copy-pasting this note from AO3:
I hadn't originally intended to write this chapter lol, which I think is why it feels somewhat rambly/aimless, but I ended up wanting to explore Thalassa's feelings about missing a huge chunk of time where a lot of monumental things happened, including the death of her husband (and father) and her children growing into adults. In AJ she says she's happy, but I just kinda wanted to explore how complicated that happiness must feel when it's tempered with grief.
Also Valant is there
Valant taps his fingers on his cane nervously, trying and failing to not pace back and forth. He's nervous, more nervous than he's ever been in his life.
Several days ago he'd gotten a text from Thalassa, who he has not seen since her performance as Lamiroir at the Sunshine Coliseum. It had nearly given him a heart attack. In it, she briefly explained that she got his phone number from the business card he'd given her, and had managed to undergo surgery to repair her eyes, and that she now remembered everything about her past, and that she wanted to meet him. He, of course, without any hesitation at all, replied in the affirmative, and that was that. Now he finds himself waiting for her in a park, his heart racing at completely unsustainable speeds.
This could all, of course, be a trap of some kind, though to what end he can't begin to fathom. Even still, he has to know for sure; to let a potential meeting with Thalassa pass him by, after so many decades, without acting on it, would haunt him forever.
He adjusts the cuff of his overcoat. It's not often that he dresses down - he's been a performer so long that he feels more at home in-costume than out of it - but Thalassa had expressed interest in going to see Trucy's magic show at the Wonder Bar, and him showing up in full Troupe Gramarye garb would almost certainly create problems; either it would be assumed he is supposed to be on stage with her, or he would pull attention away from her. He loves attention, of course, but he is at least somewhat cognizant of the fact that there is a time and a place, and that time and place does not include during a show Trucy's long-lost mother is attending.
Besides, he is still an impeccably dressed man in his forties with waste-length hair and a cane. He couldn't blend into the crowd if he wanted.
He reaches the end of his arbitrarily-placed walking line and turns to pace back the way he came, but he catches sight of Thalassa at the other end of the park and all his muscles lock up. It's startling to see her out of her Lamiroir costume, her hair uncovered, her face naked, all of that carefully-cultivated mystery surrounding the Siren of the Ballad swept away and leaving her looking almost ordinary in comparison. She is still, after all these years, strikingly beautiful.
She slows to a stop about six feet away from him, staring at him with those crystal blue eyes, still a little milky and strange but just as intense as he remembers. She looks him up and down, and he resists the urge to fidget, to smooth down his shirt or straighten his coat, instead tightening his fist around his cane until his knuckles hurt. His heart aches - every bit of him aches in mixed pain and desire and terror and adoration; he wants to crush her in his arms, he wants to fall to his knees in front of her, he wants to bury himself inside of her, he wants to beg her forgiveness for being such a ridiculous, stupid fool. He wants to weep, or laugh, or maybe some messy mix of them both.
Finally her eyes find his. Valant realizes he hasn't been breathing, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. Thalassa blinks, once, then twice, and then many times, taking two large strides to close the distance between them.
"Valant," she says, and now that she's so close he can see the tears in her eyes. "It's so good to see you." She laughs, maybe at the deeper meaning in her words, those tears spilling down her cheeks, and Valant can't stop himself from pulling her into his arms, squeezing her like she'll dissolve into noncorporeality if he doesn't. Her arms slide around his ribs and lock together, her face buried in his chest, and he's fairly sure he could die right now and be perfectly okay with that.
"Thalassa," he says into her hair, inhaling her scent; she smells lovely, like spice and spring rain, and he wants to fill as many of his senses as possible with her: the warmth of her body pressed against his, the squeeze of her arms, the pressure of her face against his chest, the softness of her hair; the sound of her watery, uneven breathing; the scent of her, so different from what he remembers yet perfectly suited to her; the sight of her beautiful face which has haunted his dreams for so long.
She pushes away from him, her hands on his arms. "Let me get a look at you up close." Her eyes are rimmed pink, which just makes the blue of them even more distinct. In his dreams and nightmares she has looked as she did ten years ago, but now, here, he can see how age has affected her, given her new wrinkles around her eyes and deepened her laugh lines. "You grew a mustache," she says, reaching up as if to touch it and then thinking better of it. She looks amused. "It suits you."
Valant can't think of anything to say, his mind still just trying to fill itself with her. Part of him wonders how she can even think straight when he is still struggling not to kiss her like an impulsive teenager.
"And your hair…" She does touch that, stroking some that has fallen over his shoulder. "You've kept it long. That suits you, too." Her amused grin turns a little sad. "Even the gray." Another tear rolls down her cheek.
He has to step away from her, too overcome, too dangerously close to doing something incredibly foolish. It's one of the hardest things he's ever done. Thalassa wipes her cheek, laughing a bit self-consciously.
"You look well, Thalassa," he says, a mere fraction of what he feels.
"I feel well," she says. "I feel… overwhelmed." She presses her hand over her heart, and he wonders if it's racing as quickly as his. "So much has happened. I still feel as though I can't fathom it all."
"Time will help with that," he says. I will too, if you will let me.
"Zak…" Her expression turns to one of true pain now, like she could easily fall down the depressive spiral of grief if she let herself - but she pulls back from the edge, somehow, only a few tears spilling down her cheeks. Valant clenches his fist to keep from wiping them away. "Mr Wright told me everything. He gave me case files. I still don't want to believe it."
"I know," he says. He can't imagine what she must feel, having woken up to her past and her present not fitting together, to find her husband and father dead after so many years not even remembering them. It's been hard enough to navigate his own feelings about them, about their lives and (apparent) deaths, about his relationship with them, and he's had ten years to grapple with his feelings. "I still can't believe it myself, sometimes."
She swallows, looks like she wants to say something, and he waits for to speak, but she just shakes her head. He wonders, idly, if she has trouble voicing her thoughts in English after ten years of speaking mostly Borginian.
"But," he says, trying to move away from pain, to lighten her spirits, "you have Trucy, still."
She does grin at that, though the pain in her eyes remains. "And Apollo, too."
"They are both extraordinary, Thalassa," he says. "They'll be delighted to meet you, I'm sure."
She doesn't look as excited at that idea as he'd hoped or expected; her eyes cloud over and she looks off to the side, as if searching for an escape route. The idea makes him want to grab her arm. To be away from her now that she has returned after so long is a thought that causes him physical pain.
Instead, he tilts down into her field of view. "You have reason to believe they wouldn't be delighted?" he asks.
She sighs and starts walking, wrapping her arms around herself, fiddling with her hair like she always used to. She's taken to wearing the bracelet that matches Apollo's, again, or perhaps she always has and her Lamiroir costume obscured it. He matches her pace, walking beside her. "I've been gone for so long, Valant," she says. "I would not fault them at all if they resent me. And I've no wish to turn their lives upside down."
"Resent you-" he splutters. "Thalassa, you had no control over your absence, and your children are as levelheaded and intelligent as anyone could hope." He laughs despite himself. "You know this yourself, from personal experience. They would understand."
"I-I know," she says, squeezing herself again. "But the fear is there, anyway. What if they have built me up into something I'm not?"
"You are Thalassa Gramarye, and when you are not a Gramarye, you are Lamiroir, the Siren of the Ballad." He has to work to keep the incredulity out of his voice. "I would wager whatever they have built you up to doesn't hold a candle to the reality. You would shatter every one of their expectations."
She grins, uncertain but genuine. "You flatter me, Valant."
"Hardly," he says.
She shakes her head, the tips of her ears turning pink, and Valant's heart skips a beat. "But for all my achievements, I've still been absent in their lives. I doubt my achievements would impress them much, if all they really wanted was a mother."
There is a moment of silence, and the sound of Thalassa's shuddering breathing takes Valant by surprise. He turns to find her crying again, wiping her cheeks. "I've missed so much," she says. "I missed their entire childhoods, Valant, I missed everything."
Again, he can't help himself, pulling her close and rubbing his hands up and down her back. She actually sobs into his chest this time, and it's not a sound Valant can recall ever hearing from her before; she's always been strong and stoic and guarded, much like her father. To see her express any extreme emotion has always been a rarity - even after she returned to the troupe, still grieving her first husband's death, she'd never worn her emotions on her sleeve.
Everyone has their limit, though, he supposes, and in his opinion Thalassa has more than enough excuses by now to cry and grieve and wallow however much she wants. She's more than earned a breakdown.
There are many things Valant wishes he could say to her, to somehow convince her that things will be alright, and that she has so much to look forward to, still. But now is not the time. He knows this, even if his instinct is to try and soften the blow of her pain with silver linings. At the moment, however, she just needs time and space to grieve, and he will do all he can to be there to support her.
They stand like that for a while, until Thalassa has quieted and stilled, and then she sighs, pressing her face into his chest. "I'm so glad you're here," she says.
He squeezes her. "Likewise, Thalassa," he says. "I've been… woefully lonely without you and Zak. I've missed you more than I have words to express."
She pushes away and swallows, trying to regain her composure as she wipes at her cheeks. "Can I ask you something?" she says.
"Anything at all."
"Do you resent me for being absent so long?" she asks, her voice pitching down in something like fear, her eyes locking onto his, and he suddenly feels like a trapped insect under her gaze. He knows she has the uncanny ability to catch even the tiniest of nervous tics, just like Magnifi did, and just like her children do, and he realizes she is expecting him to lie.
"Of course not," he says firmly. "How could I? It's Zak and my fault this all happened in the first place, Thalassa, I would be shocked if you didn't resent me." The possibility that she would -that she does, now- has haunted him ever since the accident. He has battled with guilt ever since it happened, and will probably battle it forever.
"It was an accident," she says, and she sounds insistent but it doesn't comfort him as much as he wishes it did. "It wasn't anyone's fault."
"That doesn't stop it from feeling as such, unfortunately," he says. "Zak felt much the same. Who else were we to blame but ourselves?"
She swallows again, breaking eye contact with him and staring into middle-space, evidently deep in thought. Several moments of silence pass, and then she shakes her head, closing her eyes. When she opens them again she doesn't meet his gaze. "I know it's shameful, but some part of me wants to run away from it all," she says, so quiet it's almost a whisper. Valant has to resist grabbing her out of reflexive fear that she'll do just that - just the suggestion is enough to make his heart speed up. "It feels overwhelming."
"I would implore you to have patience, there, as difficult as it seems," he says, keeping his voice carefully even. "It will all get easier to bear with time. And…" He pauses, takes a half-step closer to her, and grabs her hand, giving it an emphatic squeeze. "I am here for you, Thalassa, whenever you need; of that, you should never doubt. I may not be Zak, but you will always have someone to lean on, and to confide in, in me." Perhaps against his better judgement, but because the threads of his self-composure always seem to rapidly unravel whenever Thalassa is around, he lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles. He has to show her, somehow, how deep his affection for her runs, to banish her thoughts of fleeing; if her fear of her unknown future is the cause, all he can do is reassure her that she will not be alone in facing it.
She looks up at him, her eyes softening. Her trembling fingers tighten around his hand. "Thank you, Valant."
Her phone chimes in her pocket, and she jumps slightly. She pulls away from him to grab it, and he mourns the loss of her warmth.
"It's my alarm," she says, looking at the screen. "Trucy's show starts in ten minutes."
"We're not far," he says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the Wonder Bar.
She puts her phone away, then slides her arm around his as they fall into step together. It feels natural, correct, like puzzle pieces slotting together, and he can't stop the gentle grin that pulls at his mouth, nor the fond heat that spreads through his body.
They arrive at the Wonder Bar with just a few minutes to spare; given their lateness, most of the good seats are filled up already, but they had already planned on sitting near the back anyway, out of sight of Trucy when she's under the stage lights.
Thalassa is enraptured by Trucy's show, and more than once Valant catches her with tears on her cheeks. Despite still feeling like he might come apart at the proverbial seams, such is the intensity of his jumbled feelings for Thalassa and her re-entry into his life, the most insistent feeling is one of melancholy relief. Every time he thinks he might have imagined her return, he only has to turn his head and look at her, and several times she looks back at him, meeting his eyes with hers, that unreadable stoicism of hers slipping into reluctant hope, and he shares those feelings.
She is strong. He knows that she can face her past and her future, as monumental as they are. And he will always be around to give her his own strength if she finds herself in need. As long as she will have him, however she will have him, Valant will be there for her.