wouldn't - shouldn't - have said anything." Out in the ocean, Elaruth gives up on her 'everything's fine' act, pushed too far by her rider and stops still to just float, tensed. << ...I'm sorry, >> she murmurs, hazy starlight wrapped up in her words; the words Hattie won't say.
Giving back a step or two under the pressure of that push, P'draig's hands close reflexively, then release as soon as he realizes what he's doing. The under-breath cussing tightens his jaw a little and his eyes don't leave her face. "You're right, I do care too much. I love my kids, every one of them. And I don't think of any of them as burdens. They're gifts, Hattie. And if you don't want to share this all the way with someone, that's fine. I can live with that. I've had to let go of Jaivery a little that way. It wasn't easy, but that's just the way it is when you live in one Weyr and your son lives in another." He pauses there, lifts a hand to scrub up the side of his face and through his hair. "Hattie ... just ... please. If this baby /is/ mine, if there's any way to tell, please, let me be a part of this? Let me be there for /you/ at least? Please?" The chase abandoned, Jekzith's head lifts again and he surfaces, floats in place and reaches out to touch gently at that hazy starlight. << Are you? Is she? >> A moment and then: << He just wants to help. >>
"You might not think of your children as burdens, but I'm the one that feels sharding burdened right now," Hattie snaps. Gesturing again, she goes on, "And please, for Faranth's sake, don't go thinking that's a cry for help. I made this choice. It was better than the alternative. I don't need anyone looking after me or being there for me, especially when I can't even tell them for sure whether they should have any reason to! I don't want anyone being /kind/ to me when I can't repay it. I won't listen to shit about people being there for you when they'll just pack up and leave when something doesn't go their way. I'm not naive. I know how the world works." She shakes her head. "I'd rather have nothing and this burden than something. For the baby, too. I know how awful that makes me, believe me." Elaruth, meanwhile, recoils a little and takes a moment to regroup. << I am, >> is all she can say with absolute honesty. << She... believes in what she says. Completely. >>
"Some people don't need a /reason/ other than that they care about you," P'draig fires back and tries to close the distance between them again to reach for her shoulders and hold them with a hand apiece. "I don't need to be paid back. And shells, Hattie, you should know better by now, that I don't /do/ that. I don't walk away. Maybe that means I'm just so much carpet to walk on, but for fuck's sake, you know you can count on me within the whole ... context of what we've both got time for." He pauses, eyes searching her face and tries to pull her close again. "Hattie ... oh Hattie. It doesn't make you awful. It doesn't ... just, shells. What's happened to make you so hurt and so scared?" Jekzith nudges a little wavelet of water toward Elaruth. << Things are hard with her a lot. Aren't they? >> he asks after a moment, head cocked.
"I'm not scared of anything!" Hattie protests immediately, summoning volume so suddenly that it roughens her voice and almost cuts it off completely, physically backing off like she needs to keep P'draig entirely in her line of vision. "Can't you see? It's happening now. I'm being terrible to you and you're just taking it - I could walk all over you; you just said it. I don't know which is worse - you not walking away or the idea that you could. I've given you no /reason/ to care about me. Shells, I've probably worried you more than anything else. I can't let you do this, P'draig. I can't. I don't know how. And I can't live with doubt; that you could end up loving a child that isn't yours. Every time I saw you with them, I'd feel that guilt." Elaruth dips her nose to the surface of the ocean to let that wavelet meet it. << She has very strong beliefs. There is no room for doubt or error. Sometimes I need that from her, >> she explains quietly.
"Then why are you running away from this?" P'draig points out, hands lifting up in an open palmed gesture. "Why are you worried about making me worried? Why are you afraid to /learn/?" His hands drop, fall to his sides and his gaze drops to a patch of sand a half step away. "And why would you feel guilty about a choice I might make with my eyes wide open? Why would it be wrong to love a child that wasn't my blood? If I can live with that, it's not your responsibility. You're not the only person in the world who has to face hard things and make tough choices. If I choose to be your friend, choose to support you, care about you, care about your baby, those are /my/ choices to make. They don't have to make sense. And if that's /our/ baby then I damn well have a /right/ to care and to be involved, even if it's just to visit on alternate weeks. Don't -- don't /you/ walk away from /me/." Jekzith's tail gives a little splash to the water next. << They both do. In very different ways. They're both /stubborn/, >> the brown decides after a moment with a fond snort for his rider, flashing an image of his face all beetle-browed.
Because it's the most important thing to say, "I'm not running away! I'm not afraid!" is what gets belted back first, Hattie's whole body behind the effort of yelling. "Those choices might be yours to make, but it doesn't mean that I have to /accept/ them. Of course they have to make sense. If everyone in the whole world thought their choices were reasonable when they didn't make sense, we'd all be in one heck of a mess." She shakes her head, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Not that, I grant you, we're in something much better than that right now," she admits in a low voice. "I can walk away to stop you being /stupid/. Do you think that if I agreed to any of this, I'd make it easy on you? And this is before I even start to think about the politics involved. Give me a couple of hours and I'm sure I'd have an essay on /that/ for you." Out in the gentle waves, Elaruth closes her eyes and tries to relax, wingsails spread over the water. << In that, it would seem that they are too much alike, >> she agrees. << Perhaps we should simply be thankful that they are not having this argument where there is anyone to hear. >>
Frustration mars P'draig's face and he looks out over the water for a moment in the wake of that yelling, hand pressed to the side of his head. "My point is, Hattie, that it's not /stupid/ to want to help out someone you care about. And if you're not afraid, then why refuse to even /try/ to work things out? You've said that you can't, that you can't do that, that you don't know how. And that says to me that you /are/ scared, scared to tackle something you haven't done yet. And the thing is, it's okay to be scared, but instead of walking away, why not take help when it's offered? Because, shells, Hattie, I've done this before. I've even had to face not knowing whether a kid was mine or not before." He stops there, sighs and looks down at the sand. "You don't have to do this alone. That's all," he adds on quietly, while the breeze picks up a little, washing in from where dragons paddle to ruffle hair and toy with the palm fronds on the trees up the beach. << Could be, >> Jekzith agrees, squinting back towards shore and then leans over to offer a companionably touch of muzze to Elaruth's side. << This really wasn't supposed to be how this visit went. But ... yeah. Better to hash it out here and hopefully get it worked out. Because there's cobbler in that bag! >>
"I'd have thought that I've reasoned clearly enough for it to be plain that fear is hardly a motivating factor," Hattie responds with an eerie calm, folding her arms and turning away from the brownrider entirely. "I /don't/ need /help/. I've been fine so far. Just because I can't hide it anymore doesn't mean I'm suddenly incapable. I've watched my own back just fine since before I Impressed, and with Fort getting screwed over turn after turn, it's pretty much been full alert since I found Elaruth. I think I've proved that I don't need help and then some. I'm not /scared/; I'm how I am." Glancing back over one shoulder, she adds, "I know I don't /have/ to do this alone. I want to. I'm not refusing just to suffer or anything like that." Without opening her eyes again, Elaruth curves her head round, meaning to touch her nose to Jekzith's shoulder, but she might be a bit off-target without having looked. << No... I did not think so either. I should not have made her agree, >> she says regretfully. << But perhaps it is better to be said now than... another day. >>
"I'm really not seeing anything being reasoned clearly here," is P'draig's take on it. "From my point of view, reasonable would've been to tell me, tell this other guy and work out some ground rules, like adults who can talk reasonably about hard things. Not fold your arms, close up, insist you have to do it all on your own and try to -- to push people away," the brownrider gestures to her stance, "for one." He blows out a breath, shakes his head. "I didn't say you're incapable or that you're martyring yourself and I sure as hell didn't mean to imply it either. But why can't you just trust that maybe if we'd talked about this, we could've worked something out? Or that we still could? Because, Hattie, I want to. I want to work this out, even if I'm feeling hurt right now." He turns then, holds a hand out again, swallows hard. "Please? Can't you meet me halfway on this one?" Out on the water, Jekzith lets out a soft whuff as Elaruth's nose touches his shoulder. << Yeah you can't really hide a baby, >> is Jekzith's pragmatic take on it. << He wanted to give her a nice day though. Not shouting. It's just ... he loves his little ones, so much. And he cares about her, very much, but ... feels betrayed. >>
"You don't see everything involved from your point of view," Hattie claims. "Whether I'd agreed to coming here today or said anything to you about it at all, the other man isn't going to know. It wouldn't do anybody any good, least of all him. There wasn't any telling /anybody/ involved; not with what's been going on around the Weyr." With a shrug, she aims for nonchalance, saying, "Maybe it's just what I'm best at. Pushing people away." It takes her a moment to make herself turn back to P'draig and shrug. Just eye that outstretched hand and shrug. "There's nothing to work out. I don't know whose it is. I don't want any help or anyone to be there. You should take your hurt and leave me to it." The weyrwoman really won't like that her queen admits, << She did think to write. Once or twice. >> Elaruth falls silent for a long while after that, though that might not be anything out of the ordinary. << She honestly does not know. She feels foolish; that she has behaved poorly. If she can hurt him enough for him to leave her alone, then she will. >> It's obvious that she doesn't agree with her rider, but not with selling her out either and it's silence that the gold retreats to once more.
"There you go again, deciding what would and wouldn't do anybody any good /without asking them/," P'draig says firmly and gives a shake of his head. "Why can't you see just how little /that/ makes sense. How can you decide what's best when you don't have all of the information you need? Like what this guy might think? Or hell, my opinion? Is it just because this, this right here, arguing about it, is messy and hard?" his finger jabs downward at the sand where they stand and his lips press into a thin line as he steps toward her, hands lifting to shoulders again. "Hell no. I'm not letting you do this. Not letting you toss away months of friendship, because of this. Yeah, I'm hurt and I'm angry, but if you think you can get rid of me that easily, you have another think coming." He stops there, jaw tense, then takes a breath and goes on. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. This wasn't what I had in mind when I asked you to meet me. I was looking forward to spending time with you. And if you'd told me about the baby sooner, I would just have been happy, Hattie. Because it doesn't matter in the end, mine or not mine, especially if the other guy /isn't/ a part of your life. I am. For better or for worse." Jekzith is quiet too, chin lowered near the water's surface a certain tension in his mobile frame. << He would have been happy ... >> the brown echoes his rider. << But he's really ... upset. Now. >>
"I'm pretty sure that being known as the guy that knocked-up a weyrwoman does wonders for your marriage prospects, right?" Hattie snaps with more than ample sarcasm. "I'm not afraid of arguing or something being difficult and I swear if you keep insisting that I'm running away, I'm going to swing for you." If her hands hadn't been curled into fists for the past few minutes anyway, perhaps that would be a more effective threat, but just how seriously she utters it has her blinking as though just realizing how absurd a thing it is to say. At least this time she doesn't shove him away. "What someone doesn't know won't hurt them. What you wouldn't have known wouldn't have had any impact on you," she claims. "How many times have I warned you that I'd be a bitch to you in the end? I was right. Part of me isn't even sorry." Elaruth dips beneath the water all at once, though can't vanish that easily and pops back up again, folding her wings flat to her back. << We should go, >> she answers in a murmur, clearly meaning herself and her rider.
"Having a private conversation with the man, wouldn't have to hurt his marriage prospects, if he's the kind of person who has any in the first place," P'draig answers, voice tight. "It would have come out at some point down the line, Hattie, because do you really think this could stay hidden for the rest of our lives? Secrets have a way of coming back to bite people in ways never expected," the brownrider continues tone laced with strange regret. "And for Faranth's sake, this isn't being a /bitch/. A bitch would be mean. Would tell me all kinds of untrue cruel things. A bitch wouldn’t be standing here arguing with me, wouldn't have come to see me in the first place." His shoulders slump a little, but his hands remain at her shoulders. "Go ahead, swing at me if it makes you feel better." Jekzith's tone is quietly mournful: << I'm sorry. If you need to, then I hope we'll see you again soon. >>
"It wouldn't have," the goldrider insists, jaw set. "Live in a Weyr; lose a child among the other children in the caverns and who's going to be wondering whether it's theirs or not? It could be anybody's." With a quiet groan, Hattie lifts one hand to cover her eyes, shaking her head. "Fantastic. Now you're inviting me to floor you," she murmurs. "Just what does it take for you give up instead of lining yourself up to get hurt repeatedly?" is asked under her breath, not quite a real question at all, more a quiet venting of frustration. << Do not apologize, >> Elaruth replies, ducking beneath the water again. << No good is coming of this, only hurt. I thought that they might have stopped by now, yet... >> The queen peers towards the beach, uncertain.
"Your child," P'draig says quietly. "Yours. Unless you're saying that's what you're going to do. Have the baby and just foster to the lower caverns," the brownrider continues and his voice is heavy. "I said swing, I didn't say I wouldn't defend myself," Paddy elaborates with a faint touch of humor somewhere in there. He tries to draw her to him again, sighs. "Tell me with a straight face, like you really mean it, that you hate my guts and never want to see me again. Tell me the time we've spent together was all a lie and you don't care about me at all. Make me believe it and maybe I'll turn around, walk away, not come back, because I'm not going to waste my time and yours on lies," P'draig says quietly. "All I want is not to be cut loose, Hattie. I'm already involved. The question from here on out is /how much/ and that's what I mean by working it out. You want to do it all alone. I'd like to offer at least as much of my time as you've had all along, more if you'll accept it. And if by whatever small chance, this is /our/ child, I want the right to visit." Jekzith, is quiet, watching and listening. << Maybe ... maybe not. >>
Hattie's shoulders twitch. "I have Elaruth. I'm a weyrwoman. I work longer than the average working day of my own volition and I don't see myself abandoning the habit of a lifetime. I can't be anything like a full-time mother," she states, voice lacking in sharpness even though the same certainty remains. Again, she doesn't fight being drawn closer, but doesn't seem to know just what to do about it either and ends up looking more than a little awkward. "I never tried to say that I hated you," she says after another long silence, perhaps just arguing for argument's sake, perhaps not. "I'm not making excuses when I say that I don't know how to accept help or time or... anything. I even hate that you know that now. I can't promise you anything. I have no idea how to tell whether it's yours or not." Elaruth's eyes close again as she tries to eliminate one sense from the others that threaten to overwhelm. << ...We will see. >>
"That's something we have in common, Hattie," P'draig says quietly. "Working longer and harder than most, willingly," the brownrider continues and one of his hands slides up to find her cheek this time. "I've made sacrifices that you don't have the option to make, to be as close to a full-time parent as a rider can be." He shakes his head though. "I know you haven't said that. But you asked me what it would take. That's what it would take." Bending slightly to press a kiss to her forehead, Paddy shrugs. "You have the option to let me be this baby's father if you want to accept that offer too if you really don't want this other guy involved. You don't have to make up your mind right now and you don't have to promise anything. I've told you what I want, you've told me what you want and that's at least a place to start from to figure out a balance." Jekzith straightens up a little in the water and edges closer, a wing on offer to help block things out.
"You say it as though it's that simple and it's not. I can't... You don't understand how wrong it feels to ask you to be father to a child I can't tell you is yours for certain, even if it's an offer and technically not me asking," Hattie replies, peering up at him without making an effort to hide the exhaustion and concern filtering through her expression. "I can't tell the other man. It's too close and too distant at the same time and just... too complicated. It's better he doesn't know. He's happy." She shakes her head a little, lifting her hand to settle at his hips again, less awkwardly than before. "I'll... try. To talk about it. Without yelling at you. Another day." Meanwhile, out in the ocean, Elaruth drifts closer to Jekzith, taking up the offer of that wing without words, just a faint, grateful, curl of mist.
"I know it's not simple, Hattie, but I'm telling that I'm capable of this. Of loving this baby as if it were mine, if you change your mind about wanting to share parenting with someone, someone who knows you and cares about you, not just a fosterer, not that I'm knocking fostering, because I'd have been sunk without Miara," he says bluntly. The exhaustion on Hattie's face brings a softer expression to Paddy's gaze and he nods. "Please. When you feel able to," the brownrider accepts that and doesn't touch on the mystery man in the picture. "We'll figure this out, Hattie," P'draig says with a return of confidence and when his arms tighten around her it's with affection and reassurance.
Maybe she’s finally figured out that it might be better to shut up for five seconds or so instead of finding something to tear apart, for Hattie doesn’t say anything at all even in response to confidence and finally just winds her arms tight around P’draig, face hidden against his shoulder, yet from what can be seen of her eyes, it seems that she’s still gone to the trouble of trying to slide her expression back to unreadable. If given the chance, she stays like that for a while, quiet and unmoving. “I still think you’re making a mistake,” she tells him eventually, like she hasn’t made that clear enough already.
As Hattie's face burrows into his shoulder, P'draig tips his head down and kisses the top of er head. He says nothing for the duration, arms tightening a little. "Mine to make if it is, but we'll just have to disagree on that," Paddy claims and subtle tension leaves his shoulders. "So ... I made a cobbler," he adds lightly after a moment.
Hattie laughs suddenly right out of nowhere, not particularly brightly or loudly, but there's a half-smile to go with it as she unwinds a little bit and looks up at the brownrider. "...Is that a kind of code to declare a temporary peace?" she asks, managing to maintain the tease for only a further moment or two. "No, I know," the goldrider soon assures. "I probably don't deserve cobbler, however."
"It means I made cobbler for you and I'd really like to share it with you and see if you like it," P'draig says with a low chuckle. "I think we both deserve a chance to ... sweeten things up a little," the brownrider continues and aims another kiss downward. << Now that's a lot better, >> Jekzith observes to Elaruth with his wing still draped protectively over her.
"Well, I think I can oblige you in that, at least," Hattie responds, inclining her head just a little. "It does sound a lot more civilized than yelling at each other," she goes on, not flinching away from that kiss despite continuing to look terribly awkward every now and then. "...Or just... me yelling at you," she amends. Still tensed, Elaruth keeps peering over at the shore, but she's certainly more settled now that her rider isn't shouting. << I hope they will not do that very often, >> she confesses, touching her nose to Jekzith's shoulder again.
"That /was/ the intent of today," P'draig says with a little smile. "Being civlized," the brownrider jokes a little and starts to step back, nodding toward the pack he brought with him. "The restaurant was closed for a week while I was sick, so it's been a bit of a scramble to try to make up the shortfall." Jekzith agrees wholeheartedly. << I don't like it when they shout, no. >> His head tilts towards Elaruth's companionably.
"I'll make sure that people introduce me as the uncivilized one in the future," Hattie declares, expression not matching her voice and words at all; something like a silent apology written there, one that's not allowed to gain any more ground than that. "Just how ill were you if the place was closed?" she asks, starting to take steps that are more just trailing after than anything. "If you've lost marks from being closed, then surely you should be there and not here?"
"If lack of civilization is the worst we descend to ..." P'draig starts and runs his hand up Hattie's arm lightly. "It was a bug running around Ista. It's part of why I haven't been in touch. Didn't want to get anyone else sick. But ... fever, pretty high for a few days. I'm still a little foggy on what happened during that time and I'm only just opening up for lunch again this seven." His hand drops to find hers and aims to lead a few steps away back towards that pack and the waiting treat.
"I suppose I can live with it in certain situations," the goldrider murmurs. "With the Istan heat, I'm surprised that anyone ever realizes that they're ill within a decent amount of time to bring the fever down. Lucky that it hasn't gone from Weyr to Weyr, somehow." Hattie's head tilts and she looks up at P'draig just as her hand touches his. "...You're okay?" she asks, in a manner that the woman of a few minutes ago might not be believed to be capable of.
"Yeah, it's got a whole cough part to it, so it's pretty contagious?" P'draig offers over and pauses, fingers seeking to slide between Hattie's. "I'm okay, Hattie. Maybe I should tell you more about my past ... so you understand where I'm coming from," he says slowly, gaze seeking to meet hers.
Hattie just keeps looking up for a little while, meeting his gaze in silence. From the look in her eyes, it's rather clear that she's unsure that understanding will be a good thing at all, though she nods a moment or two later and agrees, "...Okay. You don't have to tell me... I mean, I certainly don't intend to go explaining myself. You should know that."
P'draig gives her hand a light squeeze and aims to draw her fingers up to his lips. "I don't expect you to. It just ... might help to understand my point of view on things. But maybe not today. Come sit?" He takes another half-step up the beach.
Hattie hesitates a moment more before she sits. "You know I might feel differently when it's here?" she considers aloud. "It might be easier or it might not be. I can't tell. I keep calling it an 'it'. I feel like... I'm being taken over. It might be different in the end. I might not argue. I might understand. I don't know." But, with that, she makes to fold down onto the sand, staring at it like it's fascinating.
"You might. It's hard to say," P'draig says slowly, hunkering down to draw the box holding the cobbler out and a blanket too, which he spreads on the sand. Once that's done he lifts up the cobbler box again and sits beside the goldrider and is quiet for a time. "Have I told you about Palia's mother?" he asks after a moment and looks back up at her.
"Not that I can remember," Hattie responds, shaking her head just the once and sneaking a look across at him as though not quite sure where it might be safe to look. "Mentioned her in general, perhaps, but not more than that." She takes a breath and holds it for a few seconds, exhaling slowly right before she asks, "What happened to her?"
That snuck look is met directly and P'draig is still for a moment, then he looks down to open up the box, brings out the baked fruit and pastry. "It's a long story, but the short version is that after Illya had Palia, she ... decided she didn't want her anymore. She only wanted me and she ... asked me to choose between her and our daughter," the brownrider summarizes. "So I raised Palia alone, around a clutch of weyrlings."
Hattie remains silent for a good while after there's no more listening to be done, staring off down the beach now. "You... think I'm going to do something like that?" she attempts to understand. "Or is that a warning, or...?" For the time being, she doesn't look back; just keeps staring at sand. "I understand that you put your children first. I'm not- I suppose I should say that I know why, not that I understand. I don't expect you can understand unless you have children."
"No, shells no, Hattie, I don't think you'd do that at all," P'draig says, shaking his head emphatically and puts the box down, reaches for her hands. "Just, yes, I've been the one an only one responsible for Palia since she was tiny. And ... she wasn't healthy. So it was tough. I don't know how things will be. But that's a part of why I am the way I am."
"I can't... say that I won't do something deliberately or completely unintentionally that you could find unacceptable or selfish. It doesn't mean that I'd do it to hurt you," Hattie murmurs, allowing her hands to be caught. "I won't pretend that I understand why you'd want to... feel that much for a baby that could be someone else's, but I... get it. I get the... motivation behind it. The reason."
P'draig curls his hands a bit more around hers, nods. "I know. People aren't perfect and this isn't an easy situation, Hattie," the brownrider says quietly. "Family is just really important to me. That's part of Palia's story. Jaivery .. we didn't know if he was mine or T'rev's, but when he got older it was pretty obvious. He's pretty much a mini-me. Vrys wound up weyrmating my brother and we've had a lot of ... negotiating over the turns about what happens in Jaivery's life. Dylan's mother is an Istan rider and we're pretty much 50/50 with his time. Lanea's really laid back. Dharia ... well you know what happened to Phara," Paddy says and looks down and away for a moment. "So ... it's hard for me /not/ to be attached, is what it all add up to."
The goldrider watches their hands for a moment, gaze distant and unfocused. "To me..." Hattie starts, "family means looking out for your family and watching your own back. Looking after others - not letting them look after you." She looks down into her lap for a little while and only speaks again when she looks back up. "I can't pretend to like it and I can't pretend that I won't see some things as interfering and get angry. But I can try and learn to... tolerate it. Whatever level of involvement or attachment to the child there ends up being. I can try. That's... really all I can do." Her head tilts a fraction and she tries to catch P'draig's gaze, leaning a little like she'd kiss him and apologize that way, since she still hasn't said the actual words.
"And for me, it means we all look out for each other, except for the kids, because grownups are supposed to look after the kids," P'draig says with a little nod. "That's all I'm really asking, Hattie. Try a little. Maybe keep an open mind about what does and doesn't work," the brownrider adds and his gaze meets hers steadily. That lean is met halfway, Paddy's kiss gentle.
You can't go that way.
Silence again after Hattie draws back, broken by, "I don't want to. Honest to Faranth, I don't." She glances down again. "But I'll try. I might be stubborn, but I'm not a liar. In the end." As shown by her telling him in the first place, however belatedly. Even with that agreement to try and learn what she should have to, effectively putting her in a position that she might seek to escape, she doesn't find an excuse to return to Fort in any kind of hurry in the near future, leaving Elaruth some time to wind down too and maybe get around to actually chasing fish with Jekzith.
"Didn't really think you were," P'draig says with a small smile and takes this opportunity to serve up baked goods, turn the conversation to lighter things and try to make the outing a lot more like the pleasant escape he'd intended in the first place. Which ought to leave enough time for dragons to have fun chasing fish.
When: day 22, month 13, turn 22 of the 10th interval
Where: Getaway Island, Somewhere Out There In the Ocean
What: Paddy invites Hattie for a little getaway and finds out about the baby. Colossal argument ends in tentative truce.
It's early in the day at Fort, when the brightly hued bubble floats toward Elaruth from afar, holding within it the image of a sunwashed shore, waves on the beach and it comes with a merry request: << Would you and yours like to come swimming with us?! We'll be there after our sweeps in about an hour! >> There's a little pause and then: << P'draig would like to apologize to yours for not coming by sooner, he's had a lot of responsibilities and then he was sick. >>
It might not be anything out of the ordinary for Elaruth's response to be completely wordless at first, just mist curling gently around that bubble while she conveys information and continues on with a long - long, long - silence until an argument or mere exchange has been had. What she eventually rushes - or is finally allowed - to say is, << She says there is no need to apologize. She could not have strayed far for long until recently. There has been much to do. >> And then, of course, there's more silence. << We will be there shortly, >> she agrees with quiet certainty, that is, for once, not her rider's. And so it turns out that Fort's juniors likely make it to that beach before Jekzith and P'draig, but, even with however long they've been there, Hattie hasn't strayed far from her queen's side and sticks there, one hand pressed to pale hide.
<< We'll see you soon then! >> Jekzith answers with typically bright-hued excitement though he's careful to temper it a little for Elaruth's benefit. When the brown breaks out of Between, he does a few lazy loop-de-loops over the beach before landing and it's a laughing P'draig who climbs off his back and loosens straps promptly, pulls a well-packed bag down along with, then turns toward the waiting pair with a wide smile still on his face. "Heya," he says gaily and looks visibly pleased to see queen and rider, though his expression shifts to sudden surprise as he gets close enough to catch on to Hattie's present condition. Straps and bag are both dropped and Paddy moves forward to close the distance between them, hand reaching for the one not pressed against Elaruth's side. "Hattie?" he questions and stops there, like he's not quite sure what to say next.
Elaruth's attention drifts to Jekzith once brown and rider have arrived, yet she doesn't abandon her rider, who would, it looks like, dearly like to cling on to her hide for dear life and not let go. It's with another curl of mist that she greets Jekzith, intent to shortly bound into the ocean conveyed by the gentle rippling of the shallow water beneath that mist. Hattie, meanwhile, hasn't even managed a 'hello' and seems quite like she'd like to bolt, except, well, there's a whole lot of Elaruth there stopping her. Fingers curl against hide as P'draig gets closer and it's right after that question that she blurts out, "It's not yours," as though she's been accused of something. It seems that that's all she'd say, staring stubbornly up at him and completely unsure just what to do with her free hand, except she looks away and after a long silence, admits, "At least, I don't think it is," words forced out.
That curl of mist is answered by a rainbow of prismatic colors, though he lingers for a moment, watching, then steps out into the surf. << When you're ready, we can chase fish! >> That stubborn look seems to perplex P'draig and for a moment, he's stuck, clearly trying to get brain to catch up. In the end though, all he does is try to pull Hattie into his arms. "Okay," he finally says, rather lamely and lets out his breath all at once. "Okay," more decisively.
Once her rider's hand lifts away from her side and she's sure that she's not about to change her mind and demand to leave, Elaruth carefully sidles away and slinks off down the beach after Jekzith, trotting along with her paws picked up quickly to keep them from too long against sand. << Now we can find the fish, >> she calls quietly, just as paws find the surf. Hattie doesn't really fight much against P'draig pulling her closer, if not moving very much at all can be read as not fighting. She still doesn't appear to know what to do, expression unaltered save for the widening of her eyes into a careful blankness. "I don't want anything from you if it is," she says lowly, almost harshly.
<< They're out there! >> Jekzith says confidently and ducks his head under the water, starts eeling out deeper, sharing the feeling of cool water on hide, though there's a thread of something that might indicate he's still staying clued in with his rider. P'draig's arms curl around the goldrider but her manner seems to confuse him further and he's quiet for a while, brows knitted together, though not in anger. After a moment he asks softly: "What if I want to give whatever I'm able to?" One hand lifts, seeks out her cheek, the touch gentle. "Even if it's not mine?"
Elaruth, on the other hand, seems to be distracted by, for once, actively trying to block out her rider, either because she disapproves of her behaviour or simply just so as not to get overwhelmed. << They might hide well, >> she teases gently, dipping beneath the water herself. Hattie's hands lift and mean to awkwardly settle at the brownrider's hips. "I don't want anyone... interfering," she states firmly. "I don't want anyone telling me what I can do and what I can't do and what I /have/ to do, because it's /my/ baby. I'm its mother. I decide what's right or wrong for it." Looking up at him again, she says, "I wouldn't have told you, you know. Really. I wouldn't have come here today. But Elaruth..." The tilt of her head against his hand is all that takes the edge from her posture and her voice. "And if it's not yours, then that's just ridiculous."
"Interfering," P'draig echoes slowly and his forehead crinkles up all the more, a breath drawn though he doesn't look away and there's a lot of conflicting emotions in his eyes. "Why is it ridiculous to want to help support someone you care about? To be there for you, or for this little kid who's not going to be sure about who his or her father is?" the brownrider continues and swallows hard. "You really wouldn't have told me, if you were sure it was mine?" he asks after a moment and there's a heaviness in his tone.
Hattie really quite clearly doesn't this other point of view, that lack of comprehension clear in her gaze."Because it's not your duty. It's not your problem; it's mine. I can take care of myself. I've always taken care of myself and I'll look out for this child, one way or another. I won't have my reasoning questioned or someone there to tell me I'm getting it wrong and being a bad mother." She looks away, down at the sand, dark eyes fixed there like there's something of great importance that needs watching. "No, I wouldn't," the goldrider says steadily. "You have enough to worry about without my giving you another kid. I haven't told the other possible father and won't."
"Being a parent ... is hard and one of the most important jobs a person can ever do," Paddy says quietly. "And parenting a kid with someone doesn't always mean one telling the other they're wrong. It's something that you have to figure out as you're going along and try to get right even when you do screw up." Again he exhales and his chin lifts a little. "And I'd rather be involved in my kid's life, than not." He pauses again, frustration edging his voice. "Shells, Hattie, Jenivrys and I disagree about Jaivery's upbringing sometimes, but we have enough respect for each other to work it out, to talk it through and make those decisions together. Do you think we couldn't do the same?" His hands shift, curl around her upper arms. "I don't know about this other guy, Hattie, don't know how well you know him, if you're close, if you care for him. But I thought you did care about me and frankly, it hurts that you'd keep me from a kid who was just as much mine as yours. I get that sparing me the concern comes from a good place. But taking away my choice to shoulder my share of responsibility ... is that really fair or right?" There's no anger in his voice, just an edge of hurt and definitely frustration, which makes Jekzith's head lift up out of the water and look back over his shoulder toward the beach. He lets out a low sound, then dives back beneath the waves, on the trail of a school, tracing their path through the water. << They /do/ hide well! >>
The weyrwoman's hands lift again; make to push P'draig away from her with a fair amount of power behind the move, though it's not a sharp thing, meant to do no more than create space and give her back hers. That it's accompanied by a mutter of something that could be deciphered as 'just fuck off' is just unfortunate. "You see this... /this/ is why I didn't want to tell you," Hattie claims, gesturing vaguely with one hand. "You care too much and me? I can't afford to. I don't want to spend the rest of my life being a bitch to you because we might have a child that we disagree about. I would end up not speaking with you at all or even worse," she laughs humourlessly, "caring about you too much. I don't care about the other guy. I barely know him. And he'll never know. I don't know /how/ to do this with someone else and I don't /want/ to. I /am/ aware that I'm hurting you now and that's why I wouldn't - shouldn't - have said anything." Out in the ocean, Elaruth gives up on her 'everything's fine' act, pushed too far by her rider and stops still to just float, tensed. << ...I'm sorry, >> she murmurs, hazy starlight wrapped up in her words; the words Hattie won't say.
Giving back a step or two under the pressure of that push, P'draig's hands close reflexively, then release as soon as he realizes what he's doing. The under-breath cussing tightens his jaw a little and his eyes don't leave her face. "You're right, I do care too much. I love my kids, every one of them. And I don't think of any of them as burdens. They're gifts, Hattie. And if you don't want to share this all the way with someone, that's fine. I can live with that. I've had to let go of Jaivery a little that way. It wasn't easy, but that's just the way it is when you live in one Weyr and your son lives in another." He pauses there, lifts a hand to scrub up the side of his face and through his hair. "Hattie ... just ... please. If this baby /is/ mine, if there's any way to tell, please, let me be a part of this? Let me be there for /you/ at least? Please?" The chase abandoned, Jekzith's head lifts again and he surfaces, floats in place and reaches out to touch gently at that hazy starlight. << Are you? Is she? >> A moment and then: << He just wants to help. >>
"You might not think of your children as burdens, but I'm the one that feels sharding burdened right now," Hattie snaps. Gesturing again, she goes on, "And please, for Faranth's sake, don't go thinking that's a cry for help. I made this choice. It was better than the alternative. I don't need anyone looking after me or being there for me, especially when I can't even tell them for sure whether they should have any reason to! I don't want anyone being /kind/ to me when I can't repay it. I won't listen to shit about people being there for you when they'll just pack up and leave when something doesn't go their way. I'm not naive. I know how the world works." She shakes her head. "I'd rather have nothing and this burden than something. For the baby, too. I know how awful that makes me, believe me." Elaruth, meanwhile, recoils a little and takes a moment to regroup. << I am, >> is all she can say with absolute honesty. << She... believes in what she says. Completely. >>
"Some people don't need a /reason/ other than that they care about you," P'draig fires back and tries to close the distance between them again to reach for her shoulders and hold them with a hand apiece. "I don't need to be paid back. And shells, Hattie, you should know better by now, that I don't /do/ that. I don't walk away. Maybe that means I'm just so much carpet to walk on, but for fuck's sake, you know you can count on me within the whole ... context of what we've both got time for." He pauses, eyes searching her face and tries to pull her close again. "Hattie ... oh Hattie. It doesn't make you awful. It doesn't ... just, shells. What's happened to make you so hurt and so scared?" Jekzith nudges a little wavelet of water toward Elaruth. << Things are hard with her a lot. Aren't they? >> he asks after a moment, head cocked.
"I'm not scared of anything!" Hattie protests immediately, summoning volume so suddenly that it roughens her voice and almost cuts it off completely, physically backing off like she needs to keep P'draig entirely in her line of vision. "Can't you see? It's happening now. I'm being terrible to you and you're just taking it - I could walk all over you; you just said it. I don't know which is worse - you not walking away or the idea that you could. I've given you no /reason/ to care about me. Shells, I've probably worried you more than anything else. I can't let you do this, P'draig. I can't. I don't know how. And I can't live with doubt; that you could end up loving a child that isn't yours. Every time I saw you with them, I'd feel that guilt." Elaruth dips her nose to the surface of the ocean to let that wavelet meet it. << She has very strong beliefs. There is no room for doubt or error. Sometimes I need that from her, >> she explains quietly.
"Then why are you running away from this?" P'draig points out, hands lifting up in an open palmed gesture. "Why are you worried about making me worried? Why are you afraid to /learn/?" His hands drop, fall to his sides and his gaze drops to a patch of sand a half step away. "And why would you feel guilty about a choice I might make with my eyes wide open? Why would it be wrong to love a child that wasn't my blood? If I can live with that, it's not your responsibility. You're not the only person in the world who has to face hard things and make tough choices. If I choose to be your friend, choose to support you, care about you, care about your baby, those are /my/ choices to make. They don't have to make sense. And if that's /our/ baby then I damn well have a /right/ to care and to be involved, even if it's just to visit on alternate weeks. Don't -- don't /you/ walk away from /me/." Jekzith's tail gives a little splash to the water next. << They both do. In very different ways. They're both /stubborn/, >> the brown decides after a moment with a fond snort for his rider, flashing an image of his face all beetle-browed.
Because it's the most important thing to say, "I'm not running away! I'm not afraid!" is what gets belted back first, Hattie's whole body behind the effort of yelling. "Those choices might be yours to make, but it doesn't mean that I have to /accept/ them. Of course they have to make sense. If everyone in the whole world thought their choices were reasonable when they didn't make sense, we'd all be in one heck of a mess." She shakes her head, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Not that, I grant you, we're in something much better than that right now," she admits in a low voice. "I can walk away to stop you being /stupid/. Do you think that if I agreed to any of this, I'd make it easy on you? And this is before I even start to think about the politics involved. Give me a couple of hours and I'm sure I'd have an essay on /that/ for you." Out in the gentle waves, Elaruth closes her eyes and tries to relax, wingsails spread over the water. << In that, it would seem that they are too much alike, >> she agrees. << Perhaps we should simply be thankful that they are not having this argument where there is anyone to hear. >>
Frustration mars P'draig's face and he looks out over the water for a moment in the wake of that yelling, hand pressed to the side of his head. "My point is, Hattie, that it's not /stupid/ to want to help out someone you care about. And if you're not afraid, then why refuse to even /try/ to work things out? You've said that you can't, that you can't do that, that you don't know how. And that says to me that you /are/ scared, scared to tackle something you haven't done yet. And the thing is, it's okay to be scared, but instead of walking away, why not take help when it's offered? Because, shells, Hattie, I've done this before. I've even had to face not knowing whether a kid was mine or not before." He stops there, sighs and looks down at the sand. "You don't have to do this alone. That's all," he adds on quietly, while the breeze picks up a little, washing in from where dragons paddle to ruffle hair and toy with the palm fronds on the trees up the beach. << Could be, >> Jekzith agrees, squinting back towards shore and then leans over to offer a companionably touch of muzze to Elaruth's side. << This really wasn't supposed to be how this visit went. But ... yeah. Better to hash it out here and hopefully get it worked out. Because there's cobbler in that bag! >>
"I'd have thought that I've reasoned clearly enough for it to be plain that fear is hardly a motivating factor," Hattie responds with an eerie calm, folding her arms and turning away from the brownrider entirely. "I /don't/ need /help/. I've been fine so far. Just because I can't hide it anymore doesn't mean I'm suddenly incapable. I've watched my own back just fine since before I Impressed, and with Fort getting screwed over turn after turn, it's pretty much been full alert since I found Elaruth. I think I've proved that I don't need help and then some. I'm not /scared/; I'm how I am." Glancing back over one shoulder, she adds, "I know I don't /have/ to do this alone. I want to. I'm not refusing just to suffer or anything like that." Without opening her eyes again, Elaruth curves her head round, meaning to touch her nose to Jekzith's shoulder, but she might be a bit off-target without having looked. << No... I did not think so either. I should not have made her agree, >> she says regretfully. << But perhaps it is better to be said now than... another day. >>
"I'm really not seeing anything being reasoned clearly here," is P'draig's take on it. "From my point of view, reasonable would've been to tell me, tell this other guy and work out some ground rules, like adults who can talk reasonably about hard things. Not fold your arms, close up, insist you have to do it all on your own and try to -- to push people away," the brownrider gestures to her stance, "for one." He blows out a breath, shakes his head. "I didn't say you're incapable or that you're martyring yourself and I sure as hell didn't mean to imply it either. But why can't you just trust that maybe if we'd talked about this, we could've worked something out? Or that we still could? Because, Hattie, I want to. I want to work this out, even if I'm feeling hurt right now." He turns then, holds a hand out again, swallows hard. "Please? Can't you meet me halfway on this one?" Out on the water, Jekzith lets out a soft whuff as Elaruth's nose touches his shoulder. << Yeah you can't really hide a baby, >> is Jekzith's pragmatic take on it. << He wanted to give her a nice day though. Not shouting. It's just ... he loves his little ones, so much. And he cares about her, very much, but ... feels betrayed. >>
"You don't see everything involved from your point of view," Hattie claims. "Whether I'd agreed to coming here today or said anything to you about it at all, the other man isn't going to know. It wouldn't do anybody any good, least of all him. There wasn't any telling /anybody/ involved; not with what's been going on around the Weyr." With a shrug, she aims for nonchalance, saying, "Maybe it's just what I'm best at. Pushing people away." It takes her a moment to make herself turn back to P'draig and shrug. Just eye that outstretched hand and shrug. "There's nothing to work out. I don't know whose it is. I don't want any help or anyone to be there. You should take your hurt and leave me to it." The weyrwoman really won't like that her queen admits, << She did think to write. Once or twice. >> Elaruth falls silent for a long while after that, though that might not be anything out of the ordinary. << She honestly does not know. She feels foolish; that she has behaved poorly. If she can hurt him enough for him to leave her alone, then she will. >> It's obvious that she doesn't agree with her rider, but not with selling her out either and it's silence that the gold retreats to once more.
"There you go again, deciding what would and wouldn't do anybody any good /without asking them/," P'draig says firmly and gives a shake of his head. "Why can't you see just how little /that/ makes sense. How can you decide what's best when you don't have all of the information you need? Like what this guy might think? Or hell, my opinion? Is it just because this, this right here, arguing about it, is messy and hard?" his finger jabs downward at the sand where they stand and his lips press into a thin line as he steps toward her, hands lifting to shoulders again. "Hell no. I'm not letting you do this. Not letting you toss away months of friendship, because of this. Yeah, I'm hurt and I'm angry, but if you think you can get rid of me that easily, you have another think coming." He stops there, jaw tense, then takes a breath and goes on. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. This wasn't what I had in mind when I asked you to meet me. I was looking forward to spending time with you. And if you'd told me about the baby sooner, I would just have been happy, Hattie. Because it doesn't matter in the end, mine or not mine, especially if the other guy /isn't/ a part of your life. I am. For better or for worse." Jekzith is quiet too, chin lowered near the water's surface a certain tension in his mobile frame. << He would have been happy ... >> the brown echoes his rider. << But he's really ... upset. Now. >>
"I'm pretty sure that being known as the guy that knocked-up a weyrwoman does wonders for your marriage prospects, right?" Hattie snaps with more than ample sarcasm. "I'm not afraid of arguing or something being difficult and I swear if you keep insisting that I'm running away, I'm going to swing for you." If her hands hadn't been curled into fists for the past few minutes anyway, perhaps that would be a more effective threat, but just how seriously she utters it has her blinking as though just realizing how absurd a thing it is to say. At least this time she doesn't shove him away. "What someone doesn't know won't hurt them. What you wouldn't have known wouldn't have had any impact on you," she claims. "How many times have I warned you that I'd be a bitch to you in the end? I was right. Part of me isn't even sorry." Elaruth dips beneath the water all at once, though can't vanish that easily and pops back up again, folding her wings flat to her back. << We should go, >> she answers in a murmur, clearly meaning herself and her rider.
"Having a private conversation with the man, wouldn't have to hurt his marriage prospects, if he's the kind of person who has any in the first place," P'draig answers, voice tight. "It would have come out at some point down the line, Hattie, because do you really think this could stay hidden for the rest of our lives? Secrets have a way of coming back to bite people in ways never expected," the brownrider continues tone laced with strange regret. "And for Faranth's sake, this isn't being a /bitch/. A bitch would be mean. Would tell me all kinds of untrue cruel things. A bitch wouldn’t be standing here arguing with me, wouldn't have come to see me in the first place." His shoulders slump a little, but his hands remain at her shoulders. "Go ahead, swing at me if it makes you feel better." Jekzith's tone is quietly mournful: << I'm sorry. If you need to, then I hope we'll see you again soon. >>
"It wouldn't have," the goldrider insists, jaw set. "Live in a Weyr; lose a child among the other children in the caverns and who's going to be wondering whether it's theirs or not? It could be anybody's." With a quiet groan, Hattie lifts one hand to cover her eyes, shaking her head. "Fantastic. Now you're inviting me to floor you," she murmurs. "Just what does it take for you give up instead of lining yourself up to get hurt repeatedly?" is asked under her breath, not quite a real question at all, more a quiet venting of frustration. << Do not apologize, >> Elaruth replies, ducking beneath the water again. << No good is coming of this, only hurt. I thought that they might have stopped by now, yet... >> The queen peers towards the beach, uncertain.
"Your child," P'draig says quietly. "Yours. Unless you're saying that's what you're going to do. Have the baby and just foster to the lower caverns," the brownrider continues and his voice is heavy. "I said swing, I didn't say I wouldn't defend myself," Paddy elaborates with a faint touch of humor somewhere in there. He tries to draw her to him again, sighs. "Tell me with a straight face, like you really mean it, that you hate my guts and never want to see me again. Tell me the time we've spent together was all a lie and you don't care about me at all. Make me believe it and maybe I'll turn around, walk away, not come back, because I'm not going to waste my time and yours on lies," P'draig says quietly. "All I want is not to be cut loose, Hattie. I'm already involved. The question from here on out is /how much/ and that's what I mean by working it out. You want to do it all alone. I'd like to offer at least as much of my time as you've had all along, more if you'll accept it. And if by whatever small chance, this is /our/ child, I want the right to visit." Jekzith, is quiet, watching and listening. << Maybe ... maybe not. >>
Hattie's shoulders twitch. "I have Elaruth. I'm a weyrwoman. I work longer than the average working day of my own volition and I don't see myself abandoning the habit of a lifetime. I can't be anything like a full-time mother," she states, voice lacking in sharpness even though the same certainty remains. Again, she doesn't fight being drawn closer, but doesn't seem to know just what to do about it either and ends up looking more than a little awkward. "I never tried to say that I hated you," she says after another long silence, perhaps just arguing for argument's sake, perhaps not. "I'm not making excuses when I say that I don't know how to accept help or time or... anything. I even hate that you know that now. I can't promise you anything. I have no idea how to tell whether it's yours or not." Elaruth's eyes close again as she tries to eliminate one sense from the others that threaten to overwhelm. << ...We will see. >>
"That's something we have in common, Hattie," P'draig says quietly. "Working longer and harder than most, willingly," the brownrider continues and one of his hands slides up to find her cheek this time. "I've made sacrifices that you don't have the option to make, to be as close to a full-time parent as a rider can be." He shakes his head though. "I know you haven't said that. But you asked me what it would take. That's what it would take." Bending slightly to press a kiss to her forehead, Paddy shrugs. "You have the option to let me be this baby's father if you want to accept that offer too if you really don't want this other guy involved. You don't have to make up your mind right now and you don't have to promise anything. I've told you what I want, you've told me what you want and that's at least a place to start from to figure out a balance." Jekzith straightens up a little in the water and edges closer, a wing on offer to help block things out.
"You say it as though it's that simple and it's not. I can't... You don't understand how wrong it feels to ask you to be father to a child I can't tell you is yours for certain, even if it's an offer and technically not me asking," Hattie replies, peering up at him without making an effort to hide the exhaustion and concern filtering through her expression. "I can't tell the other man. It's too close and too distant at the same time and just... too complicated. It's better he doesn't know. He's happy." She shakes her head a little, lifting her hand to settle at his hips again, less awkwardly than before. "I'll... try. To talk about it. Without yelling at you. Another day." Meanwhile, out in the ocean, Elaruth drifts closer to Jekzith, taking up the offer of that wing without words, just a faint, grateful, curl of mist.
"I know it's not simple, Hattie, but I'm telling that I'm capable of this. Of loving this baby as if it were mine, if you change your mind about wanting to share parenting with someone, someone who knows you and cares about you, not just a fosterer, not that I'm knocking fostering, because I'd have been sunk without Miara," he says bluntly. The exhaustion on Hattie's face brings a softer expression to Paddy's gaze and he nods. "Please. When you feel able to," the brownrider accepts that and doesn't touch on the mystery man in the picture. "We'll figure this out, Hattie," P'draig says with a return of confidence and when his arms tighten around her it's with affection and reassurance.
Maybe she’s finally figured out that it might be better to shut up for five seconds or so instead of finding something to tear apart, for Hattie doesn’t say anything at all even in response to confidence and finally just winds her arms tight around P’draig, face hidden against his shoulder, yet from what can be seen of her eyes, it seems that she’s still gone to the trouble of trying to slide her expression back to unreadable. If given the chance, she stays like that for a while, quiet and unmoving. “I still think you’re making a mistake,” she tells him eventually, like she hasn’t made that clear enough already.
As Hattie's face burrows into his shoulder, P'draig tips his head down and kisses the top of er head. He says nothing for the duration, arms tightening a little. "Mine to make if it is, but we'll just have to disagree on that," Paddy claims and subtle tension leaves his shoulders. "So ... I made a cobbler," he adds lightly after a moment.
Hattie laughs suddenly right out of nowhere, not particularly brightly or loudly, but there's a half-smile to go with it as she unwinds a little bit and looks up at the brownrider. "...Is that a kind of code to declare a temporary peace?" she asks, managing to maintain the tease for only a further moment or two. "No, I know," the goldrider soon assures. "I probably don't deserve cobbler, however."
"It means I made cobbler for you and I'd really like to share it with you and see if you like it," P'draig says with a low chuckle. "I think we both deserve a chance to ... sweeten things up a little," the brownrider continues and aims another kiss downward. << Now that's a lot better, >> Jekzith observes to Elaruth with his wing still draped protectively over her.
"Well, I think I can oblige you in that, at least," Hattie responds, inclining her head just a little. "It does sound a lot more civilized than yelling at each other," she goes on, not flinching away from that kiss despite continuing to look terribly awkward every now and then. "...Or just... me yelling at you," she amends. Still tensed, Elaruth keeps peering over at the shore, but she's certainly more settled now that her rider isn't shouting. << I hope they will not do that very often, >> she confesses, touching her nose to Jekzith's shoulder again.
"That /was/ the intent of today," P'draig says with a little smile. "Being civlized," the brownrider jokes a little and starts to step back, nodding toward the pack he brought with him. "The restaurant was closed for a week while I was sick, so it's been a bit of a scramble to try to make up the shortfall." Jekzith agrees wholeheartedly. << I don't like it when they shout, no. >> His head tilts towards Elaruth's companionably.
"I'll make sure that people introduce me as the uncivilized one in the future," Hattie declares, expression not matching her voice and words at all; something like a silent apology written there, one that's not allowed to gain any more ground than that. "Just how ill were you if the place was closed?" she asks, starting to take steps that are more just trailing after than anything. "If you've lost marks from being closed, then surely you should be there and not here?"
"If lack of civilization is the worst we descend to ..." P'draig starts and runs his hand up Hattie's arm lightly. "It was a bug running around Ista. It's part of why I haven't been in touch. Didn't want to get anyone else sick. But ... fever, pretty high for a few days. I'm still a little foggy on what happened during that time and I'm only just opening up for lunch again this seven." His hand drops to find hers and aims to lead a few steps away back towards that pack and the waiting treat.
"I suppose I can live with it in certain situations," the goldrider murmurs. "With the Istan heat, I'm surprised that anyone ever realizes that they're ill within a decent amount of time to bring the fever down. Lucky that it hasn't gone from Weyr to Weyr, somehow." Hattie's head tilts and she looks up at P'draig just as her hand touches his. "...You're okay?" she asks, in a manner that the woman of a few minutes ago might not be believed to be capable of.
"Yeah, it's got a whole cough part to it, so it's pretty contagious?" P'draig offers over and pauses, fingers seeking to slide between Hattie's. "I'm okay, Hattie. Maybe I should tell you more about my past ... so you understand where I'm coming from," he says slowly, gaze seeking to meet hers.
Hattie just keeps looking up for a little while, meeting his gaze in silence. From the look in her eyes, it's rather clear that she's unsure that understanding will be a good thing at all, though she nods a moment or two later and agrees, "...Okay. You don't have to tell me... I mean, I certainly don't intend to go explaining myself. You should know that."
P'draig gives her hand a light squeeze and aims to draw her fingers up to his lips. "I don't expect you to. It just ... might help to understand my point of view on things. But maybe not today. Come sit?" He takes another half-step up the beach.
Hattie hesitates a moment more before she sits. "You know I might feel differently when it's here?" she considers aloud. "It might be easier or it might not be. I can't tell. I keep calling it an 'it'. I feel like... I'm being taken over. It might be different in the end. I might not argue. I might understand. I don't know." But, with that, she makes to fold down onto the sand, staring at it like it's fascinating.
"You might. It's hard to say," P'draig says slowly, hunkering down to draw the box holding the cobbler out and a blanket too, which he spreads on the sand. Once that's done he lifts up the cobbler box again and sits beside the goldrider and is quiet for a time. "Have I told you about Palia's mother?" he asks after a moment and looks back up at her.
"Not that I can remember," Hattie responds, shaking her head just the once and sneaking a look across at him as though not quite sure where it might be safe to look. "Mentioned her in general, perhaps, but not more than that." She takes a breath and holds it for a few seconds, exhaling slowly right before she asks, "What happened to her?"
That snuck look is met directly and P'draig is still for a moment, then he looks down to open up the box, brings out the baked fruit and pastry. "It's a long story, but the short version is that after Illya had Palia, she ... decided she didn't want her anymore. She only wanted me and she ... asked me to choose between her and our daughter," the brownrider summarizes. "So I raised Palia alone, around a clutch of weyrlings."
Hattie remains silent for a good while after there's no more listening to be done, staring off down the beach now. "You... think I'm going to do something like that?" she attempts to understand. "Or is that a warning, or...?" For the time being, she doesn't look back; just keeps staring at sand. "I understand that you put your children first. I'm not- I suppose I should say that I know why, not that I understand. I don't expect you can understand unless you have children."
"No, shells no, Hattie, I don't think you'd do that at all," P'draig says, shaking his head emphatically and puts the box down, reaches for her hands. "Just, yes, I've been the one an only one responsible for Palia since she was tiny. And ... she wasn't healthy. So it was tough. I don't know how things will be. But that's a part of why I am the way I am."
"I can't... say that I won't do something deliberately or completely unintentionally that you could find unacceptable or selfish. It doesn't mean that I'd do it to hurt you," Hattie murmurs, allowing her hands to be caught. "I won't pretend that I understand why you'd want to... feel that much for a baby that could be someone else's, but I... get it. I get the... motivation behind it. The reason."
P'draig curls his hands a bit more around hers, nods. "I know. People aren't perfect and this isn't an easy situation, Hattie," the brownrider says quietly. "Family is just really important to me. That's part of Palia's story. Jaivery .. we didn't know if he was mine or T'rev's, but when he got older it was pretty obvious. He's pretty much a mini-me. Vrys wound up weyrmating my brother and we've had a lot of ... negotiating over the turns about what happens in Jaivery's life. Dylan's mother is an Istan rider and we're pretty much 50/50 with his time. Lanea's really laid back. Dharia ... well you know what happened to Phara," Paddy says and looks down and away for a moment. "So ... it's hard for me /not/ to be attached, is what it all add up to."
The goldrider watches their hands for a moment, gaze distant and unfocused. "To me..." Hattie starts, "family means looking out for your family and watching your own back. Looking after others - not letting them look after you." She looks down into her lap for a little while and only speaks again when she looks back up. "I can't pretend to like it and I can't pretend that I won't see some things as interfering and get angry. But I can try and learn to... tolerate it. Whatever level of involvement or attachment to the child there ends up being. I can try. That's... really all I can do." Her head tilts a fraction and she tries to catch P'draig's gaze, leaning a little like she'd kiss him and apologize that way, since she still hasn't said the actual words.
"And for me, it means we all look out for each other, except for the kids, because grownups are supposed to look after the kids," P'draig says with a little nod. "That's all I'm really asking, Hattie. Try a little. Maybe keep an open mind about what does and doesn't work," the brownrider adds and his gaze meets hers steadily. That lean is met halfway, Paddy's kiss gentle.
You can't go that way.
Silence again after Hattie draws back, broken by, "I don't want to. Honest to Faranth, I don't." She glances down again. "But I'll try. I might be stubborn, but I'm not a liar. In the end." As shown by her telling him in the first place, however belatedly. Even with that agreement to try and learn what she should have to, effectively putting her in a position that she might seek to escape, she doesn't find an excuse to return to Fort in any kind of hurry in the near future, leaving Elaruth some time to wind down too and maybe get around to actually chasing fish with Jekzith.
"Didn't really think you were," P'draig says with a small smile and takes this opportunity to serve up baked goods, turn the conversation to lighter things and try to make the outing a lot more like the pleasant escape he'd intended in the first place. Which ought to leave enough time for dragons to have fun chasing fish.