The rigid and unyielding wooden bench cut into Katie's thighs, but no amount of shifting did anything to ease the discomfort. It was one of the perks of pregnancy, she supposed. That and a heightened propensity for random bursts of tiredness.
She had been determined to get through the day without incident, but the bushwalk, light as it was, had taken its toll on her. Feeling the light-headedness starting to creep up on her again like a prowling tiger, she rested her head between her legs and closed her eyes. Despite having known that pregnancy was a trying experience, the degree to which it complicated her life continued to astound her. For someone as physically active as her, being so restricted felt like torture, as if someone were dangling the ability to move freely in front of her but keeping it forever out of her reach.
Finally, the headiness passed, and she was able to look up once again. A steel fence, designed to keep sightseers from straying too close to the edge, stretched out in front of her like prison bars, but she could, if she stared intently at the world beyond it, almost factor it out of the equation. She forced herself to get lost in the vibrant green hues of the trees that dotted the distant rolling hills like a Weasley's freckles.
If only it were that easy to ignore the faint imprints left on her mind by the shackles that the war had forged for her. Seven years gone, and they still hadn't faded. She was beginning to think that the terror that flared up whenever she went into a public bathroom alone, let alone when she heard sudden loud noises, would never truly leave her. The war was over, and she was safe, but she certainly didn't feel like she was.
And, given that they couldn't even get their own mental states in order, she was convinced that she and her husband weren't yet ready to look after someone else's.
Maybe the baby thing had been a bad idea. How could they bring a child into this state of perpetual fear at nothing?
"Look what I found," her friend Rachel announced in an excited tone as she plonked into place beside Katie, unknowingly pulling the brunette out of her spiralling descent into fear and self-recrimination. "This bench is bloody uncomfortable. You sure you want to sit here?"
Katie tried to keep her voice controlled, but it was still shaky when she replied, "It's the only free space around."
"Right. Anyway, you know how much I love shrimp, right? Well, I managed to find some fairly cheap shrimp finger food at an eatery down near the docks. Here," she announced as she handed Katie a plastic plate laden with food, "I made sure to only buy low mercery fish."
"Thanks." Her fingers found one of the toothpicks, and she quickly devoured the skewered morsels, chasing away the dizziness as she did so. When she was finished eating, she walked the rubbish to the nearby bin before returning to the bench to wait for Rachel.
Silence stretched over them and, under its negligent eye, Katie felt her thoughts drifting again. She honestly didn't know whether cacophonic noise or muteness was worse. Sound, for all that it set her nerves on edge, gave her a distraction. Complete noiselessness just left her alone to wallow in past misery. It was as if there were an ideal noise level wherein everything was alright, with there being a series of set derivatives on either side in which things gradually got worse.
"You're thinking about it again, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Katie admitted. "It's hard not to."
"Are you ever going to tell me about it?"
Katie examined her friend as she weighed up her options. Even though her thin mousey brown hair and petite frame made her look like the kind of person who would be better suited to the milder parts of life, Rachel was as delicate as a bludger. Stories about war were hardly going to offend her sensibilities or break her. Still, it would be a shame to unnecessarily expose more innocents to the horrors of the second wizarding war. Born in Berlin, Rachel hadn't had any firsthand exposure to the conflict. She and her friends had been aware of the increasing political tensions and had known when the war broke out, but it hadn't had the same sense of immediacy for them. The other girl was older and worldlier than Katie, but there was still so much that she didn't understand – and, if Katie had her way, that she'd never have to understand.
Besides, she thought, I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it to someone who wasn't there. Daniel was different; he already knew what it was like, so all I had to do was to tell him what it was like for me. But Rachel…
"Not about the details, no. I know you could handle them, but you shouldn't have to, and I don't want to have to rehash it again; I just want to move on." A chunk of hair escaped Katie's ponytail, already loose from wear, and fell into her eyes. Using it as a chance to take a breather, the Gryffindor alumna shoved it back behind her ear before taking a fortifying breath and continuing. "It was dark, Rach. Really dark. It was like we were in this state of perpetual night, and even the stars were blocked out by the clouds. We had nothing; no legal backing, no defences, and no plan. The only thing we had was hope and each other, and we couldn't even depend on that." Despite her plans not to tell Rachel anything more than was needed to dissuade her, Katie found herself unable to stop talking. "You thought each day was going to be your last. Optimism was all we had, but it was hard to cling to that flame while the rain poured down around you. It sounds like I'm exaggerating, but I'm really not; it was just that horrifically dark.
"But then there were occasional moments of light. Sometimes it would stop raining long enough for the stars to come out… and then it was nice. You'd see someone foil the Carrows' plans or get word that someone had snuck out of the country, and it would be like the clouds had parted and your flame was free to burn and you could see the end shining through the darkness. But the clouds and the rain inevitably came back again, and you were back to hiding and protecting that candle with everything you had."
Rachel watched her with blatant dismay. "That…" Schooling her expression into one of encouragement, she said, "But you're still here."
"Not completely. I feel like I left part me behind. I can live without it, and I'm still trying to work out what it was and how to work around it, but it's not here anymore. Daniel feels the same. And we're terrified that that's going to make us bad parents. How can we raise a child when we aren't even whole ourselves?"
"You just do," the other witch replied. "And it's not that you aren't whole; it's that you're different. Do you think this – " Raising her hand, she gestured to the hearing aid nestled into her left ear. " – makes me any less of a person?"
"Of course not."
"Then how does that make you any less of one? Some people think that being hearing impaired is a loss, but it's not that at all; it's like comparing apples and oranges, as they say." After pausing to let that sit for a moment, Rachel pressed on. "I know both you and Daniel, and I know you'll both make great parents. Scars can be learning opportunities, after all; don't let them become stopping points."
Katie's hand drifted to rest on her protruding stomach as she mulled over what Rachel had said. "We won't let it beat us," she declared.
"That's the spirit! Now, I'm done, so if you're feeling better, can we defeat this mountain trail, too?"
A/N: Thank you to my darling brother for beta reading this, and for letting me use his laptop to post it since mine has been really uncooperative for the past few days. Tomorrow, I'll hopefully either get it working long enough to respond to reviews or borrow a different computer when nobody's using it.
"Sometimes it would stop raining long enough for the stars to come out… and then it was nice." is a line from Forrest Gump.
Challenges:
Cluedo/Clue Challenge – prompts: Katie Bell, excited, toothpick
Muggle Movie Appreciation Club – prompts: talking with someone on a bench, shrimp, "Sometimes it would stop raining long enough for the stars to come out… and then it was nice."
Character Versatility Challenge – prompts: Katie Bell, female OC