"Carson!" Cassandra Fraiser-Fletcher groaned as she stepped on another of the LEGOs on the floor, clutching Addy to her chest as she narrowly escaped losing her balance and crashing to the ground with the six-month-old wiggling in her arms.
"I'm in a Zoom!" The nine-year-old's voice broke through the pandemonium.
Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut. She'd forgotten that. Not that she wasn't still a little irritated at the boy's selective attention to his school work. If Cassandra had been baking cookies, the nine-year-old would have tried to find a dozen reasons to leave his seat in the den to check on her progress in the kitchen.
And if he'd cleaned up last night after playing with the toys on the floor, Cassandra might not have had the panic of trying to figure out how to land right so that the baby landed on top of her rather than the other way around.
Addy fussed in Cassandra's arms. Won a kiss to the temple as Cassandra bounced the baby in her arms. Ten in the morning. Just about time for Addy's morning nap.
Cassandra reached for the bottle she'd prepped a few minutes earlier but which had been too hot to drink. Cradled the baby in the crook of her arm as offered the bottle.
The baby sucked for a few seconds before she wailed again. Louder this time.
Cassandra groaned as she checked the bottle for any issues that might have prevented the milk from reaching the infant.
Nothing out of order there.
Cassandra tried again, whispering soothing words to her daughter.
Once again, the bottle's nipple was rejected.
She put the bottle down and checked Addy's diaper. She'd just gotten changed a few minutes earlier, but it wouldn't be the first time the baby had dirtied a brand new diaper.
All clean.
Unable to think of anything else as she tried to get even just two minutes of quiet where she could think of another solution she hadn't yet tried, Cassandra stuck her finger in the baby's mouth.
Instantly, Addy quieted. Her hands caught hold of Cassandra's thumb and pinky as she sucked on the finger.
Peace at last.
Then, with a curious eye to the baby, Cassandra moved her finger around so she could get a feel for the baby's gums. Sure enough, there was the evidence of the baby's fussiness. The gums harder and more swollen than they normally were.
Teething.
Perfect.
Just what this holiday away from home needed.
Cassandra pressed another kiss to the baby's forehead, this time catching the slight temperature elevation. She weaved around the messes left behind by her creative and occasionally forgetful children. Knocked on the door of the room Greg used as an office during business hours.
Greg looked stressed on the phone as he opened the door. "Babe, I'm on that call with our supplier. Can I come find you after I'm through here?"
She bit back an uncharacteristic wellspring of irritation that threatened to show in her voice. "Addy's teething. I either need you to find the Tylenol or hold her so I can."
Greg huffed as he escaped the office and headed up to the master bedroom, where the baby and family supplies had been stashed in the walk-in closet.
He kept his cell phone to his ear, murmuring an apology for the interruption.
Cassandra felt like crying as she took the baby back into the kitchen and pulled out one of the ketchup packets that she'd stuck in the freezer when they'd first gotten into town. Baby ice pack.
She stuck it in Addy's mouth, hoping the baby would find comfort from the cool, jelly-like ice.
It almost worked. Then, Addy flung the packet to the floor and screamed in protest.
"I need you to help Mama out, little one. At least until the Tylenol kicks in."
Preston put his fingers in his ears as he walked into the kitchen, his grimace clear as he stared up at the baby. "Mom, can you make Addy be quiet? I can't hear my teacher!"
Cassandra tried to manage a smile as she tugged one of the little boy's hands down from his ear. "Put in your headphones. That should help."
Preston's hands exploded into the air, then attacked his head. "I can't find them!"
Another crisis. Of course.
And she was the only one who could possibly help anyone.
Cassandra waved Preston to follow her to the den. "Harrison, would you help your brother find his headphones?"
Greg appeared at the bottom of the stairs in the kitchen, one hand over the microphone of his phone as he looked over at her. "Sorry, babe. Doesn't look like we brought any Tylenol with us."
"Of course we did. I packed it myself, and we used it when Preston got that thorn in his foot."
Greg just shrugged. "Don't know what to tell you, babe. It's not upstairs. Just order some with the next grocery order."
"That's not until Friday, and I need it now." Cassandra looked down, her attention split between trying to make sure Harrison had gotten her message and her husband's insistence that there was no baby Tylenol in the house. "Where did you look?"
By the time she turned back to look at her husband, he was closing the office door. She doubted if he'd heard her question.
What little patience Cassandra had when she woke up was wearing thin. Especially since she'd had one of the hazy nightmares from the days when she'd lost her entire village. The one where she could almost make out what Nirrti had done to her, almost remembered how a naquadah bomb had been put in her chest.
Just remembering that much made it hard to breathe, and Cassandra's anxiety just ratcheted up a notch when it occurred to her that had been one of the first symptoms Sam had exhibited before being diagnosed with COVID-19.
She shoved her concern out of her mind. Addy's wailing was her first priority.
She walked the crying, struggling baby up to the master bedroom and set her in the pack and play. At least the baby would be safe while Cassandra searched for the elusive pain killer.
"Mom! She's still crying!"
Cassandra poked her head out of the ensuite bathroom. "Preston?"
The five-year-old's whine wasn't the only sign of a coming tantrum. He was about ten seconds from flopping himself onto her bed like Addy's mood was the end of the world.
The urge to lock herself in either the closet or the bathroom, put in her own headphones, and pretend she couldn't hear the commotion in the other room, was intense. Anything for just one minute of peace and quiet.
"Preston, ask Harrison to help you find—"
Her oldest son appeared in the doorway and thrust a pair of headphones into Preston's hand. "Here. Don't leave it with my stuff next time. Put it away."
Preston burst into tears. With the offending headphones in his hands, he turned to his mother. "Mom! Harrison—"
"I heard him, sweetheart." Cassandra kissed the top of the kindergartener's head. "Go back to class."
"But—"
Cassandra raised an eyebrow, warning the little one not to toy with her today. "Now."
Preston dramatically flung himself out the door and into the hallway.
She sighed as Harrison rolled his eyes with the boy's departure. "Drama king."
"Harrison..."
The twelve-year-old just flipped his hands out, palms facing the ceiling. "What? I gave him his stupid headphones. Not my fault he didn't put them away."
Cassandra tried to take a deep breath as she got into her cosmetic bag to see if the Tylenol had gotten mixed up with her shampoo. "You know as well as I do how sensitive Preston can get."
"So, what? He always gets what he wants?"
No luck in the cosmetic bag. Cassandra grabbed her husband's shaving kit. Just in case... "That's not what I'm saying."
"It's not?" The look in Harrison's eyes made it clear that he didn't believe her.
Cassandra slammed the shaving kit on the counter when she didn't find what she wanted there, either. "Could you just try not to antagonize him? For me?"
Harrison groaned. "Sure. Whatever."
Only as Cassandra massaged her temple with one finger did she realize how quiet Addy had become. Guilt surged in her as she realized the baby had fallen asleep in the bed. No baby Tylenol. Not even her usual baby blanket and snuggle.
Just collapsed in utter exhaustion.
Cassandra bit back a torrent of tears. Yep. These were the days Greg's mother warned her she'd miss. Today, Cassandra wasn't so sure.
But one thing she was sure of, her kids would need a whole lot of therapy to survive having a mom as clumsy at motherhood as she was.
Several hours later, after the kids and Greg had all gone to bed, Cassandra slipped on one of the sweatshirts Greg had leftover from his college days, put her amber waves into a ponytail, and padded quietly out to the garage. A transportable easel and her paint set under one arm.
No matter how okay she thought she was, it was clear that she had something brewing beneath the surface. Just out of reach of her conscious mind.
Lest she found herself waking up from another nightmare with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she thought maybe she ought to try something else. Something her adoptive mother had advocated since she'd been a little girl.
She would paint her feelings.
Even just preparing the canvas for her painting was enough to help untangle her emotions. A playlist of heavy metal songs she only broke out when she was especially troubled or conflicted reverberating from the small wireless earbuds tucked in her ears.
After preparing the canvas, she stood back and stared at it, a sea of emotion welling up within her. Because she wasn't home. Because she was exhausted. Because her family's needs weighed heavily on her shoulders. Because the future looked so bleak. Because the past felt so unyieldingly oppressive.
She set up the paints. Fanned out her brushes.
She yearned to create. Needed to release all of the pain that was locked up inside her right now.
She surveyed the colors as the art piece started to take shape in her mind's eye. A background of charcoal gray, navy blue, forest green. Streaked with crimson. Violet. Goldenrod.
Unlike her typically abstract paintings, she suspected this would feature a person, but she wasn't sure just yet. It might be just the concrete walls that sometimes closed in on her those last few moments before she woke up from a nightmare.
Greg's theory that Cassandra had questions she needed to know the answers to as an adult played again in her mind. He might have a point there.
Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as memories she'd tried to shake for nearly her entire life washed over her in vivid detail. Each stroke of her brush and each color she applied to the canvas seemed to bring a new emotion to the surface. Anger. Fear. Sorrow. Numbness. Physical pain.
The way her parents had brought her to the place where her ancestors had once worshipped Nirrti when the panic had first spread through her people. How even as the painful lesions came over their bodies, they prayed she would be spared.
How the woman with the dark hair, distorted voice, and sinister expression, had appeared inside the temple and taken Cassandra by the hand—
A hand touched her shoulder, and she whirled around. "Don't touch me!"
Her heart thundered in her chest as she caught sight of Greg's hands raised in surrender. Of his brow furrowed in concern as he looked from her to her painting. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
He tapped his wrist where his watch would have been if he hadn't been in flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt. "It's just that it's two in the morning. I was gonna ask if you were okay, but I think I already know the answer. What's going on?"
Her hands were shaking as she set down the brush and palette. She sucked in a breath that seemed to hitch a few times on the way in. "Nothing. I'm fine. Go back to sleep."
Greg raised an eyebrow. "Do me a favor, babe. Don't lie to me. You're not very good at it."
Cassandra threw him a look, hoping he'd see that she hadn't appreciated his attempt at humor.
He turned back to her canvas, grimacing as he studied the lines and curves of the colors. "Today was rough—I'll admit that—and I can respect it if you don't want to talk about it. Just don't try to tell me everything's normal because that's not your normal color palette."
Cassandra shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. She wasn't cold, but she was shivering like she'd never be warm again "Okay. I'm not fine."
Greg's expression was analytical as he studied her. "What happened?"
She shook her head. "Nothing happened. Not really. I'm just processing, I guess."
"Nirrti?"
Her throat tightened. Then, she bobbed her head once. Then a second time. "Things I didn't think I remembered."
Greg's eyes fell closed as he took a step toward her and pulled her close. Not one of those big bear hugs he usually gave her. Something looser. Something that wouldn't aggravate any of the claustrophobia that sometimes showed up with her night terrors. A kiss to the forehead. "Sounds like you could use some sessions with that new therapist they have at Stargate Command."
Cassandra shivered in his embrace, but it wasn't because of the suggestion. It was just one of the ways her trauma exhibited itself. "Maybe."
"Something else sound like it would help?"
She shrugged. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I have questions I didn't have the luxury of asking when I was a kid."
He nodded. Then, let her rest her cheek on his chest.
He ran his hand through her hair. "I'm sorry you're having a rough time of it."
Cassandra turned watery eyes up to him. "I'm just glad you actually know. If it wasn't for Jack, you'd be trying to figure out what natural disaster happened in Toronto that messed me up this badly."
Greg kissed her temple, wrapping his arms a little more tightly around her. "You don't have to sleep, but it might be a good idea to at least come inside for a bit before the kids wake up."
Cassandra shook her head, panic rising back up in her throat. "I don't want them to see me like this."
"Who? The kids?"
She nodded.
Greg tugged her against his chest as he shushed her the way he might have gently calmed the kids. "Okay, well, how about this? I'll tell the kids you aren't feeling well tomorrow. Then, when you're up to it, you can come out, okay? And if you're still not up to it, we'll call Sam and Jack. Maybe they'll let you camp out at their place while we get this under control."
Cassandra bobbed her head once before she shivered in her husband's embrace. Only one question on her mind. Why, of all times, had her memories come back now?
