Authors Note: HEYO! XD Please tell me what you think; I would love to know XD I own nothing and no one, apart from the following: Harlequin (Harley);Sam Campbell; Charlie Jones; Zane; Chase; Gabriel; Ben; Mia; Stiles' fox = Melrakki (Rak, Rakki); Stiles' wolf = Okami (Oki, Kami); Derek's wolf = Cana; Sheriff Brian Dawson.
JUST SO YOU KNOW: I know we are now aware of Stiles' real name, as well as his dad's, but I'm NOT about to go through every chapter and change them XD Also, I've made up Stiles' middle name XD
Please, please review XD
Chapter 52 – Part 2
Stiles
Staring out of the window, a mug of now cold coffee in my hands, my eyes ran over the destruction I had caused. The sun had long since risen, casting a soft glow over everything. A strange beauty in the ruin. The only saving grace, I supposed, was that nothing of monetary value had been damaged.
Only the porch stairs.
I couldn't begin to guess just how long I had been standing there before I moved, dragging myself into the kitchen to make breakfast for the others. It was something I could do; something I was actually good at.
By the time I had put the last plate of bacon on the table, footsteps were descending the stairs. When I looked up, everyone was shuffling in, each of them stopping to hug me, nuzzling against my neck before they sat in their usual seats. Harley, who had been perched on Derek's hip, refused to let go when the two of them came over to me. The child's arms wrapped around my neck, clinging until I lifted them from Derek. Like a Koala.
"Hey," Derek muttered, quietly, coiling his arms around me. "You didn't have to do this. You could have just stayed in bed for a while."
"Couldn't sleep," I shrugged, burrowing my face into Harley's hair, breathing in the child's scent. "Had to be useful, somehow."
Derek growled, softly. It wasn't quite a warning, but it also wasn't not a warning; he held me closer, pressing a hard kiss to my temple as he swayed us, gently.
"Don't say that about yourself," Derek huffed. "You're so much better than you think; than you know. You're way more than just 'useful'."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't.
If I spoke then he would know what I was thinking and, most likely, hasten the inevitable change in him. Closing my eyes, I shuffled as close to Derek as possible, without suffocating Harley, not being able to stop the urge. I still needed to feel him, to have him near me. I couldn't bear the idea of letting him go, though I knew it would be the best thing for him.
I'm so selfish.
"Come on," Derek whispered, pressing another kiss to the side of my head. "We need to eat."
It wasn't long after the Betas left for the day that there was a knock on the door. I knew it couldn't be Sam or Charlie. I had made sure to text them both that morning, letting them both know what had happened. No one was expecting a delivery, so it couldn't be that either.
Peter got up.
I stayed perched on top of Derek, guiltily relishing in the warm body against mine as he held me close, Harley sitting on the floor in front of the armchair and drawing. I rested my head on Derek's shoulder, my eyes tracking Peter's movements as he walked out into the hallway.
"Thank you for coming so quickly," I heard Peter say when he opened the door.
"Of course. I'll always come when I can." a voice replied.
"Deaton?" I called out.
I hadn't seen Deaton in a while, both of us busy with our own lives. Scott had ferried little hellos and such back and forth since he worked with Deaton on Saturdays, but it wasn't the same as actually seeing each other.
Peter and Deaton turned the corner, the latter smiling softly as his eyes landed on me. Peter said something about getting drinks for all of us, leaving the kitchen door open. Harley greeted Deaton, quietly, waving from their spot on the floor. The two of them hadn't been around each other as much as I would have liked, but they knew each other, at the very least. And Harley seemed comfortable around him, knowing that Deaton was one of the good ones; knew he was family.
"Peter called you?" I frowned, sitting up a little.
"He did," Deaton nodded, setting down his bag and taking a seat on the couch. "And he's caught me up on the things I've missed."
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair; that was something I could be happy about, at least. I wasn't sure I would know where to start; wasn't sure I would know how to explain it all. Maybe Peter knew that.
"How are you feeling?" he asked me.
"Oh, just peachy," I snorted.
With an eyebrow quirked, Deaton only stared at me, unimpressed. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he kept eye contact with me. Even when I looked away, I could feel his gaze boring into me.
Picking at the non-existent lint on Derek's shirt, I silently wished for someone to say something and change the conversation. But no one did, each of them wanting to know the answer themselves.
"Tired," I finally admitted, softly, when Peter walked back into the living room with a tray of drinks in hand. "I'm just… I'm just so tired of it all. All this shit keeps happening and it won't stop, and I– I just need for it to stop."
Derek's arms tightened ever so slightly around me, his chin resting lightly on my shoulder; I could feel the tips of Harley's hair brush against the point of my elbow as they leaned back. Reaching down, I ran my hand through the child's hair and played with the soft locks.
"And I have no idea what's happening to me," I added with a sigh. "Not that that's anything new."
That was only the start of it. But how was I supposed to vocalise everything that was going on inside my head? How was I supposed to explain it all, so that it all made sense? To make it so I didn't sound like a babbling idiot.
How was I to tell them that I wanted to lay down, close my eyes, and never wake up?
How was I to tell them that I had the urge to punch and bite and destroy something, without hurting anyone?
How was I to tell them that I was done with everything that life was catapulting at me?
"Well, that's exactly why I called Alan," Peter said, leaning back in his armchair. "We lost most of our library in the fire, but Alan has many tomes that we never did; he's translated many of them over the years, some of them with your mother's help."
My head snapped up at the mention of Mom, looking back and forth between my Godfathers. Deaton nodded, the soft smile never leaving his face. Reaching down into his bag, he brought out two books. The first was a small, thin book; the dark brown cover was peeling away, with glimpses of the dark yellowed pages peeking out. I couldn't make out what was on the cover, too faded to see even with my heightened eyesight. The second was a similar-sized notebook, a label saying 'Translations' stuck on the plain black front cover.
The handwriting on the notebook, though only one word, wasn't one I could easily forget. Before I thought about it, I slid off of Derek's lap and carefully stepped over Harley, picking up the notebook as gently as I could. As if it would crumble apart if I let my fingers curl over the edges too hard. I was sure, no matter how much time passed, that I would always be able to recognise Mom's handwriting. It always reminded me of calligraphy, though I knew it wasn't – all loopy and fancy and soft. I let my fingers trace the letters, following every curve and swoop. I could have sworn I smelt the faintest hint of the perfume she used to wear, clinging to the paper of the book in my hands. If I concentrated, completely focused on identifying each little individual scent, I was positive that it was there.
I didn't realise I was crying, until the tears had started rolling down my cheeks, leaving behind cold trails. Quickly, I swiped them away with the back of my hand.
"This was the last text before you left for Dallas, your mother helped me translate," Deaton spoke, quietly. "And Oliver. I'm sure you remember how gifted your father was with languages, Derek."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Derek nod, slowly. He was sitting on the edge of the armchair, Harley leaning back against his legs, both of them watching me carefully.
"There aren't many books about your kind, either," Deaton continued, turning back to me. "There may be short passages, but nothing substantial; otherwise, the closest you can get to were-foxes now are Kitsunes, but we both know they're completely different."
That I already knew.
I had read about Kitsunes a lot over the years and the differences were obvious. However, that didn't mean reading about them wasn't helpful.
"They are?" Harley asked, shifting up onto their knees.
"Yeah, they are, Sweetheart," I nodded, hugging the book to my chest. "Kitsunes… Well, for one, only someone of Japanese heritage can be a Kitsune. Whether one of their parents are, or one of their great-great-great-great grandparents or something, they have to have Japanese blood somewhere in their family. They only have power over one type of element too, but they're a lot more varied than what I can do – where I have fire, water, earth and air, a Kitsune can have thunder, celestial, ocean, earth, void, fire, wind, forest, mountain, music, river, time or spirit. They can't have all of them. Then there's the fact they can live for centuries, they all have a natural aptitude for weaponry and combat, and the most powerful of their kind can have up to nine tails."
"There are, however, similarities that we can't deny," Deaton added. "Like the power over elements, and the fact they are both foxes. From what your mother, Oliver and I could find, Kitsune's and were-foxes are of the same family, in a sense. At one time or another, the two were probably highly alike, with only small differences, but with time comes evolution."
"And extinction."
I knew I was one of few, if any, were-foxes left in the world. And, even then, I was only part were-fox. Many had been hunted, studied, or caught various diseases that managed to get passed our supernatural healing.
Like with Mom.
"Unfortunately, yes," Deaton sighed, picking up the brown-covered book. "Anyway, this was part of the Hale Library. Well, it had fallen behind one of the bookcases, and Oliver brought it to me and Claudia. As the three of us began to translate it, we discovered it was about were-foxes. Andwere-fox hybrids."
Turning to the man, I couldn't help the frown that pulled at my face. Mom had never mentioned any writings about shifters like us. Sure, there was a lot she never told me, never got to tell me… But surely, she would have mentioned something about this?
"She wanted to be the one to tell you," Deaton placated when I opened my mouth. "And when she wanted to start telling you, she… Well, she was starting her treatments."
Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to push down the vile taste of anger. Not at Mom. But at whatever decided to take her away from me; at whatever decided she was the one that needed to go. I couldn't even begin to count how many times I had wished it had been me, not her. The world didn't need me; there wasn't anything I could or would be able to do that would be of any use. But Mom? Mom was needed; Mom was wanted.
With little finesse, I let myself slump down onto the floor, halfway between Derek on his chair and Deaton on the couch. The edge of the notebook dug into my stomach, my fingers turning white from where they were curled around the dull corners. I didn't pay attention to the way Derek and Harley shifted; didn't pay attention to Harley crawling closer, but not touching.
"So, this–" I coughed. "So, this'll answer, what? All my questions?"
"Probably not all," Deaton admitted. "But some."
"What about… What about what's been happening? With the fire and the– And with yesterday?"
Shuffling forward, until he could slip down onto the floor in front of me, Deaton placed a hand on my knee. Looking up into his face, he wore the same tranquil and friendly smile that I knew so well. He squeezed my knee, thumb rubbing back and forth gently, everything about him oozing calmness.
"From what we found in the book, back when Kitsunes and were-foxes were still closely alike, many were-foxes could use their elemental powers while in their human forms, not just their fox ones," Deaton explained. "As the years have gone on, that ability was thought to have been bred out. But I believe it has been lying dormant in all werefoxes. I don't know why it's awakening in you now, but I can tell you, one-hundred per cent, that this is not a bad thing. It'll take some time, and a lot of patience, to get a handle on, though."
"It's good?" I questioned, gnawing at my lip. "You're sure? I'm not… Broken?"
"You are far from broken, Stiles. I promise you that."
Deaton stayed with us for a couple of hours, before he had to go; he left the book of translations with me, having made a copy for himself already. With a hug and a promise from us both that we'd try to see each other soon, he left the house with the original text. Peter left a few minutes after, saying he was going to go out a buy lunch for the four of us.
Derek had managed to get me off of the floor, pulling me back up onto his lap. As much as I knew I should have resisted, I let it happen. Harley ran upstairs when Derek had done that and, by the time they came back down, had been carrying the biggest and softest blanket they had in their room. Before Derek or I could say a word, Harley climbed up onto the two of us, quickly snuggling down and draping the purple fabric over the three of us. Before fully settling down, Harley stretched out a hand. The large, plush ottoman that we kept off to the side floated over towards us, waiting for Derek to move his legs before it settled in front of the armchair. As soon as it was in place, Derek stretched his legs out, pressing a small kiss in thanks on top of Harley's head. Wrapping my arms around the child on top of me, I brought them up higher until their head rested on my shoulder, facing Derek. I ran my hand through the curls on top of their head, softly scratching at their scalp as they rested on me. They took Derek's right hand, bringing it towards their chest, playing with his fingers and drawing nonsensical patterns on his skin.
Derek never minded the way Harley would play with his hand or his hair. He seemed to enjoy it; relish every bit of interaction he had with the kid. Besides me, he was the first to fully accept the little one, and the first one the kid fully accepted in return. They had a lovely bond that only grew, especially when the rest of us had to be in class.
Though I'd never voice it, I was sure Derek delighted in the time he got to spend with Harley, without the rest of us there. Just as I was sure Peter loved it too. They loved hearing Harley call them 'Uncle Peter' and 'Rek'; they loved being able to spoil the child; they loved being able to give Harley the love that the child needed, the love they couldn't give to the young ones they had lost in the fire.
Derek's left arm was wrapped securely around me. His hand always stayed on my arm, holding me lightly. It never strayed far, only rarely holding me around my waist or on my hips and, even then, it was never for long and never tight enough for me to really feel. The backs of his fingers brushed up and down my arm in slow, gentle movements. Up and down, up and down. His warmth seeped into me, through my clothes and down to my bones in steady, calming pulses.
Before I could register it, I was sinking further into Derek's hold, ignoring the niggling voices in my head telling me to stop.
Telling me to not ruin him
Just for now. Just let me have this for now.
"Come here," Derek whispered, gently pulling my head to rest on him. "Sleep for a bit; you didn't get a lot last night."
"How do you know?" I mumbled back, feeling my eyes get heavier with every blink.
"Because I didn't either. Wouldn't let myself."
A soft kiss was pressed to my head, a small squeeze to my arm; Harley shuffled the blanket up higher on the three of us, cuddling closer.
Sleep claimed me easily.
I was gentled awake by a hand running through my hair, and light kisses brushing over my forehead. I fought the pull, snuggling further into the warmth I was pressed against; my hands curled into the soft fabric that was underneath them, clinging weakly. The heat below me shook ever so slightly, a little rumbling vibration passing through it.
I didn't care.
I felt safe.
Muttering something unintelligible, I turned away from the lips on my face. The rumbling only grew. I poked whatever was beneath me, instead of slapping it. I couldn't get my limbs to cooperate with me.
"As much as I would love to let you stay asleep," it said. "Peter's back with lunch."
Frowning, I tried to make sense of the words. I knew they meant something, and I knew the voice saying them. But, to remember, I would have to leave my peaceful bubble.
"He got us milkshakes, unless Harley's gotten to them first," the voice added. "There's burgers and curly fries too."
And, I had to admit, that sounded really good.
"Cur'y fries?" I muttered out, rubbing my face against the fabric.
"Yeah, curly fries," it chuckled. "Should've known that would wake you up."
"Don't wanna; 'm comfy."
I was held a little tighter, another kiss pressed to the crown of my head. Sighing quietly, I was slowly falling deeper into the nothingness that was making everything pleasantly fuzzy around the edges. I couldn't remember a time I had felt so comfortable; so complete.
Had there been something wrong?
No, nothing wrong. How could anything be wrong in this pocket of peace? How was that even possible?
"How about this – you wake up a little bit and have lunch, you can go right back to sleep. We can even go upstairs and curl up in bed. Sound good?" the voice compromised. "It'll be a lot comfier upstairs and with some food in your stomach."
I'm not gonna win, am I?
"I guess," I sighed, dragging my hand to my eyes and rubbing. "Make me not comfy anymore?"
With another laugh, an arm wormed its way underneath my legs, the hand on the back of my head moving to gently grip my arm. With a careful, slow movement, I was shuffled to sit up until my feet could touch the floor, my head lolling for a moment before I forced myself to hold it up. The hand on my arm rubbed up and down firmly, the arm under my legs shifting to wrap around my torso; a chin hooked itself over my shoulder.
"You going to open your eyes for me?" the voice murmured, warm breath puffing over my face and stubble rubbing gently against my cheek.
"Do I have to?" I whined, leaning my head back.
"Well, it'll make things a lot easier, Gen."
Sighing again, I peeled my eyes open, blinking owlishly and stretching them as much as I could. As they adjusted to the light, I looked around the room.
Home.
And everything started crashing back down on top of me.
"Hey, it's alright," Derek whispered, squeezing me a little. "We're all here for you; I'm here for you. Just take things one step at a time, ok?"
Taking a deep breath, I nodded. That was all I could do; all I was able to do. Nothing I did or said would be able to change anything. Not a single thing.
"You said there were milkshakes and curly fries?" I asked.
"I did, yeah." Derek nodded.
"Ok… Ok."
Unsteadily, I got up onto my feet, Derek's hands sliding to hold onto me lightly, high up on my sides to keep me from stumbling. He didn't let go of me, even as I found my footing; he didn't let go as he stood up himself. He used his gentle hold to steer me towards the open kitchen door, where I could hear the soft mumbling of conversation from Peter and Harley, and the rustling of paper bags.
When we got to the door, Harley was kneeling on their chair, helping unpack the two brown bags and two four-person cupholders that sat on the table, while Peter put four more bags into the fridge. I couldn't help the way the corners of my mouth flicked up at the sparkle in those fiery eyes; at how natural this all was. I suppose that now, after five months, it was. Harley had found their place in our slowly growing family, of creatures and humans alike. They didn't have to hide who they were, and could just enjoy the life they had; they could act like the child they actually were.
Before either Derek or I could say anything, Harley's head snapped around to the door. The moment they saw us, their face broke out into a wide grin, bouncing up and down slightly. Their hair jumped with them, rippling like foamy waves; their eyes seemed to light up even more.
"Uncle Peter got us two milkshakes each!" Harley squealed, vibrating with excitement. "And he bought dessert for everybody, for tonight!"
"He did?" I gasped, exaggeratedly, moving away from Derek to enfold Harley in my arms. "Well, that was very kind of him."
"How could I resist?" Peter smirked, shutting the fridge door and joining us at the table. "I wouldn't dare dream of denying my little Moonbeam of their favourite things. Nor would I deny my family."
Derek walked behind Harley and me, brushing his hand against us both, as he walked to his chair. The corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly as he smiled, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder and squeezing. The older Hale reached up, holding onto Derek's wrist.
"You're getting soppy in your old age," Derek laughed. "Maybe we should start looking into care homes?"
"You may be the Alpha, Derek," Peter growled, playfully. "But I will put you on your ass in ten seconds flat, and send you to your room."
"I'd like to see you try, old man."
Rolling my eyes, I slid into my own chair, keeping my hold on Harley. Not that the kid minded. They climbed onto my lap, pulling their meal closer manually instead of using their magic, opening everything with unrestrained fervour. The moment they could see everything, they snatched up their takeaway cup, taking a long pull from the straw stuck through the lid, not stopping until brain-freeze hit. Following Harley's lead, Derek and Peter sat down while continuing to bicker like children, as the three of us opened our food.
"So, Peter," I grinned, popping a curly fry into my mouth. "When do we get to see you put Derek on his ass?"
The entire Pack was home by three-thirty that afternoon. Sam and Charlie had messaged, saying they would pass on dinner that night but would join us, as usual, the next day. I had shot them back a quick acknowledgement, telling them we'd see them tomorrow and to have a nice evening, before setting my phone aside and focusing on everybody in the house.
We were gathered in the living room, as usual, but we all sat on the floor. Before the Betas had arrived back, I had pulled out the box I had retrieved from Dallas, showing Harley pictures of Mom and what I looked like when I was a kid. We had been, maybe, halfway through when they had burst through the door.
I wasn't entirely sure how it had progressed from there but, somehow, I had been convinced. Maybe it was a mix of puppy dog eyes and begging, but I had caved, putting one of the home movies discs into the DVD player.
Saturday, August 27th 1994 – John's POV
I couldn't stop looking at them; didn't want to.
After five hours of stressful labour, Claudia had given birth to our little boy, in the late morning of August 26th. Now, at only a day old, I could honestly say I was completely in love with him. Our son.
I kept the camera trained on him, on our Genim, not wanting to miss a single moment of him. He was small, so fragile, barely the length of my forearm; the little blue hat on his head was too big, even though it was the smallest size the hospital had. Faint wisps of dark hair peeked out from beneath the hat, and his body was dwarfed even more by the plush blanket wrapped around him. His face was slightly rounded, cheeks full with a little button of a nose; like all babies, his large eyes were a dark blue, but I was hoping they would turn the same beautiful brown as Claudia's.
I didn't care about the sleepless nights we were headed towards; didn't care about the late-night feeds or the dirty diapers. I didn't care about the future tantrums or teenage angst. All I cared about was just how obsessed I was with my family.
Pulling the camera back slightly, and sitting in the chair next to the bed, I managed to fit Claudia into the frame. Cradling Genim to her chest, she softly ran the tip of a finger down his cheek. Her face was lit up with a content, adoring smile.
"God, you're beautiful," I breathed. "You're both so perfect."
With a tired laugh, Claudia looked my way. She was exhausted, even after a full day of rest. Not that I blamed her. I would be too if I had pushed a human out of me. Though, it didn't help that she refused to fully rest, too wrapped up in our little boy to want that.
"John, put the camera away," she whined, playfully. "I look awful!"
"You look gorgeous," I corrected. "You're glowing."
"No, I'm sweaty. Sweaty and emotional and, Jesus Christ, I think I'm gonna cry again."
True to her word, tears slipped down Claudia's cheek. She swiped at them with the back of her hand, sniffling softly. Reaching out, keeping the camera on the two of them, I took her hand in mine.
"You could be covered, head to toe, in the worst kinds of things you could imagine, and I would still think, still know, that you are the most stunning person, creature or thing in this world." I hushed, squeezing her hand. "And you just brought our little boy into this world, someone who's the combination of the two of us. I didn't think it was possible to love you any more, but you've proven me wrong, just like you always do."
"You're not helping," she hiccupped, though she continued to smile. "You sappy bastard, you."
"But I'm your sappy bastard."
Lifting her hand, I pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. After nine years together, five of those being married, my love for Claudia had only grown. Even when we argued, I only seemed to love her more with each passing day, hour, minute, second. I never believed in love at first sight or soulmates. None of that fairy-tale bullshit that romance novels spouted. But, secretly, in my heart, it was the only way I could have described the way I felt for the woman I could call my wife.
"You're right about one thing, though," Claudia sighed after a moment, tears gone. "He is perfect."
The clip ended just as I woke up, a piercing cry cutting off whatever Dad was about to say. I found my own tears were falling silently as I stared at the screen. Everybody shuffled closer together; Derek held me closer to his side, Harley climbed into my lap, and Isaac rested his head on my shoulder and rubbed a hand up and down my arm. Taking a deep breath, I tried to keep myself calm; tried to keep myself together.
Even as it felt like my chest was being ripped in two.
The Dad in the video was the Dad I loved; the Dad I wanted to remember. He was the one I wished I could have kept. He was the one I wished my Pack could have met; the one I knew would have loved them all as much as I did. Would have doted on them all; would have spoilt Harley to pieces.
Monday, October 31st 1994 – Claudia's POV
"Are you ready?" I laughed, hiding around the corner.
John had made me wait until he had turned on his camera, wanting to capture Genim's first Halloween. I was sure he was going to love what I had gotten for Genim; that he would melt the moment he saw it.
I couldn't help but grin.
"I'm ready!" came John's excited reply.
"Are you sitting down?" I called back.
"Sitting down and the camera is on its stand."
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Claudia!"
I couldn't help teasing him. He would always turn into a big child when I made him wait for something, whining ever so slightly.
With another laugh, lifting Genim a little higher up, I turned the corner and walked into the living room. John's eyes went wide, standing quickly as he rushed towards the two of us. His hands flittered over Genim, not knowing what to do or where to touch, much like he had for the first few weeks after Genim was born. I noted the slow-growing, beaming grin spreading across his face.
When I had seen the police costume for babies, I couldn't resist getting one for Genim – John always joked that Genim would be his mini-me. I had managed to get the last one in his size, keeping a tight grip on it until I had it hidden at home. I almost couldn't contain my excitement, close to spoiling the surprise on many occasions.
"Do you like it?" I asked, passing Genim to John.
"Oh, I love it!" John cooed, lifting our baby easily. "Do you look like Daddy? Do you? Do you look like Daddy? Are you going to be a policeman like Daddy?"
Slowly, gently, John spun Genim around, lifting him into the air. He kissed over Genim's face, stroking a hand over his hair. I had never seen a man, a father, that loved their child as much as John loved our Genim. He was completely devoted to him, giving as much of himself as he could.
John had always worried, when we had talked about having a family of our own, that he would be like his father. A bitter, cold drunkard of a man, with seemingly no love in his heart. He had panicked his way through my entire pregnancy, reading as many parenting books as he good, and going as far as to take unneeded anger and alcohol management courses. 'Just in case', he had said.
"I can't believe they make one this tiny!" John gushed. "Look at the little hat! The little badge!"
John never had anything to worry about.
Wrapping my arms around the two of them, I rested my chin on John's shoulder, taking Genim's hand in mine.
"What do you say we go show off our little Deputy?" I hummed. "I'm sure everyone at the station will want to see their newest member."
The last thing we saw was Dad running over to the camera to turn it off. I couldn't get over the look on his face – the big, boyish grin. The same one I had seen so many times in pictures of myself.
As I had grown up, I had seen many pictures of that day. Of Dad's colleagues holding me, or of Dad holding me up to make it look like I was working at his desk. Dad was always doing silly things like that. Mom too, if I thought about it. They both had a great sense of humour; our home had always been full of laughter.
I couldn't help the small whimper that escaped me.
I was making the next one our last.
The date in the bottom corner read: Thursday, June 15th 1995. As far as I was aware, the videos weren't grouped by dates; videos from the same year were dotted across the discs. There was no rhyme or reason to it. However, I was glad for it when this one began to play.
In this one, I wasn't even ten months old yet. Still small and a little chunky, babbling nonsense, my eyes had already changed to their current colour; a small tuft of dark hair was already on my head. Not enough to matter, but it was there. I was sat up, in the living room of our old house in Beacon Hills, gripping a block in both hands as I brought it up to my mouth.
Then Mom came into view.
"Ok, ok," Mom grinned, crawling backwards from the camera. "I think I've got this working… Say hi! Say hi, baby! Can you say 'hi' for Momma?"
Dark hair down to just below her shoulders in gentle waves and dark, kind eyes. She was slight, but not overly so, with sharp cheekbones and a mischievous smile. She looked just as beautiful as I remembered.
She wore blue jeans and a lightweight, cream sweater, three-quarter-length sleeves were loose against her arms; her gold locket rested against her chest.
"Hey, I'm talking to you, mister," she laughed, tickling me a little. "I'm talking to you."
Baby me, on the screen, squealed with laughter, the block falling from my hands. Mom scooped me up into her arms, cuddling me close with one, whilst the other continued to move and tickle over my stomach and sides.
I couldn't help but smile, my eyes glued to the TV. I hadn't been able to watch the DVDs in years. The last time I had, it was before Mom had them put on the discs; I had asked her what I was like when I was younger, and she had pulled out the camera and hooked it up to the TV.
"Do you wanna say hi to the camera?" Mom asked after a couple of minutes, voice high when she had stopped and lifted me into the air. "Yeah? Look, look at the camera, baby."
Sitting me on her lap, Mom pointed toward the camera. Shoving my fist into my mouth, my head turned to follow where her finger was gesturing towards. I just stared at the device, blinking at it as I chewed on my hand, drool running down my chin; she took my free hand, gently waving it up and down. Mom rested her head on top of mine, pressing light kisses to the soft hair there as she continued to grin.
It didn't take long before that baby on the screen started to fall asleep.
"Aw, my sleepy baby," Mom cooed. "Momma didn't turn the camera on at a good time, huh?"
Shifting until she had me reclining with my head in the crook of her elbow, she slowly began to rock from side to side. She tucked her hair behind her ear, before stroking the backs of her fingers over one of my chubby cheeks.
A lump lodged in my throat, just seeing the unabashed love all over her face as she watched me. It was a look she always wore when she was alive, whenever the two of us were together. I never really thought anything of it. But seeing it now, on a screen in front of me, I saw it plain as day.
Then she started to sing.
"I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you, ha
Every single day
Alright, hey, hey
I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you
Every single day of my life"
Mom never sang 'traditional' kid's songs to get me to sleep. She said she had tried a couple of times when I was very young, but they never worked. We never knew if it was because I didn't like them, or because she found singing them awkward. So, she tried different songs, ones she liked that could be turned into some form of a lullaby.
Which was why she would sing I Was Born to Love You by Queen.
I was sure she was the reason I loved so many of their song; was the reason I loved them. I Want to Break Free would, probably, always be my favourite music video; it was the first time I had seen anyone in drag before.
It was just as Mom opened her mouth to start singing again, that another voice joined her, from off-camera. Deep and male.
Dad.
"You are the one for me
I am the man for you
You were made for me
You're my ecstasy
If I was given every opportunity
I'd kill for your love
So take a chance with me
Let me romance with you
I'm caught in a dream
And my dreams come true
So hard to believe
This is happening to me
An amazing feeling
Comin' through"
As he sang, Dad strolled over to Mom and me, kneeling once he reached us; he wasn't in uniform, so it must have been his day off. Over the years, I hadn't heard Dad sing much, usually leaving that to the two of us. But there were times when he just couldn't help himself. Especially when he could duet with Mom.
His hand brushed over my head, lightly, the look on his face a mirror of Mom's. I hadn't seen that look on him in so long… I watched as my little hand reached out and gripped one of Dad's fingers, barely able to curl fully around it.
Mom's face lit up when Dad joined us, moving carefully until she could sit closer to him and lean her head on his shoulder. She looked so at peace, so happy, at just being with us.
"I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yes, I was born to take care of you, honey
Every single day of my life
I wanna love you
I love every little thing about you
I wanna love you, love you, love you
Born, to love you
Born, to love you
Yes I was born to love you
Born, to love you
Born, to love you
Every single day, day of my life
An amazing feeling
Comin' through"
Dad wrapped his arm around Mom's back, singing the melody of the song as Mom easily harmonised with him.
I couldn't take my eyes off of the two of them, watching the love in their eyes as they gazed at each other; as they watched as I was almost completely asleep in Mom's arms. Dad's thumb stroked over the fist I had curled around one of his fingers, rubbing gently, soothingly.
"I was born to love you
With every single beat of my heart
Yeah, I was born to take care of you
Every single day of my life
Yeah I was born to love you
Every single day of my life
Go, woah, I love you, babe, hey
Born to love you
Yes, I was born to love you hey
I wanna love you, love you, love you
I wanna love you
Yeah, yeah
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, it's magic
What, ha, ha, ha
I get so lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, yeah
I want to love you
It's magic
Love you, love you
Yeah, give it to me."
The clip ended with Dad kissing Mom, as I lay asleep between them.
I turned the DVD off with a shaking hand, unable to stand any more of it. I dissolved into tears, just like I had the day before; I couldn't stop my body from convulsing with sobs.
No one said anything, though. All they did was press closer together, moving until they could all touch some part of me.
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