Earth's Children
Summary: The parents of Harper tell their tale of life and love in Post-Commonwealth Earth.
Author: Luna Sealeaf
Rating: PG-13 (Just to be safe)
Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any Andromeda characters, so don't sue me, etc. Nor do I own the lyrics of the songs both parents sing. I'm not making any profit, and since my total life savings accumulates to a whopping 7 bucks, there's really no point in suing me.
Archive: It didn't occur to me before, but if anyone wants to they can. I dunno where this fic would fit in though...
"'Pain is just weakness leaving the body',"
"What kind of an idiot said that?"
"I don't know, but I'm guessing it wasn't a doctor."
-From the stand-up of Veryl Guthrup CY 1735
Episode Thirteen
How come we never realize how much we need something until it's gone?
Twice I had come very close to losing Josephine: first when she was having Seamus, and now the miscarriage following the Magog attack. I hadn't realized how precious she was to me until I descended those stairs that night and saw her, covered in blood, with a knife at her own throat. I was sad that she'd lost the child, but I also knew she meant more to me than anything in this world.
With a few possible exceptions, such as Seamus, Brendan, Caitlin, Devin, and my own twin sister, Orla.
It was nice to know that I still needed two hands to count my blessings on.
Those first few weeks after Siobhan and Declan's death were the hardest we've ever known. No matter how many times Orla, Devin, and I assured Josephine that there was nothing to forgive, she still blamed herself. I knew it was killing her, but what could I do? Brendan and Seamus didn't know what to make of it. They had heard the screams, as we all had that night, but when they tried to come downstairs we told them to stay put.
When first Seamus, and then Brendan, demanded to know what had happened to their older cousins, we simply told them that they had died from Magog wounds. It was all so hard. For a few days, I couldn't even look at Josephine without seeing the twins, throats cut, blood everywhere. Don't get me wrong; none of us blamed her. Our minds told us that we would have done the same; indeed, we should have been grateful that Josephine had spared Orla and me the hardship of killing Liam's children.
But still, it was hard, for all of us.
If we were still in Dunwich, I'd take her and Seamus away for awhile. Maybe go set up a small camp somewhere, far enough away that she could be at peace for a short time.
But this wasn't Dunwich; this was Boston, a city where the people and the buildings crowded in around us. The closest we could come to escaping the concrete cage was to go to the ocean. And we did go there, whenever I could convince Josephine to leave the house.
I was able to spend so much time with her because one good thing had come of the Magog attack; the mines had been destroyed; so Devin and I were free, at least for now.
Despite my presence, and her brother's, I don't think Josephine could have made it without our son. Seamus, all of five at the time, was the only one who could get her to smile.
Somehow, two years went by. Two slow, painful, and virtually silent years. Seven hundred and thirty days of famine (the Magog had destroyed nearby food plants) and at least a dozen sicknesses that swept through the city every summer. In spite of everything; life continued.
The children grew, we survived to gain gray hairs, and there were even happy moments: Seamus and Brendan, taking turns dancing with Caitlin on Saturday nights, even though she showed no sign of being able to hear the music. The sight of Josephine's face in the morning light. The smile Orla would give me when I teased her or Devin. The jokes and pranks Devin and I pulled on each other in an effort to lighten our moods.
Fatherhood had also proved to be a balm on my soul. Just when things were at their worst, I'd think of Seamus, my little boy, and I'd discover a reserve of determination and courage. Although the death of his cousins had subdued him for quite some time, he was still a cheery little boy. And so smart! At seven, he was always pestering everybody with questions, wanting to know how everything worked. Of course, there was only so much we could tell him, not knowing the answer to most of his questions. Some evenings, I'd take him for walks outside, just the two of us, so he could explore.
One evening we were out later than I had anticipated, and the light was sinking fast. It was never a good idea to be outside at night, not if you couldn't defend yourself. I had several weapons hidden on me, but I didn't like the idea of having Seamus with me. My fears were justified when, only a few blocks away from home, two dark figures appeared from the streets. And I highly doubted that this time we'd be saved by Carla.
"Evening." I said loudly, gripping Seamus' hand.
"Hand the boy over and we'll let you live." The voice was hard and cold. The two forms were circling us, and I sneered. Collaborators. If they wanted Seamus, then they had to be slavers as well; handing slaves, especially young, trainable ones, to the Nietzscheans was a sure way to get special favors.
"I don't think so." I let go of Seamus' hand and drew out two short knives; paid for with three bottles of beer and a basket of food. Neither man looked very tough; obviously threats were what usually got them what they wanted. Before either one could move, I lunged. Even as the first man was falling to the ground in a pool of his own blood, the other grabbed Seamus and turned to run. Cursing, I ran after him. I would have thrown my knife, but I didn't trust my aim in the dark.
Still, he wasn't as reckless as I, and didn't move very fast on the uneven ground at night. I was on top of him in mere moments, and...well, let's just say that he'd never threaten another child again.
"Dad?" I helped Seamus to his feet; he was staring at me with fear, eyes wide. Catching my breath, I summoned a grin and swung him up to one shoulder.
"Yeah son?"
"You –you killed them." It wasn't a question, and I wasn't sure how to interpret his tone. Who can tell what seven year olds are thinking?
"Yes, I did, but it doesn't matter. We're still alive, that's all that counts."
"Ok." Two simple letters and I knew he'd accepted my words without question. By the time we returned home he was laughing as I teased him; the matter forgotten.
It was lucky that the children often amused themselves, Seamus the undeclared leader, or else they would surely have driven all of us crazy. As it was, while we four adults would sit around and talk, or practice a little bit of fighting, the three of them would be running around, upstairs and then downstairs, inside, then outside, laughing and doing who knows what else.
"What is it?" I asked Orla once when I saw her watching them, tears in her eyes. It was just the two of us, Devin and Josephine having gone out for food. She turned and gave me a small smile. It shocked me to see how much older she looked; gone was my young, delicate sister. In her place was a mother; strong and a little rougher around the edges.
"I'm just so glad that, despite whatever's wrong with her, Caitlin can still look so happy." Her words broke off and I smiled as well, rubbing her shoulder gently. Following her gaze, I watched Seamus and Caitlin chase Brendan in some form of tag; Caitlin's brown eyes were wide and a smile shown across her face.
"I only wish I could talk to her..." She whispered, the smile gone, but the tears remaining. I felt my own smile slip away, and gave a soft sigh. I could only imagine how hard it was for her; if she called out her daughter's name, Caitlin would not even turn to look at us. It was hard for me too; she was my only niece, now, and I would have loved to tell her stories about her grandparents, Uncle Liam, Aunt Lughna...
"She knows that you love her, and she loves you. That's something at least." I finally said. Orla simply nodded, then moved to go upstairs. I watched her go before shaking my head sadly for a moment. Then, putting a grin on my face, I went to go join the children.
"Hey guys can I play?" I asked Brendan and Seamus. Brendan looked at Seamus, who shrugged, then turned to Caitlin.
"Caitlin, can Dad play with us?" I was about to explain that Caitlin couldn't understand what he was saying when, to my astonishment, she turned her golden head, gave Seamus, then me, a long look, and nodded firmly.
"'K, you can play with us." Seamus announced. I tried to say something, but the three of them had dashed away before I could get the words out. What had just happened? Could Caitlin hear better than we thought? Was it just forming the words that was a problem? I didn't know; so I watched Caitlin carefully as we played. She never let out a sound, except to laugh a few times in her odd-sounding voice, but she always knew how the game was played, even though no one took extra care to explain the rules to her.
It was mind boggling, but also gave me hope. Anxiously I waited till Josephine and Devin got home so I could tell everyone about my discovery.
I waited until we'd eaten and the kids were put to bed before telling everyone the good news. Devin and Orla were stunned at first, but then quickly asked me for every detail of what had happened. Josephine remained silent, except to give her brother and Orla a quick smile. When we were alone in the kitchen, cleaning up, I went to her side and asked why she didn't seem so surprised.
"I guess I just always knew she was...more aware than she seemed." I didn't understand what she meant and told her so, but she only shrugged.
"She's a smart little girl." Was all she'd tell me. We were silent for a few minutes, before I added,
"Seamus is pretty smart too." I glanced over at her, surprised to see that she'd stopped working and was staring, eyes unfocused, at the wall.
"He deserves so much better than this. They all do." She replied, though she didn't move to look at me.
"We can only do what we can." How lame a response was that? But I could think of nothing better to say.
"Maybe he'll save himself someday." She said, her voice losing its normal edginess. It left her sounding hopeful –vulnerable. Something Josephine almost never was. Almost.
"If there's a way, I'm sure he'll find it."
"And take the others with him...?" The question was not directed to me; the words were said quietly, as though asked of some strange presence that I could not see. I guess she was given an answer because, as I watched, her expression seemed to stiffen ever so slightly before she gave a soft sigh.
"What?" She asked, the hardness back in her voice as she turned to see me staring at her.
"Nothing..." I lied, and returned to my cleaning.
So the seasons passed, slowly but surely. Where once we looked forward to summer; with its warmth, beauty, and promise of food at the end, now we waited for the heat with dread. For as the days grew hotter, sickness spread. Food would go bad faster, and it rarely rained in the city.
Two weeks into the first hot month, the schools were closed because so many of the volunteer teachers were ill. I remember offering to go get Seamus and walk him home, on the last day the school was open, so that Josephine could stay home and rest. She'd been looking pale lately, and I decided she should conserve her energy.
The school was easy to find, and while Orla walked with Brendan and Caitlin in front of us, I took Seamus' hand and followed.
"Dad, was Earth ever really free?" He asked me, his voice showing that clearly he didn't believe whoever had told him this.
"Yes; for a long time Earth was free and independent. Then it joined the Commonwealth, and things got better because the planet united..." It was hard recalling the ancient history lessons I'd had with my parents; of course, the Commonwealth Era really wasn't too long ago, compared to the rest of Earth's history.
"What happened?" He asked, kicking at a chunk of broken rubble. I chided him for being so careless with his shoes before answering.
"It fell, and the Nietzscheans took over Earth."
"Why didn't we stop them?"
"Because...we were afraid of the Magog, and besides, the Nietzscheans used to live by us in peace. They are human, after all, deep down in their genes." I could see he looked confused. Maybe I was getting a little deep for a seven year old; but then suddenly his blue eyes, clear and solemn, looked up at me and he nodded.
"Oh...we trusted them." His tone made it clear that this had been an obvious mistake. Sighing, I tried to change the subject.
"So, are you going to miss school?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes. But Isaac said he'd come visit me and Brendan." The last part caught me by surprise.
"Who's Isaac?" I couldn't remember hearing that name before.
"He's my friend."
"Ah." Seamus didn't explain further, and I decided not to question him. I could always ask Josephine or Brendan when we got home.
That summer was one of the worst I could remember since we'd come to Boston. Even the Ubers stopped their usual raids and 'invasions' of the Human ghetto. Plague sent most people to holing up in their homes. We were no exception. Other than quick trips to the market to see if there was any food to be had, we stayed inside. The boys complained bitterly, so Devin and I did our best to keep them amused.
For a long time, none of us fell sick. When the illness did enter our house, it didn't strike one of the children, as we feared it would.
One afternoon Orla simply collapsed. Other than a headache, she hadn't complained of feeling poorly, and as she'd always been hale and strong, none of us thought she would take ill.
Devin beat me to her side and, apparently stronger than I took him for, had her in his arms and was rushing upstairs before I could say a thing. Following him closely, I called for Josephine to come quickly as we brought Orla to her bed.
"I'm fine..." She tried to protest softly. Devin was having none of it. He surprised me by his firmness.
"Hush, you are not well, and I'm not going to let you get any worse." Leaving no room for argument, he kissed her forehead and smiled. Seeing how tenderly she smiled back, accepting his words, I felt a strange twinge of jealousy. It was silly; they had been together for nearly ten years and I'd never begrudged their feelings for each other. Maybe I'd just been too caught up in my own passion for Josephine, but I realized how much my sister meant to me, and I quickly took up the place on her other side.
"Evan, you and Devin worry too much about me," She turned her head, face clammy to the touch, to give me a small smile. Despite the years, time could not change her beautiful voice; soft and lilting, her Irish 'accent' (as Devin and Josephine called it) just as strong as ever.
"No, you just don't worry enough," I contradicted, smiling back at her. Then Josephine rushed in and started to shoo us away. Devin refused to go, and I could tell she was perturbed by her little brother, who'd always done what she told him to in the past.
"Fine, but don't get in my way." She snapped at last, kneeling by Orla with a bowl of water, bandages, and other such things. Knowing that I'd be needed to watch the kids, I slowly made my way downstairs, feet heavy. I wasn't too worried though; to be honest, the thought of a few germs concurring Orla was laughable. My sister might seem soft and gentle at first, but she was like a silk tapestry over a brick wall. No matter how hard one might try to defeat her, she wouldn't budge when she made up her mind about something.
But those 'few germs' were tougher than we thought. Orla didn't recover in a day or two. It took an entire month before she could stand again. We didn't let Caitlin or Brendan see her, because we were afraid that they'd catch the illness as well. Caitlin started to cry when she couldn't see her mother, but Brendan was old enough to understand why he wasn't allowed in their room. Seamus didn't accept our words as easily.
"I want to see Aunt Orla," He demanded, about a week after she'd fallen ill. Josephine, tired from spending every moment taking care of her, took him aside and said, firmly but quietly,
"Seamus, you're just going to have to be patient, like Brendan." She nodded to his cousin, who was watching them in silence. Seamus scowled at her but stopped fussing and complaining. With a heavy sigh Josephine stood, watching her son and nephew playing on the floor. I walked over to her, rubbing her shoulders gently.
"He looks just like Devin." It took me a moment to understand what she was talking about, but then I glanced at Brendan and saw what she meant.
"Did Devin have spiky hair too?" I asked, grinning. I could practically feel her roll her eyes. Of course he hadn't; only people in the city used the strange, sticky mixture of chemicals to do such hairstyles. I myself actually rather liked it; although if one used it for very long, it started to bleach your hair.
"No, and I'm sure you didn't either. But it's more than that. Caitlin's a mix of the two; but Brendan...he's just like his father."
"Which one of us is Seamus like?" At my question, she turned to smile at me.
"Well, he looks like you, but I'm trying to get his better nature to surface." She winked and I found myself laughing, giving her a quick hug. A moment later she went to go see Orla and left me alone to stare at the three children.
I don't mean to sound coldhearted, but one of the worst parts of all this was having to sleep on the floor with the kids. Neither Brendan nor Seamus could go through a night without waking up from a nightmare. Only Caitlin could sleep peacefully. Brendan would wake up with a loud cry, but Seamus would just lie there, tossing and turning, sometimes muttering in his sleep, until finally I would have to shake him awake. Other times, I'd wake up, sensing something was wrong, to find him already up, lying silently on the floor and shaking with fear from whatever nightmare he'd just experienced.
All in all, it was a very exhausting month, for everyone. But at last Orla recovered. We celebrated with a visit underground to listen to music, as well as a special dinner. Although ecstatic to see her children and nephew again, Orla never fully regained her old strength. Her body was thinner than ever; her clothes practically hanging on her, and she would lose her breath if she even walked too fast. Josephine was stern in her orders for Orla to rest and not exert herself.
Still, old strength or no, I was just glad that Orla had survived. For a long time Devin had been terrified (as we all had) that she would not make it. But she pulled through, and with the first days of biting cold, the sickness in the city ended.
Life went back to normal; the Nietzschean raids started up again, as did the usual crime in the city. But people also started leaving their homes again; food was easier to get, and the school was reopened.
Things in our family were calm for a long time, something we were always grateful for. Most of our time was spent taking care of the kids. Sometimes we would just sit and watch them play; they never seemed to mind having an audience, and their laughter helped to push back the dark thoughts that dwelled inside us.
I remember one interesting night quite well. It was late, and everyone was sleeping. Or at least, they were supposed to be sleeping. I had just drifted into a light doze when I heard the floor creak. I opened one eye to make sure it wasn't a rat and was surprised to see the form of my son slipping through the door. I waited a minute, and then got up quietly to follow him.
As I entered the small hallway I saw his form disappear into the third floor room. What could he possibly be doing in there? My curiosity growing, I crept down the stairs and paused just outside the room.
"What'd you want to show me, cuzo?" Brendan whispered loudly. Seamus shushed him and I guess brought something out for him to see. I heard two gasps and Seamus' laughter, quickly cut off.
"Where'd you get it?" I again heard Brendan, this time his voice filled with awe.
"From the library, after school. No one even noticed."
I frowned; Seamus had stolen something? What could he possible have wanted to steal from the library? I considered confronting them, but decided to wait for a few more minutes.
"What does it say?" Again, Brendan was asking Seamus a question.
"Can't you read? It's about e –e –elect-er-oniks. And mekan-iks,"
"That sounds boring; couldn't you have found one with stories?"
"This is way better than stories Brendan, those are for little kids. This stuff is real. It's about tech –techno-ology. Remember what Lisa said? Techno-ology can change the world."
"I like stories," Brendan protested defiantly. Whatever Seamus had stolen, it obviously wasn't going to be missed; much. Still, I figured it was about time I made my presence known.
"Brendan Lahey. Seamus Zelazny Harper." I stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at the two boys –faces stricken with fear at being found- as I spoke.
"Um...hi Dad." Seamus offered me a brilliant smile. I scowled and it faltered some.
"So, mind showing me what you two have been looking at?" I walked over to them and held out a hand. The two boys exchanged looks; Seamus mouthed the word 'No' to Brendan, but my nephew at least proved less stubborn, and he held out –my jaw almost dropped at the sight- a lit flexi. I hadn't seen one for years, although I knew, in the back of my mind, that the library in the Museum kept many preserved, though most no longer worked, or were in a different language.
"Did you two steal this?" I asked solemnly as I stared at the flexi in my hands.
"I took it from the library," Seamus said before Brendan had a chance to speak.
"So you did steal it." Seamus shifted uncomfortably, not meeting my gaze.
"It's not like anyone's gonna read it. It's boring."
"Really? Then why did you take it?" As I spoke my eyes scanned the page; it had been a long time since I'd actually read this sort of thing, and I had to look over it several times before I understood what it was. When I did, I found myself frowning. It was instructions on how to build –something. Some kind of machine. I looked back at Seamus.
"I just thought it'd be interesting..." He muttered, staring at the floor. Brendan, at his side, remained silent.
"Well, we're going to have to return it in the morning. I doubt, as you said, that anyone's missed it. For now, you two get back to bed."
"Yes Uncle Evan," Brendan mutter, shot a glare at Seamus, and then raced from the room. Seamus turned sullenly and started to walk out the door.
"Seamus, did you understand any of this?" I gestured to the words on the page. He glanced at the flexi, then at me, suspicious at my question and obviously trying to decide what the 'right' answer was.
"Yeah, some of it." He shrugged noncommittally. I was wide awake myself, and not quite ready to return to bed.
"I suppose I could read you some of this...but you may have to ask your mother about some of it, she knows more than me when it comes to this stuff." Seamus looked at me uncertainly for a minute, than grinned.
So we spent the rest of the night in the dark, him sitting at my side, as I read the strange words out loud. I was sure he'd be asleep by the time I was done, since it wasn't after all, that interesting. But he stayed awake through the entire flexi, appearing to have understood every word at least as well as me.
But then, as I said, my son was a smart kid.
Author's Note:
This is officially the longest fanfiction I've ever written. And it's still got a few chapters to go; I'm estimating about four, but I can't be positive. Hope you enjoyed this (I tried to keep it fairly happy, while still making it interesting.) And thanks for the reviews for the last few chapters. You readers are great! Thanks,
Luna Sealeaf