The research I do for this story varies from 'how to reconnect cables in a wall' to 'how big is a pigeon's brain'. Also pretty sure Google thinks I'm having my second child xD
Guest, thanks for your review! You cried laughing :D Didn't see that coming! But I think I'll have to join you there ':D
Mitzy123, thank you for your review! I'm glad you liked the Wendy part, cause I'm really fond of their relationship, also in the Manga/Anime. Thanks for pointing that and all the other things out!
Mikasa-Chan, are you god? Writing two reviews for the same chapter with the same account? Can you by any chance defy gravity? Or not sing the ABC song to know which letter comes when...? In any case, thank you for both of your mythical reviews! I hope Jellal's guilty conscience isn't too overdone but salvation is coming, don't worry. And thanks so much for your kind wishes! *Returning virtual hug*
randomusername2, thank you so much for your review and praise! I'm honoured to see how your account came into being with (at least when I checked) only my story as purpose to follow - thank you!
pilikali, still bravely fighting through the English, thank you for so much dedication and for taking the time to write me a review! I really appreciate it!
Alright, so I'm struggling quite a bit with the following structure and not getting anywhere right now but I hope I'll get better soon and I can continue to write proper content (or at all ':D). For now, have a treat after I tortured your feelings so :*
"What is it like...?" He heard himself ask carefully. "To be a father, I mean,"
"Asking for a friend?" Ambrose chuckled good-humouredly, eyes twinkling knowingly. But Jellal only sighed deeply, sinking further into himself, gaze never straying upwards.
"No… not really…" he muttered.
It was more than embarrassing to be asking such a question, but his cheeks chose the drained zombie look instead of burning blush. There were not many people he confided in. Those that had the honour of hearing his true thoughts always made him guilty for the burden he found he forced them to carry. He was almost thirty, for heaven's sake, and yet, he hemmed and hawed during working hours. He felt like a child.
A child…
He was going to have a child. Someone who had not the remotest idea of how the world worked was supposed to learn from someone who had about every idea of how the world worked, and still did everything wrong.
"Well, that varies from individual to individual," Ambrose non-promisingly started. It made Jellal want to turn back time. He cursed at himself to then finally keep his mouth shut lest he ask more questions that made him want to vanish into the floor. "Some find it straining while others enjoy it – and some take it all too seriously," the old man went on. "But you're probably referring to becoming a father, right?" He asked, offering a smile. Jellal did not receive it, head lowered as he focused on the pigeon in his lap. He almost wished to be the bird, with wings to flee and a brain the size of an almond.
Calmly, the pigeon let itself be petted, the rhythmic strokes down its back somehow soothing Jellal, too.
"How about," Ambrose broke the tense silence, "I give you an example?" He proposed, sinking down in the opposite cushioned chair. "We'll start with this schlimazel here," he grinned. Jellal frowned glancing up from below.
He decided to rather watch the steam of his tea when Ambrose cleared his throat at the lack of a smile he was granted.
"Schlimazel?" Jellal could not help but ask.
"Yes, I was most clumsy – and still am," the old man confessed. Jellal found it hard to believe. "Just don't ever go to a museum or valuable exhibition with me," Ambrose laughed. Then he leaned back, returning to his professional, well-meaningly humorous self. "I was very clumsy with most anything around the house, anything except for hiding it," he grinned anew. "I broke lots of things and pretended none of it had ever happened. I played surprised, bought near-identical replacements or just flowers to distract.
"I was a proper juggler; I didn't want my wife to think I was such a clod and confirm the stereotype of the feeble-minded farmer's boy I was – she was a sophisticated upper class town girl after all," he nodded in fond recollection.
Jellal dared peeking up again, relieved when there were no eyes watching him but the single round one of his feathery friend.
"Somehow, my son had picked up that skill without either of us noticing – that is, until one day when I found a rather considerable collection of broken or pilfered things that had all mysteriously 'disappeared' without anyone asking questions.
"I was shocked, of course, and I wanted to scold him, when I had a better idea," he retold. Jellal watched him, all embarrassment forgotten as he listened. Not even noticing his previous question's answer to have turned into an anecdote of an old man and his little boy. "I made sure my son was around and able to hear – I could see him from the corner of my eye where my wife could not – and then I told her.
"I told her everything I had done over the years. All of my mishaps and lies, the precious items I had broken or convenient gifts I had bought her solely to mask my own mistakes, practically playing her for a fool," Ambrose said. There was a small shadow over his eyes as he spoke, and his voice had adapted the same sombre timber. "Instead of scolding me like I had expected, she cried," he almost whispered. Jellal was at the edge of his seat, wincing when Ambrose blinked and his icy blue eyes flashed up with their usual sharpness. Another smile stretched across his lips, and he eased his gaze over the rim of his halfmoon spectacles.
He picked up his tea, giving a sigh at the memory he had stirred.
"I felt horrible to say the least, while at the same time triumphant, seeing as my son had cried, too. Not that I was glad about him crying," he swiftly interrupted, chuckling, "but it told me that he had understood, and that he felt truly sorry for his own actions. Seeing his mother cry broke his little heart just as much as mine, and on the same evening, he came clean.
"Only to me, he did, but that was enough for me. He apologised, and I did, too. I had been the one to set the example after all," Ambrose nodded to himself, finally supping his finely painted cup of tea. "It made us both lose the habit, and it bonded us together; he told me everything from then on – until puberty," he laughed a hearty laugh, and this time, Jellal blushed slightly. He could almost hear the annoyed groan of Meredy in his ear, the realisation of her perhaps not telling him everything that weighed her down hitting harder than the souvenir of her puberty.
Sighing, Jellal did not find his heart to feel any lighter. It was almost heavier, the added guilt about chiding his best friend about the tiniest issues making him feel worse. How was he supposed to raise a child if he was not even able to treat Meredy like the adult she was?
And although he possessed no magical abilities, Ambrose somehow relieved that strain as he continued.
"My point is," he clarified, his cup clinking softly against its saucer, "that there is no experience and no story to tell you what it is like to be a father. There is no guide and no spell to guide you, but you have to listen anyway. Listen to what you have to say – what they have to say – and then decide whether you approve of it or not.
"You will always be making mistakes, I can guarantee you that much, and there will always be room for improvements. The important thing to remember is that that's perfectly fine. Whether before or after the child is born, it's never too late to take action – be it turning around, standing still or moving forward."
Jellal opened his eyes to find the wooden ceiling of their cabin. The sun was rising, softly streaking through their small scuttle. Having drifted into memories instead of sleep, he found a light twist to have settled around his insides, as if permanently.
With a deep sigh, he analysed his position. One of his hands had come up and behind his head, the other resting on his beloved's flank. Erza's steady breathing still vented up to his neck, weaker now that she had moved in her sleep. Cuddled up on his shoulder with her head, she was lying with her front against his side, one arm slung over his chest.
His heartbeat sped up. His hand had been so relaxed, it started to fall over her ribs – or so it would have, had it been high enough. His breathing flattened. Almost, almost, he was touching… Jellal swallowed. He wanted to curse at himself; to call himself ridiculous and a coward for fearing something so minor – something so far from being dangerous, and yet, he hardly had the capacity to think that far.
But he wanted to. It was not curiosity anymore but a burning desire to feel. To know for sure that it was true and happening and so close already. Only a wall of flesh separated him from that tiny new life – his baby.
He froze upon feeling her smile into his shoulder. How long had she been awake, observing his struggle?
"You can touch it," Erza softly said. Reaching out, she took his hand. He stiffened, so she let go again. Calmly, she chose her shirt instead, easing one button after the other out of their holes until her belly was freed. An invitation. Letting someone speak for themselves, she remembered, but he did not know.
Carefully, warily, he moved his hand. He chose to take action – to move forward. It hovered for another moment, then, abandoning all thought and just letting himself get lost in sensations instead, he brushed the tips of his fingers to the curve of her stomach. Another gulp, and he dared cupping his palm over it.
"You can hug it, too," Erza whispered. She must have known by now that he had avoided to do so lately.
"I was afraid I'd hurt it like I hurt you when having a nightmare," he confessed, and she smiled with understanding. He should have told her, he realised, having caused her unnecessary trouble. She relieved his hand of its indecisive floundering, entwining her fingers with his.
"Would you like to go outside and see if there's land in sight already?" She asked, but he shook his head.
"I'd rather stay here," he said, suppressing the urge of taking it back and asking what she wanted. It did not go unnoticed, an appreciative squeeze of her hand signalling the pride she felt. He was breaking all kinds of records that morning, and she was more than happy about it.
"Do you think it will be as warm as Tenrou Island?" She asked, giving the option of an escape of the challenging topic as reward for his actions.
"I hope not," Jellal said and she giggled quietly.
"Right, rather the middle of the ocean than desert," she remembered. He sighed again. Erza opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when he held her close with his other arm, but her words did not come when he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.
"Thank you," Jellal whispered. Frowning in puzzlement, she propped her head up on his chest, watching him. He inhaled in preparation to speak, and in order to hold her gaze. "Thank you for being this brave," he said. "I know you don't have much of a choice, but I would have probably already backed down, and then we would've never come this far," he admitted. She smiled soothingly.
"It's my fault I forgot to take my pills – I'm sorry I forced this on you like I always do," Erza returned. He tightened his embrace, and she hummed into his shoulder where she planted a kiss.
"I think it's safe to say that we both rush into things," he reassured, and she vented a silent laughter through her nose.
"The hurry with the wedding was my fault though,"
"You're telling the man who applied for holidays on the same day he left?" He raised a brow. She chuckled.
"Only about the most wonderful man in all of Earthland,"
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Jellal looked away. He had just snuck his hand out of hers, wanting to touch her belly again, now feeling stupid, then trapped as she leaned on him, effectively pinning his hand to where he now wanted to get away from. She stroked over his arm, making sure he knew how intended her actions were and how she did not condemn them. How much she wanted him to touch, too.
"I am," Erza firmly said. She rose to kiss him, keeping a secure grasp of his wrist to hold it in place. "I didn't take this chivalrous, objectively handsome, excruciatingly selfless and kind moron for a husband if I hadn't known what would be in store for me. I'm sorry I didn't realise sooner what would be in store for you with me as the millstone around your leg," she apologised, unable not to kiss him again. He returned it, strongly, fervently.
"You're not a burden to me, Erza," Jellal rasped, claiming her lips again before continuing. "Not ever," he managed. She allowed his hand to wander, holding her close with both arms now, one hand travelling up to tuck a strand of scarlet behind her ear. "You're my reason to live, you know that," he murmured against her lips when she would not retreat. Her eyes were closed, her breathing devout where it clashed with his. "You're the reason I finally learn to love, every hour of every day," he cupped the back of her head.
"Jellal…" Erza whispered as if his name alone summarised her denomination – just like his entire faith in the world rested within her. "Do you mistrust me?" She asked out of the blue. Confused, his brows furrowed.
"Of course not,"
"Do you mistrust my judgement?" She went on, gaze steady on his bewildered one.
"No, I trust you with anything. I trust you with my life," he ensured. Fathoming what she was doing a not a heartbeat later.
"Then this is my vow to you," she said, her voice as determined as it was warm – like the beat of an owl's wing where velvety down feathers absorbed any sound frequency, torrid amber eyes fixating their aim. "Jellal Fernandes," she smiled, and he could not help but return it when she fell into the standardised mantra, "hero of my childhood, guardian of my heart," her eyes shone with the same devotion as his had back then in Kardia Cathedral. As they did right now.
She unfolded her lower arm from where it was squished between their torsos, cupping his face. His own hand remained where it was, holding her just as gently above her ear.
"No matter how many excuses you come up with or random animals you take care of," she said, and he exhaled in the beginning of a laugh, "I vow to protect, respect and worship you with everything that I have for as long as we live," her voice faded into a whisper, "and beyond," she pledged. Their lips met in a tender, silken fondness.
Her eyes batted open, catching the sun.
"I love you," she kissed him once more, "more than you might let yourself believe," Erza ran her thumb over his cheek in a mellow caress. "I love your bravery, your wit, and your gentleness. I love your hair, your voice and your smile – the way you scratch your nape when embarrassed as much as the spark in your eyes when you become bold after my endless teasing," her smile edged into a smirk, earning herself another vented laughter against her chin. "I love your cooking, your self-taught handiness and your spells.
"I love your laughter and your kisses and your stories and ideas. There's not a thing I haven't come to appreciate about you, even if it's just the fact that you try – try so hard to get rid of whatever I nag at you about," her expression softened again. "If not for you, then at least love yourself for my sake," she brushed a kiss to his lips. "Because you are the most amazing and lovable person I have ever met," she kissed him again, fully this time, and he could feel the gladness flow out of her when he returned the kiss, his own rapture pouring right back into her.
"I'll try," he promised, earning himself another, heftier kiss. She slackened, dropping herself completely and fully into him. He felt her bulging stomach on his side. So he grabbed the pillow from below his head, sliding his arm around her hips to lift her pelvis just so the cushion would fit, catching her weight from loading onto the fragile life inside her.
Her eyes were soft, melting with his actions.
"I think before self-love comes the absence of self-hatred," he noted, and she hummed in agreement.
"Then self-appreciation," she chimed in, propping her head back down on his chest to watch him lovingly. "But I think you've already cracked the code to that – you do acknowledge all that you've learned about cooking and repairs and opening up to other people," she reminded, not least because he had told her so, even without the mention of self-laudation. He was proud of his skills – only he had to admit to himself that they were his own hard-earned achievement. That he was someone worth being proud of.
"There is some substance to that," he vaguely phrased, mainly to tease her. The amused pout she gave him sounded the bells of his success. "Oh, I just remembered something," he looked around to find his bag not there. Of course, he then remembered, they had put everything into her tidied-out storage dimension. "Could you hand me my bag?" He asked. Promptly, it appeared next to them on the bunk.
Gingerly, Jellal shoved his clothes out of the way, lifting his wash bag to reach in where he had hidden it.
"It's not really an 'anniversary' yet, but I missed the wedding gift opportunity so here's a honeymoon present, I guess?" He smiled dorkily. He handed over the in wrapping paper hidden book – the album he had worked on since his first days at work. It was not much yet, not yet full, but he had tried his best in summing up their most memorable moments and diddy details up until the present. He had left out the recent troubles of himself about the baby, though he had not ceased to write about it; written to her what he might someday work up the courage to show her.
"A gift?" Erza tilted her head, surprised. She adjusted herself again when he stopped moving around, propping the pillow back beneath her to comfortable sink into him.
"Yes," Jellal tightened his lips, then – consciously – relaxed his muscles. And he took her words to heart, biting the bullet. "A gift for both of us."