A/N: Un companion to "Just Like Him" ft. Nigel's nameless wife and Thalia as a child.
Shades~
"Do you even love me?"
It is all that fills his head. Do you even love me? Do. You. Even. Love. Me.
His wife doesn't look like her when she was angry. When she smiles, maybe. But never when she's angry. The girl, the child, from his fractured memories held anger inside until it all came tumbling out. His wife is not like that.
Does he love her? When she smiles.
She smiles and he swears he can actually remember things. People, places, things, ideas.
She smiled when Thalia was born and that name replayed itself in his head so many times that he nearly got sick of it. Rachel. Rachelrachelrachel. He'd never met anyone named Rachel.
When he looks at Thalia, it is even worse. The little girl has blonde hair like her mother, a startling smile, but dark eyes like him. The girl from his memories has brown eyes. Different from the one's he shares with his daughter, never calculating or cold. Warm, inviting. Like a fireplace or a hug. But, still better than his wife's so, so light blue.
Thalia sits on the floor, barely three years old, playing with some toy. Happy, oblivious to her parents' argument. And his wife stands before him; those blue eyes piercing. The effect is dizzying because suddenly she's everywhere. In Thalia's giggle, in his wife's cropped golden hair. He wants this child out of his head. It is her fault his wife is glaring at him, her fault he cannot love this woman like he should, her fault he doesn't like to hold his daughter for too long. She ruins everything.
And, yet, he is certain he loved her once. So long ago that his mind has managed to forget all details. Details come, but they are fragmented, barely understandable; brown eyes, blonde hair, tiger stripes, yield signs, games of tag, birthday cakes. He is does not know what to do with all of it.
His head shakes, like he can erase her from his mind. His wife raises an eyebrow, expectant. Thalia places her toy on the floor, as if she can sense what is coming; twin sets of eyes meet. He imagines the golden haired child nodding her head, coxing him.
At first glance, his wife looks strikingly like this memory. But she is only a shade, a fraction, a less-than-perfect copy.
He does not know if this child, whose name perhaps is Rachel, is real or a figment of his messed up mind. So he takes a step towards his wife. And another and another. Until he can wrap the woman in his arms, feeling her relax. His cunning eyes close as he murmurs, "Of course."
His wife smiles and he swears he can almost remember.
A/N: Hope this added some excitement to your life, Steph. And I hope everyone else enjoyed! Plan on seeing more of Thalia!