Title: The Click of the Light & the Start of the Dream

Author: mindy35

Rating: This part K.

Pairing(s): Yves/Sofia.

Summary: Follows the events of "For Lovers Only".

Please see first chapter for disclaimer etc.

PART THREE – THE DREAM

"What a beautiful mess this is.
It's like taking a guess when the only answer is "Yes".

Through timeless words and priceless pictures,
We'll fly like birds, not of this earth.
And tides, they turn, and hearts disfigure,
But that's no concern when we're wounded together.
And we tore our dresses and stained our shirts,
But it's nice today…

Oh, the wait was so worth it."

ix.

Lola is wary of Sofia the first time they meet. They take her to brunch at a cafe just a couple of blocks from their new New York apartment. The place is still a mess of half-finished repairs and half-unpacked boxes. It's cold and it's drafty. The paint is old and drab and peeling. But it's theirs. Their new paradise. They've never lived together before. It's new territory for them, a constancy of bliss they've never known until now. There's a room for Lola, a small one. It needs a fresh coat of paint before she can stay there. But no one wishes to push the little girl into change she is not yet ready for.

It's been two months since he and Sofia returned from Paris, committed to tackling the realities of building a brand new life together. The year before, those realities had seemed so daunting, so insuperable. Now, they are mere facts of the life they'd chosen. A life that had chosen them. Their love for each other made that choice undeniable. No other choice would ever work, could ever work. Both are certain of that now.

After Paris, Yves hadn't wanted to waste any more time. So he told his daughter about the new woman in his life almost immediately. They'd yet to meet though. When she dropped off their daughter, Clare warned him that Lola had been unsure about coming, she had endless questions about what was going to happen. Lola was naturally introverted, a sensitive soul. And children in such situations often regress, Clare told him. The likelihood of Lola doing so was higher. She'd been born with a mild developmental disorder. She was not a regular nine-year old. She was smaller and much less emotionally equipped. It was one of the reasons Yves had stayed with Clare for so long, one the reasons he could not desert her after the accidental pregnancy that changed the trajectory of both their lives. It was also one of the issues that altered his relationship with his ex-wife. In their past life, he often felt she coddled Lola, that she became paranoid about her ability to deal with life's challenges. In this case, however, Clare was right.

Lola has spent most of their first meeting swinging from his neck like a possessive monkey and casting Sofia suspicious sidelong looks. Sofia sits next to Yves, trying not to look as nervous as she feels. She resists the urge to let her hand rest on his knee as it normally would. She has a feeling the little girl wouldn't like it. Every so often, Yves looks across at her, gives her a reassuring smile. Her answering smile is less certain. After the third exchange of silent smiles, Lola swings around to his ear and asks in a noisy whisper why he smiles at Sofia so much.

"I smile at Sofia," Yves answers, tucking some hair behind her ear, "because she makes me happy. Because I love her."

"Why do you love her?" his little girl asks immediately, big eyes blinking.

Yves takes a sip of coffee, looks across at his love. "Lots of reasons."

"What about mommy?" Lola asks next, hands tight about his neck. "Why do you love mommy?"

"Why do you think?" he responds, head tipped to one side. They've had this conversation before. Many times. But it's one his daughter feels the need to repeat, to be certain of.

"'Cause she gave you me," Lola answers brightly.

"Exactly," he nods, smoothing a hand down her back. "And my heart got bigger when you were born." He glances at Sofia again, can't help another small smile. "Just as my heart got bigger when I met Sofia. That's why I have room for both of you in there."

Lola nods, plonking down in his lap just like she used to do when she was three. Her arms let go off his neck and her face lowers as she starts playing with his sunglasses. He knows this logic, this whole situation, troubles her young mind. He knows that acceptance will be a process for her. But he trusts that in time, some sense of her place in his world will return. That she will feel secure and loved. That she will understand how this new life is better for all of them. Most of all, he hopes that his child will fall in love with the woman he has changed his life to be with, that she will see the love Sofia already has for her.

Shuffling backwards of his lap, Lola's feet hit the floor as she announces that she needs to go to the bathroom. But when Yves tells her that Sofia will take her, she frowns stubbornly.

She reaches for his hand. "No. Daddy."

He pats her hand. "It's okay, sweetheart. Dada is going to pay the bill and wait right here for you. Go with Sofia. She'll look after you."

Sofia rises. She slings her bag over her shoulder then holds out her hand. "Come on, Lola. It's okay."

Lola stands still for a moment, looking back and forth between them. Then, somewhat reluctantly, she loosely grasps Sofia's hand and follows her through the crush of the crowded cafe to the ladies room. It's Saturday morning in Manhattan so there is a long line for the bathroom. As they wait, Lola becomes interested in the charm bracelet on her wrist. Sofia collected the charms from all over the globe, mostly during her modelling days. Yves gave her one or two. Most recently, he bought her a silver Eiffel Tower. Lola twists the thing round and round on her wrist then starts naming the individual charms. Horse. Dog. Candle. Frog.

"What's this one?" she asks, looking up at her.

Sofia looks down at the charm in her pale little fingers. "It's a padlock. It locks something up tight. Something precious. It keeps it safe. Forever. Or…until whoever has the key lets it out again."

Lola considers this. Then asks, brows crumpled, "But…who has the key?"

Sofia bites her lip. "Well…everyone does, I guess. You do. I do—"

"Daddy does?"

"Of course. Your daddy has the key too."

Lola hums, repeats the word a few times then keeps naming the charms. Over and over again until they reach a free toilet stall. "You can wait over there," she instructs, pointing to the row of basins in the adjoining room before shutting and locking the door.

Sofia turns and waits as told. An elderly lady in the queue smiles at her.

"She's beautiful," she says.

"Yes," Sofia smiles. "She is."

Lola emerges a few minutes later and looks almost surprised to find her still standing and waiting for her. The basins are high and Yves' daughter small, so Sofia lifts her at the waist while she pumps some soap into her hands and runs them under the water. Lola hums a little tune as she does. When Sofia sets her down, Lola explains that her mom always says to wash her hands for as long as it takes to sing Happy Birthday. Sofia's fingers are still sticky from her grapefruit and from sharing Yves' toast. So she washes them as both of them hum Happy Birthday. After they dry their hands, Sofia pulls a stick of lip-gloss from her bag, leans close to the mirror and swipes the wand over her lips.

Lola watches.

She is about to tuck the tube away. But instead asks, "Want some?"

Lola nods. The mirrors are high too so Sofia lifts her again, sets the little girl on one hip and points to the mirror. Lola watches as she drags the wand over the mouth she inherited from her father, painting it with two practised strokes.

"Now do this—" Sofia presses her lips together.

Lola copies then gives a gap-toothed grin. Sofia smiles back and lets her slide down to the floor. Back in the café, she clambers up on the bench beside her dad, telling him that Sofia let her wear makeup. Yves inspects the pale pink shimmer on her lips with approval. Then he glances over her head at Sofia.

"One small step, huh?"

Sofia smiles back and takes her place beside him. As Lola continues to chatter, Sofia drapes an arm over her father's shoulder. Her fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Yves' free hand rests on the lowest curve of Sofia's back. If Lola notices either gesture, she doesn't seem to mind.

After brunch, they walk back to their apartment. Lola seems happy to trot on ahead of them, not feeling the need to commandeer her father's hand or attention. Once home, all three settle at the table by the peeling french windows. They open onto a small patio where Sofia is trying to encourage some pot plants to grow. She shows Lola some pictures of her father before she was born. His daughter thinks the one where he has shaggy hair and a beard is hilarious. Sofia has to agree with her. Yves retreats to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. He watches as Sofia digs through the piles of miscellanea on the cluttered table. She pulls out the paint samples she's been collecting and together they start selecting a color for Lola's new room.

Yves watches. He watches them sit at the same table, two parts of his formerly severed lives. His dream life and his reality. His past and his present. His two great loves. Now somehow existing in the same time and place. Melding to become some formerly inconceivable dream-reality. It's a revelation for him, a gloriously poignant twist of fate. He watches his daughter's fingers sift through the multi-colored tiles. He watches Sofia kick off her ballet flats and tuck her feet beneath her on the wooden chair. He watches the sunlight glint off their hair. He watches Lola's shy eyes on Sofia's face and Sofia's smile become more relaxed. He watches them giggle over a "snot green" tile, and can't help smiling to himself. Because for the first time in he doesn't know how long he actually believes that everything is going to be fine. Better than fine.

His life is going to be beautiful. His life will be happy. His life will be full of color.

TBC…