He noticed. He always had. Titus claimed to be the one who understood her; always confident that even the tiniest twitch of her lips conveyed a hidden meaning only he could decipher but Balem was her keeper of secrets. It was to him, all her weakness, her tears and her unconditional love, she poured into.

Titus might believe in her mysteries but Balem was her answer.

That day, however, she was restraint. With Kalique and Titus, he understood why, but even when his siblings had excused themselves, Mother remained unnervingly silent.

It was another Reap, of course. Balem noted that after an unusually large harvest, Mother tended to keep to herself. He was by her side, as always but her thoughts were less of an outpour and more of a dance: one where she leads but Balem would have to guess which step he ought to take next. Sometimes it would be proud, occasionally it would be melancholic but his favourite was when she unleashed a torrent off unsuppressed happiness. (It was those times when they both could truly be honest with each other)

It never lasted longer than a day. For all their resources, Mother was firm believer in being parsimonious. She had lived long enough to have seen greater persons fall because of their indulgence. One must act as though wealth is beneath them; to believe that it is true would bring nothing but ruin. It was because of this Kalique and Titus were disappointing.

She never told him what to do when one realized that one's wealth was ruin.

It was never supposed to be an argument. She wanted to discontinue the Reapings. He advised her to take a momentary retirement. It was not unheard off at times for people to express guilt over the Reapings – Balem himself felt embarrassingly sick during his first, but one becomes accustomed to it.

To not Reap, the seeds would kill themselves eventually – whether by war or lack of resources – what they did was offered them a humane and useful way for their existence. The planets would be able to recuperate and rebuild itself and the seeds would be turned into helpful resources rather than be wasted. The fact that it brings obscene wealth and power was simply fortunate. That was life.

If Mother felt guilt pains, maybe it was time for her to take a retreat. He already knew how to handle the business; she had taught him well. It was the wrong step - one he wished he had not taken.

As the Recurrent slammed the metal bar onto him – he wondered how it was, after so many centuries, his memories, those forsaken memories that no amount of Re-Gen could recall – returned with alarming clarity.

It was odd – she had the same expression, her eyes flashing, teeth bared and her body radiated fury and pain.

He wanted to scream when she claimed that she wasn't Mother.

And when the ground broke away – he allowed himself too.


AN: Just a little one-shot that came out of nowhere.