Hi. We're halfway through this story and I hope you're enjoying it so far. It's been a while since I wrote this chapter, and checked through it for errors, but I hope it meets your expectations.
Don't forget to review and comment what you think will happen next.
A soft humming echoes throughout the room; the lullaby is left unsung, words lost to time, but the melody remains. It's a message, passed down from mother to daughter, her own daughter to son, and now brother to sister.
As he holds the girl in his arms, he hopes he can convey this last message from his mother to his sister.
His sister never got the chance to know her, never had the chance to be held in her arms as she rocked her to sleep, or read books on ancient Rome to by the candlelight. She never knew of how their mother always smelled like lilies and jasmines, how her favourite colour was pastel pink, or that she made the best hot cocoa on rainy days.
She never got to know their mom, to feel her love, and he can only hope that this lullaby is enough.
As the song comes to an end, he presses a soft kiss to her temple where a scar is beginning to fade. He traces the scar with his finger, careful not to put too much pressure for fear of further injuring his baby sister.
He places yet another kiss to her tiny hand. To him, no amount of kisses could make up for the seven years he's lost, no amount of hugs or love could rewind the clock just so he'd be able to spend a little more time with the baby, but he would do his best to show her how much he loves her now that she's here.
With each kiss, he hopes it's the magical true love's kiss needed to wake the princess. No one ever said that the kiss had to be romantic, and the love of a family is as true, if not more so, than that of a lover.
He strokes her hair once more, watching as the girl opposite him absent-mindedly braids a lock of their sister's hair.
She weaves the strands, focusing on creating the perfect braid. Little Taev always loved it when her sister did her hair, wanting the girl to do all sorts of intricate hairstyles but beaming all the same even when the hairdo fell short of a ponytail. Maybe, she thinks, the little girl will wake up once she finally gets it right.
So she practices.
Clarke had taught her how to twist the hair, creating the pattern needed for the braid. Occasionally, she'd ask for help, be it untangling the long strands or taking over because her arms had gotten tired.
This time, she asks for a band. Pulling the hair through and tightening the elastic, the braid stays in place. She grins sadly at the room's occupants, receiving small smiles in return.
Clarke can only pat the younger girl on the back in encouragement. She knows how hard she's worked on it and how patient she's been while waiting for her little sister to wake up. She can't imagine what she'd do if it had been her own little sister, or if she were as young as Hope.
She takes a second to squeeze the sleeping girl's hand, sending a small prayer for her to wake up soon.
It's been a month, two weeks and three days since the accident.
And she feels something squeeze her back.
She gasps, turning to the smaller hand in her own, watching it, willing it to happen again.
Her shock catches the attention of Bellamy and Hope, each looking to the girl before following her line of sight to the intertwined hands. They watch as it twitches, quickly clasping the older girl's hand before going lax.
They turn to each other, no one speaking as uncertainty, anticipation and hope fill the air.
It is only when the heart monitor quickens it's pace, that they are spurred into action. They watch the girl, keen eyes looking on in awe as blue eyes flutter open. Her hands move to rub them, only stopping short at the unfamiliar feeling of the cast and the tugging on her arm from the IV. Her eyes begin to water as she pulls on it, struggling with it in her panic.
Bellamy's the first to react, taking her hand in his, and speaking to her in hushed tones. The girl visibly relaxes, but her eyes dart back and forth between the trio.
It is at this moment that Hope takes over.
"Hey Taev, everything's going to be ok." She assures her sister, a gentle hand running up and down the length of her free arm.
"Taev?" The little girl looks at them confused. "Is that my name?"
She shakes her head for a bit, clearing her thoughts, before continuing. "And who are you?"
Hope wearily approaches her, the younger's fear and confusion quickly spreading to her.
"Octavia. Octavia Diyoza. Your name is Octavia." She's not quite sure what else to say. What do you say to your little sister who doesn't remember her own name, what more you?
"Octavia..." She mumbles. "Who are you? Who are they? Why am I here? Why can't I remember anything?" She begins to panic, her breaths quickening as the monitor starts screaming.
Hope and Bellamy barely hear Clarke's whispers telling them that she's going to get the adults, before going to comfort the distraught girl.
Bellamy moves to sit behind her, carefully lifting up her small frame so she's settled in his lap. He softly hums the lullaby into her ear, letting the melody soothe her.
Hope, meanwhile, holds Octavia's hands in her own, running her fingers against the back of the girl's palms, trying to comfort her as best she could. "Octavia, it's ok. Ok. Shh shh shh."
"I'm-" She pauses for a moment, trying to figure out what to say, as she twiddles with their intertwined hands. "I'm Hope, your sister."
Slowly, she turns to the teenager behind her. "Who are you?"
"And I'm Bellamy." Bellamy chokes out with tears in his eyes, finally getting to say the next words after seven long years. "Your brother."
"Bellamy." She recites. "Hope." She looks at the girl in front of her.
"Yeah. Good girl." Bellamy softly nods in affirmation, gently stroking her hair, calming the younger girl down.
"So what-"
The door slams open, a group of adults rushing in with a teenaged girl at their heels. Immediately a woman steps forward, cautiously moving towards the girl.
"My little Pocahontas." She grins. "Thank the Primes." She envelops the girl in a hug, only to be pushed away.
"Hope said my name was Octavia." She tells the woman, confusion flooding her as she tries to place the new people. "And who are you?"
She feels everything stop for a second, memories racing through her own head as she thought of what to say. There was no manual on what to do in these situations. She had brushed Clarke off when she told them Octavia didn't know who Hope was, thinking that it was just her young daughter trying to regain her bearings.
But she truly didn't remember.
As she watches the girl leaning against her biological brother while holding the hands of her sister by anything but blood, she can't help but wonder, how do you explain to your daughter that you're her mother, but at the same time not her mother?
Luckily, Kane takes the lead. "I'm Kane, Bellamy's dad."
"I'm Diyoza, Hope's mom." She follows suit, unsure of what else to say.
The girl on the bed just nods, processing the information as best as she possibly could. "If you're Hope's mom," she begins, looking at the woman. "And Hope's my sister," she turns to the older girl beside her. "That means you're my mom too."
"And if you're Bellamy's dad, and Bellamy's my brother, then you're my dad too." Her grin is wide as she claps her hands with pride, proud of her accomplishment.
"And we're one big happy family." She cheers, delighted.
Diyoza wants to correct her, her throat humming with the unspoken words, but a hand holds her back. The doctor shakes her head, telling her that what she's about to do may not necessarily be a good idea, and she surrenders.
It's one month, two weeks, three days and four hours post accident, and Diyoza knows that trouble is looming on the horizon.
And this has been an AngelFanfics productions.