Rifiuto: Non Mirena

A/N: Written: 2006.- Licia

Kathleen awoke at three that morning; darkness still filled the sky, and after a moment, she pulled the semi-heavy comforter up over her head before shifting onto her back. Sleep did not come easily though, and her thoughts shifted to the house and her family. Something had happened to the O'Sheas that forced half the family to be wiped from the family tree; somehow, her now-deceased husband had ended up with her great-grandfather's diary, her children had returned with her to the house all three of them had been born in to bury their father, and now...

She sighed. John's funeral was in three days, and she didn't know if she was ready. If she'd ever be ready.

Was this what Zippi felt, when Timothy Michael died? Except that there was no funeral...

Not that anyone knew of, that is.

Timothy Michael's body had disappeared and never returned to his wife; she wasn't even sure there was a stone in the O'Shea family plot in the local cemetery.

Her hands wandered down to rest over her belly, and she closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift. It didn't seem possible, that she had borne a son at the tender age of seventeen, and then a daughter two years later at nineteen, all before her twentieth birthday. Had Zipporah been just as scared, when she had Kathleen's namesake at the same age Kathleen had been when Tim was born? Had she felt the same fear? Something told Kathleen that she had more in common with her great-grandmother than she cared to admit.

Both teen mothers, both married as teenagers, t' the loves o' our lives... both widowed young. Though for'y-five isn't 'xactly young, it's a lo' younger than when mos' women lose their 'usbands. An' those are jus' th' similarities I canna rem'mber. Will I suffer th' same grief great-gran'moth'r Zippi di'?

She gently caressed her stomach, mind going back to the day she'd told John she was pregnant. He hadn't exactly been thrilled, but he hadn't run either. He'd accepted the sudden change in his fate calmly, if not a little freaked out by his impending fatherhood, and had promised to stay with her, no matter what. His reaction to Sarah had gone a little better, but then again, Tim had been a surprise thanks to one careless night. That didn't mean she loved her son any less than her daughter; if anything, the circumstances of his conception and birth just made her love him more, for if it wasn't for Tim, she never would have realized John was her soulmate, her one true love. A soft chuckle escaped her throat, as she trailed a hand down her stomach to caress her womb, memories of the night she went into labor coming back. God, she'd been so young, so... scared, of everything, from the contractions starting to her waters breaking to the baby crowning to even holding him after he was born... how she'd managed to not inadvertently kill him at some point in these last twenty-eight years still escaped her.

The birth had been attended by the family midwife, Evelyn Wilson, who had attended the childbirth and labor of every O'Shea woman for years- and whose great-grandmother, a young woman named Mackenzie, had been the midwife to Zipporah O'Shea not just for the birth of her first two, but on the night of her husband's execution, and had witnessed the labouring young woman as she'd struggled to not only bring the last child her husband had given her into the world, but deal with the unending grief at the realization that he was dead and gone from the earth.

And while Evelyn had helped, she'd essentially let Kathleen go about it herself, for the young mother had cried and kicked out every time the young midwife came near her; over time, she'd let Evelyn near, but not for long, usually just to check her progress, and the young midwife had kept her distance par Kathleen's silent request, knowing that when she needed to, she would be at the young mother's side and not before; there was no pushiness with Evelyn, or her mother before her, which Kathleen liked.

A moment passed, before she finally pushed the covers back and sat up; despite the darkness outside the window, she could see someone sitting by the bed, and after a moment, closed her eyes in attempt to clear her vision. But when she opened them again, the person was still there. She couldn't make out the features, couldn't tell if they were male or female, but after a moment, the person moved closer into the faint light of the digital alarm clock. "Timmy? Sarah?"

"Ye shoul' be prou' o' yer littl' ones, Kathleen Helen."

Once her eyes focused, she realized it was Zippi, perched on the edge of her bed, black mourning skirts gathered about her, long, dark hair pulled back in a twist that was tumbling free from its pins. The beautiful young matriarch looked no older than Sarah, though it was evident that she had just lost her husband, if not for the black widow's weeds, then the mourning locket around her neck. "Zippi." The woman smiled softly at her, reaching out to brush a curl off her great-great-granddaughter's cheek, only for her fingers to move through the young woman's skin.

"Yer young Kit grows m're like ye ev'ry day-"

"Sarah. We don't call her Kit." Kathleen replied, meeting the other woman's gaze. Zipporah nodded, smiling softly. A moment passed, before the matriarch stood, going to the door. "Zippi?" The woman stopped, turning back to her. Slowly, Kathleen swallowed. "How... who... what happened? To the rest of the family? To... to Timothy Michael's sisters? What happened to... to Fiona and Aileen and... Sarah?"

Zippi studied her for a moment, before whispering, "'twill 'ave t' ask 'em." And then she turned, slipping out of the room and disappearing down the hall.