the mother we share

She loves her little brother. / Kai had an older sister. Pre-Anchor, oneshot.

Vaguely, some tickling memory in the back of her mind, she can remember the day he was born. Their mother is at home, lying in a bath of water she had drawn for herself. They are the only two people in their house, along with a their next-door neighbour who used to be something called a mid-wife. Their father isn't here, off sailing. Or drinking. Or probably both. At six years old she is far more intuitive than she should be.

Her mama calls her name softly, weakly. Her mother's hair is plastered to her face from sweat, but she's never seen her mother look happier. "Come here, sweetheart. Meet your baby brother."

He is bright, and kind of squishy looking, but beautiful. They look nothing alike; he is all her mother, from the shades of their skin to the green of his eyes.

But he's hers.

"What's his name?"

"Kai. It's your job to take care of him," her mother smiles. "Can you do that for me?"

Well, she thinks. She can try.

And she does. She carries Kai around when her mother is busy washing clothes, or making clothes, or some other kind of work that puts food on the table. She shushes him and tries to help him when Kai starts teething. She helps feed him baby food, keeps him distracted and happy while their mother stitches up the holes in their clothing, humming a lullaby while she works.

Kai's first word is Ma and his second is Sissy for her, and it warms her heart.

There's always food on the table, somehow, and Kai's short hair is always a mess, and they're nearly always happy.

Except when her father comes home from his trips. Sometimes he's pleasant, sometime he's angry. Sometimes he's drunk and angry; those are always the worst times. The times their mother makes them hide.

"Sissy why we gotta-"

"Shh." She takes his chubby little hand and leads him into their parents' bedroom closet. "We have to wait in here." She sits in the dark cramped space with Kai in her lap, and smooths down his hair and keeps him as quiet as possible. Mama said it was always important to be quiet.

Their parents aren't. Their father shouts and Mama shouts back and sometimes it sounds like Mama's crying. Sometimes once father's gone again Mama's face has purple and blue marks, but she's always wearing a smile when she comes to get them out of the closet. Gives them extra dessert.

On stormy nights when father's gone for months on end, they crawl into bed with her and curl up in her arms. Those are the mornings Mama smiles the brightest.

"My two little miracles," she'll say, ruffling Kai's hair, and then braids her daughter's.

Kai knows that his big sister is the best big sister in the whole entire world. Sissy helps teach him how to walk, and how to talk. She sounds words out for him. Once is hair is nearly long enough she weaves in little braids, just like how Mama taught her. She makes sure father doesn't hurt him. Why their father wants to hurt any of them is something the toddler just can't understand, but he knows when father's angry equals closet, because father's anger is a bad, bad thing.

Sissy can't quite explain why, but Kai thinks she knows. That Mama knows too.

It doesn't bother him much. He's two; he just wants to nap and play with his blocks. Sometimes when Mama is too busy Sissy will carry him to his big boy bed.

He looks a lot like Mama. Sissy helps him learn colours and words. "Your eyes are green like Mama's."

"Yours eyes green," he says, and Sissy smiles.

"Yes. But there are different types of green." She points at his eyes in the cracked mirror in the bathroom, and then at her own. Kai cries, because he loves Mama but he also loves Sissy too, and he wants to be like both of them. Sissy shushes him. "It's okay," she assures him. "You look like Mama, but see?" she grins. "We might have the same smile, but you have to smile so we can tell."

Kai gives her a toothy grin. It isn't the same, but she doesn't tell him. They really don't look very much alike, but that doesn't bother her. They're still brother and sister, and they still have Mama, and father's off at sea, and everything is good.

Sissy starts losing teeth and Kai helps her collect them and keep them in a jar. She wants to make necklace, but Mama says it probably isn't a very good idea. "If you want, you can sell them to some Sea Witches down the street," Mama suggests.

Sissy nods. There's a shop with fancy plants - an apothecary, Mama calls it - but they just call it the plant store. Sea witches have magic, Kai knows, although he's not sure entirely what that means. Sissy holds his hand while they walk down the street, his other in Mama's. She comes with them everywhere. Kai doesn't see a reason for that to ever change.

The sea witches don't have a lot of teeth, but they do have a lot of wrinkles and grey hair. There's one witch who's very young and fair, with blue eyes like the Water Tribes and shocking white hair and a very pretty smile. She looks them up and down and her smile falters slightly, but she gives them 5 silver pieces.

Mama looks like she might cry. "Miss, you don't-"

"I want to."

So they leave with the money, and Mama buys Kai a new outfit because he's growing, and gets Sissy a new hair tie, and everything is better than good.

It's not raining or a thunderstorm, but Sissy carries him over to Mama's bed anyway, and they curl up with her. She strokes Kai's hair as he falls asleep, presses a kiss to his temple. "I love you baby," she murmurs, her voice going drowsy with sleep. Her daughter is curled around Kai's other side - like their front-and-back shields for the tiny boy - and she knows her daughter will keep her promise.

Kai will always be safe. Kai will always be loved.

When Sissy sees Mama die, she realizes that promises are broken, and so is the world.