Ch. 21 - A Not-So-Stupid Question
As soon as Remus' head hit his pillow, he knew he wasn't going to be getting any sleep. Insomnia was a constant companion since his circadian rhythm was in a permanent state of chaos. No, there was far too much on his mind: James and Lily's pregnancy, Emmeline's reaction…
She'd gone up to bed as soon as they'd arrived home and seemed to be asleep, so he figured they would discuss matters after her shift tomorrow. But his midnight musings came to a halt when he heard her sniffle beside him. He turned and propped himself up so that he could see her face. Even in the darkness, it was clear that her pillow was soaked with tears. How long had she been crying in silence?
Distressed by her suffering, he laid himself beside her and moulded his body around hers. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, wiping her face with an already damp sleeve. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Remus drew her close and planted a comforting kiss on her shoulder. "I haven't been able to sleep." Sensing that he already knew the cause of her unhappiness, he rested his hand on her lower abdomen. "What can I do?" he whispered.
She clasped his hand tightly. "This. Just this."
There were very few days that Emmeline went without thinking of the child she lost. She was overjoyed for James and Lily, but their surprise announcement exhumed some memories that she strived to keep dormant: memories of twinges in her belly, choking on tears, and blood spilt on bed sheets. The painful images played on a loop behind her eyes and kept sleep from finding her.
"Lily's so strong," she murmured.
"I've never seen James so scared."
"Lily's scared too, but she's strong. She's going to handle this beautifully...I just turned and ran."
"You thought you were making the right choice."
"But I wasn't. I didn't. I've never known that more than today."
Remus continued to hold her, gently lifting her nightshirt so that his hand was touching the bare skin of her stomach. That way, the fabric wouldn't soak up any of the love he was trying to impart to her. The heat of his palm and the weight of his arm were a source of succor for Emmeline, and her tears gradually dried.
There was one question that had been festering in Remus' mind for many days. "...Do you think it had something to do with...was it because the baby was like me?" He had never heard of any other werewolves fathering a child, and there was some speculation as to whether or not lycanthropy could be passed congenitally to offspring.
Emmeline shifted around to face him and gently stroked his cheek. "...I don't know," she answered honestly. She watched sorely as his face twisted into one of disgust, and he let her go. It stung her to think that Remus felt responsible for the miscarriage. Scooting closer to him, she set her chin on his chest, aching for eye contact he was too ashamed to make. "Come back to me. Please."
"...Remember when you asked me if I still wanted you?"
"Yes."
Still, Remus did not meet her eyes. "I was so astounded when those words came out of your mouth, because it should've been me asking you that question." Emmeline reached up to touch his face, but he shrunk away from her hand and sat up. "Suppose it was because of my condition. What if, someday, you want to have a baby and it doesn't make it to full term again? Or worse, what if it does and I pass the disease on to it?"
"We can figure that out when we get there. Together." She nodded reassuringly, conveying that from now on, she was going to involve him in those decisions. But he turned his back to her and hung his legs off the bed.
Emmeline was now beginning to understand the full extent of just how badly Remus' psyche had suffered when she left him behind. What she told him previously was true: she thought that, after a while, he would find someone new that loved him as much as she did. It was so easy for her, so surely it would be just as easy for someone else. She should have known that Remus would blame himself, not her, for her departure. He blamed himself for everything. Subsequently, he acted as though any suffering that came his way was the price he had to pay to atone for a sin which he had no control over. He had forgiven Emmeline for leaving, but she wondered if there was some imaginary offense for which he had not forgiven himself.
That's when it dawned on her:
Emmeline thought she was replaceable.
Remus thought he deserved to be abandoned.
She felt regret crash into her like a tidal wave. She needed him to know that it wasn't his fault, none of it was - but Remus suddenly stood up. "I need a cigarette," he muttered. Emmeline lifted herself up and caught him by the arm before he could walk away.
"What do I have to do to prove to you that I'm not going to leave again?" He met her eyes but did not answer, so she rephrased her question: "What do I have to do to prove to you that you deserve to be loved?"
Remus' breath caught and he stared at her in disbelief. It seemed a bit non sequitur; he wasn't quite sure how she arrived at that conclusion from what they'd been talking about previously, but whatever her thought process, the question left him speechless. When Emmeline looked at him, she could see traces of the lonely, friendless, eleven-year-old boy, bewildered that someone could care for him. She abruptly stood and forced herself into his arms, squeezing him tightly as if to say: you're not a monster. When I said that I love you, I meant it. You deserve to have this. There are no conditions.
At first he remained limp, stunned. His mind spiraled. He searched for words to hide behind, but found none. When he came to his senses, his eyes welled up and he embraced her back, holding on for dear life. "My God, she's serious," he realized. She had seen right through him, as she had many times before. It was true that he didn't think he deserved anybody's love, though maybe he had never been able to verbalize that for himself. When Emmeline left, he chalked it up to a cruel joke; life giving him a taste of a fruit forbidden to him, then taking it away forever. It now occurred to Remus that this was not the case. Instead, life had kindly returned a misplaced miracle to him. He held on tighter.
After what seemed like hours, Emmeline pulled away just enough to raise her face up to his. He cracked a small smile, embarrassed that his tears had dampened her shoulder. She tenderly wiped away the ones remaining on his face.
"I don't know what to say," he whispered.
Emmeline kissed him softly. "You don't have to say anything at all. Wait here a second." She walked past him and descended the stairs, then returned a few moments later with a previously half-eaten bar of chocolate. Remus chuckled as she led him back to bed, took a square for herself, then handed him the bar. "Eat this. It'll help."
