May 31st, 1994
London

"Ella?" Allie hovered in the doorway to the kitchen. "It's three in the morning. You okay?"

Cruella glanced up at her, hands shaking around her pencil.

"Sometimes I forget you never sleep," She said with a gentle sigh. "Or, at least, not like a normal person."

"I was reading, had to finish the book," Allie replied, stepping over and sitting down on the barstool beside her. "But you usually are asleep by midnight, and you sleep even harder than I do."

"Yes, and, by all accounts, that's a good thing, given that you tend to wake up with your face buried in a pillow and nearly all your blankets strew on the floor," Cruella paused, the lightly teasing tone in her voice falling away. "I'm just working, love. You really should sleep."

"You should too," Allie rested a hand to her back. "I know you're not going to want to talk about it again - the way you talked about it yesterday night made that clear enough - but is….are you having trouble sleeping because of that?"

Cruella said nothing, shifting the pencil between her hands. Briefly, she glanced out the window, the moon was casting its light out through the clouds, and, when she glanced back at her wife, she tried to focus. Pink hair, far more colourful and fully of whimsy and life than her own. Allie's skin was just as pale, though, we might as well be skim milk, as she often joked. She was still wearing her glasses, too, though they were somewhat askew and, seeing as she hadn't seemed to have made much (if any) effort to fix them, she was clearly exhausted. For just a second, panic shot through her, worrying for just a second that something had happened to her daughter, only to remember that she had just seen her a few minutes earlier and that, if something were wrong, Allie would have said something. Lanie just had a nightmare, not an uncommon thing amongst the three of us. She's fine. She's fine. Still, the way Allie was looking at her was one she rarely saw, and it was of horrified, shaken concern. She's afraid of him too….though I don't think she's ever had to think about him….quite this tangibly before.

"Ella?" Allie pressed again.

"Don't make me say it," She quietly replied. "I already said more than enough about him, and….and I need to focus."

Allie said nothing more but wrapped her arm loosely around her waist. Briefly closing her eyes, Cruella did not object and shifted so her wife could rest her head on her shoulder. Just finish these sketches, then you both can go to sleep. She stared at the paper. Don't think too hard about it. Just draw, damn it.

Not thinking too hard, while more than useful in work, gave her far too much to think about during it.

"I'm tired of wearing this damn thing every time I go out,," Cruella had glanced around, raising an eyebrow when she stepped into the salon in the manor. "Who's she?"

"Carolyn couldn't make it, so she sent her daughter to do your routine scalp massage and haircut," John had calmly replied, pointedly elbowing the (rather excitable) young woman with brightly coloured hair. "I showed her how you expect it to be done and ensured she had a physical copy of the specific instructions Carolyn had faxed over so she couldn't get it wrong."

Cruella had sighed. "Have you ever done anyone's hair before?"

"My own," The woman had chirped. Cruella smiled a bit. The woman was just as quintessentially American as her mother, up to and including her faint southern accent, though this young woman's voice was significantly higher pitched. Chirped was more than accurate to describe how she spoke. "Mommy said you don't want any dye, which is what I've….well it was what I taught myself first. But I know how to do what you want perfectly well. Actually, since your hair is completely straightened….right now, that is…."

"She's going to have an easier job of it," John had cut in. "I apologise if she rambles. She smiles a lot, rambles, and doesn't seem to be able to stop humming Queen. But she did a surprisingly clean job on the wig I had her clean up for you as a bit of a practice."

"Alright, alright," Cruella had smiled at the woman while she sat down. "I forgot to ask: what's your name?"

"Allie," The woman had replied, pausing. "Is your…." She started, looking a little dismayed when she noticed her baby bump.

"You needn't worry about that," Cruella had reached up to touch her hand, letting it linger there. "I have no love for the baby's father, just her."

Crash. In less than a second, she dropped her pencil and was quickly pulled from her thoughts to see Allie yelp and hop up onto the marble countertop. Cruella stood up, expecting to see a snake or at least a rat, but instead seeing their little black cat, Miette, haughtily staring up at them from the floor, then jumping up onto the chair Allie had been sitting on. Smugly, the cat sat down and curled into a little ball, purring contentedly and staring at them with a look of pure boredom and superiority. Allie swore under her breath before sliding back down onto the floor and affectionately scratching Miette behind the ears, getting a happy purr and a lick on the hand in return. Her hands still shaking, Cruella sighed and closed her sketch books, slipping them and her pencils into the leather portfolio case, which she tucked under her arm. That cat seems to know when we need to sleep better than we do.

"Alright," She said, reaching for Allie's hand. "Either we're going to sleep, or your cat is going to maul us."

"She wouldn't maul anyone!" Allie exclaimed, leaning over and rubbing her nose against her cat's. "You're just a little sweetie pie, aren't you Miette?"

The little cat purred, closing its eyes and flicking its tail contentedly.

"Well, she's going to nap," Allie yawned. "I suppose we can too."

Cruella eyed her strangely. "I think I'm going to tell Tenya to start harassing you about taking care of yourself again. They're your sibling, and I'm your wife, so one of us has to be able to do it."

"Or Tenya is going to tell on me to mommy again," Allie muttered.

Cruella rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous sometimes."

"Yes, I am," Allie glanced into Lana Marie's room as they passed, seeing the fourteen year old happily asleep with her own cat curled up at her feet. "Ella?" She murmured.

Cruella startled, her hand briefly tightening around her wife's.

"She's going to be okay," Allie softly went on. "Angels are strong, after all."

June 3rd, 1994
London

"Well, seems like for once the weather isn't disgusting," Horace remarked, walking on one side of Lana Marie, Jasper on the other. "And don't go telling your mother we snuck you out. She'd probably skin us alive for it."

"Allie wouldn't let her," Jasper sniffed.

"Maybe," Horace replied. "Depends on how much she's been drinking."

Lana Marie giggled. "I don't think you guys have to worry about mum killing you. She's kept you around for years, I don't think that's going to change. I mean, you guys practically raised her!"

"Wouldn't say that," Jasper sent her a pointed look. "We taught her how to steal things. If that's raising a child, then that is probably not a good sign for the future."

"Point is, sometimes we aren't sure why she keeps us around," Jasper said, scowling at Horace. "Despite the ridiculous things you say to your wife about what we were doing in the '70s."

"Eh," Horace shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Hell, I'm not even sure sometimes why we keep her around. She can be a real scary bitch."

"But you don't have to worry about that," Jasper quickly cut in, resting a reassuring, almost fatherly, hand on her shoulder. "Cruella's only got soft spots for you. I don't think she's ever been able to bring herself to punish you herself for anything. That's always been Allie's job."

Lana Marie awkwardly fidgeted with her hands, glancing around.

"Allie said it's because mum almost lost me," She said quietly. "She didn't say anything else."

Horace and Jasper briefly shared a nervous look. Jasper tightened his hand around the fourteen year old's shoulder, and Horace ran into traffic, standing spread eagle in the middle of the street while cars and buses came to a screeching halt. Jasper, albeit swearing loudly, all but dragged Lana Marie quickly across the street and, the second they were on the other side, Horace ran to catch up with them, being the subject of many, many angered shouts and more than a few middle fingers. Jasper glared at him and motioned for him to keep going and follow, to which Horace replied by flipping him off in turn, purposefully taking much longer than he needed to catch his breath. Jasper continued to curse him out, though less loudly, and paused every so often to give an apologetic (read: uncomfortable) smile at the people who were walking past them on the sidewalk.

"Oi, what kinda fucker thinks they can just block the goddamn street and -"

"Your mum sucks cocks in hell!" Horace shouted back, flipping off the trucker with both hands. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Oh, Lord," Jasper muttered, finally giving up and grabbing his friend by the arm, dragging him off too.

Horace wrenched out of his grasp and straightened himself out, stepping over to be on Lana Marie's other side, the two of them still acting as her de facto bodyguards.

"You have no sense of humour," Horace said, rolling his eyes. "Those people were just being stupid."

"No, stupid is the man who thinks stopping traffic to cross a street is a good idea," Jasper irritably replied.

"Please don't get yourself killed," Lana Marie begged. "I really don't want to have to see that….let alone live with that!"

Horace sighed. "Okay," He said, patting her head. "Sorry."

Lana Marie smiled brightly. "Now," She said. "You started to say something about mum….what was it?"

Jasper sent him a dark look.

"She's fourteen," Horace argued, then sighing and slowing their pace. "Lana," He started, lowering his voice. "You know how important you've always been to your mother, especially since you don't have a father….well, at least….you know what I mean."

Lana Marie blinked. "You mean that mum doesn't know who he is. I know that much, Allie's always said that whenever it's come up. Mum just doesn't like talking about it."

"And that's because of what you mentioned earlier," Horace ignored Jasper pointedly kicking him in the back of the leg, continuing to walk regardless. "She almost lost you and….well…"

"I'll be delicate, you cannot," Jasper said, calmly cutting in. Lana Marie shook a little, anxiety bubbling in her. "Cruella had lost a baby before, a miscarriage, and having you was an….according to her doctors, an anomaly."

Lana Marie bit her lip. "That's why she calls me her little miracle angel…" She said quietly, finally making the connexion.

Horace and Jasper shared another few uncomfortable glances but then both nodded.

"It's a good thing, and you've always known she loves you," Jasper said. "Now," He started, cheering up his tone and grinning at the fourteen year old. "Since it's only up ten floors in that skyscraper down the street, I say we go and bother Cruella ourselves, considering that I don't think she'll have it in her to throw office supplies at us if you're with us."

Lana Marie smirked. "I don't think that's ever stopped her before."

"She's right, it hasn't," Horace grimaced at the memory, but he suddenly put out his arm to stop them, seeing a dark tinted limousine pull up in front of the building. "She coming in late?"

"Plenty of other businesses have their international or national headquarters in that building," Jasper pedantically reminded him. "I'm sure -" He cut himself off, a chill running down his spine when he saw the dark haired man stepping out of the car. "That's not good."

"Who's -" Lana Marie tried to push between them, but both Horace and Jasper stepped in front of her to obstruct her view, both of them keeping one hand on her shoulder.

"He's making good on what he'd told her the other day," Horace muttered, his voice muffled to the fourteen year old who could barely hear anything over the crowd. "Cruella's going to kill him."

Jasper glanced to him, chewing at his cheek. "Or us," He said grimly. "God….this is really, really, really fucking bad."