Sceptile's Choices(formerly SceptileMasterr)

USA, February 2027

Life, Michelle had come to realise long ago, never really did run out of curve-balls to throw her way. Life could be turned on its head at any time, and she’d just have to learn to roll with it. No, it wasn’t ‘trapped at the end of the world, everyone else is dead’ level, but bringing home your first child-- and one born in deeply emotional circumstances-- was certainly… a lot.

Ready or not, she and Quinn were bringing home baby Isla. Their perfect little girl; eight pounds, and with a fine dark smattering of hair. She was strong and healthy, putting to rest persistent fears for the expectant mothers, of which Isla had more than most.

Eager grandparents on both sides had already been warned that the newly formed family would be taking at least a couple of weeks to settle-- any visits would solely be by invitation, specifically if help was needed. No one, not even an eager Craig, was fool enough to come barging in when Michelle had put her foot down. She had to be staunch in her resolve; there was a lot that they were struggling to come to terms with-- Quinn especially. If her wife needed time and space to get her head around all this, Michelle would make it happen.

The door creaked open, and they were home in their spacious Northbridge apartment.

“Home, sweet, home, Isla!” Quinn announced, but the tiny child in the carrier didn’t even stir. “I guess we’ll have to show you around later; even if you were awake there’s so much that you won’t be able to take in yet, little one.”

Michelle gave a shiver. “Oh my god-- goosebumps! I can’t believe she’s really here in our apartment. She’s home!”

She’d half expected some wrench to be thrown into their plans at the last minute-- some long-lost relative of the birth-mother show up and demand custody of the baby, or some adoption official swoop in and insist the baby would be better off in care. Or even a yeti take the baby as her own. None of the scenarios were likely, but with so much on the line, catastrophising was all too easy.

Even with everything going exactly to plan, the turmoil was immense. Isla’s birth mother, Jen, always to be acknowledged as one of three mothers as important of either of the remaining two, was dead. The strain of labour proved more than her frail body could handle, and Rotterdam’s took her after a lifetime of courageous fighting. A chance meeting at a Kelly Foundation event several years prior had resulted in a firm friendship between Quinn and the younger woman with whom she shared so much… and in time to come, the answer to Jen’s prayers when she’d found herself pregnant. Then had come the rollercoaster; fears that the unborn infant might have inherited Rotterdam’s and the hard discussions about what they’d do if she had, the doubts and the fears, the nights Michelle and Quinn spent wide awake wondering if they were unconsciously taking advantage of a dying young woman. But through it all, Jen had remained adamant; her baby girl would be her gift left to the world, and the trusted friend who’d supported her would, in turn, support her daughter. Their daughter.

The baby began to fidget in her sleep, and Michelle jumped to make a bottle of formula-- or, she attempted to, but Quinn, catching on to her wife’s nerves, caught her hands and twisted her round into an embrace.

“First bottle in her new home? I think that might be a job for two mommies rather than one.”

“All right, fine.” Michelle exhaled slowly, then threw herself into the hug. And breathe. “Between you and me,” she said, rather too shakily to convince a soul, “how hard can this parenting crap really be?”

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USA, 2039

The scream reverberated all around her. It was everywhere, and it was everything. Years of medical training, of dealing with uncooperative patients, had prepared Michelle for this moment.

Isla kicked out on the floor, hitting a shelf, and sending a cascade of boxes and packets tumbling down. And still she screamed, unintelligible.

Crouched down with her daughter, Michelle tried to get hold of Isla’s hands, met only with resistance. She tried to ignore the gaze of onlookers-- probably a fifty-fifty mix of scornful and sympathetic. Had she not been so desperate to put on a show of calm for her daughter, a brutal tongue lashing would have been in order. Sometimes holding back barbs was one of the hardest parts of parenting.

“NO-O-OO!” Isla hollered.

“Isla, I need you to use your words for me,” Michelle said loudly, as clear as she could manage over the continued noise. “Darling, I can’t understand when you’re screaming.”

The toddler continued to struggle.

“Look at me-- look at me! Look at Mommy, Isla….” She managed to get eye contact for a moment-- progress. “Sweetheart, can you take a big breath in?” She demonstrated, exaggerated for effect.

To Michelle’s sheer relief, Isla stopped screeching for long enough to take in a big gulp of air.

“That’s my girl! Aaand… breathe out.”

Isla did, but her tiny face immediately crumpled all over again.

“One more time for Mommy! Big breath in….”

As Isla calmed herself, that wildness in her eyes slowly flickered out, the more familiar sweet, happy toddler resurfacing from beneath it. Her hair was unkempt and falling out of her sparkling hair-clips, her cheeks were red and streaked with tears, but she was Michelle’s beloved baby peeking out from the hysteria.

“Well done, Isla! That’s it… that’s it….”

Isla’s sobs subsiding, she looked up into her mother’s face with a loud hiccough. “I want-- that-- hic-- one…. All a people getting toys. Why not that one, Mommy?”

“There’s a toy you want to show me?”

“Put a in a twoy for home.”

Michelle carefully remained calm, knowing just how easy it would be for the disgruntled toddler to tip back over the edge. But she sure as hell wasn’t putting any big sparkly toys in the trolley for home, no matter how bad of a migraine she might be risking. “Sweetheart, it’s very close to Christmas, do you know that? That’s why so many people are here buying toys.”

“We buy toys!”

“When we’re doing, our Christmas shopping, it’s even more fun to find special things for other people who we love.”

Isla took a sharp inhale, clearly gearing up for another lung-busting shriek.

Oh, no you don’t….

“Isla, why don’t you show me the really cool thing you found, and then we can see if you can find something extra special to wrap up and hide for Mama? What do you think Mama would like?”

“Pesent for Mama?” Isla queried, visibly rolling the concept over in her mind, weighing up whether it was an interesting enough prospect to ditch her tantrum to pursue. “For unna a twee?”

“That’s right.” Michelle replied, far more brightly than should have been possible for someone a hair’s breadth away from bursting into tears herself.

Fucking hell, child, don’t you make me have a breakdown in the middle of a goddamn Walmart. I am this close….

And then, as if by miracle, the storm passed and Isla stood up, bounced on the spot and smiled.

What. The fuck. Did I just perform an exorcism right now? Sure, no one witnesses that bit, just the screaming meltdown.

But rather than voicing her bemusement, Michelle held out her hand, immediately taken by her little Isla, now grinning from ear to ear even as tear streaks still lined her face.

Isla looked up at her, all puffy eyes and smiles. “Mommy we find dowfins for Mama!”

“That’s a really good idea, Isla, we’ll see what we can find with dolphins-- Mama would really like that.”

So, it wasn’t exactly going to be a quick and easy shopping trip. If it meant the tantrums could be kept at bay, Michelle would take it but honestly… it would be the dolphin-treasure-hunting detours that she knew she’d hang onto forever. But she’d be damned if she wouldn’t remember that exorcising trick as well.

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USA, 2031

“Well,” Quinn said with an exhale as she sat down beside her mother, “it’s not come back, baby’s fine, and the doctor is pretty convinced I’m not sick at all.”

“Oh, Quinnie, thank goodness!” Fiona Kelly took her daughter in her arms and held her. “I knew, but… god, the places your mind goes to….”

Quinn knew those places all too well. She’d been ‘cured’ before, only to have her symptoms return. How could she possibly reassure her mother that it was different now, that what happened on La Huerta had permanently taken any trace of the condition from her body, when she herself felt utter dread every time she developed the smallest sniffle? She should have known morning sickness would be a nightmare for her.

“I’m just… ‘burnt at both ends’ is what the doctor called it. I told her everything I had on my plate and she looked at me like I was mad! I known Michelle tells me I take on too much, but I just tend to, you know, laugh it off. As if she can talk!”

“It’s hardly surprising, sweetpea. I remember the first time-- when we thought that experimental treatment had worked-- you spent every day trying to cram as much in as you possibly could in case the chance to do those things would never come again.”

Isla came skipping into the room, draped in a very pink, very sparkly number, something put together enthusiastically from her mountain of dress-ups. “Grandma, do you like my dress?”

Fiona beamed at the little girl. “It’s very pretty, Isla. Can you give us a twirl?”

As if that even needed asking. Isla turned in a flourishing pirouette, laughing. That tinkling laugh warmed Quinn’s heart and her soul. It was confronting to see just what innocence she’d have had when she herself was that age… before everything changed. It made it all the more precious. Yes, she’d taken on a lot, but nothing would come before making sure her little daughter had the easy, carefree childhood she hadn’t had. The kind she’d seen on television. In the kids playing in the streets on their bicycles-- with friends.

“I guess I never saw the things I have on my plate as ‘work’; it’s things I love. And I suppose that was enough until I went and put a pregnancy into the equation.”

Isla leaned up against her mother’s knees and looked up at Fiona. “Do you know the little, little baby in Mama’s tummy? It’s my brother or my sister.”

“I know!” Fiona gushed. “It’s very exciting. The baby in Mama’s tummy is going to be my grandbaby, so then I’ll have two! Isn’t that lucky!”

“I want it to be called ‘Pie’,” Isla said, deadly serious. “Pie is good. Spessolly the one we had when Bà came to our house for dinner.”

“I guess… ‘Pie Nguyen-Kelly’ has a unique kind of ring to it. We’ll have to talk to Mummy about that,” Quinn said diplomatically, trying not to laugh at the thought of the look on Michelle’s face should such a name be proposed. “But we have lots of time still. We’re probably going to think of lots of really nice names before we all decide together.”

Now, Isla was all but climbing into Quinn’s lap, nuzzling up like a puppy wanting pats. “I think the baby should be called ‘Pie’ or ‘Glitter’… or ‘Cuddles’.”

Quinn squeezed her and kissed her hair. The giggles were exactly what she needed after the doctor’s visit… and being given the realisation that something had to give. It would not be Isla. Already, Quinn had found herself being uncharacteristically sharp with the headstrong little girl, and it left her feeling sick with guilt even after apologies were said.

Fiona met her daughter’s eye, knowing. “You’ve poured so much into the foundation; no one would think ill of you taking a step back to have some more ‘mom time’. Besides… I think we both know your dad would absolutely throw himself into keeping things ticking over.”

“Yeah… I do know that,” Quinn said, and she found herself sniffing back tears.

“Mama, are you sad? Do you need to be kissed better?” Isla contorted herself so that she was fully bent over, twisted to look up into her mother’s face.

Baby, you are an actual angel.

“Don’t you worry-- Mama’s just fine,” Quinn reassured. “I’ve just realised that I have all the time in the world to do all the things I want to do. I’m going to have more fun and be less worried--”

“--and put your feet up and relax once in a while,” Fiona added for her. “For your own good, and Michelle’s, and Isla’s… and baby Cuddles.”

Isla’s eyes grew wide. “You think we should call it ‘Cuddles’?”

Fiona chuckled. “It’s got my vote so far. We’re a cuddly family!” She squeezed Quinn’s knee. “The foundation, ‘For Goodness’ Cake’, this little lady, and a pregnancy? Darling, you’re so very special, but you’re not a superhero.”

If only she knew…. But this was now, and Quinn had to admit the truth. Time to come up for air… and trust that she wasn’t fighting a ticking clock.

“I think Mama’s a superhero!” Isla loudly announced.

And that, Quinn knew, was the reason why.

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USA, February 2027

It was so easy. Easier than either of them had braced themselves for. Isla took her carefully measured amount of formula, burped on cue, and was now sleeping soundly in her bassinet while her mothers looked on, entranced.

Michelle rested her head on Quinn’s shoulder. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel so much at once. I’m so full of love right now, but the sadness is just… just stifling.” She sniffed. “I’m just so damn grateful Jen got to hold her. What a piss-poor consolation! But she almost didn’t even have that. It’s just fucking bullshit.”

Quinn looked at the tiny child in the crib, a little life already touched by Rotterdam’s, watching the rise and fall of her chest. They already knew that Isla didn’t have the condition, for Jen had insisted on screening in utero before deciding to go ahead with the pregnancy. Quinn understood completely, even as questions of ‘what if’s were stirred up in her. Isla couldn’t be shielded from what she’d lost though, and it sent an ache down to Quinn’s heart. How was it fair that the Island’s Heart had let her live, while others suffered and died of the same condition? This little angel might be sleeping soundly beside her real mother right now….

“I feel ashamed for being happy to have her, because I can’t separate it from how we have her,” Quinn said. “It really is just… love. Bittersweet and absolutely enormous. It reminds me-- this is going to sound stupid--” she added apologetically, but Michelle gestured for her to go on. “It reminds me of when the Island Heart was influencing me-- not when I was fully possessed-- but when there was something so strong, I could feel it filling me up from top to toe, and every inch of me could feel it. This love is like that. And that,” she chuckled softly, “kinda reminds me of our wedding day, only that was so much easier, no conflict, just pure joy.”

Michelle nodded, thoughtful. The poor child wouldn’t be looked on as something bittersweet forever, would she? Jen had no regrets, had been so proud of the little bundle of baby that had been placed in her arms, she reminded herself, so maybe everyone else would be able to look at things in a similar way. In time.

“Chellie…?” Quinn breathed. “How the hell do I ever tell her that something from beyond this world saved me, but couldn’t save her real mom?” The ‘r’ word slipped out before she could help it and she felt Michelle wince beside her. “God, sorry! I know I shouldn’t say that. We’re her moms too… I’m just so scared. It’s the most selfish thing; worrying that she’ll wish she didn’t have us at all, and she had Jen instead. I had the whole pregnancy to work through those stupid worries, but it turns out they’re not going anywhere.”

Michelle gave her wife a sympathetic look. She got it. She might not have the guilt Quinn felt over being cured, but she sure knew a thing or two about dreading that she’d be a let down to the daughter she already loved as her own.

“I think… worrying that she’ll resent us comes with the territory.” She reached into the crib and gently stroked the baby’s fine hair. “It absolutely breaks my heart that she’ll never meet her other mom, who loved her so much. I can’t see how that won’t be tough on her.”

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USA, 2034

Seven-year-old Isla sat at the kitchen bar, playing despondently with the last remnants of her breakfast. She knew her Mama, Quinn, had been keeping a close eye on her, noticing that she hadn’t quite been herself. Isla didn’t want her mom to worry. So, she braved the question. A big one. Perhaps the scariest of them all.

“Mama?” Isla asked quietly, her sparkling eyes slightly glazed over. “I- I’ve been thinking. And… wondering a bit.”

“Yeah? You do seem like you’ve been lost in thought these past couple of days. Has something been troubling you?”

Quinn nudged very gently, balancing out the need to show genuine interest in what was on her daughter’s mind, with the need to make sure no pressure was being exerted. She seemed to have a knack for it; Isla had always been very forthcoming-- sharing everything from troubles with her math homework, to social drama from the schoolyard, to those big worries about whether Mama might get sick with Rotterdam’s again and die just like Tummy Mom Jen did.

Isla looked down into her bowl as she spoke. “You and Mom… do you… do you think you would love me more if I was your own actual kid? Like… like Conor is.”

“Isla…,” Quinn said gently, and she came around the counter to put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Come sit down with me on the couch.”

They sat down together, little Isla hunched over herself, perched at the edge of the seat, while Quinn kept an arm around her, never letting the reassuring touch slip.

“You’re my daughter, sweetheart. You’re Mom’s daughter. Baby, you are our actual kid.”

“But-- but I’m not!”

“Y-you know love… it doesn’t really care about things like how you’re related. I love you for all the time we’ve spent together-- all the times you see I’m sad and you grab me a tissue and snuggle me until I’m smiling again. I’m really, really lucky you know. I have you, and I have Mr Con. I was just as excited to meet you as I was to meet him-- and just as nervous! I wanted to get everything right, and make you feel happy, and make you feel just how much I loved you. And from the moment you were born… I just love you so much it feels my heart isn’t even big enough to hold it all.”

Isla snuggled in, sniffling. “I’m sorry….”

“Darling, it’s okay! It’s natural to worry about things like that. You probably don’t know this, but Mom used to be worried that Conor wouldn’t love her as much as he loves me, because they weren’t related either.”

“What? But Conor loves Mom! He thinks Mom’s the best thing ever! I think he wants to be just like her when he grows up.”

“Exactly. These worries we have… they’re normal to have, but it doesn’t mean what we’re worried about is true at all.”

“So… so I didn’t hurt your feelings? I know you love me, I just wondered… if it was different, you know?”

“Of course not, angel.” Quinn kissed the top of Isla’s head with a loud ‘mwah!’. “It’s my job to put those little fears to rest-- you don’t deserve to have those worries hurting you, okay? You’re my special girl. The specialest.”

“That’s not even a word, Mama!”

Quinn squeezed her tightly, tight enough that there could never be any doubt of the love there. “Doesn’t matter, it’s still what you are!” She gave Isla another big kiss, and stroked her rosy cheek. “Tummy Mom Jen wold have said so too. She loved you so much, babe. Even when she was very sick, and very scared, knowing she was bringing you into the world made her feel brave.”

Isla looked up at her mom, big eyes watery. “It’s not fair that she died. I wish I could meet her. And give her her Mother’s Day card in person instead of putting it in the fire to go to heaven. We would be a really nice family.”

“We really would be. She’d be as proud of you as me and Mom are-- actually, I’m sure she is, wherever she’s looking down from.”

Sniffing, Isla gave a slow nod of the head. Quinn gently rubbed her arm, comforting her.

“Hey-- I wanted to bake some special cupcakes for Mom to celebrate this new job. Do you think you could help me out with the decorating? You do always manage to get them just the right amount of sparkly.”

The edge of Isla’s mouth twitched, a smile threatening to burst forth. That was a cheering-up activity if ever she heard of one. “W-we… um, we could decorate them like brains and stethoscopes, ‘cause Mom’s a brain doctor.”

“Not glittery-sparkly decorations? Are you trying something new, Isla?”

“I can make brain and doctor cupcakes glittery-sparkly. So they’re extra special for Mom. Do you think she’d like that?”

“Sweetie, she’d love that.”

Little Conor’s ears must have been burning, for he came toddling over from the rug on across the room where he’d been playing with building blocks, eyes wide.

“We a making steffyscup cakes?”

“We sure are, kiddo!” Quinn said, standing up and scooping her small son into her arms. At only three, Conor could only do so much to help in the kitchen, but there was no way she’d have him miss out on cupcake fun. Cupcake fun was her specialty. “I’m gonna need you each to pick out a really yummy flavour, something you think Mom will like.”

“I fink mud.”

“That’s gross! Mama! Mom does not like mud.”

“Okay, how about chocolate for Con?” Quinn could have burst out laughing at the look on Conor’s face; he clearly hadn’t considered that chocolate might have been rather yummier, but he was very suggestible to the idea. “And what do you think, La-la? It can be anything you like, even if it means we need a quick run to the shops.”

Still needy, Isla clasped Quinn’s hand and buried her face against her. “I want them sprinkles and glitter and strawberry,” she mumbled. “Really pretty for Mommy so she knows we love her.”

While Conor ran to grab his shoes, eager as he was to get some sweet treats happening, Isla hung back, still hugging Quinn’s waist.

Quinn crouched down to talk to her little girl and spoke to her softly.

“Isla? I’ve been thinking, sweetheart. It’s been a little while since we took you to Tummy Mom Jen’s grave… do you think you might like to go sometime to talk to her?”

“I would really, really, really like that, Mama,” Isla replied, a little muffled by her thumb and finger in her mouth-- a nervous habit. “Can we… can we go with Mommy, too? I want all my moms at the same time.”

Quinn cradled Isla’s head and kissed her. “Of course, baby. And you’ll always have us.”

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San Trobida, 2036

Isla absolutely loved it there. ‘The Star of San Trobida’. It wasn’t the biggest holiday resort she’d ever stayed at, nor the fanciest, but it was the only one she knew that had forests up the walls and roofs outside and a beach and two pools and-- this was probably the best bit-- some of her La Huerta family around the place. She’d had to write about the family holiday to San Trobida for school, which had been pretty fun. Aleister was excited to be interviewed by her about the hotel and all its innovations in sustainability, and how it was helping put the small country on the international tourism map after years of civil war. Isla had interviewed Estela was well. She hadn’t gushed on nearly so much, but Isla got the impression she too was very, very proud of what Catalyst International had achieved.

So, when the nine-year-old woke up on the morning of her birthday-- and the last before they returned to their usual accommodation at the Hall’s place in Valle Brava-- she realised she wasn’t quite done with documenting her adventures. Did New Year’s resolutions only count at the beginning of the calendar year, or did birthdays count as a new year? Because she had a plan to start something fun.

“If I kept writing about our holiday-- not just the five-hundred words Mrs Mason wanted-- could I, like, print it off to keep? And then I could keep writing about all the exciting things we do all year!”

“That’s a really nice idea, Isla,” Quinn said brightly from the ensuite, where she was brushing her hair.

Michelle took a little longer to perk up of a morning, certainly before anything caffeinated had been administered, but she gave her daughter a warm-- if tired-- smile. “You really enjoyed that little piece of homework didn’t you?”

“It didn’t even feel like homework, which was weird,” Isla said. “Writing is kinda fun when you can write about stuff you care about. I wanted to do a travel journal for ages, but most of our holidays are to places that are too secret.”

“I know, baby,” Quinn said, sticking her head around the door frame. “But if you want to write about La Huerta, you can always keep a journal in our house over there? We can keep important things secret and still have fun, yeah?”

That gave Isla another idea. “If I write a load of stuff about going to San Trobida, I could take a few copies to La Huerta to give to my friends, like Talauet, and Zhaali, and Ashala. They can’t go and visit different places like this on their own!”

She jabbered excitedly, legs swinging off the side of the plush hotel bed, confident that her mothers were hanging on her every word. “And I know they can read English pretty well, but it would be nicer I think if Diego could help me out with translating into Vaanti-- and I could put photos with it and everything! Is it okay if I use the family tablet to write it all and to take pictures? I swear I won’t like… drop it in the sea or something.”  

Quinn felt her heart swell at the passion in her daughter’s voice. “Just make sure it’s got the heavy duty case on. We all know it’ll end up in Conor’s hands at some point--”

“--and he’ll definitely drop it?” Isla finished, clearly knowing her younger brother’s points of weakness.

“He will definitely drop it,” Michelle attested, not bothering to hide a shudder. She loved her boy to absolute pieces, but that didn’t mean his tendency to crash through life wasn’t exhausting at times. She fished the tablet-- already sporting a few dings-- from the bedside drawer. “While we’re here, why don’t you start with taking some pictures of the hotel?”

Isla jauntily crawled up the bed on all fours, then knelt up to put her arms around Michelle. “D’you wanna be in the pictures?”

“Not until I’ve fixed my hair, thank you,” she replied, wicked-fast, making her daughter giggle.

“Okay! I think you’re always beautiful, but you can say when you think you’re beautiful enough for pictures.”

Quinn caught Michelle’s eye, her gaze brimming with adoration. It still made Michelle’s stomach flip, make her feel her strongest self. Actually-- why not capture these moments, messy and real as they were? This was her little girl’s ninth birthday, and these moments would never be had again.

“Screw it!” she said, and again, her giggly girl laughed, light and free. “If my bed hair’s on this holiday with us, it gets to be in the photos. We’d better grab Conor, though-- his PB&J face needs to be captured as well!”

Perfect was them like this, open and honest… a family.

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USA, February 2027

“Have you looked at your phone in a while?” Michelle called from the lounge. “Mine’s just about blowing up with messages. Zahra says, ‘congrats, happy for us, but not to take that as any sign that she wants to babysit ‘it’’. Aaaand separate text from Craig asking to babysit if we ever need it. Yeah, don’t think that’s happening.”

Quinn burst out laughing. It was wonderfully grounding to hear from their friends. This whole rollercoaster of hospitals, adoption, loss, and bringing home the baby left her feeling as though she was existing in a whole different world to everyone around her. While only Michelle was in the thick of it with her, the outpouring from family no matter how far away left her knowing that they weren’t going through it all alone. She joined Michelle and sat down beside her on the sofa.

“Poor Craig,” she chuckled. “I think he might just have to wait until bubba’s old enough to not be a Zahra repellent. I’m pretty sure she’ll want to hold a baby when hell freezes over.”

“Nice long text from Taylor, as if we’d expect anything else….”

Quinn took the phone and read, soon finding her face aching with a smile.

‘Don’t worry, not gonna try and get a conversation out of you-- just dropping a line to let you all (!) know that we’re thinking of you and we love you. Liv has been asking about baby Isla all day! Anyway, we’ve sent you an Uber Eats gift card for the likely event that you’re too exhausted to even think about cooking. Check your emails! I think Stel sent it to Michelle’s but not sure. Love you guys SO MUCH, over the moon for you and can’t wait to meet your gorgeous girl. Just know that we can be right there if you need anything at all, okay? Also, don’t freak out about replying to this long message-- just enjoy a good meal and we’ll hear from you when we hear from you. Massive hugs and congratulations! T & E & L xx’

“Aw, that’s really sweet!” she said. “Not gonna lie, I’m this close to crying from relief that we don’t have to cook….”

“Oh my god, hard same!” Michelle exclaimed. “You would think med school would prepare you for tired, but nooooo, apparently there are depths of exhaustion I hadn’t plumbed yet. Different emotions I guess.” She selected another message. “Raj is crazy excited to get back into experimenting with baby purees.”

Then she read aloud the message from Sean and her eyes grew misty.

‘Hey guys, had to send you my massive congratulations. Isla is gorgeous, and no matter how hard things feel right now, she’s so damn lucky to be growing up with you two as moms. After all the talking about it for so long, it’s crazy to think she’s really coming home with you! I know it’s hard to reach out when you’re exhausted, but don’t you ever forget that I’m here for anything you need-- we all are. You are both absolutely amazing.’

Michelle wiped her face. “Wow. That one really hit me. I guess… after everything we went through, it means a lot.” She looked up to Quinn’s smiling eyes. “I’m gonna have to save all these. Pretty sure we’re gonna need to remember this feeling when things get tough.”

“Yes,” Quinn said, and she leaned in and softly kissed her wife’s lips. “And we’re gonna need to remember that we’re not doing this alone. Isla may not know it yet, but she’s got a big family who love her to pieces.”

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USA, 2038

Isla cried and cried and cried. Her slight body shook even as she buried it in Michelle’s arms… whatever comfort she gleaned didn’t take away the hurt like a knife to her chest.

White hot anger surged through Michelle’s body, engulfing her from head to toe. She knew this kind of ugliness all too well-- how utterly naiive to even dare hope that Isla might get through her childhood without being made a victim. What could she even do to help but be there for her?

Quinn came back to them on the couch, having seen that Conor was happy playing away in a sea of Legos on his bedroom floor. It was just as well, for Isla needed support. Of course, Quinn knew that kids could be cruel, but having been so socially deprived had made it a somewhat distant concept. Here and now, looking upon her sweet girl, all dressed up for a party after saving up for a new outfit specially, and so proud of the jewellery she’d spent hours hand-crafting as a gift for her best friend, only to be told-- texted of all things-- that she wasn’t invited after all, her spot taken by the popular new girl in their year… it was shocking, and it damn near broke Quinn’s heart.

“That’s it, my darling,” she cooed, rubbing a hand gently on Isla’s shaking arm. “You just cry it all out, okay? We’ve got you.”

She glanced up and met her wife’s eye. Michelle looked ready to punch someone. It wasn’t often Quinn felt that kind of anger, but with her daughter sobbing in her arms… she got it. What anger wouldn’t do, though, was help Isla.

Michelle, clearly taking great efforts to not let her fury affect Isla, rubbed her arm. “Hey… we know we can’t make up for what you’re missing out on, and that sucks. What we can do, babe, is give you a special night in; you choose the movies, you choose the snacks, and manicures are on me.”

Isla sniffed, her face crumpled. “But I don’t any friends. H-how sad do I have to be to have a party on my own?”

Quinn kissed her temple. “You’ve got us. And… hey!-- how about we see if Liv’s free? Friends still count as friends even if you’re hanging out down a video call.”

It didn’t seem likely to Isla that anyone would want to go out their way to keep her company when she felt like absolute crap, but she nodded, humouring her mom’s well-intentioned desire to make her feel better. But then, not a half hour later, she was talking to her special friend all the way in San Trobida.

“You don’t have to hang out with me if you don’t want to,” Isla said softly, apologetic, unaware that her shattered confidence and self-worth on full display brought her listening mothers close to tears. “It’s okay….”

On the tablet screen, Liv simply looked baffled. This wasn’t the self-important rather pushy Isla that she knew. “What? As if! We haven’t talked in ages. And, well, if you’ve had a shit time of it, I’m not letting you go until you feel at least a little better. You’ve bullied me into feeling happy enough times not for me to return the favour, you know.”

Isla’s lip quivered. “Thanks.”

“Do, uh,” Liv ventured, a little unsure, “do you want to talk about it?”

Isla hugged herself. “Not really, I’ll only start crying again and my face is puffy enough already.”

“Bet your Mom’s got something for that.”

“Yeah. Best part of being a sad sack is that Mom’ll break out the fanciest face cream to make me feel better. I know I don’t even need to use lotions or anything yet, but it makes me feel confident like Mom.” Even talking about it did something to perk Isla up. Her moms were going to spoil her rotten until she was feeling herself again; games and cupcakes and pampering would be the remedies of choice. “Well… basically,” she said, feeling braver, “what happened was Paisley ditched me for Alison again. Only this time it’s for her actual birthday party… that she invited me to months ago. So… so I pretty much don’t have any real friends.” Isla’s lip wobbled dangerously, and the lump in her throat was choking. She gave in, and the tears came once more. “I-it’s not fair! I never did-did anything to her except be her friend.”

“Oh, La, that really sucks. I’m so sorry. I wish I could just give you the biggest hug right now!”

Isla whimpered. “I wish you could too.” She trembled as she sat there. “Alison says it’s because I’m a-- because I’m bossy.” She couldn’t bring herself to repeat exactly what Alison had called her.

“But you’re good bossy,” Liv argued. “Whenever I hurt myself, you never leave me the hell alone until I get patched up. You barge in and take over whatever the twins are doing because you’re older and you want to make sure they know how to do things properly so they stay safe. And when everyone was first learning Erin’s new pronouns you gave the filthiest looks when anyone got it wrong. Fair sure it caught on so quick partly because everyone cared so much, and partly because no one wanted to incur your wrath. E felt so good to know you had her back-- you know you’ve always been one of her idols, right?”

Isla’s cheeks had gone quite pink. She scoffed, looking at her hands. “It doesn’t seem like anyone outside my La Huerta friends see it that way….”

“Then they’re dumbasses, and they’re missing out.”

“Yeah, but I’m missing out too. You try and survive middle school with no friends-- it’s bullshit!”

Even through the screen, the empathy in Liv’s face shone through. “I know. It really is horrible, and you don’t deserve any of it. I’ve been there… a lot. If you ever need to vent, you can throw me a message any time. Or even just to talk about any old crap. Don’t even worry about bothering me, okay? I always like to hear from you.”

“...Yeah?” Isla asked, uncharacteristically meek. Liv was a good deal older than her-- nearly fifteen and a real teenager-- and didn’t really need to waste her time with what must seem to her like a little kid. But Liv never let her feel like just a little kid, and right now, it was exactly what she needed.

“Yeah! I’m actually not doing too bad for friends here now, but I don’t have anyone who I’m really close to other than Reggie. I’ve always been a little on the outside. And yeah, it’s kinda shit, but it also makes the people who matter really stand out. You’ve always been one of them.”

Isla smiled and smiled, blushing from her cheeks to her ears to the back of her neck. “You’ll always be my friend too, Livi.” She took a shuddering exhale, a breath she didn’t realise she was holding, and knew she was fine. Somehow, the hurt in her heart was dulled. “Hey, do you wanna watch a movie with me? Do you like Labyrinth? It’s one of Mama’s favourites from when she was little and needed cheering up… and David Bowie in those tights cracks me up.”

“Ohmygod, yeeessss!” Liv cried. “As long as you don’t mind Mama Tay showing up in the background and singing along like the total dork she is. Oh! Oh, oh! We can get Reggie and the twins in on this too! Reggie’s a total nerdface… he’ll spend the whole time just studying the mechanics of the puppets and crapping on about the pain-staking detail. Anyway-- I can call them if you like?”

Actually… that sounded rather wonderful. Paisley could keep her shitty stuck-up party; Isla had better things to do and better friends to give her time. And by the sound of her mom’s car rolling up back in the driveway after a quick supply run, a bitchin’ pedicure soon to be had.

__________________________

USA, February 2027

A cry from the crib wrenched Quinn and Michelle from a too-brief kiss and embrace.

Quinn smiled against her wife’s lips. “I’ll take diaper duty if you get a bottle prepared?”

“Sounds like a deal.” Michelle kissed her once more, a quick peck before Isla’s cry grew louder, sharper. “Take turns?”

Quinn laughed softly. “That’s a plan!”

She went to little Isla and took her in her arms, hushing her and gently rocking her. Those whimpers were like a pull to her very heart, not unlike the feeling she had when tethered to the Island Heart. How Isla came to be in her care was irrelevant to it; she felt the love of a mother, and it was beautiful and all-encompassing.

As Quinn brought Isla out to the changing table and undid her diaper, she called out to Michelle; “We’ve got a lot of pee in here, but no poops! Did you catch the time for your records?”

“Thanks, babe!” Came the reply. “Yep, already got that sleep logged!”

One day in and Michelle was already big on tracking and managing ‘wake windows’, getting the very beginnings of a routine in place. Quinn went along with it, though she would have been perfectly happy keeping things a little more relaxed; if structure helped Michelle cope with the chaos that came with parenting a new baby, she’d take her lead.

She brought a clean and happy Isla through to Michelle and they all snuggled up together on the couch. Quinn passed the baby on and felt her heart swell as she watched Michelle feed her.

Michelle looked up and met Quinn’s warm smile. “This is terrifying. But… we’ve got this.” She gave a little laugh. “I’ll have to tell you when my year out’s done whether babies are better or worse for the stress levels than a medicine residency.”

Quinn chuckled appreciatively and leaned in close to kiss Michelle, feeling their sweet daughter safely nestled between them.

Yeah. We’ve got this. Little baby girl, you’d better brace yourself, because there’s gonna be a lot of love coming your way.

_________________________

Dark rings circled Jen’s eyes, even more noticeable now as her face hollowed. That deep tiredness, though, couldn’t hide the bright spark in her eyes when Quinn and Michelle sat down at her bedside with the news that they’d picked out a name for her approval.

“Right now,” Quinn said, nervous, for already she’d found herself attached to the name, “we’re pretty sure we want to go with ‘Isla Quy’. If you like it.”

“That’s pretty. I’m assuming ‘Quy’ is Vietnamese?”

Michelle nodded. “It means ‘precious’. My family has a tradition of using a Vietnamese name as a middle; I really wanted to carry that on. So, Isla Quy Nguyen-Kelly.”

Jen beamed. “I really, really like that. Our baby Isla.” She groaned, leaning into the pillow. “That helps. Her having a name. I’m glad you freaking finally decided on something; I was beginning to think I’d die with a nameless baby.”

“Not on our watch,” Michelle said. “You’re her mom; a name to call her is the least we can give you.”

For a little while, Jen was quiet, exhausted from even the exertion of a small happy thrill. It was bullshit.

“You wouldn’t believe the looks I get,” she said darkly, her voice a croak. “People don’t know what to say to a dying girl. Throw in a baby bump? I’m not sure what’s worse, the condescending pity or the scathing judgement.”

“They just don’t have a clue,” Quinn said. She’d seen those looks; they made her stomach clench. What people couldn’t understand, they’d sneer at; safe and detached, and condescending.

“Nah, they don’t. I mean, look at me. Deathbed at twenty. You’d think the world might have owed me something good, something that might make my shit-show of a life worthwhile? That’s what Isla is. Can’t I have that? My little girl living, laughing, loved and happy, long after I’m worm-food in the ground.”

“And she will be, you know. So, so loved.”

“You don’t expect kids to happen, not with Rotterdam’s. If it can’t be my miracle, I’m glad she’ll be yours. In a small way, it feels like I’m winning. Got to take those small victories.”

She rested a hand tenderly on her belly. It was likely she’d never know her child, but knowing the baby’s name made the little one so much more solid, real to her. The movements in her body were not some trick of an illness; they were Isla Quy Nguyen-Kelly.

“So, what happens next? I’m guessing we sit down with Jen and have a conversation between the three of us.”

I am intrigued already! It's been a while since I read your Catalyst Family post, so any details about Isla will be quite new to me!

No, it wasn’t ‘trapped at the end of the world, everyone else is dead’ level, but bringing home your first child-- and one born in deeply emotional circumstances-- was certainly… a lot.

Well, that's certainly quite the comparison! Love the way you worded this, btw...

any visits would solely be by invitation, specifically if help was needed. No one, not even an eager Craig, was fool enough to come barging in when Michelle had put her foot down.

I have the best mental image of Craig arguing with Michelle about being allowed to come see! Unstoppable force meets immovable object, anyone?

She’d half expected some wrench to be thrown into their plans at the last minute-- some long-lost relative of the birth-mother show up and demand custody of the baby, or some adoption official swoop in and insist the baby would be better off in care. Or even a yeti take the baby as her own.

I mean, after La Huerta, even that last one isn't that implausible...

Isla’s birth mother, Jen, always to be acknowledged as one of three mothers as important of either of the remaining two, was dead. The strain of labour proved more than her frail body could handle, and Rotterdam’s took her after a lifetime of courageous fighting.

Oh. Wow. I definitely did not see that coming. I can't imagine that will be easy on Michelle or Quinn... or Isla herself, for that matter.

The scream reverberated all around her. It was everywhere, and it was everything. Years of medical training, of dealing with uncooperative patients, had prepared Michelle for this moment.

Brace yourself, Michelle... parenthood is coming.

And then, as if by miracle, the storm passed and Isla stood up, bounced on the spot and smiled.

What. The fuck. Did I just perform an exorcism right now? Sure, no one witnesses that bit, just the screaming meltdown.

Well, that's a talent I think every parent on Earth would like to learn! I just love the description of it as an "exorcism." XD

“Oh, Quinnie, thank goodness!” Fiona Kelly took her daughter in her arms and held her. “I knew, but… god, the places your mind goes to….”

Took me far too long to realize Fiona was Quinn's mother. Even though you explicitly stated it several times. Methinks my brain might just be a little slow tonight...

“I want it to be called ‘Pie’,” Isla said, deadly serious. “Pie is good. Spessolly the one we had when Bà came to our house for dinner.”

“I guess… ‘Pie Nguyen-Kelly’ has a unique kind of ring to it. We’ll have to talk to Mummy about that,” Quinn said diplomatically, trying not to laugh at the thought of the look on Michelle’s face should such a name be proposed.

OMG. I can only imagine Michelle's reaction! Bahahaha!

“The foundation, ‘For Goodness’ Cake’, this little lady, and a pregnancy? Darling, you’re so very special, but you’re not a superhero.”

If only she knew…. But this was now, and Quinn had to admit the truth. Time to come up for air… and trust that she wasn’t fighting a ticking clock.

“I think Mama’s a superhero!” Isla loudly announced.

And that, Quinn knew, was the reason why.

D'awwww. Again.

Isla couldn’t be shielded from what she’d lost though, and it sent an ache down to Quinn’s heart. How was it fair that the Island’s Heart had let her live, while others suffered and died of the same condition? This little angel might be sleeping soundly beside her real mother right now….

Nope. Quinn, you stop that guilty talk right now, you hear me? Right now! You and Michelle and Isla deserve happiness, dammit!

Isla looked down into her bowl as she spoke. “You and Mom… do you… do you think you would love me more if I was your own actual kid? Like… like Conor is.”

And now my heart is breaking. :( Isla, you shouldn't even need to ask that question! Both your mothers love you just as much as anyone, I'm certain!

She gave Isla another big kiss, and stroked her rosy cheek. “Tummy Mom Jen wold have said so too. She loved you so much, babe. Even when she was very sick, and very scared, knowing she was bringing you into the world made her feel brave.”

Isla looked up at her mom, big eyes watery. “It’s not fair that she died. I wish I could meet her. And give her her Mother’s Day card in person instead of putting it in the fire to go to heaven. We would be a really nice family.”

“We really would be. She’d be as proud of you as me and Mom are-- actually, I’m sure she is, wherever she’s looking down from.”

Alright, who's cutting onions in here? Because my eyes are watering something awful...

Aleister was excited to be interviewed by her about the hotel and all its innovations in sustainability, and how it was helping put the small country on the international tourism map after years of civil war. Isla had interviewed Estela was well. She hadn’t gushed on nearly so much, but Isla got the impression she too was very, very proud of what Catalyst International had achieved.

ESTELA!!!! ...Sorry, I just see the name and get excited. What can I say? *shrugs*

She jabbered excitedly, legs swinging off the side of the plush hotel bed, confident that her mothers were hanging on her every word. “And I know they can read English pretty well, but it would be nicer I think if Diego could help me out with translating into Vaanti-- and I could put photos with it and everything! Is it okay if I use the family tablet to write it all and to take pictures? I swear I won’t like… drop it in the sea or something.”  

I love this so, so much. Just the idea of little Isla learning the Vaanti language well enough to help Diego translate her writings, it's so adorable and perfect!

Zahra says, ‘congrats, happy for us, but not to take that as any sign that she wants to babysit ‘it’’. Aaaand separate text from Craig asking to babysit if we ever need it. Yeah, don’t think that’s happening.”

XDDDDDDDD. That is all.

‘Don’t worry, not gonna try and get a conversation out of you-- just dropping a line to let you all (!) know that we’re thinking of you and we love you. Liv has been asking about baby Isla all day! Anyway, we’ve sent you an Uber Eats gift card for the likely event that you’re too exhausted to even think about cooking. Check your emails! I think Stel sent it to Michelle’s but not sure. Love you guys SO MUCH, over the moon for you and can’t wait to meet your gorgeous girl. Just know that we can be right there if you need anything at all, okay? Also, don’t freak out about replying to this long message-- just enjoy a good meal and we’ll hear from you when we hear from you. Massive hugs and congratulations! T & E & L xx’

“Aw, that’s really sweet!” she said. “Not gonna lie, I’m this close to crying from relief that we don’t have to cook….”

TAYSTELA!!! ...Sorry, I just see them and get excited. Again.

Isla sniffed, her face crumpled. “But I don’t any friends. H-how sad do I have to be to have a party on my own?”

Quinn kissed her temple. “You’ve got us. And… hey!-- how about we see if Liv’s free? Friends still count as friends even if you’re hanging out down a video call.”

Brilliant idea, Quinn. See, Isla? Your moms and the whole big Catalyst family all love you, no matter what happens!

“You don’t have to hang out with me if you don’t want to,” Isla said softly, apologetic, unaware that her shattered confidence and self-worth on full display brought her listening mothers close to tears. “It’s okay….”

On the tablet screen, Liv simply looked baffled. This wasn’t the self-important rather pushy Isla that she knew. “What? As if! We haven’t talked in ages. And, well, if you’ve had a shit time of it, I’m not letting you go until you feel at least a little better. You’ve bullied me into feeling happy enough times not for me to return the favour, you know.”

That's Liv, all right. I really, really love this whole interaction between the two of them! It's such a fun dynamic to read (and probably also to write, I'd imagine!)

“Thanks, babe!” Came the reply. “Yep, already got that sleep logged!”

She rested a hand tenderly on her belly. It was likely she’d never know her child, but knowing the baby’s name made the little one so much more solid, real to her. The movements in her body were not some trick of an illness; they were Isla Quy Nguyen-Kelly.

As victories went, Isla wasn’t even a small one; she was everything.

And now I'm sad-smiling; the perfect way to end this wonderful and emotional look into the story of little Isla. This was a lot of fun to read! I really love all the little details you've put into both Michelle and Quinn's reactions to becoming new mothers, as well as the flash-forwards to Isla (and especially her interactions with Liv! That was fun 😁)

“Sorry… sorry. I’ll be serious.” She looked him in the eye without so much as a twitch of a giggle, making her point. “I thought things weren’t going too badly? Estela really appreciated you digging up those pictures for her. And you’ve talked since then--”

“Hardly,” Aleister grumbled. “Let’s not pretend conversation is her forte. More to the point, any talk of the basis of our connection… genetically speaking… and I get the cold shoulder. It’s only gotten more of a struggle since she talked with my mother….”

“Al, it’s hard….”

“Do you know, I’d really like to feel understood? Estela of all people would know… well, what it is to suddenly find out you’re not the person you thought you were. We’re very much in a similar boat! Both far more related to that poisonous man than we once thought. Surely it would be of some comfort to her… to not be alone in that revelation?”

Taylor knew, much more than she was able to let on, just how it felt to have your whole life turn out to be a lie. Her body stiffened, defensive. Would Aleister even be talking to her now if he knew what she truly was?

“Hello?” he demanded. “This is Earth calling Taylor! For heaven’s sake, you’re as bad as one another….”

“J-just spaced out there a moment,” Taylor muttered. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to be distant.”

“Well, that’s something. So? Any pearls of wisdom? You know Estela better than anyone.”

Taylor frowned. It wasn’t as if she had any magic secrets in that regard. “It’s complicated,” she sighed. “Same as it is for you, I’d imagine. This whole thing is just… traumatic. I can’t predict when she’s going to have a bad day, or when she’s gonna have a good day; there’s a whole lot of stuff she’s unpacking right now, and it’s messy sometimes.”

“Is that the best you’ve got?”

Okay, that wasn’t fair. “Look, she’s still working out how she feels about herself right now-- anything on top of that, you included, is extra. I know trying to reach out to her is your way of coping-- I really get that-- but that’s not Estela. You’re just… gonna have to be patient.”

“Of course-- of course. I’m sorry.” Aleister bit his lip. “If you’ll forgive me, I… I’m fearful of blundering in, my usual tact on full display, and destroy any chance of having… do I have to say it?”

Taylor got back to her feet and put an arm around him, half expecting him to pull away, but if anything, he leaned into her. “Family.”

“In any way that means anything, it would be the first time since I was a toddler.” He cleared his throat. “I’m aware it’s different for her.”

Drawing herself up, Taylor tried to come up with something that might at least give him a starting point.

“Okay, Estela advice. Number one; no bullshit. Be honest, because she’ll see right through you if you’re not, and she won’t give you the time of day. Number two; emotional as all this is, try to keep a cool head.” Noticing Aleister rolling his eyes, Taylor took her arm back and folded it with her other one across her chest. “Hey, you wanted my advice! This is sensitive and she’s hurting; if she bites your head off, nine times out of ten it’s not about you, it’s about something bigger. Which brings me to number three; don’t force the matter. You personally know what a mindfuck it is to suddenly be told you’re not what you thought you are. Let her take her time with it all.”

She wished she herself had time. The longer she kept her identity to herself, trying to come to terms with it, the more she felt like a liar. Looking down at Aleister, now sitting with his head in his hands, she wished she could do more. Perhaps if he knew about her own identity crisis, he might not feel so alone….

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

Either her inner turmoil was well hidden, or Aleister really was poor at reading people, for the long silence passed, and even when he looked back into her face, he carried on as before.

“I suppose I wasn’t really expecting you to be able to wave a magic wand and make this easier,” Aleister huffed. “But thank you. The fact that you don’t hate me is certainly in my favour.”

Taylor nodded. They’d sure had their ups and downs but…. “We’re good.”

Aleister sighed, looking down at his feet. Estela was a much harder nut to crack than her outgoing and patient wife. “I suppose I’ll leave you be,” he said, somewhat defeated. “I don’t want to keep you.”

“Hey-- it’ll work out,” Taylor assured. Estela and Aleister would be good for one another. She had to trust it, just as she had to trust in so many of the hopes she had for the futures of the people she loved. It was how she coped. Blind optimism it might have been on occasion, but at least it got her out of bed in the morning.

_______________________

Her ponytail swishing from side to side with each footfall, Estela slowed to a gentle jog, cooling down after a long run up and down the coast. Thinking time. They certainly had a lot of that these days, but it was just as well… there was a great deal to think about.

These past days-- or had it been weeks now?-- Estela had been fairly reclusive. She’d had some answers from Iris; answers about her mother and her involvement with Rourke. Maybe it would be healing to have those answers someday, but for now, her grief had only been fueled, and her disgust in herself even more so. She couldn’t stomach the thought of sex, as though the very concept was as tainted as she herself as a person. She felt pity all around her. Perhaps it was meant as gentle concern, but Estela felt it as pity. Because that twisted bastard had laid hands on her mother. Aleister especially tried to reach her, but the thought of what connected them made her sick to her stomach. So, she took time to herself. To process. To dream up a future where that heartsickness might be diminished. Taylor was usually close by. Poor Taylor understood too well, more than Estela would have wished upon her, but it made for easy companionship as she worked through her feelings.

Taylor, her stomach tying itself in knots after her talk with Aleister, could have sung with relief at seeing her wife come jogging up to the front of the resort. Estela was good for that. Her strong, quiet presence had its way of making Taylor feel as if she had a grip on the mess that was their lives. She ran to meet her, grinning helplessly.

Estela called out to her. “Before you come in and get all snuggly, you should know that I stink of sweat--”

But Taylor came in fast, wrapping her wife in a tight embrace and placing a big smooch on her cheek. “Ha. Like I care.”

She laughed as Estela made a show of rolling her eyes, then swung her up and around, giggling. It would take more than a little perspiration to keep them apart. And honestly? Giggling Estela, something that might have been an impossibility mere weeks ago, was worth enduring a thousand times worse. It made Taylor’s heart lift up with the rest of her as she was twirled through the air.

Estela set Taylor’s feet back down and grasped her hand. “What I was going to ask,” she said, “was if you wanted to go cool off in the water?”

Taylor tried not to grimace as she thought just how much she needed that. “God, babe, I would love that.”

“Rough day?” Estela asked perceptively.

“Absolute shit,” Taylor confirmed. “Two panic attacks before lunch kind of absolute shit.”

Estela took a single step back, looking her wife over while stroking her neck with one hand. “It wouldn’t help that you hardly slept last night.” Then she kissed her. “Come on; take a break with me.”

The water was perfect, just slightly cool. Taylor followed Estela in until they were both half-submerged, then they bobbed down to float in the serene rolling waves.

Estela groaned as she stretched out her muscular arms above her head, then she lay back, reaching for Taylor’s hand and finding it.

“I’ll be okay,” Taylor assured, responding to the gentle pressure of fingers around her own. “I think it just didn’t help running into Aleister on the way out. He kind of swooped on me. Just feeling needy right now, I guess, but it threw me.”

From her comfortable position floating on her back, Estela closed her eyes and grimaced. “If he’s started bothering you as well--”

“It’s not like that, Estela,” Taylor said quietly. “He’s just… lost. I can empathise with that.”

Estela huffed. “Well, whatever he’s looking for, he won’t find it in me.”

Clearly agitated, she brought herself back half-upright. “I don’t need a brother,” she said, softer. “And if I did, I wouldn’t want it to be him. He reminds me….” She chewed her lip and turned away, looking into the sunset. “Some days I feel like we could be friends, but that’s all. If I accept him as a brother, that means accepting Rourke as a father, and I won’t. Ever. Tio Nicolas was a father to me, and I won’t spit on his grave by acknowledging anyone else.”

Her shoulders drooped as she exhaled, then she turned back to Taylor, her dark eyes sad. “I’m sorry. I know you imagine us doing a whole ‘happy families’ thing…. This is just beyond even your capabilities. You can’t fix this one.”

Taylor reached and grasped her hand again, sloshing it gently in the water. “You’ve got nothing to apologise for. Aleister probably… doesn’t make it easy, the way he’s focused on you specifically. What matters right now is all of us as a family. Nothing to do with blood, just, well… love. Standing together through whatever.”

“The traitorous bastard is lucky I even consider him a part of that family. I can’t help but imagine what my tio would say.”

“Nothing good, I’m guessing….”

“No. But in the end, Aleister is one of us and that bond means something to me. If it wasn’t for the whole… genetic thing being there, I would probably be more open to a closer friendship. But it is there, Taylor, and… it hurts me.”

“Sweetheart, I just wonder if… fighting it is hurting you more.”

Estela sighed. “Probably,” she admitted. “That doesn’t mean I’m about to stop.” She trailed off, sadly; “You know how stubborn I am….”

She seemed to retreat somewhere dark, her eyes clouded over with images that Taylor couldn’t comprehend, but were surely real. This thing with Aleister… it hadn’t always been so strained. There had actually been a brief period where the beginnings of a friendship seemed to be sparking-- but then Estela had that long talk with Iris, and a barely healed wound was ripped open anew, deeper even than when it was inflicted, on that terrible night on The Celestial’s rooftop.

Taylor opened her mouth, but Estela cut across her, her voice sharp and her eyes blazing hard.

“I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I’m not ready, and he’ll just have to deal with that.”

Still clearly bristling, Estela dove under and swam a way away.

Taylor felt herself trembling.

It’s okay… this isn’t about you. Let her be. Let her feel this.

It was easy enough to tell herself that, but….

How could she give Estela the support she needed when she, Taylor, was a mess herself? She hadn’t known it when she accepted the proposal of marriage, but she’d become just another burden. Less a person than a conundrum. The incessant need she had to fix everything for everyone she loved-- she had to, for it was she who’d taken their world from them-- was a pressure she put on herself, but of course it effected Estela. Where Aleister was concerned, how could it not? Estela was trying to put all her shattered pieces back together, and Taylor was too damn swamped with guilt to hold her up when she was falling down again.

Taylor stood in the gentle swell, holding back tears.

Why was she so fucking useless? Her whole purpose was to help get the people she loved through, but she couldn’t even ease her own wife’s hurt.

It was a little while before Estela swam back over, effortless and graceful-- her movements so much less erratic than when she’d turned away. Whatever she’d needed to get out of her system, it was gone.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I needed some space. I didn’t want to take my situation out on you, and I thought I might.”

Breath shaking, Taylor bobbed back down, getting comfortable in the water once more. It… made sense. Always, Estela was protecting her.

“It’s all right. I appreciate that. Are you feeling any better?”

Clearly relieved not to have hurt any feelings, Estela eased herself a little closer to her lover, close enough to reach out for her hand in the water.

“I am okay,” she said, hooking her pinky onto Taylor’s. “I know it’s not your fault he’s searching for something from me. And… I guess it’s not his either. Having Rourke was your only family your whole life must be unimaginably lonely. Probably in his shoes I’d hope for… well, for something. But he has Grace, like I have you. I can’t feel guilt over this; there’s too much else.”

Taylor looked into Estela’s eyes, sparkling in the sunlight bouncing off the sea.

“You know… if he has Grace in the way I have you, I think he’s going to be okay in the end.”

“Maybe,” said Estela, gazing back, her expression warm and tender, “but it sounded like you weren’t doing so good….”

It felt like Estela could look straight into her heart and soul, and it was odd how comfortable such intimacy actually was. Even troubled as she was, it was enough to make Taylor’s lips quirk into a small smile. In all the turmoil of this new life, this was security, something she could hold on to, trust in.

“Like I said, I’m not… doing so well today.”

“You’re feeling it even more than last night?”

Taylor bit her lip. “…Yeah.”

Estela came closer and snaked an arm around Taylor’s waist, holding her closer. She nuzzled in against her face, leaving tiny kisses there. “Oh, mi amor. I’m sorry. It’s not fair that Vaanu left you feeling like this. You deserve better, cariña.”

Taylor glanced into Estela’s eyes, hoping she’d find the reassurance she so needed there. “I… I think I need to tell everyone what I am. I think the secrecy is making this worse.”

“Secrets can wear you down after a while.” Estela kissed her wife’s temple. “It’s hard. If you need me with you, you know I’ll be there. And Diego.”

Tears sparkled in the edges of Taylor’s eyes. It was hard to believe she was worthy of such understanding. She was the reason Estela would never see her uncle again. She was the coward who couldn’t even bring herself to admit to her friends-- the ones she’d called her family-- that she wasn’t the person they thought she was. She’d been lying to everyone for so long, but more than that… she couldn’t deny any longer the guilt that festered over tying the woman she loved down to that lie for the rest of their lives.

“I’ve been driving myself crazy all morning. Probably something stupid triggered me… again.” She took a deep breath.“I feel like… a fraud. You married me, and everything about me was false.”

Seeing the hurt in Estela’s eyes was a worse pain than uttering the words to begin with.

“T-Taylor….”

“I know you don’t see me like that, but it feels more than what I deserve.”

“God, Taylor! You haven’t done anything wrong! This isn’t your fault.”

“But I’m still not what you signed up for.”

“No! No.” There was something like panic in Estela’s voice, but then she collected herself, speaking firmly. “You don’t come from where we thought you did, you don’t have the past we thought you had, but you are the woman I married. Emphasis here on ‘we’. You weren’t lying to me, you were lied to. Would… would you say what I gave you when we married was a lie? That I was a lie?”

“No, but….”

“Querida, I came from something different to what I thought I did. I’m still me. And you’re still you.”

Estela felt her cheeks burn. Did she actually just say that? To affirm to Taylor and to herself that the revelation of her own paternity didn’t change who she was at all? She must have done, for Taylor looked up, snapping to her senses and looking her straight in the eye. Estela scowled.

“See, that’s how much I love you,” she grumbled. “Turns out I can see reason and actually lay off myself if the same logic is what you need to hear. Maybe we should have tried that tack on me weeks ago.”

Taylor gave a shaky laugh and wiped her eyes, completely counter-productive when her hands were wet with seawater. “You’re a sweetheart. Yeah… we both need that same pep talk. Somehow it’s so much easier to give it out than it is to receive it.”

“It is,” Estela huffed. “But that means that deep down, we both know it’s the truth. Eventually… it’s gotta stick. We’ll get used to seeing ourselves in a new way. I… I don’t think I could do that alone.”

There was something so calming, Taylor found, in knowing she was not alone in being lost, unsure of what her identity meant to her. If it was calming for her… perhaps she truly was a balm to Estela in exactly the same way. Perhaps she was much too hard on herself. She gulped a breath, then buried her face in Estela’s shoulder, tasting the salt of the sea in the wet hair against her mouth. It didn’t matter, she just craved that closeness.

“I’m sorry.”

Estela shrugged, but held her ever tighter. “If ever you needed proof that you’re only human after all, it’s in a good old-fashioned freak-out. Congratulations, you’re one of us. It sucks sometimes.”

The sun had dipped below the horizon, and though the line in the distance still glowed, the warmth had left. She pressed herself flush against Taylor, seeking the heat of her body, the comfort of her closeness. Taylor must have wanted that comfort too, for her hands roamed Estela’s body, coming to rest on her chest and abdomen. And she sighed, a little shaky with the chill and with emotion, but with the slight smile that told Estela she’d done at least something to calm those nagging fears and insecurities.

“God, Taylor, turns out I’ve known you your whole damn life. Of course I know who you are. I know pretty much all of you. And… and I love all of you.”

“I love all of you too.”

Estela brought a hand to Taylor’s neck and caressed her there as their eyes met. She could feel all the love shining through, and it still blew her mind. It didn’t matter where either of them came from; together, they knew who they were. In Taylor’s eyes, Estela knew she was seen… seen and wanted.

“Who you are…,” she said, “is the person who could reach me, when even my tio couldn’t. You’re ridiculously charming. And brave. You always understood why I fought so hard for what was right, and that was because you cared so hard yourself.”

I see you, Taylor. I want you, as you are.

She drew her into a kiss, soft and warm, and tender. She felt Taylor exhale into it, her shoulders dropping as her body relaxed.

I’ve got you.

When they came apart, it was for but a moment, then Taylor snuggled against Estela’s neck once more.

“I love you, I love you…,” Taylor whispered there. She looked up, seeking the gaze of the woman she loved. “’Stel--”

Estela flinched.

Crap. Was that not okay?

“Oh-- I’m sorry. You don’t like getting called that?”

Quick to give a reassuring smile, Estela shook her head. “That’s not it. I just haven’t…. My mom used to…. It just took me by surprise.”

“You’d rather I didn’t?”

Estela sucked her cheeks thoughtfully. It had given her a jolt, sure, but she couldn’t say for certain whether she liked it or she didn’t. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it. It’s gonna sound mad, but I either really love you calling me that or I really hate it… I guess ‘cause it’s bittersweet, the emotion’s big and confused.”

Taylor gave a respectful nod. “If you realise you like it, just let me know.” She sighed shakily. “Goes to show how much of you I still have to get to know. Like you said, you’ve known me my whole life. I’m gonna be on catch-up for a long time.”

“I can sketch you out a timeline if you like,” Estela chuckled dryly. “My whole cheerful childhood and teenage years.” She kissed Taylor’s temple. “It’s the end of the world, mi amor, do you really need to be bummed out any more?”

“I want to know you,” Taylor insisted, though was quick to add; “As much as you feel okay to share.”

Estela frowned, thoughtful. Sharing herself with Taylor came in drips and drabs; there was so much she’d buried down, hidden even from herself. That Taylor cared to know all of her, even the ugliness of much of her life, didn’t surprise her anymore, but it was appreciated. In those moments of complete openness… it might have been the least alone Estela had felt since she was fifteen years old.

“Mom called me ‘‘Stel’ a lot of the time. That or ‘Estelita’. I guess which depended on whether or not she needed to get to the point quickly! Tio still calls me-- I mean, he used to-- he called me ‘Estelita’. But ‘‘Stel’ was a Mom thing.”

Together, they sloshed back to the shore and settled upon the wall that looked over The Celestial’s pool. It was a nice change of scenery from the fiery horizon that so easily drew the eye; a few of the gang had already come out ready for the meal to come-- a curry infused with Vaanti-favoured spices that Raj had been experimenting gleefully with-- and the gentle sound of chatter drifted over to them. Actually peaceful.

Taylor tried to speak but her voice died in her throat. She looked at Sean, Quinn, Jake and Craig, all playing what looked like ‘Marco Polo’ in the pool… and Diego and Varyyn tentatively joining in, met with a roar of Craig-ly enthusiasm. She couldn’t lose this, could she? If they knew-- when they knew-- she wouldn’t… wouldn’t lose them…?

“No one ever really accepted me before,” Estela said. “I was different, and different freaks people out. But….” She motioned to the pool, to the tables where Michelle and Grace were setting up for another big spread. “I don’t think any of us really see ‘different’ anymore. We just see one another… the parts that matter. We’ve been through too much together for ‘different’ to hide what’s real.”

The hard lump in Taylor’s throat was painful, it was choking her. She coughed a sob and hid her face in Estela’s neck.

“I’m absolutely terrified,” she managed to get out at last.

Estela closed her eyes and brought Taylor’s forehead to her lips. There she cradled her, kissed her.

“I know. It will be horrible, but once it’s done, you’ll breathe again. Even if it goes badly tomorrow, it’ll work out. It always will with us.” As she became quiet, Estela was thoughtful, turning something over in her head. She opened her eyes and adored her wife, always so brave because she had to be. The other piece to her puzzle, somehow bringing sense to a mad world… bringing her peace beyond what she’d believed could exist.

She stroked her fingers through Taylor’s blonde hair, knotted and gritty and wet from the sea. “I…,” she said, and her cheeks began to flush before she’d even got the rest of the words out. “I think I’d like it to become a Taylor thing too… calling me ‘‘Stel’. If you ever want to….”

Taylor raised her head, meeting a sincere gaze. She took her wife’s face in her hands, and she kissed her slow and deep.

“Do you remember, perchance, the difficulties I encountered in expressing my feelings to Grace? In… in letting her know that I cared and wished to be closer to her?”

Taylor certainly did remember. Hard not to when it had gotten so dire that she’d needed to step in to verbally slap him in the face.

Love the reference; brought a definite smile to my face!

“No,” Aleister said. “I need your assistance with….” He visibly winced. “With Estela.”

“Sir, she is married. And your–”

“You’re really not as funny as you think you are, Taylor.”

BAHAHAHA! Love it. Taylor, don't listen to him, you're a wonderful comedian. Seriously I couldn't stop grinning for a solid five minutes after reading that!

“Do you know, I’d really like to feel understood? Estela of all people would know… well, what it is to suddenly find out you’re not the person you thought you were. We’re very much in a similar boat! Both far more related to that poisonous man than we once thought. Surely it would be of some comfort to her… to not be alone in that revelation?”

Taylor knew, much more than she was able to let on, just how it felt to have your whole life turn out to be a lie. Her body stiffened, defensive. Would Aleister even be talking to her now if he knew what she truly was?

Okay, seriously, love this beginning to end. It's such a fascinating thing to think about, how much Aleister, Estela, and yes, Taylor have in common. It's something I've considered a lot in my own works, especially for stuff going forward! Neat to see that same idea addressed here!

Aleister bit his lip. “If you’ll forgive me, I… I’m fearful of blundering in, my usual tact on full display, and destroy any chance of having… do I have to say it?”

Taylor got back to her feet and put an arm around him, half expecting him to pull away, but if anything, he leaned into her. “Family.”

“In any way that means anything, it would be the first time since I was a toddler.” He cleared his throat. “I’m aware it’s different for her.”

Aww, Aleister, you big derp. Nothing wrong with wanting family! But... yeah, probably smart to go to Taylor first. Estela can be tough to get through to. I just really love that first line from Aleister! So perfect for him and his awkwardness regarding this kind of thing!

She wished she herself had time. The longer she kept her identity to herself, trying to come to terms with it, the more she felt like a liar. Looking down at Aleister, now sitting with his head in his hands, she wished she could do more. Perhaps if he knew about her own identity crisis, he might not feel so alone….

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t.

Either her inner turmoil was well hidden, or Aleister really was poor at reading people, for the long silence passed, and even when he looked back into her face, he carried on as before.

I just love everything about this section. It's such a great point to connect Taylor's hidden secret to Aleister and Estela's... more open secrets. Adds even more weight to Taylor's eventual reveal to the others! Oh, Aleister, if only you knew...

Thinking time. They certainly had a lot of that these days, but it was just as well… there was a great deal to think about.

Understatement of the century, right there!

Taylor, her stomach tying itself in knots after her talk with Aleister, could have sung with relief at seeing her wife come jogging up to the front of the resort. Estela was good for that. Her strong, quiet presence had its way of making Taylor feel as if she had a grip on the mess that was their lives. She ran to meet her, grinning helplessly.

Estela called out to her. “Before you come in and get all snuggly, you should know that I stink of sweat–”

Somehow, I don't think Taylor cares--

But Taylor came in fast, wrapping her wife in a tight embrace and placing a big smooch on her cheek. “Ha. Like I care.”

(I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY, THE ABOVE WAS MY HONEST REACTION BEFORE I EVEN READ THIS PART, I AM PSYCHIC APPARENTLY)

“No. But in the end, Aleister is one of us and that bond means something to me. If it wasn’t for the whole… genetic thing being there, I would probably be more open to a closer friendship. But it is there, Taylor, and… it hurts me.”

“Sweetheart, I just wonder if… fighting it is hurting you more.”

Estela sighed. “Probably,” she admitted.

Have I mentioned how much I LOVE LOVE LOVE your character work? If I were teaching a writing class, I would have everyone read your work as an example of how to do good character and interpersonal drama. (Well, okay, I'd probably have them play ES first for the necessary context...)

Taylor stood in the gentle swell, holding back tears.

Why was she so fucking useless? Her whole purpose was to help get the people she loved through, but she couldn’t even ease her own wife’s hurt.

No, Taylor, don't think that way! I'm sad now 😥

“I feel like… a fraud. You married me, and everything about me was false.”

Seeing the hurt in Estela’s eyes was a worse pain than uttering the words to begin with.

“T-Taylor….”

“I know you don’t see me like that, but it feels more than what I deserve.”

“God, Taylor! You haven’t done anything wrong! This isn’t your fault.”

“But I’m still not what you signed up for.”

“No! No.”

This whole scene is just so heartbreaking in so many ways. The guilt, the emotions, the feelings! It's kinda what we all sign up for with Endless Summer, but that fact doesn't make it any harder to read. Don't worry, Taystela, I come from the future and everything works out okay! Promise!

“See, that’s how much I love you,” she grumbled. “Turns out I can see reason and actually lay off myself if the same logic is what you need to hear. Maybe we should have tried that tack on me weeks ago.”

Taylor gave a shaky laugh and wiped her eyes, completely counter-productive when her hands were wet with seawater. “You’re a sweetheart. Yeah… we both need that same pep talk. Somehow it’s so much easier to give it out than it is to receive it.”

Alright, this part in particular hit WAY too close to home. I'm so incredibly guilty of this exact thing... I'm kinda glad to see it in writing here. Yes, Estela, you need to appreciate yourself too! Maybe give yourself a hug. Wait never mind Taylor's got the "hug Estela" part covered

“I love you, I love you…,” Taylor whispered there. She looked up, seeking the gaze of the woman she loved. “’Stel–”

Estela flinched.

Crap. Was that not okay?

“Oh– I’m sorry. You don’t like getting called that?”

Idk if this was directly inspired by my own "'Stel" scene, or just a fun coincidence, but either way I am here for it!

Diego and Varyyn tentatively joining in, met with a roar of Craig-ly enthusiasm.

Okay, "Craig-ly" is now my new favorite word. 😁

Maybe she couldn’t be the person who fixed everything for everyone. Maybe that was too much, even for some celestial being to live up to. But who and what she was? In shining moments like that one, there was no question at all.

“He deserved better than to die like that,” she said quietly, breaking the silence. “He spent his whole life just trying to make things better… even if he got hurt. And it’s all just… gone. He just didn’t deserve that.”

She sniffed. “Do you remember the vision we had when I took the photograph from Vaanu?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“My tio was writing a memoir. Telling the world his story.” Estela nodded stiffly, her eyes welling. What world? “It’s going to have to be me now. It’s not gonna be the same, but I could write something down. Maybe Diego and Varyyn could translate it into Vaanti for me. I can’t….” Her breath shuddered, and she had to take a moment. Taylor put an arm around her and squeezed her tight, and Estela found the strength to push past the lump in her throat. “I can’t let it have been for nothing. Maybe he can still inspire someone, the way he inspired me.”

Estela looked into Taylor’s face,  full of love and heartache. Without words, she tried to express everything that had made mourning so complicated.

“You shouldn’t have to hide your grief,” Taylor whispered. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like you need to.”

Estela sniffled again. “We both know it’s not as simple as that.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It wasn’t as if you didn’t know I’m grieving him-- you weren’t born yesterday. Almost, maybe, but not quite. I just don’t want to add to what you’ve already decided is on your shoulders.”

“How about… I decide here and now that I’m not responsible for your tio’s death. And then… I can be there for you while you feel what you need to feel.”

Taylor leaned in close, her lips grazing Estela’s cheek, leaving whispers of kisses. “Because I am here for you. Always.” She gently stroked a tear from her wife’s face. “We could sit down here, and you could tell me more about Tio Nicolas, if you’d like. I’d like that. You know I always have a supply of tissues in my back pocket these days.”

“Tell you more about Tio Nicolas?” Estela put her head on her wife’s shoulder and looked out to the terrible bright light on the horizon. “Where would I even begin?”

______________________________

San Trobida, 2053

Another day dawned, whether Estela was ready for it or not. Another sunrise, bringing light to the sleeping form of Taylor beside her. The company was more of a comfort than Estela knew how to express, but she was certain Taylor understood. Facing each new day was a wrench. Her uncle’s house without her uncle in it felt wrong. To speak of him in the past tense as they arranged a memorial service and tributes felt wrong.

The initial hours after letting Nicolas go had been something of a blur. Estela couldn’t shake the image in her head of his body, so still and cold in his bed. She’d seen so many dead bodies in her time, but to see her uncle-- her hero-- with the life drained from him was agony. It was hard to remember the last time she’d cried like that. Maybe… maybe when Taylor had been on the brink of death after returning Vaanu’s essence… but it was so many years ago, and the pain of it she’d tried to blot out from her mind. Now, that kind of grief was fresh and raw, a gaping wound surely visible to everyone around her. She’d cried until her muscles ached, until her eyes were red and sore. Taylor had rocked her, held her. And Estela had held her too. She’d held Liv, and she’d held Jeimy. Mostly, though, she’d just cried.

Eventually, though, the tears had stopped, and Estela was left with a world that no longer had her tio in it.

Taylor snuggled backwards into Estela’s chest and belly, and looked blearily over her shoulder.

“Mm…morning, ‘Stel.”

“Morning, Taylor.” Estela put an arm around her wife, tugging her even closer.

“Did you sleep any better?”

“Maybe… marginally.” She stretched out her legs, then tangled them up with Taylor’s. “I don’t think I can even blame it on being in here anymore. There’s just too much going on in my mind.”

Their bedroom, as it had been since Nicolas first became ill and they’d decided to move in with him, was the old room of Estela’s mother. For many, many years, the room had been a trigger for Estela, but it was one she’d waged a long battle to overcome-- out of necessity, largely, for it became Liv’s room, and she wasn’t going to let anything hold her back from mothering her daughter. Perhaps it was time, or several new coats of paint and new furniture, or the associations that had been built with happy memories of Liv’s childhood, but it felt different now. Estela found she liked being there.

“I don’t think I can let this place go. It doesn’t make sense to hang onto it, but my heart’s winning out over my head on this one.”

“You know what? Fair enough. Let your heart have what it wants; it deserves it.”

Estela’s yawn became a gentle laugh. Taylor was so sweet to her-- always had been.

“I do like the idea you had, though. Making it available as emergency accommodation or something. Better than having it just sitting here while we won’t be using it. But it can stay ours. I don’t wanna be selfish, but I want to be able to come back home someday-- I mean, so long as no one’s sheltering here at the time. I don’t wanna put anyone out….”

When Estela looked up, her wife’s lined face was soft with affection. She couldn’t help but blush under that tender gaze. It reassured her; what she felt was fine, what she needed was fine, and they’d find their way of working it all out.

“Maybe,” said Taylor, “one day we can pass it along to a grandchild. Once the old place has earned its retirement from doing good deeds to the community.”

Estela quirked a smile, something that had been rare in the past few days. Her tio had been adamant she not worry about getting his approval for whatever it was she did next, always so keen to assure of his faith in her. Moving forward, her uncle’s legacy would be one befitting a man who’d given so much to improve the standing of the downtrodden… and who’d given so much for the future of the family that had been everything to him.

“Maybe.”

_________________________

Once they’d eaten breakfast and freshened up, Estela and Taylor took the half-hour drive to the Valle Brava house-- now Liv’s place. Estela felt her stomach churning. This would be the last goodbye, the memorial they were holding for Nicolas. She was immensely thankful something so painful would be shared only with the closest family and friends; in her grief, she had very little time and patience for anyone outside that circle. Of course, Nicolas’ role in the rebellion meant that his passing was of wide interest, but that was something Taylor and Liv had tasked themselves with dealing with. It meant a lot. Estela was left to mourn without unwelcome intrusion, and to focus on something of a eulogy to share amongst trusted loved ones.

Immediately upon the front door opening, Liv had thrown her arms around Estela’s neck.

“Mom!”

Estela hugged her back, swaying a little on the spot. “I’m okay, mija. Promise. Just… ready for this day to be over.”

Liv frowned, and she let her moms in. “Yeah. Me too. I’ve already had a little cry and we haven’t even started.”

After the usual exchange of competitively crushing hugs, Jeimy roped Taylor into gathering enough chairs and putting up photographs, and Estela joined Liv in the kitchen, where nibbles were being prepared.

As they finished plating up enough patacones and cocadas to feed a small army, Estela and Liv got to talking about plans for Nicolas’ old house… and plans for Estela and Taylor to find a small place nearer Liv in Valle Brava, where they could retreat to when visiting from La Huerta.

“Hey! We’ve got room-- we could build a granny flat out back!”

“Livita, you can refer to me as ‘granny’ when you deliver on the grandchildren.”

“Ha! Noted.” Liv came in and wrapped her mom in another hug. “We can build a ‘badass-moms flat’ then. But… all going well, we’ll be upgrading to a genuine granny flat soon enough.”

Estela kissed her daughter’s head. “If we’re not going to be in your way. You have your own lives to lead; having your moms camped out in your backyard shouldn’t be getting in the way of that.”

“And it won’t,” Liv said adamantly. “Jeimy and I have already been talking about it. We want family around us. That’s… pretty much what we want our lives to be. You’re going to be on La Huerta a lot of the time anyway-- but when you’re here, it would be nice to have you really here. Close.”

Dammit, she still knew how to pull on the old heartstrings.

“Yeah, that would be nice.” Estela nodded, feeling a lump at her throat as so often seemed to be the case these days. “And Mama Taylor won’t need any convincing at all. For you, she’d pitch up a tent out back now and call herself at home.”

Liv laughed, a beautiful sound that lightened Estela’s heart. “Sounds right.”

Looking through the photographs they’d selected to put up, Taylor couldn’t help but smile at one from way back when she first met Tio Nicolas-- it was almost certainly the first photo ever taken with the two of them in it. He’d still been getting the measure of her, unsure of what to make of the very strange stranger who’d appeared out of nowhere to marry his niece.

“Look-- he’s side-eyeing me like I’m a bomb that could go off at any moment! Typical Tio.” She looked up at Jeimy. “You know what? I think you’re the only person I know who wasn’t absolutely bricking it when faced with meeting him. Even Zahra was intimidated. But if you tell her I told you that, I’ll deny it.”

Jeimy stared into space, thoughtful. “I guess… I’m shy meeting anyone, so it was just Standard Jeimy. I was nervous,” they admitted. “I knew his name long before I met Liv. I knew that if I accepted an invitation into the home of Nicolas Montoya, there would really be no going back with my family. Maybe that’s why it wasn’t really him I was intimidated by; my focus was just… on what I was letting go.” They looked back at Taylor with a soft smile. “He never held it against me that my parents supported Salazar; he took me for me, not where I came from. When he treated me as family… it kinda pulled everything together for me. I knew who I was, and it felt like I belonged. When you’re pretty much a stray, that’s huge.”

“Yeah,” Taylor said, finding her eyes growing misty again, “it really is. He was good at that. Once he decided you were one of his people, you knew you were solid for life.”

She’d been there, been starting from scratch. Nicolas had taken her as family, the same as he had Jeimy. They’d loved and cared for the same people he loved and cared for, and that had always been all that it’d taken. Well, once he knew for certain that love and care was genuine.

“Are you doing okay?” Jeimy asked.

“Me?”

“Yes, you, Mama,” they confirmed teasingly.

“I’m…. I guess I’m finding it hard. I put a lot of pressure on myself to hold it together; for Estela, for Livi. I’ve had a good cry or two, but I think it’ll take a little bit for it to really sink in.”

Jeimy offered a one-armed hug, gratefully received.

“Is Mama Estela all right? I mean-- as she can be.”

Taylor sniffed, nodding. “As she can be, but then of course, that’s still feeling pretty crap. It’s tough, you know? It’s really, really tough. I know she’s feeling loved; all those cards and flowers we’ve gotten from everyone-- people check in every day. If she does need to crash, we’ve got her.”

“We’re here too, okay? I know you both worry about putting any burden on Liv, but she wants to be there for you.”

“Come here….” Taylor put her other arm around Jeimy. “We know you’re here for us. It’s doing more to keep us afloat than you realise.”

_______________________

In no time at all, preparations were done, and the rest of the family began showing up. Diego had arrived from La Huerta a couple of days prior, keen to support Taylor in person, and had been staying at Jake and Sean’s place. They all came to the house together; Diego, Jake and Sean, their grown boys Lucas, Michael and Benny, and sixteen year old Georgie. Estela accepted hugs from all corners, and as soon as the first wave was over, Aleister, Grace, son Reggie, and the younger of their twin daughters, Imogen, came to the door.

 Immediately upon seeing his cousin and childhood best friend, Reggie had Liv locked in the tightest of hugs. Even between his squeezing arms, Estela could see the tears streaming down her daughter’s face. It hurt so bad. But Liv was surrounded by love-- not least by her beloved cousin, who’d made the trip from London leaving his own young family for a flying visit.

Even after all this time, Estela could still find herself staggered by this feeling. The not being alone. Those who couldn’t be there checked in from afar, and those who could offered shoulders and embraces with no hesitation, no questions asked. It wasn’t like this when she lost her mom all those years ago. The stark comparison that she couldn’t help but draw connected this fresh, raw wound to that old scar, disturbing it, threatening to rip it wide open. It made her long for the one person she’d had in her corner back then. The one who wasn’t there now.

Clearing her throat in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, she turned away from the group, retreating to a corner. She felt eyes upon her; sneakily subtle, full of care, but still it made her defences fly up. She managed to lift her head up, and she exchanged a glance with Taylor.

I need space.

Trusting that Taylor understood, Estela took herself out into the sprawling backyard and leaned against one of the large balatá trees. She looked up to the sky, then closed her eyes tight, fighting for strength.

I don’t know how I’m gonna do this, Tio.

He’d have known what to say to her. Her mom would. There was no parental figure left to turn to… that role was hers now; the matriarch, wise for all she’d come through. Inheritor of the family home. The one everyone looked to expectantly, waiting for the right words. But Estela didn’t want to stand up and speak those words, to make this final. She didn’t want to say goodbye. Not again….

She didn’t know how long she’d been standing out there, eyes closed against the afternoon breeze, her heart with souls lost to her, when the tall, slender and balding figure of her half-brother appeared at the doorway. Checking up on her, she could only assume. Perhaps Taylor had not impressed upon Aleister Estela’s need for space, or perhaps Estela had been distancing herself for longer than she’d realised. That happened sometimes.

He wandered over, typically awkward in the face of a need for emotional sensitivity. By now, it was endearing.

“I realised that amongst all the exchanging of greetings and condolences, I never did get the chance to properly ask how you’re faring.”

“You’d think that the fact that I’m hiding away back here would be a clue.”

“Oh, it is. Bless Taylor’s heart, she’s glancing out the window every few seconds, fretting up a storm. Admittedly, my reaching out is in part to calm her. She didn’t want to intrude on your need to be alone, and while I empathise, I’m afraid I just had to come out here and blunder all over your feelings.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Excellent,” said Aleister, a little too brightly. He must have realised this, for his cheeks flushed. “I can’t say I understand what you’re going through, because I don’t. I can’t begin to presume what your state of mind might be, even less what you might need right now. I suppose… I want you to know that I’ll hear you if you need an outlet to express…. well, if you need someone to talk to. Which is ridiculous-- you have Taylor for crying out loud! Or even Grace--”

Estela cut over him. “It feels like everyone expects me to be falling apart,” she said flatly, clearly taking him by surprise with her candour. She wasn’t afraid to open up to her brother. It was easier to let things out in the air, where it was just herself and a trusted old friend. “I’m not. I’m sad. I’m so sad I can’t even find the words for it. But I’m not losing myself.”

Aleister frowned, sympathetic. “All things considered, I suppose such feelings aren’t to be unexpected. You have been known to er… spiral.”

She chuckled darkly, shaking her head. “I swear some people are scared I’m going to go into a murderous rage or something… but I’m not angry. This is the best possible scenario; Tio Nicolas left the world peacefully at an old age, in the way he wanted to go. I was able to be there for him. It’s just… even in the best possible scenario, it hurts like hell. But I’d take sadness that hurts like hell over what it was like with Mom. Any day.”

A silence hung between them, which Aleister gently broke. “Do you know what the old bastard said to me when we first met? He told me that I was a rare breed, that traitors entering his home were rare as-- what was it?-- ‘a spine on a Salazarian’ I believe. That I would do well to watch my back if I wanted to leave his home again in one piece.”

Estela smirked. “I’d apologise, but you know what they say, ‘play stupid games’. Tio never had much tolerance for stupid games. I promise you I did tell him about the times you saved our asses, but I guess he needed you to convince him personally.”

She huffed heavily and shuffled her feet. “Is this the part where I pretend I’m ready for this?”

“That, I’m afraid,” Aleister said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “is your call.”

“Dammit,” she growled. “Thought so. But I’m going to down a rum afterwards. For Tio.”

“But of course.”

At that point, Taylor appeared at the back door, scowling as she mouthed and gestured to Aleister something to the effect of ‘I thought I told you to give her space, asshat!’.

Estela almost laughed. Her wife had her back. As always. She shot her a reassuring and surprisingly genuine smile before giving Aleister a nudge. “Right. Enough stalling.”

_______________________

The big group all gathered together in the sitting room, comfy on the sofas or having brought chairs in-- with just a couple sitting cross-legged on the floor. Slowly, everyone quietened, and eyes fell upon Estela. The person to start, though, was Liv, who was perched by her moms on the floor-- Jeimy holding her from one side, Reggie from the other.

“Um, I guess, thanks everyone for being here,” she said. “It’s been really, really hard since we lost Tio… s-so really it means a lot to not be feeling it alone.” Liv shakily cleared her throat. “So, er, what we’re gonna do is, my Mama Estela’s gonna give a bit of a eulogy, and then we can all share our memories of Tio Nicolas. And raise a glass and eat some food, because that’s what he’d want.”

With Liv glancing up to her expectantly, Estela struggled to push words forth. One last thing she could do for her tio….

“Tio Nicolas was born in Colombia in 1962,” she began, clutching Taylor’s hand in her lap. ”His mother was Valeria, his father was Julián. They’d tried for a long time to have children, so no one expected it when he came along. It was even more of a surprise when my mother, Olivia, was born five years later.”

Estela swallowed hard.

“I never knew my family when they were that unit. It was a dangerous, violent part of the country where they lived, and my abuelo Julián was killed just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. My abuela Valeria had been very sick for years at that point. Tio Nicolas and my mom cared for the best they could, but she stopped fighting. Abuela died just five weeks after Abuelo, when Tio Nicolas was only in his mid-twenties. It was then that he came to San Trobida, following an old school friend-- Ivan Ruiz-- who had family here. I guess the rest is history. He wrote a book and everything. I don’t wanna go into detail about the war; Tio did that better than I could in his own words. But he gave everything in him to make this place safer for the vulnerable. People like my abuela, who he’d loved so much. The tragedy that happened to our family in Colombia was why Tio ran away, but it also became the reason why he stayed here when things went to shit, and why he put his life on the line. I learned a lot from my tio, but what he showed me most of all was that a person’s life can be a force for good so much bigger than themselves. That we have it in our power to make things better, and to right wrongs.”

“From the time when my mom came into his home as a single mother with me in tow-- just a baby-- to these last weeks, Tio Nicolas has been my hero and my friend. He taught me to survive in a harsh world, and he put a fire in my belly to fight to make it kinder. I guess he screwed it all up now and then, and I screwed it all up now and then, but no amount of messing up would keep him from being in my corner. We could laugh about those times in hindsight… and that got easier over the years. Life got easier. When I brought Taylor home, he was suspicious as all hell, but in no time he adopted her as a second niece. I think he liked having someone around who could hold a conversation better than me. I had friends, and he had friends. And then we had Liv… and it was like everything he’d sacrificed for was there in his arms. He started softening. I mean, he could still put you in hospital if you were fool enough to make a threat of yourself, but pretty much always, he was just at peace. I know he always had his demons, but that peace in him was stronger. That’s how he went out. A-and he deserved that.”

She looked out to the faces around her; Jake and Sean, Aleister and Grace, their respective now-grown children, Diego who’d come all the way from La Huerta to be a shoulder for Taylor. And of course, right by her side; Liv and Jeimy, and Taylor, staunchly supportive as she always had been. To them, she could show her vulnerability, and be safe. It was just as well, for the dam was dangerously close to breaking.

“It’s just… it’s just tough,” she choked. “Someone like Tio leaves behind a big hole… and… and we’re feeling it. So, um, I guess I’m done. If we now just… talk and remember him.”

Again, it was Liv who spoke first. Her voice trembled, even as Jeimy held her. “Tio Nicolas was basically my grandpa. I know he loved me like one. He would always make the effort to get a laugh out of me, or even just a smile; I always knew he had my back when things got serious. He always wanted to help. There’s actually a kind of agouti running around in the National Park that we’d probably still think was extinct if he hadn’t shown me a thing or two about tracking.” She looked down at her hands, her lower lip wobbling. “It’s been a just few days, but everything feels so different. I really, really miss my grandpa.”

Taylor, sniffing, squeezed her daughter’s shoulder. “God, where to even begin with Tio? It always kind of amazed me how totally unflappable he was in the face of the batshit crazy that we brought back from La Huerta. I guess he’d seen enough of life that you just couldn’t faze him. You always knew he had your back, which was lucky, ‘cause woe betide anyone fool enough to get on the wrong side of him.”

Jake lifted his beer in respect. “Could always rely on the old geezer to give ya a swift metaphorical kick up the ass when you needed one.”

Beside him, Michael sniggered. “When do you ever not need a swift metaphorical kick up the ass, Dad?”

“I know it’s something small,” Diego said wistfully, “but I always appreciated how he’d talk to me in Spanish when I stayed over. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed hearing it, but he instinctively knew it would mean something to me.”

Estela sat quietly, silent as the words washed over her. So much love… and in hearing it there, she was not alone. She must have imagined it… the expectation that she’d have some kind of a breakdown-- was it what she’d expected her loved ones to think of her? Didn’t she know them better than that? They weren’t here because they were scared of what she might become if they didn’t carefully guide her through this bereavement; they were here simply to express the same love that was now making her heartache. And they were here because to ease a loved one through such an ache was what family did-- what she’d do for any of them.

As it wound up, her friends and family laughing and sharing over the spread of snacks, Estela again took herself away to get some space. It was all overwhelming, more than she really knew what to do with, but she was grateful.

And she was even more so when Taylor saw her lingering on the outer, and knew a wife in need of a hug when she saw one.

“’Stel?”

She put her arms around Taylor, nuzzling into her neck and hugging her as close as she could. There, she wept, for what must have been the tenth time that day, and it brought her yet another small step closer to being okay.

Taylor kissed Estela’s hair and forehead, holding her through her tears. “I’m here. Always.”

Estela came away, a soft smile upon her lips. “I know. This has honestly been perfect… thank you.”

“You want to go out and get some air?” Taylor asked.

“Actually, I think I’m good.” Estela gestured to her friends in the sitting room. “This is helping.”

______________________

There was a small flurry activity as one more guest arrived at the front door; Aleister and Grace’s daughter, Erin, with her own daughter, Kristel, in tow. In no time at all, the baby was in the arms of a doting Grandad Al, and Erin had her arms free to give out hugs to her aunts.

“I’m sorry we’re so late,” Erin flapped. “I didn’t want to show up while Kristel was still screaming….”

Estela laughed kindly, the warmth of affection bubbling up in her. She hadn’t taken it for granted that her niece-- Immy’s twin-- would be able to come along at all as the little one had been ill in the days prior, but trust Erin to jump straight to apologies. “Relax, mija. I’ve done the screaming baby thing. I know the struggle.” She hugged Erin tight. “It’s good to see you. And I won’t lie, a cuddle with Kristel might be just what I need right now. I’m guessing she’s feeling better?”

“All back to her usual happy self. Big relief!” Stepping back, Erin looked her aunt in the eye sympathetically. “I’m so sorry about your tio.”

“Thanks, Erin. I appreciate it.”

 “We all knew it was coming for so long… it’s hard to believe he’s actually gone. I have a lot of memories of him from when we first moved out here-- I always found him kind of intimidating, but he knew how to make us laugh. He was a really good man.”

“Yes,” Estela said solemnly. “The best.”

Aleister reluctantly relinquished cuddle-duty of five-month-old Kristel, and passed her along to Estela, the bub’s tia abuela, while Taylor started what would be an animated catch-up with Erin with a big embrace.

Estela gently bounced Kristel in her arms, and watched her wife tenderly. This wasn’t just what she’d needed, but what Taylor needed too.

“What do you think, Krisita?” she cooed as the baby wrapped a chubby hand around her neck, hugging. “All these people. It’s a lot for you to think about. They’re all here saying goodbye to an old, old friend. But you don’t need to worry about any of that, mi corazoncita… it’s all hellos to new faces for you. The world is young to your eyes.”

It wouldn’t be that way forever. Kristel would suffer wounds, suffer goodbyes; a lifetime’s tears still yet to weep. When she needed them, her family would be there. As Estela’s family-- much the same one-- had been there for her.

There was comfort in Kristel’s innocence… the wide-eyed way she looked upon the world around her. She’d hold onto that for so much longer than the children of San Trobida could not too many years before. Surely, reason for Estela’s beloved tio to rest soundly.

“I have to admit something, chiquita,” she said softly. “No one is more afraid of what this’ll do to me than me.” She clucked in the baby’s ear. “Isn’t that silly? Scared of myself. But myself was once something very dangerous. You’ll never really know that, because I’m better. Even though I’m hurt, I’m better.”

“Nope,” said Liv sternly. “Not when we all know you’re happiest when you’ve got the whole motley crew hanging around.”

“Ah--” Nicolas hacked up a painful cough, and settled back into his pillow, wincing. “I suppose there’s worse company to be in. Come… sit on the bed. Don’t make me strain my eyes to see your dopey face.”

As Liv sat down at his side, knees up to her chest, her eyes began to water. “There’s… no chance you might hang on another few weeks?” she asked weakly, knowing the answer.

Nicolas lifted a gnarled old hand and cradled her cheek. “Mija….”

To see her cry, his little Livi, their sunshine girl… it made his heart ache, even now that she was all grown up. Heaven knew how he’d endure it when Estela, so much more stoic than her daughter in her protectiveness, finally cracked.

The door creaked open, and Jeimy came in. Within seconds, they too were teary.

“Joder, not you as well! I hope those are recycled tissues you’re using-- you’ll be going through them like they’re going out of style!”

That ruffled Jeimy’s feathers. “What do you take me for? Of course they’re goddamn recycled.”

Liv snorted with laughter, and it was just what Nicolas needed. Gentle Jeimy would not say boo to a goose… unless you got onto something they were passionate about, then an angry little lion would briefly rear their head. Nicolas had found it little wonder Liv adored them so-- they liked their passionate hearts around here.

Jeimy leaned down to embrace Nicolas, then sat beside Liv, taking her hand and squeezing it. Liv’s free hand reached for her tio abuelo’s.

“¡Y ahora parece que estás a punto de llorar de nuevo!” he exclaimed.

“Well, if you didn’t want me to cry, maybe you should try not dying?” Liv demanded, spluttering. “Viejo pendejo!”

“Cursing me out on my deathbed. Young people these days….”

Meeting Nicolas’ eyes, Liv’s own filled with tears until she could keep them from falling no longer. “I… don’t really know what to say. I’m sorry.” She grimaced. “You always imagine when you have to say goodbye to someone, you’ll know how to find just the right words. I need you to know how much….”

With his thumb, Nicolas stroked Liv’s hand. “People talk too much. I don’t need to hear words out your mouth to tell me what I already know. In some ways….” He winced, began to cough, and winced some more. “I-in some ways it’s better just to enjoy one another’s company without the need to do it ‘right’. Don’t worry about wasting this time… I could never see it as wasted.”

He held her as she cried. She could feel her so strong in his frail old arms… where had those years gone? He’d held her through her tears when she was so little he could cradle her entire body with one forearm.

“Thanks, Tio,” Liv murmured. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, allowing herself to just be in the moment. “I… I know you know I love you.”

Nicolas’ deeply lined face cracked with a smile. “So, what with my being certain you know I love you too… I think we will be fine.”

___________________________

La Huerta, 2023

Nicolas was twitchy as he waited on the garden bench, looking over the small memorial Estela had erected for his sister. It was all there was, just a marked stone, a box of letters, and a scattering of flowers. All there was left. His eyes stung as he read the words on the stone again and again, the name of the little sister he’d promised to keep safe. Oh, their papa would be rolling in his grave. Nicolas rubbed his eyes, not allowing himself to be overcome when sadness when this was to be a moment of the deepest happiness. But then, the deepest happiness really did only come out of the shadow of heartache.

He’d sworn he’d never come to this place. It was Rourke’s island. Evil. Had Nicolas not been surrounded by enough evil in his days? To know that his beloved sister’s body had been disposed of there… it tainted the place beyond help. Of course, he supported Estela. If La Huerta had given her the sense of peace and home for her, then he could never begrudge her staying. But it wasn’t for him.

Until the damned baby came along. That damned baby, whose arrival had brought him to joyous tears. It seemed only that damned baby could make an old man as stubborn as him willingly get on a plane to this godforsaken island.

Estela returned to him, now holding in her arms a wriggling infant; her own Livita. The babe was a few weeks old now, and Nicolas could see already that she was bright-eyed and healthy. Perfection.

“Tio, I’d like you to meet Livi.” Estela’s eyes shone with pride. “Livita….” Her voice cracked. “T-this is your tio abuelo.”

“An honour to meet you, mija!” Nicolas chuckled, reaching for Liv’s hand and letting her tiny fingers wrap around his much larger one. “A strong grip already! Your mama will make a fine sparring partner out of you--”

“Like hell she will!” Taylor laughed, sitting down beside Estela on the bench and putting an arm around her. “The last thing I want is a toddler that can K.O. me. No sparring until madam’s at least….”

“Five?” Estela grinned broadly, and kissed the side of her wife’s head. Truly, she was a picture of contentment, and it stirred Nicolas deeply. It had been a long time coming. A long time, much trauma, countless scars, and great depths of despair… but she’d gotten to this place, and it was all the sweeter for what had come before. “D’you wanna hold her?”

That was no question at all. Nicolas carefully took the baby in his arms and held her against his chest. She blinked up at him with dark shining eyes, brow creased. There was attitude in this one! Even at this tender age, features were familiar, as if taken from their old family album. All those features of people he’d tried and failed to keep safe; his mama, his sister, his little shining star, Estela. In Liv he had another chance, and he wouldn’t fail again.

Nicolas’ voice caught in his throat. “She does look like you. You and your mother-- she’s got that fire in her eyes.”

Taylor was looking at her little girl with utter warmth. “Yeah… we’re expecting a handful. Especially if the past few weeks are anything to go by.” She glanced to Estela and winked. “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“You’ve handled one Montoya woman, Taylita, what’s another?”

___________________________

San Trobida, 2052

Taylor switched on the lamp as she entered the room.

“God, how did it get dark so fast?”

“Time moves quickly when you’re hurtling toward a deadline,” Nicolas said simply.

“Yeah….” came the wistful reply.

Funny, if anyone could understand what it was to have a predetermined expiry date, it was the woman before him now. She, however, had cheated death. For him… well, the number of lives he’d used up would make a cat green with envy. It was just his time.

Nearer sixty than fifty-- though her actual count of years lived was a far smaller number-- Taylor’s hair was more silver than blonde, her face carried the lines etched by countless smiles. Ageing, Nicolas knew too well, was a privilege, and one he’d watched Taylor, his second niece, fight for, so fragile she’d been when first they’d met. It had been so long now… it barely registered now that she was ‘different’. Perhaps now she wasn’t. Her life was full; people, places, memories. Their family, once his and now hers too, it anchored her to the world where she belonged, and from those roots she’d flourished.

“How are your pillows? Are you comfortable?” she asked, concern clear to see in her blue eyes.

Nicolas shifted, frowning. This was exactly why he had to be done with all this. His aching body protested even the simplest of tasks, with each exertion his lungs seemed to strain and fail all the more. His life, as he saw it, was over. “I could be propped up a bit higher.”

“I’ll grab another pillow.”

Taylor did, and assisted her uncle-in-law into a slightly more upright position. “Better?”

He grunted.

Taylor sat down, leaning over the bed so she could clasp Nicolas’ hands. “You’re welcome.”

Nicolas met her eye, studying her. She’d never seemed to flinch at his scrutiny of her, his need to analyse motive and character.

“How is Livi?” he asked at last.

“She’s….” Taylor bit her lip. “It’s hard. She’s not lost anyone close to her before.”

“I’d almost call that miraculous….” said Nicolas darkly. He furrowed his grizzled eyebrows. “But then… this is just as new an experience for you, señora extraterrestre.”

Taylor’s quirked a small smile. “And you. Ever died before?”

He chuckled appreciatively. “If I recall, you have.”

“Bah-- only briefly. Your girl knows her CPR. Between her and Michelle, I was never going anywhere.”

Again, they shared a lingering gaze. Nicolas could see the worry that couldn’t be hidden. What was to come would be… testing. How could he reassure when he shared that worry? When he’d be gone and there wouldn’t be a damn thing he could do….

“Miraculous,” he croaked again. “It seems our luck changed when you fell out the sky.”

Taylor’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t protect her from this…,” she apologised.

“You should tell yourself that. You can’t carry the burden of another person’s mental state entirely on your shoulders.”

She laughed dryly, caught out. “I know, I know. Liv’s been calling me out as well. Estela was right when she said this family didn’t put up with hypocrites. But I am going to look after myself as well. I… I know… this is going to hit me. It’s… going to be hard.”

“I should think so. I am your uncle after all.”

“You’ve gotta know how much you mean to me, tio. You didn’t have to take me in the way you did, treat me as family, but you welcomed me. It sounds like something so small, but it really made a difference.”

Nicolas closed his eyes and sighed, a small smile upon his face. “You make it sound like I had a choice in the matter. You were family. That was clear very quickly, mija.”

“It’s not going to be the same around here without you.” Taylor said, and she rested her hand on Nicolas’ arm. “I always enjoyed our middle of the night ‘can’t-sleep-so-let’s-drink-rum-and-trauma-dump-together’ sessions. Considering the alcohol involved, it’s amazing that I always came out the other end actually more clear-headed.”

“Well, it worked both ways. It didn’t surprise me at all when you took to providing counsel as a vocation; you have a knack. I was more used to having only Estelita to talk to of a nighttime. And you know… blood from a stone….”

Taylor chuckled. “She’s gotten better.”

“True. True.” His eyelids were heavy… it would be a relief to let them fall shut and stay that way… but Nicolas opened his eyes enough to offer his niece the reassurance she needed. He knew he couldn’t help, but he had faith in his niece’s inner strength. “She’ll get through this.”

“I… I know.” Even as Taylor’s voice shook, her face was full of conviction. “There’s no way in hell you’d be bowing out now if you didn’t know that too. It’s gonna be awful, but… Estela’s gonna be okay.”

“And mija? You’ll get through this as well.”

All too soon, Estela came in with a small pile of papers and a pen, her face drawn and tired. There was official business to be attended to, and then… then it would be just Nicolas and his first niece, his protege, until the end.

“I hope you’re not making my wife cry, Tio,” Estela said brusquely. “I’m already having to mop up Livi and Jeimy.”

No doubt it was hurting Estela deeply to be unable to protect her beloved child from this-- he could already see it in her eyes. That the family Nicolas was to leave behind would band together with love and solace to get one another through was a great comfort, and it allowed him to let go.

“I’d never dream of it. I’m under no illusions that my being close to death would stop you from ripping me a new one.”

He was tired. These conversations had been heavy, leaving him so ready for sleep. It wasn’t long now and he’d have his rest.

“I suppose this will be the last signature you’ll need from me?” he growled. “That will be everything above board?”

He thought he caught Estela’s lip tremble, but when she spoke, she sounded steady and strong.

“Yes, that’ll be it. Taylor’s gonna sign as a witness, and then we’re set. You won’t have to worry about anyone getting in trouble over this.”

Nicolas closed his eyes. As if you could ever not get yourself into trouble, little star. He nodded.

“Good… good…. I should think so anyway. Everything I’ve given for this country to have a little peace-- you would want to think I’d be allowed to take some for myself?”

With a little help from Taylor, Nicolas sat up, scanned over the official papers, and signed away.

“That’s… that’s it, then,” he wheezed, feeling relief as he sank back into his pillows.

Taylor helped him to get comfortable again, her eyes watering. “Th-this is where I leave you, tio. In the best possible hands.” Weeping, she kissed his forehead. “Te amo, viejo. Duerme un poco. ”

He grasped her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss her. “I love you, too. Nuestra señora de las estrellas.”

When Taylor stood up and embraced Estela so hard, giving comfort that was everything and yet still could not be enough, Nicolas felt his heart wrenching.

He had always known this would be the hardest part.

_______________________

San Trobida, 2010

Nicolas came into the kitchen to find Olivia quietly seething as she placed several flattened balls of dough into a pan. He could read her, her telling expression, like a book. Her talk with her employer hadn’t gone well.

“Do I even need to ask?” he ventured, and his sister turned around, scowling.

“I didn’t go in expecting any different; I knew that man has no compassion,” she said bitterly. She huffed, putting down her spatula. “The most Rourke can offer if anything happens to you is a couple weeks leave to come home and make sure Estela is safe and provided for. ‘No children on the island’ means ‘no children under any circumstance’. Even if it means leaving a fifteen year old kid alone in the midst of a fucking war. He’s a bastard.”

“Joder eso,” Nicolas growled. “El puede ir al infierno.”

Olivia leaned her head back, her eyes closed, her hands kneading her neck, and she swore under her breath. “Unfortunately, he’s a bastard who’s giving me the best hope I’m ever going to get of getting Estela out of here for good. You saw the salary offer.”

The arepas sizzled, and Olivia turned to check on them, while Nicolas went over scenarios in his head. A lot could happen in a year. Wars could even be won or lost. There was no question of his stepping away from the front lines-- too many people on their side now relied upon him. But if he was killed in the course of what needed to be done, what the hell would become of Estela?

“Paola. I’ll ask Paola to keep Estela safe until you can get back home.”

“Paola Ruiz? Ivan’s wife?”

“Estela already knows Ivan. Obviously, there’s little point asking for him to watch over her when he’s as likely to get wiped out as I am, but Paola is at least somewhat familiar. And sharp enough to keep Estelita from trouble.”

He put a hand on his sister’s shoulder, felt her slump, afraid. Trapped.

“I have to do this,” she said shakily. “One year and they’ll let me transfer to the States. She’ll actually be able to get an education without fear of being indoctrinated. She’ll have a future.”

“I know, Livita. I don’t like it, but I know.” Nicolas watched as Olivia shook herself back to the present and finished up their meal. Always powering on, no matter how daunting the path ahead looked. While he worried for Estela, he couldn’t help feel relief that at least Olivia, the little sister he’d always been so protective of, would be miles and miles away-- safe from the unfolding disaster that was their home. Of course he’d support her. “You’re a good mother.”

Olivia plated up arepas for the two of them, and for Estela. She laughed darkly. “I’m trying. I’m trying so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if it killed me. I couldn’t keep on doing it without you.”

She met Nicolas’ gaze and held it, steely and unflinching, as if she could order him to make everything all right.

“Just… for god’s sake, Nic, keep yourself alive.”

_________________________

San Trobida, 2052

“My star… if I’m asking too much of you….”

Estela cut across. “Never.”

She sat down on the bed, crossing her legs, then reached for her uncle’s hands. Softly, she kissed his calloused old fingers. “I want to help you. I will always want to help you. And I’m gonna be there with you right ‘til the end.”

Nicolas coughed, rough, hacking. He knew his dearest niece was making an effort not to wince at his obvious pain. Oh, she was a stubborn pain in the ass.

“I know… Estelita… --kff-- that you don’t easily back down once you’ve decided you’re going to do something, but --kff-- please….” He ran a thumb over her hands. The two of them had endured so much with those hands entwined… and they’d endured even more knowing those hands were always there to be reached for. “Mija, you’re the one who’ll be living with this. Your needs are more important here than mine.”

“Look at me,” Estela demanded.

And he did. He saw a fierce fighter, the raging fire still flickering behind her eyes, now framed with the wrinkles that came of a life well lived. He saw the deep, angry scar he might have prevented had he not failed her, failed her mother. He saw warmth, and kindness. A mouth that he knew to form the most irrepressible, most contagious of smiles.

He knew hers would be the last face he’d ever see.

“Tio,” she said shakily, “I’m terrified. I don’t… I don’t want you to go.”

“Estel….”

She held him tighter with one hand, while her other reached to stroke his face. “I’m with you. It doesn’t… it doesn’t matter how hard it is. The only regret I would have is not doing this for you. Okay?”

--kff-- --kff-- “Well… that’s me told….”

Estela already had his pills prepared, sitting alongside a glass of water for when the time came. Looking after him, as she had since he’d first become ill.

“So, um… how do you want to do this?” she asked tentatively. “I guess you just… tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll help you take it then?”

Nicolas nodded stiffly. He was ready. Done with all this. And yet to say goodbye was so hard to bear.

“Do you think, mija,” he asked quietly, “there’s any peace to be had on the other side, when so many you’ve let down are waiting for you?”

He’d had a little joke… many, many times before… that he had to keep on surviving, for his little sister’s wrath when he joined her in the afterlife would be a fury beyond compare. It had been so easy to speak in jest, skirting neatly around the depth of his shame. He’d told his father that should anything happen to him, he’d care for Olivia. He’d told Olivia that should anything happen to her, he’d care for Estela. The bloody images he’d never rid from his mind were the penance he carried for promises broken. That shame. Either it was all about to catch up with him, or he’d at last be free.

Holding him still, Estela sucked in a breath, and emotion rattled her voice. “I--I think that Mami will grab you by the ear and ask what the fuck you were thinking. And then she’ll hug you until the life’s crushed out of you. What happens if you get hugged to death in the afterlife?”

Nicolas looked into his niece’s scarred face, and appreciated her. Somehow, for all his fucking up, he had in her the best friend he’d ever known.

“I suppose I’ll have to find out.”

Then, Estela’s face crumpled. “You’ll… tell her I love her?”

Mustering all of his failing strength, Nicolas pulled her into an embrace. It took everything in him to hold it together. This was every bit as hard as he’d known it would be.

“I didn’t think you believed in any of that?”

Estela rebutted with an “I didn’t think you did?”

Nicolas smiled darkly. “With my own curtain about to close, it’s hard not to imagine everyone I’ve wronged waiting to give me what I deserve. The guilt catching up with me.”

Estela’s eyes were still misty, and she stared into space. “I want Mom to be somewhere. I don’t know if that’s the same as believing. But I want it. And you… I don’t want you to just be… gone.”

His response was a hoarse whisper. “I know.”

With a shuddering exhale, Estela came back to herself. “I’ll have to just… think of you when I pour out a rum. Or when the grandkids want to know about that sword wound you gave me.”

“Grandkids? Has Livita said something?”

Estela leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “It’s only a matter of time. These past few months she and Jeimy have been dropping ‘when’s rather than ‘if’s when the subject of kids comes up.”

Nicolas chuckled softly. Children? It was a shame he’d miss them, but how comforting to have that certainty of life marching on. Liv would be a wonderful mother. Ah… what he wouldn’t give to see his Estela as the doting and fiercely protective abuela he knew she’d be. Perhaps an afterlife would not be so bad… it would be nice indeed to somehow watch over his family as they continued to blossom in his absence.

He’d find out soon enough.

With assistance, Nicolas got comfortable, nestled in his pillows. Estela lay down beside him, linking her fingers with his, and sharing with him a long stretch of easy quiet. It was peaceful.

“Mija….”

“Are you ready?”

“I’m ready.” He could see the apprehension in her face. Small wonder-- what was to come would not be easy. “If you are ready.”

Estela scoffed, gently mocking, and gave his hand a squeeze. “As if I was ever going to be ready.”

He brought his hands to her face, looking upon her with love. “My star…,” he said shakily. As Estela’s dark eyes began to sparkle with tears, he felt a lump form in his throat, one he’d simply have to fight past. “I have done things in my life that I’m proud of… things I wrote a whole damn book on. It’s nothing next to the pride I feel-- that I’ve always… always felt-- in being your uncle. I… I won’t be able to thank you for what you’re doing for me after the fact, so… while I can still look you in the eye and say it; thank you, mi vida, Estelita. I love you.”

“I love you, Tio.” A tear rolled down Estela’s cheek, then another. She placed the pills in his hand and squeezed his fingers once more. Speaking in a whisper, she brought her forehead to her uncle’s. “You basically… you taught me how to be a parent. The way you were there for me, helping me even when I was too messed up to help myself. I know….” She sniffed. “I know you feel like you didn’t do enough, that you let me down… but god, I know I wouldn’t be here now without you.”

That lump in Nicolas’ throat gave way, and he let out a dry sob. As his niece, his dearest friend, kissed his brow, then his cheek, he felt peace from his head to his toes. He exhaled slowly, then took the pills. Estela held his glass of water, helping him drink.

He settled down, closing his eyes, and sighed deeply. Tucked up close beside him, his Estela, stroking his hands, kissing them… whispering that she loved him over and over again.

And he let himself drift away.

__________________________

San Trobida, 2002

“Tio! Tio!” Little Estela, six years old, jumped up, flinging her arms around her uncle’s middle. “Tio, Tio, Tio!”

“Oof!” Nicolas was knocked back by the force of the little human hurricane who flung herself at him. “Now that’s how you give a welcome! And here I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

Olivia stood with her arms crossed. “She was. Apparently not as ‘asleep’ as she’d pretended she was.” She reached for her daughter, prying one arm away from Nicolas’ torso. “Estelita, amorcita, just a quick cuddle with Tio Nicolas, then you need to go back to bed.”

“Mami!” came the immediate protest.

“It’s late, and you have school tomorrow.”

“Please, Mami, I only just seen him! It’s been a really long time.”

“I know, nenita linda, but you need sleep. You don’t want to be tired and grumpy tomorrow-- you want to be fresh and happy so you can properly enjoy having your tio back home.”

Estela, though, wasn’t letting go. “But I not seen Tio Nicolas in a really, really long time-- I missed my tio, I just want to see him a little bit….”

It struck Nicolas hard, how much his absence… his absence and the knowledge that he was in danger, had caused distress. Estela needed to be comforted, to know that he was home and safe, and that things would be back to normal-- at least for the time.

“¡Ay, hermana! She’s about to cry. There can’t be any harm in her staying up a little while. I could take her to the roof to look at some stars.”

Olivia frowned, but it was clear to see that she was cut up by her little daughter’s desperation, born of what Nicolas knew must have been an anxiety-ridden few weeks. “Half an hour-- tops. And don’t you ‘¡Ay, hermana!’ me when you come in here so late and get her all worked up. Cabrón.”

“What’s a cabrón?” Estela asked innocently, looking up at her mother with wide, curious eyes.

“Never you mind, chiquita.”

Nicolas put a blanket over his little niece’s shoulders, then helped her up to the roof. Already there were cushions set up, for it was a favourite place to retreat to. To look at the stars was an escape; something that took them far away from the fighting and the fear. The night sky was vast and wild and beautiful. In Nicolas, that sky stirred hope for something more, something better; in Estela it was simply a wonder.

“Follow where I’m pointing, Estelita….”

“Yeah… I am.”

“You see this cluster of stars here?”

“Kinda.”

“That is the constellation of Virgo; the maiden. You see, if you were to join the stars together, it makes a picture. This is a woman’s torso… a leg… her head… her arm hanging down.”

“Hee-hee, it’s a jellyfish!”

“A jellyfish?”

“See-- look! All the long lines go into the circle in the middle, like the middle bit is its body, and the long lines are its arm-tentacle things. It’s definitely a jellyfish. And that’s not boring than just some person.”

Nicolas scoffed playfully. “And I suppose you know better than all the astrologists and historians, do you?”

“We can ask Mom. She’s smart, and she knows all about stars. She’ll know it looks more like a jellyfish than some maid girl.” Estela yawned widely, and snuggled against her uncle’s side.

“Of course you say ‘ask Mom’, as if she’d ever take my side over yours!”

“Tio…,” Estela said, quieter. “Why did you go away so long? I missed you.”

“It wasn’t safe. The people I was dealing with were very dangerous. I had to be very careful not to bring that danger home to you.”

“I don’t care about danger,” she whimpered. “I just want you to be home with us.”

“Oh, amorcita….” Nicolas stroked his niece’s hair, and felt the entirety of her little body relax into him. He hated to distress her so. It would be worth it, she’d see someday. She’d live in a world that was kinder; of that he was determined. If it killed him, he’d see to it. “I’m home with you now. Hopefully, it’ll be a long time before I have to go away again. Do you know, I feel less worried leaving knowing your Mami has her brave Estelita to make her smile every day?”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

She closed her tired eyes, and her head lolled against his chest.

________________________________

La Huerta, 2028

It was the second night of the reunion, and amid the usual excitement, the big news was that Aleister and Grace-- already on cloud nine with the expectation of twins-- would be married legally in a big celebration. Liv was thrilled.

It took a lot to tempt the five-year-old to leave the pool, especially when there was Fun Uncle Craig to play with, but this was a special case.

Dripping wet, Liv skipped over to Aleister in his deck chair and flung herself on top of him, arms around his shoulders and smacking him in the face with a mop of sopping hair. In the chair beside them, heavily pregnant Grace chuckled fondly-- seeing Aleister’s patient side with the children in the family never ceased to warm her heart.

“Uncle Al! When… when you first saw Auntie Grace, did you think ‘oh, I’d really, really, really, really like to kiss her’? Did you think ‘she’s super pretty’? Did you think--”

“Livia, ew!” Reggie groaned, coming up from behind. “What is it with you and kissing?”

“Well, they’re gonna do it at the wedding! It’s gonna be really romantic.”

“Yeah, but the wedding’s gonna be in a museum! There’s gonna be much more interesting stuff than kissing.”

“Kissing with dinosaurs in the background must be the most romantic wedding ever…,” Liv sighed dreamily.

“Fossils, Livia,” Reggie corrected. “They’re dead.”

“Well,” Aleister said, just loudly enough to keep the brewing bickering at bay, “actually, when I first saw Auntie Grace, I thought she looked rather lovely. I think ‘super pretty’ sums it up quite well.”

Grace smiled bashfully, mouthing an “oh, you!”.

“And then, I realised that Auntie Grace was also kind, and intelligent, and full of curiosity for the world. I knew quickly she was very special.”

Liv beamed. “Awwww! That’s really cute! And now you’re getting married!”

“Actually,” Grace explained, “we already had a wedding ceremony during Niala’rei, before you are born. But sometimes when you’re really in love, it’s something you want to celebrate more than once. Your mommies did that too, you know.”

That just about blew Liv’s mind. That had to be the most magical feeling; to be so in love that getting married once wasn’t enough. That was it; that was the dream. In the moments it took for Grace to plant the picture in Liv’s head, the start of years of daydreams were set alight. All Liv had to do, was someday, somehow, make sure she noticed when she met her very special someone, just as Uncle Aleister had.

______________________________

San Trobida, 2041

Liv was panting. Looking for all the world like a literal hot mess. Two days into her degree at the University of Santa Juana, and she was already arriving late to a lecture after completely misjudging where the theatre was and having to make a dash from almost the other side of the campus. Sheepishly, she took a seat at the back of the theatre as discretely as she could manage.

At least it wasn’t too crowded a lecture. The back row was empty, save for one student at the other end, a girl whose appearance was so loud she’d have stood out in the busiest of classrooms. Her shining black hair was streaked with vibrant colour; yellow, orange, lime-green, sky-blue, scarlet. A tattoo of a macaw’s wing stretched over her left arm, and a colourful feather earring dangled by the left side of her head. Catching herself beginning to stare, Liv looked away-- but in her flustered state, she dropped her notebook as she did, Awesome Colourful Biology Student caught her eye and gave a shy smile. Liv’s cheeks burned.

Yeah… that was definitely a pity smile. Because you look like you’re so sweaty you can’t keep hold of your freaking books.

But, god, was that smile very nearly worth it.

The next two weeks passed uneventfully; Liv got herself lost only a couple more times, and she kept up her unfortunate trait of being apparently incapable of making friends. It was something she’d anticipated. Friends had never come easily to her. She was used to being lonely outside of her small circle of trust, but it didn’t make it pleasant. That loneliness was made harder because it wasn’t something she should have even been facing. Her cousin Reggie, her closest confidant and lifelong partner in mischief, was supposed to be attending Santa Juana with her. But the freaking nerd went and got into Oxford. She didn’t resent his choice… not anymore, but it was all but impossible not to imagine how much better her university experience had almost been.

And so, needing to do something about her friend situation, or lack thereof, Liv signed up for Queer Students of USJ. There, at the first gathering, a few people along in the circle from Liv, was Awesome Colourful Biology Student With The Cute Smile. Of course, Liv had seen her at every Evolutionary Biology class, always sitting off on her own… but she sure as hell hadn’t been brave enough to so much as say ‘hi’-- for all she knew, the girl wanted to be left alone. In that moment, Liv realised she’d been wrong on both counts; most people who showed up to a social group were probably open to the idea of making a friend, and looking at the name-sticker on the cute student’s chest which read ‘Jeimy, they/them’, Cute Stranger Whose Hair Could Probably Be Seen From Space was likely not a girl at all.

The meeting wasn’t terribly exciting, just information given out, questions and answers with the more senior members, and then it was over. This time, though, Liv was determined to work up the courage to introduce herself to Jeimy.

She swallowed up her nerves, tried to ignore the furious thudding of her heart, and approached.

“Hey,” she said, “I… I think we have Evolutionary Biology together.” There was no ‘think’ about it. “I’m, uh, I’m Liv.”

Jeimy avoided eye contact, clearly shy, but they smiled. “Yeah… I remember you from there. Uh….” They gestured awkwardly at their name-sticker. “Jeimy.”

Liv was glad to hear it spoken out loud, pronounced ‘yay-mee’ rather than ‘jay-mee’ as she’d guessed. She was struck by just how quiet their voice was, how unsure they seemed in their interactions. It was violently at odds with the way they presented themself to the world visually, and immediately Liv admired Jeimy. She was shy herself, and her usual instinct was to blend in as much as possible-- Jeimy didn’t hide who they were, even though it meant they drew attention.

She smiled back, feeling that little bit more confident. It was still nerve-wracking, but Liv couldn’t find Jeimy intimidating-- not when all she could feel from them was genuine warmth shining through the shyness.

“Jeimy? Am I… saying that right?”

Jeimy looked up, for a beautiful moment, meeting Liv’s eye. “Yeah, you’re fine.” And they smiled broader, their dark eyes twinkling.

Oh, sweet Jesus I have a crush. Say something, idiot!

“I really love your hair. And your tattoo-- is it a macaw wing or something?”

Liv must have said something right, because Jeimy’s whole posture relaxed, more at-ease than she’d seen them. She could punch the air in triumph.

Yeah! You can people!

“Thanks! It is, actually,” Jeimy gushed. “It’s a scarlet macaw wing. Birds are pretty much my thing.” Again, their smile became shy. “It’s… where I got the idea to do my hair like this-- bright colours. In sexually dichromic birds, it’ll the male birds who are always bright and extravagant, while the females are kind of drab. So… to me it feels masculine.” Then, that bashfulness returned, as if they caught themselves getting too excited. “I know it’s stupid, and no one else really gets what I’m going for… but it’s me.”

“That’s… actually really cool.” She gestured to her own hair, dark brown with the streak of blonde she always dyed in. “Obviously I’m pretty much your standard drab female. But this streak here is for my mom.”

Jeimy perked back up at realising they hadn’t weirded out a potential friend. “For your mom?”

“Yeah. Well, for one of them. Back when I was small-- I think five or something?--I wanted to have a little bit of my non-biological mom’s appearance so I started having blonde in my hair. ” She chuckled. “At this point it would feel weird to stop, even though I know it wouldn’t hurt her feelings. It’s just become a ‘me’ thing.”

Jeimy looked at Liv with such curiosity, as if trying to get the measure of her, but still any eye contact was fleeting, nervous. “I, um, I have another class I need to get to, but we could… we could maybe… talk? Sometime? I don’t know anyone yet… probably a little human contact would do me good.”

“God, I know that feeling!” Liv laughed. “I would really, really like that. I’ll catch you round, yeah?”

As they went their separate ways, Liv felt as though she was floating on a cloud, she felt like skipping. Suddenly… university didn’t look nearly so sad and lonely.

______________________________

La Huerta, 2028

“Liv! Livi!” came the cry of a watchful Mama Taylor, “What have we said about ‘running feet’?”

Liv screeched to a stop, almost toppling in. “Not near the pool…,” she grumbled.

“And why is that?”

“Sln…hurr….”

“Sorry?”

“I could slip and get hurt.”

“See! I thought you knew how to stay safe. Make sure you remember, okay? Near the pool is for ‘walking feet’, sweetheart.

‘Walking feet’ were no fun at all. What was it with grown-ups and walking everywhere, anyhow? Liv sure didn’t get it.

A cheeky smile across her face, Liv exaggeratedly walked to the shallow end of the pool, where Quinn and Michelle were taking turns in gently bouncing baby Isla in the water. Her mothers joined her, apparently relieved to have her in the water where she was unlikely to slip and crack her head open.

And so, Liv bounced between them, splashing and playing, but being extra careful not to send any big waves crashing over baby Isla’s head. Wanting to quiz her aunts, she slowed her movements to a gentle bobbing upon the surface.

“What’s it like to fall in love?” she asked.

Michelle answered without hesitation. “Confusing. But in a really nice way.”

“Like… trying to spell a word right?””

Michelle laughed kindly. “Not exactly. I know when I fell in love with Auntie Quinn, I kept feeling a lot of butterflies in my stomach--”

“OhmygodAuntieMeechhow’dtheygetinthere!”

To Liv’s indignation, both her moms and Michelle and Quinn laughed all the more.

“You’re not meant to have big flapping bugs in your tummy! I’m only five, but I know that!”

“Liv, Livi…,” Taylor said, controlling her giggles-- god, she loved that little dork--, “butterflies in your stomach doesn’t mean you actually have butterflies in there. It’s just a feeling. It’s like… you feel like your insides are twisting and turning. It’s like feeling nervous, but it makes you happy all at the same time.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t quite so interesting, but rather less alarming. “Did you have lots of butterflies when you fell in love with Mama ‘Stel?”

“Hoo boy, did I! So many butterflies. And I still get them sometimes.”

Then she looked to Estela and Quinn, her expression questioning.

“Yes, Mama Taylor gives me butterflies. At first it was scary, because it was a feeling I couldn’t control and I didn’t know what to do with it. But… once you get past the fear, falling in love has to be one of the best feelings you could have. No matter how much you’re hurt, it can make it hurt less.”

“It’s really special, Liv.” Quinn grinned as an excitable Isla kicked her legs about, sending up a spray of water. “You cannot beat love!”

Liv wasn’t totally convinced on the whole ‘butterflies’ thing, but it didn’t sound quite as gross as she’d first assumed. More information was still needed. She hauled herself up onto Estela’s shoulders and hollered across the pool.

“AUNTIE ZAHRA!! DOES UNCLE CRAIG GIVE YOU BUTTERFLIES IN YOUR TUMMY!?!”

And, thus, poor Zahra died on the spot.

Craig, of course, bellowed straight back. “HELL YEAH, I DO!” And mysteriously doubled over, as if someone had booted him in the stomach below the water.

Love, Liv determined, was weird and chaotic. And… apparently, full of bugs.

____________________________

San Trobida, 2041

“Listen…,” Liv said, only slightly out of breath as she reached the top of hill, “we do have a spare room. I’d have to run it by the moms, but if you weren’t having to pay for accommodation, you’d have more of the money from your lola free to use on living your best life. I know I can only guess, but wouldn’t that be what she wanted?”

Jeimy took Liv’s hand, getting a boost to the top, then sighed. “Yeah… I know she’d want that. It’s really sweet of you to offer, but I can’t just… take advantage of you.”

Liv frowned. “I don’t know that it’d be taking advantage. I’d quite like the company in all honesty. And, hey!-- we could build an aviary out the back! We’ve got a load of space; we could build rehabilitation flight cages and everything, start a real rescue.”

“Livi, that’s definitely getting very far into ‘really should talk to your moms’ territory,” Jeimy laughed affectionately. “Honestly, I’d be happy just hanging out with those chickens you’ve got. I miss having chickens.”

Together, they sat down on a log, and Liv passed Jeimy their water bottle.

“There must be a lot of things you miss. I know it wouldn’t be the same… but it might feel more like a home than what you’re in now.”

Jeimy stared down into the valley. Feeling home had been lost to them long before they were forced from the physical house they’d once shared with their parents.

Seeing their friend retreat into themselves, Liv’s stomach dropped. Too sensitive a subject?

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair for me to stir up painful memories….”

“It’s not… the painful ones. The happy memories hurt more. They feel dishonest now the people in them have decided they don’t love me after all.” Jeimy rested their head on Liv’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to be another thing I miss from another home I can’t go back to.”

Liv took Jeimy’s hands and squeezed. She knew it was hard. Jeimy hadn’t been close to anyone since coming out as non-binary, and changing their name… and leaving everything they knew behind. She wanted to be something safe, reliable. Someone Jeimy could trust in. After all they’d been through, she didn’t expect that to happen overnight-- even if she had to sometimes catch herself getting over-zealous in her excitement over the burgeoning friendship, and her own growing romantic feelings.

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m pretty stubborn; once I’ve decided you’re one of ‘my’ people, you’re in for life. You know I’m far too much of a social disaster to risk losing the friends I do have.”

“Livi, you’re not nearly as bad as you think. Trust me.”

“I guess what I’m saying is… with us, there’s always going to be another hike up into the hills together. But I get that moving in with me and my moms is too much.”

Jeimy returned the pressure to Liv’s fingers, and lifted their head to meet her eyes with a grateful smile.

Something in Liv’s stomach fluttered at that smile. Butterflies. It kinda made her want to sing… and it kinda made her want to puke. As if feeling queasy could ever feel so good? She beamed back. And she felt something change in Jeimy’s gaze. She couldn’t read it. It was new. But it felt so tender….

A distant bird cry, and the spell was broken. Jeimy looked away, and ran their fingers repeatedly up and down their arm-- an anxious habit. So Liv gave them a moment.

“Hey…,” Jeimy said shakily, their fingers slowing to a stop, “if the offer works for just weekends? I’m going to be an anxious wreck by the end of the quarter with all the damn parties in the dorms.”

Liv could have screamed ‘yes’ from the treetops. Do you have any idea how much I like you?

“I think that can be arranged,” she said instead.

Movement in the trees caught both their attention. Jeimy reached into their pack for two pairs of binoculars and passed one to Liv.

“Tamarins, I think?” they observed. “I can’t tell which species.”

Liv frowned, scanning the trees going down into the valley. “I can’t… quite pinpoint them….”

Gently, Jeimy put a warm hand over Liv’s, and guided her gaze. Liv’s breath caught in her throat, nothing to do with excitement over the monkey sighting.

“See,” Jeimy said, “just to the left of the big fork. Looks like a family of them.”

“Y-yeah,” Liv managed, seeing the tamarins at last. “Yellow-crested, I think. Back in school, I did a project on them; Tio Nicolas took me out here to go searching for them on the weekends and we eventually found a family a bit further down by the river. Might be a good place to set up the camera trap.”

Jeimy lowered their binoculars to look at Liv. “Your tio abuelo sounds really great. I don’t even want to think what my papa would say if he ever found out I was hanging out with the family of Nicolas Montoya.” Their eyes clouded, and their voice became soft. “But… it doesn’t matter anyway. We’re a long way past fixing things as it is.”

Liv cuddled closer, offering what support she could… and realised Jeimy was struggling with something. They tried to speak once, twice, three times. Their voice caught in their throat, not quite getting out a full word. Liv waited, letting them find the words that were eluding them.

“I… mmm… this is going to be weirdly personal…,” Jeimy managed at last, wincing a little.

“That’s fine,” Liv assured.

Again, Jeimy took a few minutes, but then they spoke. “How….” They cleared their throat awkwardly. “How do you feel about kissing?”

Liv felt herself blushing furiously. She could evaporate on the spot her face and neck were so hot. She could only hope Jeimy was bashful enough themselves that they didn’t notice.

Her voice was rather high-pitched when she gathered her senses enough to reply. “I’m, errr, I’m open to kissing. I mean, I don’t really get, you know, like sexually driven kissing-- like, making out with someone and having no emotional attachment to them. To me, kissing has to mean something, otherwise it’s just… there’s no point to it.”

“Oh.. o-okay,” Jeimy stammered out, clearly flustered themselves. “I didn’t want to make assumptions. Some people see it as a very sexual thing, and I already know that’s not your bag.”

Why were they even asking? They couldn’t seriously be thinking about kissing her, could they?

“What about you?” Liv asked, putting on a very poor impression of being cool. “How does kissing appeal?”

Jeimy giggled. “With the right person? Wouldn’t say ‘no’.”

If Liv’s cheeks were red before….

“Thanks,” she said, looking out over the beautiful valley, so much lovelier for the company she shared it with, “for coming up here with me. I really needed the break from studying.”

“Honestly?” Jeimy said wistfully. “Anytime. Really.”

__________________________

La Huerta, 2028

Liv shrieked as she ran, Reggie’s footsteps pounding behind her. No way was she going to let him catch her. No wa--

Suddenly, she was in midair, held aloft by her mother’s strong arms.

“Mooom! Lemme go!”

“Oh, Livita,” Estela teased, totally unruffled by the struggling, “we told you only ‘walking feet’ by the pool. You know what happens if you can’t walk safely… you’ll just have to swim instead!”

She dangled a squealing, squirming Liv over the water.

“Do you think you can get those feet of yours to behave?”

Liv just wriggled and laughed and screamed bloody murder.

“No? Oh, mi amor….”

And Liv was dunked. She came spluttering up to the surface, still laughing hysterically. Estela jumped in after her, and Liv threw her arms around her neck, held safely above the surface while she tried to get over a wicked case of the giggles.

“Do you get the message now, monitita?”

Reggie crept cautiously to the pool to join his friend. “I’m walking! I’m walking! Don’t throw me in, Tia Estela!”

“Wuss!” cried Liv.

He entered the water at his own pace, having avoided the ire of his tia. Liv, though, he discovered, was still banging on about sappy stuff to whoever would talk to her.

“Mama?”

“More questions, mija?”

Liv stuck out her tongue. “Yup! I haven’t asked you before-- when you fell in love, did you kiss Mama Taylor, or did Mama Taylor kiss you?”

“Livi, are you still going on about kissing and stuff? Gross!”

“It’s not gross! It’s romantic!”

“It’s just like… mashing lips together. What’s so good about that? I bet kissing is all slobbery….”

“Yes, thank you, Reggie.” Estela detached Liv from her shoulders. “Well, I guess it was Mama Taylor who kissed me first, after I asked her.”

Reggie’s eyes grew wide. “You asked her? How did you know she’d say ‘yes’? You could have said, ‘please, Taylor, I think you’re pretty, please kiss me’, and she could have said ‘ew, Estela, no.’! That would be completely and totally and one hundred percent embarrassing!”

“See!” Liv said, triumphantly. “Kissing isn’t lame. It’s for brave people. So, Mama Tay said ‘yes’ and kissed you? How did you know?”

Estela scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. How to explain sexual tension to a five and six year old?

“I didn’t know exactly, but I had a feeling. Sometimes that’s all you have to go on, a feeling that you have to choose to be brave and trust. And, yeah, it was scary. It can’t remember many things that made me more scared than I was in that moment when I told her I wanted her to kiss me. But then… she did.”

“Awwww!” Liv cried.

Reggie grumbled under his breath. “I guess that must have been pretty exciting. But can we talk about something cool now?”

___________________________

San Trobida, 2041

Just lean in.

Just a little bit.

Close enough that they can take the hint, but not so close you can’t recover if you’re reading this wrong.

Come on, Liv… just lean in.

Oh my god, can they hear how hard your heart is beating right now?

And then, Jeimy closed the gap, their lips meeting Liv’s softly in a chaste kiss. They came away trembling, eyes wide with panic.

Her own eyes still closed, Liv instinctively raised a hand to her friend’s face, a gentle touch to reassure, even though she was certain her own mind was teetering on the verge of a short-circuit. Was she even breathing right now? She exhaled shakily, opening her eyes to look into Jeimy’s.

“...I…,” Jeimy choked out.

They looked afraid.

Be brave, Livi.

Liv leaned in again, and pressed her lips to Jeimy’s, lingering to savour every sensation. The butterflies were going wild. This was pure magic.

“...I…never kissed anyone before,” Jeimy croaked.

“Me neither,” said Liv softly. “I wasn’t bad, was it?”

Jeimy laughed, still shaking like a leaf, but looking euphoric more than panicked. “We’ve just established I’m no expert!”

Liv snorted, feeling faint.

“But I liked it,” they breathed. “Sort of makes me wish I got up the courage sooner.”

Now, Liv wasn’t even sure if they were butterflies. The feelings in her gut were just too big. Probably, they were birds.

This was, after all, Jeimy, and birds made more sense anyway.

___________________________

La Huerta, 2028

The sun was going down. Liv scooted over in the sand, bringing herself closer to her beloved tio as he worked on their sand-castle beside her.

“All right, jefa, what castle do you think we should make it this time?”

With a lopsided grin of contentment, Liv sat back, looking over the rough mound of sand that was their creation.

“Can we do…. can we do….” She had to ponder. “Can we do the castle like the one in Labyrinth? We haven’t made that one before.”

Diego whistled, impressed. “Damn, that’s a pretty good one. I’ll have to look up some pictures.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s not perfect,” Liv declared. “We know what it is, and that’s what matters.” She plucked up a piece of seaweed, scrunched it into a ball with some stringy ‘limbs’ sticking out, and placed it beside the mound. “See? This is Ludo!”

“Ha. All right. I guess this is gonna be Jareth’s castle.”

They worked together in companionable quiet. Liv had so missed time spent with her tio since she’d moved to the States with her mamas to go to school. This was just like the good old times. Diego looked up pictures of the castle, and side-by-side, they worked on turning their sad, sandy mound into a replica-- even if a little imagination was needed.

To her tio, Liv could ask the big questions.

“Tio Diego? Do you think one day I could fall in love and have a special person? I’d really, really like that.”

He smiled kindly, and patted down the walls of the castle with gentle hands. “Oh, I think so. If you’re open to falling in love, I think that your special person will find you exactly when you’re not expecting it, but when your heart needs them most.” He glanced upwards, toward the sea, where Varyyn was surfing the last waves of the day. “Sometimes, love is tricky like that. It knows what it’s doing even when you don’t!”

Tricky, Liv understood, but she knew that something so special must be worth even a hundred bugs flapping around in one’s tummy.

“Uncle Al! When… when you first saw Auntie Grace, did you think ‘oh, I’d really, really, really, really like to kiss her’? Did you think ‘she’s super pretty’? Did you think–”

“Livia, ew!” Reggie groaned, coming up from behind. “What is it with you and kissing?”

“Well, they’re gonna do it at the wedding! It’s gonna be really romantic.”

“Yeah, but the wedding’s gonna be in a museum! There’s gonna be much more interesting stuff than kissing.”

“Kissing with dinosaurs in the background must be the most romantic wedding ever…,” Liv sighed dreamily.

“Fossils, Livia,” Reggie corrected. “They’re dead.”

Why does this sound weirdly like my sister and I at every family wedding when we were little, ever? Haha, very authentic. Love it!

“Actually,” Grace explained, “we already had a wedding ceremony during Niala’rei, before you are born. But sometimes when you’re really in love, it’s something you want to celebrate more than once. Your mommies did that too, you know.”

I had the same thought with my own universe's version of Estela... guess great minds think alike! It just seems to fit so well that she would want another ceremony where Tio Nicolas could be there to celebrate with her. Love this idea, so much!

Awesome Colourful Biology Student caught her eye and gave a shy smile. Liv’s cheeks burned.

Yeah… that was definitely a pity smile. Because you look like you’re so sweaty you can’t keep hold of your freaking books.

But, god, was that smile very nearly worth it.

If that isn't the start of a romance for the ages, I don't know what is.

“Hey,” she said, “I… I think we have Evolutionary Biology together.” There was no ‘think’ about it. “I’m, uh, I’m Liv.”

Jeimy avoided eye contact, clearly shy, but they smiled. “Yeah… I remember you from there. Uh….” They gestured awkwardly at their name-sticker. “Jeimy.”

What a beautifully awkward yet authentic start to their relationship! Oh so relatable. Can't wait to see where they go from here!

Oh, sweet Jesus I have a crush. Say something, idiot!

“I really love your hair. And your tattoo– is it a macaw wing or something?”

Liv must have said something right, because Jeimy’s whole posture relaxed, more at-ease than she’d seen them. She could punch the air in triumph.

Yeah! You can people!

“Thanks! It is, actually,” Jeimy gushed.

Oh wow. Olivia just got even MORE relatable. Didn't think that was actually possible, but here we are...

‘Walking feet’ were no fun at all. What was it with grown-ups and walking everywhere, anyhow? Liv sure didn’t get it.

Truly a question for the ages. Hell, I'm a "grown-up" and I still don't get it. *shrugs*

Michelle laughed kindly. “Not exactly. I know when I fell in love with Auntie Quinn, I kept feeling a lot of butterflies in my stomach–”

“OhmygodAuntieMeechhow’dtheygetinthere!”

To Liv’s indignation, both her moms and Michelle and Quinn laughed all the more.

“You’re not meant to have big flapping bugs in your tummy! I’m only five, but I know that!”

(...)

“AUNTIE ZAHRA!! DOES UNCLE CRAIG GIVE YOU BUTTERFLIES IN YOUR TUMMY!?!”

And, thus, poor Zahra died on the spot.

Craig, of course, bellowed straight back. “HELL YEAH, I DO!” And mysteriously doubled over, as if someone had booted him in the stomach below the water.

BAHAHAHA. Omg I love everything about this scene. Zahra's reaction was icing on the cake. Hilarious!

Jeimy stared down into the valley. Feeling home had been lost to them long before they were forced from the physical house they’d once shared with their parents.

Seeing their friend retreat into themselves, Liv’s stomach dropped. Too sensitive a subject?

“I’m sorry. It’s not fair for me to stir up painful memories….”

Aww. Poor Jeimy. They deserve all the hugs in the world...

“Hey…,” Jeimy said shakily, their fingers slowing to a stop, “if the offer works for just weekends? I’m going to be an anxious wreck by the end of the quarter with all the damn parties in the dorms.”

Liv could have screamed ‘yes’ from the treetops. Do you have any idea how much I like you?

“I think that can be arranged,” she said instead.

A wonderful start! And, naturally, Liv is over the moon about the idea. As she should be!

Now, Liv wasn’t even sure if they were butterflies. The feelings in her gut were just too big. Probably, they were birds.

This was, after all, Jeimy, and birds made more sense anyway.

D'aww. Love that. Jeimy and birds! Also, the title of the fic is making more sense now...!

“Tio Diego? Do you think one day I could fall in love and have a special person? I’d really, really like that.”

He smiled kindly, and patted down the walls of the castle with gentle hands. “Oh, I think so. If you’re open to falling in love, I think that your special person will find you exactly when you’re not expecting it, but when your heart needs them most.” He glanced upwards, toward the sea, where Varyyn was surfing the last waves of the day. “Sometimes, love is tricky like that. It knows what it’s doing even when you don’t!”

Tricky, Liv understood, but she knew that something so special must be worth even a hundred bugs flapping around in one’s tummy.

One day, she decided, I’m gonna fall in love.