I think this one needs no further explanation- I wrote this for the very lovely Kate. She knows why.

As ever, reviews are so so appreciated and would make my lockdown that little bit brighter :)

-IseultLaBelle x

PS- I have had the worst two weeks RL stuff wise and I haven't had time to read any fanfiction in forever, BUT I will be catching up this weekend and I PROMISE I will review and share everything I read on Instagram then!

"Do you need me to go?" Chloe asks hesitantly, fights as hard as she possibly can to keep the hurt and the rejection out of her voice at the mere thought of confirmation of her fears, to show her mum that she's okay, that she's willing to do whatever she needs her to in order to make this all a little more bearable, that she can cope. "Because I can… I can sleep in my room tonight, or I can… if you want me out the house, I can go home and I can just social distance from Nicky to make sure I don't risk giving her…"

"No," her mum shuts her down, firm, adamant. "No, absolutely not, Chloe. No way. I need you to stay right here, okay? You're not going anywhere."

Warm arms pull her in close until her head rests against her mother's chest, until her heartbeat reverberates in Chloe's ears and she feels safe, at ease, almost allows herself to believe that none of it matters.

She loves her so, so much.

Sometimes, Chloe wonders if she might love her too much for a thirty-year-old to still love her mother.

Because her mum is still her everything.

Is that normal?

Is it normal to still depend on her mum so much, still need her comfort, her reassurance? Her advice, even when she doesn't agree with it, even her interfering, despite it driving her utterly crazy at times?

Chloe isn't sure.

She issure that it's most definitely not normal to still crave curling up in her mum's arms when she's too anxious to sleep-to still prefer that option when she isn't anxious, come to that. But then she can tell herself that it's not so weird given she shared not just a bedroom, but a bed, too, with her Mum for more than half her childhood, living at her nana's while her mum got through medical school and her first few years of training, not enough space in the small, two-bed terrace to make it work any other way.

She just feels… safer, somehow, calmer, beside her mum, even when her anxiety isn't troubling her.

She can't explain it any better than that.

Her mum makes her feel safe.

The trouble is, Chloe is afraid that tonight, she's making her mum feel the absolute opposite.

"I want you here," her mum insists now. "I want you to stay with me, sweetheart, okay? You make it better. I need you to try and believe that for me, Chloe. I want you to stay right here…"

"Is that because you're worried about what I might do if you let me go, though?" She bites her lip, now, wraps her arms around her mother's neck, clings on tightly.

"Chloe," her mum tells her gently. "Chloe, listen. Look… if I felt like that, I'd get Dom to come and sit with you tonight, okay? Or I'd… I don't know. It's all a bit difficult when no one can come within two metres of anyone else, isn't it, but I would have come up with something. But that's irrelevant. I want you with me. Even… even if I wasn't worried about you, I'd want you with me…"

"If you can't cope though, Mum…"

"Oh Chloe," her mum sighs, voice trembles as though she might just break. "Chloe, listen. You helpme cope. Okay? You always have. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, I wish you could see that. You came out of the worst, and I wish I hadn't had to go through everything I did to have you. But I'd go through it all again, and do you know why? Because you're worth it. No question about it. You're worth every single moment of pain I ever had to go through to have you, I wouldn't change a thing." Her mum pulls her against her closer still with one arm, strokes her hair with her free hand, presses her cheek against the crown of her head, breathes in, treating her as though she's her baby and it's almost as if she's trying to prove to her that she loves her, that the significance of today has no bearing whatsoever on how she feels.

Because it's today.

It's thirty-one years exactly since her father raped her mother, and Chloe can't help but hate herself for it.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," her mum continues, words heavy with emotion, almost enough to convince Chloe that she's not just telling her this to make her feel better, really, genuinely means it. "I promise, sweetheart. I promise. I wouldn't be without you for anything. You saved me. I was a mess, after everything that happened with-"

"My dad," Chloe finishes for her quietly.

She hates herself so much.

"No. No, he's not, Chloe, I wish you wouldn't call him that," her mum sighs. "That man is not your father, sweetheart. You're mine. My lovely, lovely daughter. It upsets me so much that you don't see it the way I do. You're nothing to do with him. I've never seen you as anything to do with him, and so you mustn't. Alright?"

"I look like him, though." Her voice is laced with self-loathing now, heart racing, panicked, and she can't explain why.

"No, you don't," her mother insists firmly. "No, you don't, Chloe, what makes you think that?"

"Because I don't look like you." She's focusing on her breathing with all her might now, inhales her Mum's scent, calming, secure. "I don't look like anyone I'm related to through you, so that has to mean…"

"No. No, it doesn't, Chloe, it just means… oh, sweetheart," her mum sighs. "I know. I know, my lovely girl. It's not fair, is it?" She squeezes her tightly now, protective, fiercely so, cups Chloe's cheek as though she's five years old again. "I wish you didn't have to deal with this," she confesses quietly. "I don't care about me. I'd do anything for you, my sweet girl. Anything. I would have gone through anything to have you, and I wouldn't change it. As horrendous as it was, I wouldn't. I really wouldn't. You wouldn't be you, if it hadn't happened the way it did, and I wouldn't be without you for anything. You make all the pain worth it. But you don't have that, do you? I think it's almost worse for you, the whole…"

"It's not worse for me, Mum. It's not even close." Chloe shakes her head furiously now. "I'm not the one who went through… that. Not that day, anyway. I'm not the one who…"

"I know. But listen. Today isn't a just traumatic day for me, okay?" her mum tries to convince her, combing her fingers through her hair now in her latest desperate bid to offer her some reassurance. "Part of it is. There's a lot of trauma caught up in today, don't get me wrong. I don't think that will ever go completely. But it's also the day you were conceived. And I couldn't possibly love you any more if I tried, sweetheart. I mean that. I didn't even realise it was possible to love someone so much until I had you. I have you because of today. That makes it easier. So much easier than you'll ever know. I can cope with what happened to me because in the end it gave me you, and you're the best thing in my life, Chloe. You always have been. Just having you makes what happened to me easier. But… I know it's not like that for you, there isn't that… I don't know. Do you get what I'm trying to say, sweetheart? You do? I'm so, so sorry. I'm so sorry it upsets you so much, I'm sorry there's nothing I can do to make it better. I would if I could. You know that, don't you? If I could take all the pain for you, I would. I wouldn't even hesitate. I love you so much. I love you so, so much, and I want you to stay right here, okay?"

"I was scared…" Chloe trembles, can't quite force the words out. "I don't want to upset you, I don't want you to feel like you have to have me here, if you need space…"

"Chloe. Chloe, listen to me. The only thing I need right now is you, okay? As long as I've got you, everything's alright. You give the best hugs, don't you? Even if you've got the boniest hips ever and your feet are like ice blocks."

"Don't you have to think that?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't you have to think I give the best hugs because I'm your daughter?"

"See? There you go." Her mum points out, desperately tries to get her to smile. "You've just nailed it, haven't you? You're mydaughter. You're my baby. I gave birth to you, I raised you, I know you best. And I'm telling you, as your mum, that not once have I ever seen anything in you to make me think that you're like that… that… like him," she finishes at last. "Not once. You couldn't be less like him if you tried, Chloe. You really couldn't. You're allowed to be upset, sweetheart. You've got just as much of a right to be upset today as I do."

"I don't, though…"

"Hey, come on. Yes, you do," her mum tells her firmly. "Yes, you do, Chloe. I don't ever want you to tell yourself that you don't, okay? Never."

"But it happened to you, Mum…" she begins to protest weakly. "It happened to you, not me, and it happened to you because…" She trails off, shakes her head, too painful; tangles her fingers in her mother's hair instead, childhood coping mechanism she really should have grown out of by now, but she just can't help it.

"Because someone who you've never met, who has absolutely nothing to do with you whatsoever other than sharing some DNA, did something awful," her mum finishes for her, and her arms are warm, safe, wonderfully reassuring. "And you came out of that, and I wouldn't change you for anything. You made everything better. I can't imagine what my life would have been like without you. I couldn't have imagined what my life would have been like without you by the time you were a couple of days old, come to that."

"You didn't even get to see me that much, the first few days," Chloe points out weakly. "You said you were on so much morphine you couldn't…"

"Yep, I was," her mum agrees. "And you still managed to make so much of an impression in the few hours I did get to spend with you, that I couldn't imagine life without you. I never, ever want you to doubt how much I love you, alright? Never."

"I just…" She shakes her head, closes her eyes. Focusing on her breathing now, she plaits her handful of Ange's hair, restless, urgently needs to be doing something with her hands to distract her, calm her down.

"Just what, sweetheart?" Her mum hugs her gently, rubs soothing circles against her back.

"I hate what he did to you," Chloe whispers, quiet, shameful confession. "I hate what he did to you, I hate him so much…"

"I know," her mum says simply. "And that's how I know you're nothing like him, Chloe. Nothing at all. And that's also why I never, ever want you to hold yourself even the slightest little bit responsible for what he did. Okay? You're not him. You never will be. It's okay to be upset that it happened," she tells her now. "That's okay. I wish it didn't upset you, but I get it. I'm proud of you. I'm so, so proud of you, I have the most wonderful, caring, compassionate daughter. Don't I? It's okay to be sad about it sometimes. But I don't feel like that all the time, okay? I really don't. If it hadn't happened to me the way it did, I wouldn't have you, and that would be far, far worse. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You really, really are. And so you mustn't keep blaming yourself. I don't blame you, Chloe. You're completely innocent in all of this, aren't you?"

"I wish I could make it easier for you though, Mum. So, so badly. I just wish I could…"

"You can. You are. You're making it all better just by being here," her mum murmurs. "I don't want you going anywhere. I mean that. I need you right here with me. Especially today."

"I love you."

"I love you more, sweetheart. More than you'll ever know. So, will you pleasestop worrying? Yeah? And stop blaming yourself. I don't blame you, so you mustn't. Okay? You promise?"

"Am I too clingy?"

"Of course you're not. You're perfect just as you are, and I don't ever want you to think any different. You're okay," her mum soothes. "You're okay, Chloe. You're just overtired, aren't you, and you're upset, and you're probably feeding off my anxiety about today. You're fine. You'll feel better tomorrow, once you've had some sleep and…"

"Are you okay?"

"How many times have you already asked me that today?" Chloe doesn't need to look up to know that her mum is rolling her eyes at her. "I'm fine. Okay, so it… I don't know. It's like I said to you this morning, it just brings it back a bit. Knowing it's today. But I'm fine. I've got you, haven't I?" her mum points out simply. "That's the one good thing that's come out of covid, I get to spend more time with you. As long as I've got you, everything that happened thirty-one years ago is…"

'I just don't want you to feel like I'm making today about me…"

"Of course you aren't. You're not doing anything of the sort, Chloe. You're fine. None of this is your fault," her mum sighs. "Not that it happened, not that you feel so upset about it all. None of it. You're allowed to be upset. I wish you weren't, I wish it didn't affect you so much. But it's okay. It's perfectly understandable, I get it. We're in this together, okay?" she promises now. "You and me. Always. Right, come on. I'm turning the lights off soon, I've got to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow."

Confused, she curls into her mum's side, her safety net. "We aren't working, though. You blackmailed Ms Naylor into making sure all our shifts coincided so we can… oh, Mum, no," Chloe groans. "You're not, are you? I wish you'd pack the wild swimming in for winter now. You'll get hypothermia. I don't want you to get hypothermia."

"I'm not going to get hypothermia, Chloe! It's not that cold. But I'm not wild swimming tomorrow, as it happens. Just a walk along the beach with my mates."

"An early walk, though?" She raises her eyebrow sceptically, clings onto her mum irrationally, now, tired, already doesn't want her to go.

"Early-ish. I thought that way, you and I had the rest of the day to…"

"But if you're doing that, you're still going to wake me up at six again," Chloe complains. "On my day off."

"You can stay here and sleep in if you want to!"

"No, I can't, you'll wake me up when you're getting up at stupid am."

"Well, I would suggest you sleep in your room here that you never actually use, then, but I know how much you'll dislike that suggestion. See, there you go. I told you I just had to get you those pyjamas!" Her mother laughs at her now, but she hugs her back tightly all the same. "You're my wee koala cub. Aren't you? You're clingy enough. Am I embarrassing you now?"

"No."

"That's a yes, then. You can come down to the beach with me and my mates, if you want. You can wear my ridiculously padded Aberdeen-winter-proof coat, and I'll dig you out my hand warmer things? If you don't want to stay here on your own? I know you love sea air, don't give me that look."

"It's cold enough in the house at 7am, the beach at that time is going to be painfully cold. We're going to freeze to death, Mum. And your friends. We're all going to freeze to death."

"Hey, not everyone has your horrendous circulation. Autumn beach walks are actually quite refreshing for those of us who can cope with sub-twelve degrees."

"I'm not thatbad," Chloe pouts.

"You're not far off. I've never known anyone's fingers turn purple as fast as yours do, you're colder blooded than a bloody reptile. How are your new pyjamas, by the way?"

"I like them."

"I thought you would. Even before I saw the words 'fleece-lined.' Are they warmer than normal ones?"

"Umm hmm."

"I'm glad to hear it. You're going to have to wear those for our beach walk tomorrow morning, then, aren't you? You could just roll straight out of bed and…"

"Absolutely not. They're amazing, Mum, but I'm not wearing kids section pyjamas in front of your friends. I'm not wearing kids section koala pyjamas in public full stop, come to that. Even if they are really warm. I'll just put two pairs of tights on under my jeans again. If I come. I haven't said for definite I'm coming, I might just roll over and go back to sleep again when you leave."

"You're planning on wearing twopairs of tights?"

"IfI come. It's an if. One pair isn't enough to stop my calves cramping if it's really cold."

"Andjeans, though? Oh my god, what are we going to do with you? It's because there's nothing of you. It must be, that's not normal. You need to fill out a bit so you can share your wardrobe with your mother, and maybe then you won't freeze to death in perfectly normal English temperatures, let alone…"

"Hilarious. Really hilarious, Mum."

"Alright, I'm sorry. I'm your mum, sweetheart, it's my job to worry about you. I've turned the heating up since you've been living here and you still come up here and shiver under all your extra blankets."

"I've just got really awful circulation."

"I've noticed! So what would you say," her mum asks her now, pulls the duvet up around her shoulders, fussing, hugs her tightly. "If I told you that it's Vanessa and Charity I'm going for an early morning walk with tomorrow, and Vanessa's got a dog that someone didn't pick up from her vet clinic last night…"

Childlike excitement builds within her as the pieces finally click into place. "You mean she's bringing the dog tomorrow morning?!"

"I knew that would get your attention," her mum teases. "Yes, Vanessa's bringing the dog tomorrow. He's totally hyper, apparently, she wants to try and wear him out a bit before she starts clinic at the vets. And before his owners come to pick him up, presumably. So do you want to come now?"

"Can I?"

"Of course you can. Vanessa and Charity did ask if you wanted to join us, they know how you feel about dogs."

"Did Vanessa say what breed he is?"

"He's an Irish wolfhound, and Vanessa reckons he's going to be taking you for a walk, not the other way around. Apparently, he's enormous, he'll almost certainly weigh more than you do, and he loves people but he's still a big puppy at heart, he's a serial licker and he'll jump all over anyone who'll let him."

"He sounds perfect," says Chloe happily.

"I thought you'd say that. Rather you than me," her mum remarks. "I can't imagine anything worse than being slobbered all over by a huge great…"

"It's a good job you don't have to help Vanessa walk him, then, isn't it? I can do that. I bet he's lovely."

"I bet he's stronger than you are."

"We'll be fine, Mum. Dogs love me."

"I know they do. I think you should pack a change of clothes to leave in the car, though."

"Why?"

"In case you get dragged into the sea by Vanessa's feral wolf, that's why!"

"I'm sure he won't be feral, Mum. Hyper and feral aren't the same thing. Have they set a new date for the wedding, by the way?"

"Vanessa and Charity? Yep, they're going ahead with the registry office bit next weekend, and then they've moved all of it but the actual legal signing the bit of paper to the same date next year."

"Aww, so they're still getting married?"

"Umm hmm. Didn't want to wait, they said."

"That's so sweet."

"Isn't it? So we've got a whole year to find you something decent to wear. You're not turning up in your nana's cast-offs again like you did for Dom's wedding that shall not be named."

"But it's fighting fast fashion, Mum."

"I don't care! My best friends are getting married, we're buying you a pretty dress and making you look gorgeous."

"You know I'm not a bridesmaid, don't you?"

"That's what you think. Come on, then. You ready for me to turn the lights off?"

"Mum?"

"Hmm?"

Chloe bites her lip now, hugs her tight. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Ange sighs. "It … it scares me, sometimes." She admits. "That… I don't know. That it could…"

"That it could happen again?" Chloe realises.

She knows she's right.

She knows it all too well, because she's no stranger to that fear, either.

Her mum squeezes her so tightly, that for a moment, just a moment, she almost can't breathe.

"I hate this," her mum whispers, voice trembling with emotion. "I hate that you understand that side of it now, I hate that you know how it feels. It was always my worst nightmare, you having to go through this, too. I never wanted you to…"

"I know," Chloe tells her simply. "I know."

They lie there in silence for several moments, limbs tangled, emotions even more so, cling to each other as though nothing else matters.

As though somehow, just having each other makes everything okay.

"I won't let it," says Chloe suddenly, surprises even herself with the fierce protectiveness in her words.

"Hmm?" Her mum frowns, confused.

"I won't let it happen to you again."

Warm hands squeeze her shoulder, stroke her hair. "You're sweet," her mum murmurs. "That's supposed to be my job."

"Doesn't mean it can't be mine, too. Didn't you say we're in this together?"

"I did. Okay. We'll take care of each other, alright? That sound like a deal to you? And that means you're allowed to be upset today, too." Her mum leans over, switches off the bedside light. "If we're in this together, you've got just as much of a right to struggle today as I have, alright? I never want you to feel like you can't talk to me. Come on, then. Sleep, okay? I love you so, so much, my lovely girl. More than you'll ever know."

"I love you too. Mum?"

"Hmm?"

"Am I going to have to social distance with the Irish wolfhound tomorrow?"

"I think Vanessa's already written that one off as a lost cause, sweetheart."