here's to second chances, a pandora hearts fanfic

Title: here's to second chances

A/N: For the Chained: Pandora Hearts zine! I got to write about my favourite family, Lacie, Oswald, and the two Alices. I did a slightly canon divergent piece—just pretend that Lacie and Oswald can get reincarnated and that everyone got reincarnated together.

Summary: Lacie announced her pregnancy like she declared they'd run out of milk, like she asked him what dress looked better, like it was an ordinary thing. Oswald wasn't sure if he was ready to be 'uncle', but for Lacie he'd try.

…

"I'm pregnant," Lacie announced casually one Sunday afternoon. Seated in front of the grand piano in his music store, she ran her fingers along the keys and added, "And we're out of milk."

From behind the counter, Oswald looked up from the form he was filling. Lacie didn't say anything else, her fingers striking random keys in the faint semblance of a song. The afternoon sunlight bathed everything in a golden glow. Aside from her first statement, this was a typical Sunday afternoon, down to her humming. Not sure how to reply, Oswald tentatively tried, "We can buy groceries after."

"Hmmm, I should make a list." Lacie leaned back on the piano seat. Her frilly dress flowed around her like a flower's petals. "Bread. Eggs. Lettuce."

As she rattled off needed items, Oswald scrawled them quickly on a pad of paper. She still didn't say anything about her first statement. Was it a joke? He couldn't tell sometimes with her, when she was serious and when she was just teasing him. It would probably be that way for the rest of his life.

"Oswald." He looked up to find her standing in front of him now. Lacie leaned forward, elbows on the counter and resting her chin on her interlaced hands. Smiling, she stated, "You're an uncle."

Somehow, he had expected more fanfare for such important news. Something dramatic, maybe, or at least an announcement that didn't sound like she was talking about the weather. Immediately, he asked, "This isn't a joke?"

"Not this time, brother dearest." Her wine-red eyes took him in, her smile as sardonic as ever. "What do you think?"

"Pregnant…" Oswald glanced at his sister's flat belly. "You're sure?"

"There's other ways to tell than that." She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'll get fat soon enough, don't worry."

"How?" As far as he knew, his sister had never taken on a dedicated lover. There had been people who'd sought her, of course; Lacie was beautiful. It was impossible for anyone to resist her. There was that blonde actor who liked to follow her around like a lost puppy, or her mysterious stage director who had a different woman on his arm every time they crossed paths. And beyond Lacie's job at the theatre, there was the market, the post office, the tailors. The city was full of people. "Who?"

"Well, I don't really want to explain to you how a baby's made." Lacie laughed, shoulders shaking. "As for who…well, that doesn't matter."

He frowned. "It doesn't?"

"No, he will have nothing to do with them." Lacie straightened, standing tall now. A hand rested on her belly. "My kids are mine. And I suppose they'll have you to look after them, right?"

Despite her light tone, he could hear the unasked question behind it. The fear that kept her spine rigid. Oswald was dense when it came to most social matters, but there were things even he understood. Last time, she had gone through this alone.

Last time?

"Oswald?" Lacie repeated.

Leaving the counter and his thoughts, he walked over to her and nodded. "Of course."

"Great." Lacie hooked an arm through his and steered him toward the door. "Babysitter's are expensive."

ii.

"Isn't she cute?" Despite how exhausted his sister looked, lying on the hospital bed, her tone was as light as ever. Her cheerfulness had never been the infectious type; that was the bubbly blonde from the theatre. Instead, Lacie had always been darkly jovial, like pink on black or a flower crown on a skull. She pushed her sweaty locks away from her face, her other arm cradling her baby.

"She looks like you," he commented idly, looking at her other baby in his arms. Oswald hadn't expected twins. The eldest one was the spitting image of his sister, even with her eyes closed and random tufts of brown hair. Glancing at the one in her arms, he frowned as he took in her white hair. There was only one person he knew with that hair colour. "Is their—"

"Everyone will know Alyss is the older one," Lacie interrupted, cooing softly as she poked her sleeping baby's cheek.

His frown grew deeper and he tried again. "Is their—"

"I bet Alice will cause her a lot of trouble." Lacie smiled at him pleasantly, but he knew the sharp expression in her eyes. This line of questioning would get him nowhere. "Now, brother dearest, will you kindly stop asking?"

It bothered him. Even now, eight months after she'd told him, he was no closer to figuring out what had happened. Maybe Lacie had just woken up one day and decided she'd have kids, married or not. It would be difficult, in their society, for a single mother, but Lacie had never balked at anything merely because it was hard to do. Actually, she never stopped for anything and Oswald wished that sometimes she would just take a step back and think before she acted.

Still frowning, he glanced from one baby to the other. "You named them both Alice?"

"No, no. Alice and Alyss," she corrected gently. "The spelling is different."

"It sounds the same." He reached down to push a stray hair out of Alice's face. Half-asleep, her tiny hand grabbed him, her fingers too small to even encircle his finger.

How tiny. How soft. He wanted to show her a world she'd never seen, the places a princess locked in a tower could only dream of.

"Alice," he muttered. He couldn't help but smile.

iii.

"Oz," a three-year-old Alice blurted out, her chubby hands on his knee.

Sitting in the living room, Oswald set aside his newspaper and frowned. Lacie hadn't been pleased when Alice's first word had been 'Oz', though Alyss slightly mollified her by saying 'Ma'. Even now, a year after the fact, she still sometimes glared at him and called him a baby thief. It hadn't helped that the girls started walking when he had been watching them.

Now, though, that they were three and rapidly increasing their vocabulary, it was time he corrected this mistake. He was not going to live with this nickname forever. "Oswald."

Alice beamed happily. "Oz," she chortled, bouncing on her feet. Her hands were still on his knee, the only reason she hadn't fallen over. "Oz!"

Oswald furrowed his brow. This happened every time. Slowly, he stressed, "Osswaalld."

Cocking her head, Alice blinked. "Ooo…Osssswwaa…Oz!"

"Ossswaalldddd," he tried again; she had been close.

"Oz! Oz!" Alice giggled.

iv.

Sitting on a stool in the kitchen, Oswald glanced at the clock. It was ten am. "I have work," he announced, slowly standing up.

Lacie clicked her tongue and pushed him back down. "Not for another hour, and you have plenty of time to get ready." Her grip was firm, as though challenging him to get up again.

He glanced up at her. "Why are we doing this?"

"It's fun," she stated matter-of-factly. He could almost believe it was the truth. "And it'll be funny."

That second one was probably it. He stared at her flatly. "You want to do this."

"Maybe, brother dearest." She wrapped an arm around him, taking on her sweetest tone. "But the girls are expecting it and you wouldn't break their heart, would you?"

Before he could reply, two eight-year-old girls dashed into the kitchen, their arms overloaded with lipstick, nail polish, and other make-up goodies. Still in their pajamas, they came to a stop in front of them.

Looking entirely too proud of her bounty, Alice almost dropped her load in her effort to show off. "I got everything!"

"You like this, uncle?" Alyss glanced at Oswald shyly. Ever her mother's daughter, she hadn't taken to him like Alice had. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

He wasn't sure where that thought came from. Lacie stepped on his foot and he stared down at it. "That hurts."

"Why can't you ever take a hint?" Lacie bemoaned, rubbing her forehead. "You like this."

It wasn't a question. Oswald nodded; it was too late now anyways. "Yes, it's fine."

Alyss smiled softly and slowly lowered herself to her knees before dumping everything on the ground. "I'll make your nails pretty," she informed him, determinedly studying the nail polish they'd grabbed.

"I'll fix your hair!" Adding her stuff to the pile, Alice picked up a comb and several rubber bands. He would probably have a million ponytails at the end of this. Oswald hoped it wouldn't be as hard to remove as last time.

"And then we'll do his face," Lacie chimed in, picking lipstick.

"You're doing this too?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be and wishing otherwise.

Lacie's smile could only be described as pure evil. "Don't worry, you'll be a hit with the ladies after this."

(He was not a hit with the ladies.)

Oswald glanced up at the sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight and with the sun gently beating down on them, it promised to be a warm day. Finally, winter was over, and he could go on walks again to the nearby park. Though he didn't mind going out in the cold, it took far too long to put on every single one of Alice's layers and she always insisted on joining him. Children, he found, needed jackets, sweatshirts, hats, gloves, scarves, snow pants, and two layers of socks.

Children also couldn't put all of those on themselves.

Still, it was spring now, and he didn't have to think about that anymore. Standing by the front gate to their small bungalow, he closed his eyes. Somehow, despite the season change, the waiting was the same.

"Hello."

At the unfamiliar voice, he opened his eyes. In front of him stood two young men, probably in their mid-twenties. As tall as him, they were dressed in suits and appeared to be businessmen. The blonde one had a pair of mismatched eyes, a green and a red that looked just like Lacie's. The other one was raven-haired, his expression tight as though he was suppressing something.

Oswald cocked his head. He couldn't put a finger on it, but he knew these two. "You…"

"Yes?" the blonde one replied eagerly. He had been the one to initiate the conversation too. "We?"

"Stop." The other one—his brother, Oswald's brain supplied helpfully, though he couldn't say how he knew—rested his hand on the blonde's arm. Shaking his head, he tried to pull back. "We shouldn't be here."

"It's too late. We're already talking," the blonde pointed out, his eyes never leaving Oswald's for a second.

"I know you," Oswald stated. He could feel the truth of it in his bones, a fact just like he knew Alyss was secretly feeding a stray cat or that Alice couldn't sleep without her stuffed rabbit.

The brunette stepped back. "No, you…we shouldn't…"

Oswald waited. He was good at that, so he waited and watched and felt the soft tap of a memory in the corners of his mind. It was the same feeling he got sometimes when he looked at the girls and Lacie, the sensation that he was making up for past mistakes. "You look happier," he said. That was a truth, though he didn't know why.

The brunette's expression almost crumpled at that. "Yes."

Reaching out, the blonde grabbed Oswald's hand. "And you? Are you happy?"

The hand holding his was shaking. There was an importance, a weight to this question that he couldn't understand. Glancing from one man to the other, Oswald nodded. "Yes."

The relief on their faces was heartbreaking. Oswald didn't know them, but he remembered another hand reaching for his. Two tiny ones from two tiny, eager boys. It was on the tip of his tongue, the words, the names. "Gilb—"

"Uncle Oz!" Alice yelled as she bounced out of the door. "I'm ready."

Oswald glanced at his niece, running down the path toward him. When he turned back, the two men were gone, leaving not even their shadows behind. He stared at the empty space in front of him, still feeling the weight of the blonde's hand, the ache of the other's expression. His heart hurt.

"Uncle Oz?" Alice asked, looking around him. Confused, she stared up at him, eyes wide. He could see a glimmer of the future in them. "What're you doing?"

The space in front of him remained empty. Those men, he intuitively knew, wouldn't be back. Shaking his head, he held out his hand. "Let's go."