A/N: As promised! : ) Also, it's good to be back.
PS. Apologies if this chapter is a little short. I'm still trying to get the inspiration flowing again after being absent for so long.

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TWENTY-TWO

Blue is the Color

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"Do you ever think about life before '64?" She asked after taking a drink from her martini. Wendy had always fancied the drink, Lana wasn't such a fan. She preferred a nice whiskey.

Nevertheless, the kind of drink wasn't important. What was important was that they finally managed to get a night to themselves. It wasn't easy to always find a baby sitter but when they managed the two women took advantage of it.

Lana leaned her head against the ball of her first, the fingers of her free hand tapping the bar; she glanced upward as if looking at something a million light years away. Wendy studied those gorgeous brown eyes wondering how many galaxies existed within them.

"To be honest, I try not to." Lana lowered her glance back down to her glass. She had left a smudge of her red lipstick on it. She tried not to think of such things; especially on such a wonderful night.

"And why is that?" Wendy pried.

Lana smiled sheepishly with a little shrug. She sat up and placed both hands down. "Now, what brings up such a question? Hmm?" She pressed. The night was still early. They hadn't even begun to feel the buzz of their drinks or enjoy the cool night breeze.

Wendy shrugged, "I don't know. I guess I wonder about the past myself but if I'm the one being honest now, I really can't remember what it was like."

Lana took a drink from her whiskey trying to remember it herself. She did remember most things like the freedom of leaving the house whenever she wanted or the nights of interrupted sleep. Just simple things that seemed so distant or in another life. "Is there anything worth remembering?"

Wendy was pensive for a slight moment. "Not that I could think of. Besides a good night's rest."

The two women locked eyes and laughed. "Agreed."

"Is there anything you would have done different?" Wendy asked without making eye contact.

Lana raised a brow at her beloved. For a moment she didn't quite register the question but it didn't take long before she put two and two together. "You mean when I was locked up in the loony bin or tied up in that creep's basement?"

Wendy felt her cheeks and ears go hot. Whenever Oliver Thredson was mentioned she felt a strange feeling of jealousy and anger. Sure the man was dead but he had invaded Lana's body in such a horrendous way that Wendy could not forgive. Just the thought of his body on top of her Lana's was enough to set her blood boiling.

"Lana, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Don't be sorry." Lana cut her off. "It is what it is."

Wendy nodded in agreement. "So…is there?"

Lana sighed, her shoulders suddenly heavy with the burden of remembrance. Sometimes she wished Wendy would stop bringing up the past. It was such a nasty little habit that needed to be put to rest. "Knowing me, probably not."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Lana tilted her head back and exhaled another breath, "Haven't we had this same conversation a million times already?" She was sure that they had.

Wendy said nothing. Perhaps she did bring the past up too often. She supposed it was because she was trying to reassure herself somehow and calm the wreathing guilt within her, constantly ripping away at her.

"What would I have done different? Do I regret going there? Do I regret my choices? The outcomes? The aftermath?" She laughed ironically, "Wendy, the past is the past. There is no way of changing it. We are here now because of the choices we made." She lowered her voice, "If I remember correctly, I didn't stay in that place willingly."

"What do you mean by that?" Wendy frowned.

Lana set her glass down and took a look at her small, brown leather watch. "We have about another hour or two until we need to get the little monster. Should we have another drink?" She turned to wave the bartender over.

Wendy knew what Lana meant by her last comment but she chose not to pick at it. When Lana became flustered she would make passive aggressive remarks about Wendy's biggest mistake. And yet Wendy asked herself, would she have done anything differently? If she had the chance to have Sister Jude sitting again in her living room would she sign those papers again?

Johnny came to mind. How Wendy adored that boy. She took another sip of her drink not wanting to think of such selfish answers.

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Wendy sighed softly when they got Johnny out of the car later that night. "Poor sweet boy."

Lana sighed too, hoisting the sleeping toddler in her arms, "Yeah, well, you're not the one he calls to every single night after a fit."

Wendy smiled sadly, following after them into the house, "But you know when I was little I would do the same."

"Do what?" Lana stopped in front of the door, waiting for Wendy.

"I'd cry for my father to check for the monsters under my bed. Never my mother." Wendy took out her keys and unlocked the entrance.

"Pfft. That's probably because she was the one hiding under there."

"Lana!" Wendy gave her a disapproving look but bit back a laugh as to not wake the baby.

"Sorry." Lana bit her bottom lip in the way that drove electric shocks up and down Wendy's legs. "You were saying?"

"I'm saying that maybe Johnny has the same preference."

Lana paused, thinking. "So…I'm the father in this scenario?"

Wendy laughed, "If the shoe fits."

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Lana sat on the kitchen table the following morning with an untouched cup of warm coffee in front of her. It had been hot when she had first poured it. The night before Lana had only indulged herself in two drinks so she would be sober enough when the time came to drive home. When they did arrive home and Johnny was put to bed, Lana stayed up listening to Billie Holiday records on the softest volumes while she poured herself a glass of wine.

Insomnia was so cruel.

But sometimes Lana wondered if she avoided sleep on purpose. She was tired of dreaming of Bloody Face. She loathed seeing him in her dreams in where he laid in bed by her side, held their son in his arms and caressed her cheek. The dreams always started so sweetly but ended in gruesome ways that woke Lana with a start and left her drenched in cold sweat.

She took her glass and took a seat on the sofa. Wendy had placed a portrait of Johnny on the small table next to the sofa. She glanced at his darling face looking back at her. She raised her glass in a toasting fashion up to the portrait, "Here's to having you, Kid." And finished the glass.

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"Morning, Mommy." Wendy greeted Lana the following morning as she entered the kitchen with little Johnny in arms.

He had a lazy little smile plastered on his sweet face and his cobalt eyes still held a little bit of sleepiness in them. "Hi, Muh-muh." He stretched out his arms to Lana and Wendy obliged.

"Hi, baby." Lana sat him on her lap. She kissed the top of his head. "You sleep well?"

He baby babbled a response and tried to reach for her coffee but Lana pushed it away. "No, that's not for you."

Johnny squealed a response and squirmed himself off Lana's lap and onto the kitchen floor. He crawled to another chair and hoisted himself up, giving Lana an impish grin.

Lana bit her bottom lip with a smile; "Ready to destroy my house today, aren't you?"

"Ya!" He replied with a little giggle.

Lana sighed, "Thought so."

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Even though Lana loved to work, she loved being with her little family even more. That afternoon the woman got dressed and took little Johnny out to the outlets to shop. They walked down the sidewalks, each holding one of his little hands as he trotted in between them in complete glee.

"Uh! Uh!" He called out in attempts to say "up".

"Again?" Wendy asked. She looked at Lana and the two smiled at one another. They lifted Johnny off the ground and gently set him back down after a few steps. He squealed and giggled with glee, obviously enjoying himself.

"Wow, you are super brave, aren't you?" Wendy asked him.

Johnny just continued his baby steps as fast as his little legs would let him. Wendy loved how they looked like a family and to them they were a family. However, she knew that the eyes that looked at them didn't see a nuclear family but just a mother, her son and an aunt or a family friend. And she knew that Lana knew this too. Even if she didn't mention it.

After shopping yet again for toddler clothes, they stopped at a little plaza where there was a small play fountain. Children played around it, splashing in the water that sprouted from the ground. Johnny watched from near by, too timid to go near the shooting water or the bigger children that ran around, easily able to knock him over. So he studied the peculiar scene with brilliant observant blues.

Lana and Wendy sat on a bench talking about their plans for dinner. They were far too entranced in domestic conversations.

"Muh-muh." Johnny raised his arms up to Wendy, interest lost in the play fountain. Wendy obliged like always and sat the boy on her lap.

Lana dug into her purse and gave him a snack. "I mean I'm not saying we can't have chicken. I'm just saying it would be more prudent to pick it up on the way home."

"So you want take out?" Wendy asked.

"Not exactly—well, what do you want?"

"No, no. I'm fine with whatever. Rotisserie chicken sounds good. We can stop by Bishop's on the way home." Wendy fixed Johnny's overalls, "What about the baby?"

"I'll make him some rice on the side. He'll eat the chicken in tiny bits." Lana answered, cleaning Johnny's face with a napkin.

"Last week I tried to feed him some and he didn't like it."

"Well, he'll have to like it."

Johnny shook his head from side to side, annoyed and overwhelmed while both of his mothers fussed over him.

"What if he doesn't want to eat it?"

"Then—I don't know. I'll make him something else." Lana sighed.

"What?"

"He likes macaroni. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"He's been very picky lately. I'm just worried that—"

Wendy stopped mid sentence when she noticed Lana looking at her with a peculiar look on her face. Wendy slowly smiled, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Lana cracked a little laugh. "Listen to us. Talking like this."

Wendy couldn't help to smile too. "It's unreal, isn't it?"

"Just a bit, yes. Ridiculous mostly."

They laughed.

"Well, ridiculous or not. It's happening."

"It really is." Lana agreed, "But that's quite alright."