It had been three months.
Three slow, melancholy months.
Three months since Milly had both gained and lost everything in the space of a single day.
Not that she let it show. Milly just wasn't the kind of person to wallow in her sorrow or self-pity. She definitely didn't want to weigh down Meryl, especially since her own romance with Vash was finally starting to bloom, slowly but surely like a shy desert flower. They had been in love with each other for so long without acting on those feelings, that Milly didn't want to do anything that would prevent them from finally expressing themselves to each other. She knew all too well the pain of not having the one you love within your reach, and wanted better for her best friend.
But at night, Milly would lie awake long after Meryl had gone to sleep, simply staring up at the ceiling. During those times, the overwhelming sense of loss flooded her like a sudden typhoon, robbing her of the ability to do anything but stare vacantly upwards. Looking up, she hoped that Wolfwood's profession had truth to it, and that he was up there, looking back at her. She would relive each moment of that night that she had spent with Wolfwood. She would try to pretend that the ceiling her gaze was locked on was the same ceiling that had watched silently over their display of love and passion that night. Milly would try her best to recapture those feelings, of being a woman fully loved by her man.
As each night marched on, however, she felt the memory begin to lose some of its clarity, getting worn from her constant replays as if it were a photo she kept folding and unfolding. As each night came and went, she kept silent sentry during the nights, watching the inexorable march of time take her further and further away from the memories of the man she loved. And her grief became tinted with the terror of forgetting him altogether.
Until one such night, when the heartless cycle yielded to her.
The night when she felt a stirring in her womb.
It had been six months.
Six restless, weary months.
Six months since she had been given the world and had it snatched away, and yet had been given back something of it in return.
The swell in her belly was undeniable now. When she had first started noticing the motions of her child, she hadn't known what to do. Luckily for her, she had such a tall frame that her pregnancy wasn't noticeable until her fifth month, giving her some time to figure out her future. At that point, however, she had ballooned out too far to keep it a secret anymore. Contrary to her fears, Meryl and Vash had been nothing but supportive and delighted for her. At least as much as the situation allowed for. With every kick, every punch from those tiny limbs, Milly was simply reminded of what could never be. She had always thought that a pregnant mother would feel nothing but joy, but for her, that joy only came in short, fleeting moments.
Until one night, when she settled into her bed with a sigh. The baby always grew more active at night, just when Milly was finally ready to sleep. Sure enough, the baby started floundering around almost as soon as she got comfortable. At first there were just general pushes and kicks, lasting for several minutes. Then a limb moved violently to her stomach, stretching out the top of her womb. At the same time, another limb kicked softly at her bladder. Milly's eyes flew wide open and stared up at the dark ceiling. Suddenly, the memory of them pretending to have sextuplets together came flooding back to her mind. No...surely not? Milly looked down at the slope of her abdomen, rippling from the little hands inside of her. She placed a gentle hand over a stubborn foot, and smiled up at the ceiling. Yes, she hoped he had been right in his religion. She wouldn't want him to miss out on this precious moment with their babies.
It had been nine months.
Nine long, tortuous months.
Nine months since the day she had received new life in exchange for her lover's life.
Milly sat in the birthing chair, sweating and panting heavily in between contractions. She was certain that she could not do this. Why was it so hard to birth children?
Before she had too much time to ponder this, however, another wave of pain took her, and she squeezed Meryl's hand tight again, screeching her pain as quietly as she could. The midwife encouraged her, "That's it, dear, I can see the head! Just one more big push for the body and the baby's out!" Encouraged by these words, Meryl gave a last heave, and was rewarded with the scream of her child taking the air of the dusty planet into his lungs for the first time. The midwife gave the baby a quick swipe with a cloth before handing him off to an assistant and turning back to her patient. She felt Milly's abdomen again and checked her cervix. "It's as you suspected, missy. There's another one coming. Oh! It's coming quickly now, too! Crowning already! Now there's a good girl, give me a few more big pushes!"
Obediently, Milly managed to bring her second child into the world only minutes after his brother. The midwife checked her abdomen again, and then went to help clean up the babies while Milly collapsed, exhausted, leaning back into the chair the best she could. Milly patted her hand. "You did wonderfully, Milly. Wolfwood would have been very proud of you," she said softly. Milly closed her eyes and nodded, hoping her tears wouldn't fall.
Just then, the midwife came over with a bundle in each arm. "Here you are, dear," she said, placing the babies in their mother's arms one at a time.
Milly settled back onto her chair and peered questioningly into the faces of her children. "Are they boys or girls?" she inquired, finding that she couldn't tear her gaze away from her babies.
"Both fine, sturdy boys."
Milly nodded, still mesmerized by the sight before her. One of her sons bore an uncanny resemblance to his father, with the same decisive brows and piercing eyes. The other one looked less like a copy of Wolfwood, but he made up for it with a shock of thick, black hair, where his brother had hardly any. Milly felt the tears rise and well out of her of their own accord, and she cried as she hadn't allowed herself to since Wolfwood's death. She held her tiny, mewling sons for a long time, rocking back and forth as she released all of her emotions: the sorrow, the pain, the loneliness, the fear. To her surprise, she also found that she cried not only for Wolfwood, but for her babies as well. They would never know their father's strength, kindness, and love. She smiled a bit through her tears. She was very certain that he would have spoiled his own children much more than even the orphans he had loved so much. And strangely, Milly also found a sense of joy and peace settling over her.
Finally, when she had cried herself out, she looked down at her precious babies again, saw their father in them again. This time, however ,she didn't cry. She simply held them and whispered, "Welcome to the world, my little ones. You may not be sextuplets, but I suspect you will be plenty."
It had been five years.
Five tumultuous, bittersweet years.
Five years since the father of her sweet babies had shown her love, and given her two beautiful new lives while his own had been snuffed out.
Milly stood in the kitchen, washing dinner dishes as she listed to her sons' playing in the next room. As always, the sound of their activity raised her spirits a bit, and gave her company through the day's tasks. Since her children had been born, she had finally allowed herself to grieve her lost love properly. And while the pain never got any less, it came less and less frequently, and with less sting than it had at first. Now, she could look lovingly into her sons' eyes and joyfully see their father looking back without feeling sorrow. In fact, though, they reminded Milly of him in more than just appearance.
As if to illustrate her musings on the subject, a crash resounded from the other room. Milly quickly slipped the plate she had been cleaning back into the soapy water, and dashed over, drying her hands on her apron as she went. "Boys? What's wrong?" she demanded as she entered.
She saw her two little angels standing guiltily in the middle of the living room, looking woefully down at a shattered vase on the floor. Milly gaped. "Wolf! Nick! What in the world happened here!"
Both boys continued to look down, refusing to meet her gaze. It was then that Milly noticed a toy gun in the hand of her more impulsive son. "Wolfgang," she intoned dangerously. "What are you holding there?"
The boy raised his head and looked defiantly back at his mother. Wolfwood's eyes flashed from the little face as Wolf answered, "Mama, you said that Dad was one of the best gunmen in the whole world, just like Uncle Vash. So we thought that we would be the best gunmen, too. Besides, you have a huge gun too, Mama. Nick and I saw it in your closet. So we thought that we would practice with our own gun and get as good as you and Dad." Nicholas nodded his dark head earnestly in agreement with his more outspoken brother.
Milly was taken aback. She stared at her precious offspring, tears welling up in her eyes. Nick, her more sensitive boy, inched closer to his mother. "Mama?" he asked with his sweet little voice. "Why are you crying? Are you that mad at us?"
Milly chuckled and shook her head. Then she knelt down and swooped her children into her arms, giving them a tight squeeze. She pulled back and looked them both earnestly in the face. "I suppose I should have expected this. You are your father's sons, after all. All right, I'll start teaching you all about using a gun, starting tomorrow."
Her sons looked at her in disbelief for a short moment, then cascaded into her in a jumble of gleeful shouts. Milly laughed and added, "But your first lesson will be to never, EVER fire your gun inside the house."
Oh, yes. These were Wolfwood's children, all right. As her boys were still wriggling and proclaiming their happiness, Milly tilted her head up and looked at the ceiling. The ceiling she had shared with her boys, that she sometimes yeaerned to share with her love as well. And for the first time, she didn't wonder. She knew that he was watching.