Author's Notes:

Elena arc, part 2 of 6. The reveal.


We rode the dawn into Lionsgate City.

Ellie had been mostly quiet throughout the two-day journey. Air travel must be exhausting for her — she cried only occasionally and slept soundly at night, for which I was very thankful. During the day I carried her around our stateroom, and she would coo to me as I named objects for her. She also enjoyed staring out the window with me, though she was yet too young to grasp the concept of flight. To her it must be like a thrilling motion picture.

I hadn't the heart to dismiss Sally, so I'd left her as a housekeeper back in New Amsterdam. She'd been heartbroken all the same, begging to come on the trip with us, to help with the baby. But I couldn't afford to have her know the truth. I was still 'Mrs. Ayres', and I took care to dress in all black, to avoid the associated questions and socialization. We traveled First Class, and most of our fellow passengers had been too polite to strike up conversation with a widow who was clearly still in mourning.

The solitude was welcome. When I wasn't nursing Ellie, or changing her nappies, or talking to her or reading to her, I dove into my own head, chasing my own thoughts. I didn't bring the newspaper clipping of him; my fingers had already turned his photograph into a uniform grey of flaying paper fibres and faded ink.

I had no discernible plan; I never seemed to have one when it concerned him. I knew I wanted for Ellie to meet him, and perhaps for him to meet Ellie as well — there was a difference — but I wasn't sure how it would come about.

And after they meet? I didn't want to barge back into his life, when we were surely unwanted. Maybe I would just leave and take her back with me. Go back to being Mrs. Ayres. I had the financial means to care for ourselves, and with it came the luxury of choice — which was more than most single mothers could claim.

Perhaps I would always be Mrs. Ayres.

I was still ruminating as we got off the airship. A cabin boy came by to ask if I needed assistance with my luggage, so I handed him a few banknotes and asked him to do just that. He was a chipper lad, bouncing on his feet as he pushed my luggage in a cart, telling me this or that about the city. He had to be no older than thirteen or fourteen, and his freckled face shone with the spring of youth.

With a start I realized I was barely three years older than him. Yet it felt like a generation separated us. I hefted sleeping Ellie in my arms. Perhaps motherhood did that to people.

I thanked him after we got through customs, and gave him another tip. He waved me goodbye as he ran back to his ship. I wondered if Matt was like this, once.

It was still early, around seven, but cabbies already stood in a line outside the aeroharbour, having smelled the fresh business of a newly landed airship. I hired one and walked with him to his automobile. Ellie woke up sometime during that, and her large eyes swiveled around, instantly attracted by all the new sights and sounds. I kissed her.

"A few months, then?" the cabbie asked with a smile.

"Only a little more than one," I said. "I'm rather a newcomer at this."

"He's a right lucky fellow," the cabbie remarked.

"She's a girl," I said.

The cabbie laughed. "I was talking about your husband, ma'am. You're beautiful, and your daughter too; what more could a man want?"

I took a breath. "Ah. He's… not with us," I said.

He stared at me, my luggage half-loaded, then paled. I could see him kicking himself in the head — I was in all black.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he stammered. "I, I didn't think…"

"No need to fret," I said. "And I thank you for the compliment." I smiled to reassure him, then told him we were going to the Waldorf-Astoria Lionsgate.

"Very good, ma'am," he said, still looking bashful and awkward. He finished loading and ushered us in. "Pardon my prying, ma'am," he said tentatively as he started the car, "but do you mean to stay there? At the Waldorf?"

"Yes," I said. "For the next two days, at least."

"Ah," he said. "I think you'll have tough luck finding a room, ma'am."

"Truly? Why is that?"

"Well, the Astralnauts are staying there, ma'am. Have you heard of them?"

I nodded. "One can scarcely miss it."

He chuckled good-naturedly. "That's true. Anyhow, the hotel's been jammed packed with reporters and brownnosers for the past two days. All the fancy people are finding it fashionable to book a room too, so they could claim they met so-and-so."

"I didn't think it would be such a big deal," I said.

"Ah, most of the Astralnauts are from around Lionsgate, ma'am. We're very proud of them. You'll see when we get into the city."

I nodded. I supposed it made sense — Lionsgate was the first stop on the whirlwind tour the Canadian government had scrambled together for the team, and today was their last day here. They were headed to Kalgary next, and would make their way eastward until Halifax before returning.

We made our way along the expressways from the aeroharbour into the city proper. I propped Ellie up so she could see the views outside the window, and she gazed at everything with interest. I read out signs in her ear as we drove past; Turn Left, To West Point Grey, To Stanley Park.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," our driver said suddenly.

I thought he was still guilty about earlier, but we had stopped. Confused, I looked out through the front window.

A massive wall of people blocked the crossroad ahead. Men and women, young and old, fancy and plain, all were rubbing shoulders with each other, hands clutching Canadian flags. On the far side there was another, similar wall; swarming, billowing, cheering. Even inside the car their din penetrated the windows. Ahead of us and around us, a dozen other cars had been forced to stop as well.

"The ticker tape parade for the expedition," our driver explained. "I thought it's not until later. Let me turn around and try the other road, ma'am."

I stared at the cacophony. Evidently, 'very proud' had been an understatement.

"No," I said. "In fact, I would like to watch this, if you don't mind. Please keep the meter running."

"Oh." He peered uncertainly at me from the rearview mirror. "Sure thing, ma'am. But it will be quite a while, I'm afraid."

"That's alright." I opened the door. "Let's go, Ellie."

Outside in person, it seemed a riptide of enthusiasm greeted us — there were banners and flags literally everywhere I looked, full of patriotic slogans and messages of well-wishing. Ribbons crisscrossed the skies above the streets, and laurel wreaths hung from lamp poles. A few giant canvas posters billowed in the wind, often dropping several stories before they fully unfurled. Most had the ship or a rocket with the flag painted on them, but a few sported the likeness of the passengers and crew.

"Welcome Home, Heroes of Canada," I read to Ellie out of habit, pointing at one banner. "We're Glad to Have You Back."

Her pupils took everything in, darting from sight to sight, wondrous and slightly overwhelmed. Then something caught her interest, and she stared. I turned to look.

It was a large portrait of her father. The artist had done a good job, for it was virtually unmistakable, yet somehow it seemed all wrong. He has always been handsome, but the painting tried too hard to emphasize his features — he looked like some young dazzling actor, or a conquering hero. I didn't like the cocksureness of his grin, or the masculine glint in his eyes. It made him seem lofty, and more suave than I ever remembered.

I gently rubbed Ellie's belly, commending her for finding Papa, but I felt uncomfortable. I'd been so sure he was the same person from all those months ago, the same person I'd fallen in love with, that I hadn't stopped to consider the alternative.

What if he'd changed? Time, fame, money. Any of those could change a person, and he had all three, particularly after the expedition.

What would he do, when he saw me?

Saw Ellie?

Not for the first time, my stomach churned as I considered the wisdom of this trip. Now, so incredibly close to him, doubt assaulted me like a summer thunderstorm. I stepped into a little alcove of a building near by. I hid Ellie with a traveling cloak as I nursed her, for she was beginning to get restless.

We heard the parade before it got here. Shouts, cheers, screams. The pop of ticker tapes raining down. Grand, brass-driven renditions of 'O, Canada'. Ellie gave a small start from suckling and strained her ears. She kept wriggling, evidently more curious now than hungry, so I buttoned myself up and drew away the cloak.

Another two or three minutes passed before we could see the very front of the procession. A marching band played continuously, their faces red with exertion and focus. Behind them was a gigantic mammothine — a colossal resurrected beast from the Siberian tundras, modified to be furless for the warmer temperatures. A light wooden platform sat atop its impressive back, swaying with each pounding step. It was more than three stories tall, and the people on it seemed to be far away.

It was covered in all manners of paper, white, off-white, grey. As it ambled along, more ticker tapes gushed from the windows of buildings, falling like a snowstorm onto the streets. Many missed the procession, but it didn't matter.

The crowd went wild. The flags in their hands became a sea of red maples, undulating and billowing until it seemed the creature was wading through a crimson ocean, like some primordial beast of old, or Moses cleaving through the Red Sea. Flowers were thrown recklessly onto the streets, where seconds later they got trampled by the marching band and then the mammothine behind them. Cameras flashed one after another, so quick it hurt the eyes. The anthem was all but drowned out by the roar of exuberance. Then I could make out the people atop the platform in more detail.

There were many, but most were just armed soldiers, standing sharply at attention even with the beast's lumbering steps. Two men, however, stood at the very front of the platform, donned with broad colourful sashes emblazoned with grand maple leaves and the Union jack. They were waving, smiling. One was young, only a year or two older than I was, with strong brows and wavy hair. The other was older and shorter, with a huge bushy mustache and crinkled eyes.

A great banner streamed from the creature's flanks. Mr. Tobias Blanchard, Astralnaut, it read. Mr. Vladislav Herzog, Master Chef.

I stood in my little alcove. More people had arrived by now, pushing forward, trying to get closer to the spectacle. Children sat atop their fathers' heads, squealing in delight. I was glad I got out of the way early — there didn't look to be any room for a girl and a baby.

A squadron of military men followed the first mammothine, and they in turn were followed by the second beast. On the platform this time stood another pair — a frazzle-haired woman and a short, plump gentleman. They looked to be thoroughly displeased, and doing their best to ignore each other. Ms. Evelyn Karr, Renowned Photographer, the banner read. Sir Hugh Snuffler, Zoological Expert.

I craned my neck, trying to see further. A slow motorcar followed, and another marching band, and two more mammothines after that, but the air was thick with the flurry of paper so it was hard to see. The motorcar was pure black, elongated and decorated with flowers. A massive flag laid over its roof.

In memory of Mr. Charles Shepherd, read the banner. The marching band that followed played a more sombre version of the anthem, and people quieted somewhat. Cameras flashed less frequently, and the ticker tapes all but stopped.

But then the car passed, and finally the third mammothine reached us. I did not have to look at the banner to know exactly what it said.

Mr. Matthew Cruse, Astralnaut. Ms. Katherine de Vries, Zoological Expert.

If I thought the noise had already reached its zenith, I was sorely mistaken. It was as if people were making up for their moment of silence, and the roar that came was with such terrifying force that I half thought they would bring down the building. Ellie started to cry, and I kissed her and held her up a little so she could see.

Cameras flashes painting them almost white. He wore his astralnaut uniform, and she wore a tailored dress of some kind, smiling and waving at the pandaemonium below. Individually they were photogenic enough, but standing side by side, they made the perfect couple.

I'd always known they were perfect.

As they passed in front of us, I tried to study him. He seemed blurry somehow. Perhaps we were too far away, or the air was too saturated with paper strips.

A small voice in my head told me to rush into the streets, and wave until they noticed me. I focused on Ellie instead, and it was all I could do to keep my hands steady on her. She had stopped crying, and was squinting at the two.

"Hold hands!" someone from the mob shouted, and this was immediately picked up by others, until it became a chant.

"Hold hands! Hold hands!"

He looked at her, sheepishly. She looked back, said something, and they both laughed. He shrugged, grabbed her hand, and they raised their arms together.

As the masses clamored their approval, I turned around to leave.

ooo

The Waldorf-Astoria stood in all its splendor at the edge of the harbour, with the great redwoods of Stanley Park behind it. The cabbie tried to protest when I gave him an extra five, but in the end he took the note gleefully and waved goodbye to Ellie.

By now she was over her little bout from back during the parade, and was back to the inquisitive little soul she was born to be. She looked around in avid fascination at the glimmer and gilt. When we reached the door, she smiled at the porter, who beamed back as he opened the door for us.

"What a darling," he said.

"Thank you," I replied. "And thank you," I said, this time meaning the door.

"My pleasure, ma'am."

I had cut ahead of the parade, so the hotel was more or less quiet, but a few reporters still waited expectantly in the lobby lounge, no doubt trying to catch the astralnauts out. Just as our cabbie foretold, my inquiry about available rooms got me a sympathetic apology from the manager and nothing else. Nonetheless, I asked the concierge to look after my suitcase for a few minutes, while I slipped into the water closet to change Ellie's nappy, pondering over my next step.

She was getting tired. It was close to noon, and she's had a very exciting day. She wriggled appreciatively when I freed her from her soiled cloth, and cooed at me when I tickled her.

"Do you want to meet Papa?" I asked her. She gurgled and waved her arms.

I tried to nurse her again, just to make sure she wasn't hungry. She drank a little, though soon her suckling grew softer and softer, until I realized she'd fallen asleep.

"Do you want to meet Papa?" I whispered. I drew her away from my breast, and she frowned a little in her slumber. I'd been so certain I wanted them to meet… so entirely certain after that crushing week, when I'd thought him gone forever. The pure elevating joy of finding him alive again had driven me to this trip.

Now I wasn't certain at all.

I splashed a bit of water on my face, taking care to avoid the make-up around my eyes. I looked down at Ellie. I wondered what was best for her. That was how I decided to approach things from now on. What was best for her?

I gripped the door handle of the water closet, having made no headway. I needed time, I thought. Perhaps I would find another nice little hotel by the coast, and a few days in this new and beautiful city would give me the latitude to come to terms with myself. A vacation of sorts.

I pushed the door, and jumped when a bang almost knocked me back in.

"Sorry!" came a muffled voice from the other side. The door swung open to reveal a woman in a drab faded blue dress and a patchy broad-brimmed hat. She was a little taller than myself, with her hair all stuffed up inside the cap. The neckline of her dress was inordinately high, and a small veil of sorts draped down to obscure most of her face.

"My apologies," she said again, holding the door open. "You first."

"Thank you," I said, stepping out. The restroom was down a rather secluded hallway, so it was just her husband waiting outside. He wore a long overcoat not at all suitable for summer, with a top hat perched on his head. He bowed a little to me, brass spectacles glinting.

A glimpse of his face was all I needed.

"Matt," I said.

His head snapped up. When our eyes met, I saw that the blueness of his was unchanged. It took him longer to see through my shorter hair and expensive clothes.

"Nadira…?" he said, softly, almost whispering.

I hadn't prepared for this, yet somehow I found myself remarkably calm. I nodded.

We looked at each other. He took off his ill-fitted hat and spectacles. "To escape from the reporters," he explained, somewhat abash, and instantly I knew he was still the same person I'd fallen in love with all those months ago.

"You… look well," I said.

"Um, you too," he said. "How… why… I mean, how have you been? It feels like it's been so long."

"Only a few months," I said. "I've been fine."

"But you —"

"Congratulations on the mission."

"— look so diff — huh? Oh. Thank you."

"I read the newspapers. But of course you're no stranger to heroics."

He shuffled his feet. "Ah, well. I did the least, to be honest. It was mostly Dr. Turgenev and Tobias."

"I heard you just got back from the parade?"

"Yeah," he gave a short laugh. "They made everyone change, and snuck us through the back door to avoid the press. Honestly, it's all a bit much."

I thought back to him and her holding hands on the mammothine. "I bet it is."

"So, uh, when did you get here? I thought you were in New Amsterdam!"

"I was, until three days ago."

"Really? What made you come here?"

I looked at the ground between us, not trusting my face. The silence stretched thin and tenuous when he offered no response. He probably thought it not his place to probe.

"I should leave," I said finally.

"What?" he said. "Wait, Nad—"

He reached over to me, and at that moment Ellie gave a sudden bout in my arms. He quite literally jumped.

And even then, I thought, Oh, you do want to meet Papa.

"Christ!" Matt said. "Nadira! I thought that was your bag!"

My fury caught as swift as Aruba fuel doused on an old wood building. It was the last thing I'd anticipated, but still it came.

I whirled to face him, fire in my hard stare.

"She is no bag," I said, deep and trembling. "She is your —"

The restroom door opened, and out stepped the woman I passed earlier, sweeping her hair back under her altogether ridiculous hat.

"Sorry," she said. "That good-for-nothing parade had me bursting to go. Thanks for waiting—"

Only then did she see Matt's expression. She followed his gaze and looked over at me, frowning. Then recognition dawned.

"I should have known," I said. "Hello, Kate."

"… Nadira?"

I just nodded. In that moment I regretted everything. I wanted to take my baby somewhere else, anywhere but here. Far away from what I knew was inevitable now. The anger I felt earlier had receded as fast as flicking off a light — the emotion must have broken something within me, for the calmness I so desperately needed had vanished. My hands tightened around Ellie's small form.

"My gosh!" Kate said with an astonished smile. "So it is you! I thought you looked familiar back there!"

"I should go," I said, trying to move away.

"What? No! Stay a while! How've you been?"

"Quite fine. I need to go."

"Nonsense! We haven't seen you in so long! What's that you got in your arms?"

"Kate —" I said, but she had already stepped over.

Ellie gave a great big yawn and opened her eyes. She kicked her little feet out of her bundle, and thrashed around with her tiny hands. She looked at me and gurgled. They stared in absolute silence.

Forgive me, I thought.

I held Ellie close to me, and in her soft writhing tenderness, I found my strength.

I took a deep breath.

"This is my daughter," I said. "Her name is Elena."


Author's Note:

1. Fun fact: until 2006, there were no Waldorf-Astorias anywhere in the world except in NYC. There still isn't one in Canada.

2. Canada did not get its classic maple leaf flag until 1965. However, Oppel's Canada is clearly a much more developed nation than its real world counterpart at the time, so I thought they could have gotten their flag much sooner.