vii.

The first week she is fine. She is aware that, because of how far he has to travel, how difficult the job is, how much he has undertaken (presumably for the sake of providing for the baby…)

(…and her…)

it may take weeks. It will take weeks. Because it's getting into two weeks. Two weeks of jogging between errands and being thankful for her savings and letting everyone take turns watching Ursa while she gradually pares at her own sanity wondering what level of worry is appropriate.

Week one she projects a breezy calm, full of faith in his best. He was no doubt doing his best somewhere, and she would do the same. Jellal dropped by once to eat dinner.

Now the oozing doubts of a caring woman are starting to coagulate, making her stiff, making it more difficult to function.

She consults Makarov and is somewhat reassured—until she's home, and she's not anymore.

Ursa wails in the wee hours of night; Erza pretends she is huge. She pretends she is a large coat, struggling to speak a few octaves lower than is natural. They both feel a little better.

The apartment gets naturally darker and colder with the days getting shorter, and she feels stupid when, three days into week two, it occurs to her that she could probably sleep in Luxus' bed.

"You seem happy tonight," Jellal comments, her soft humming accompanying the frying of noodles and spice. She turns to smile at him.

"Today felt nice."

"It was bitter cold," he says amusedly. She shrugs. Ursa chews her stuffed bear's face and shrieks.

Her nightly ritual suddenly makes her self conscious. She and Ursa share a bath, don their pajamas, and cuddle in the easy chair.

With the baby down and blanketed, Erza shuffles over to the large bed, flush with anxiety.

What if he comes home in the middle of the night to find her like this?

Her cheeks puff with defiance and childish superstition. She doesn't want to admit the prospect of having someone else around trumps a potential lecture on personal space.

She inhales under the covers; she instantly wants to cry because she is engulfed in his scent. Every insecurity had until now melts into a gross puddle of sentimentality. She realizes she'll have to wash his sheets every day if this is how it's going to be.

Ursa whimpers in her sleep. Erza pads over with his pillowcase and wraps the bear in it.

They both sleep through the night.