Bienvenue - Welcome

"There," Louise said, placing the last picture frame on the mantlepiece and turning around to face Edith. "We are officially moved in." After months of searching for a place to sleep that wasn't a cot in Louise's kitchen, added to the stress of starting an extra column at the Sketch and concocting a cover story for her pregnancy, Louise had come up with a solution. The two would get a flat together. One bedroom large enough for two beds and a place for the baby, a small kitchen and living room. Just what they needed.

"Louise," Edith winced, one hand wrapped tightly around the arm of her chair, the other on her large stomach. "I think we ought to take a taxi to the hospital now," she had been feeling the pains for the last half hour or so, and while the end was still a long way off, Edith preferred her child to be born in a hospital rather than the backseat of a London Taxi. And so off they went, clothed in fear and anticipation.

Gray morning light bled in through the high window, landing first on a sleeping form bent awkwardly in their chair, then moving on to color the faces of two new lives fitted snugly against their mother's chest. Twins. Edith had nearly fainted when the nurse had announced it after a short examination upon their arrival. The normal doctor had neglected to notice. Twins were dangerous, Edith knew, but hers had arrived without issue. Now their tiny bodies lie sleeping, chests rising with first breaths, noses twitching in their first cold morning air. Alice and Arthur, her babies. Edith suddenly felt so ashamed of the times she felt like giving up. Like handing her baby over to some nice young couple the second it was born. Like going back to her old life with her tail between her legs. No, abandoning her family in order to raise her children away from Violet's incessant advice or Mary's biting remarks had been worth it. Totally and completely worth it. Alice, Arthur, and Louise were her family now.

The first time that Louise kissed Edith, they were in their kitchen. Alice and Arthur had just started sleeping through the night, and an easy rhythm had developed in the household. Edith would wrestle the twins to sleep while Louise cleared up dinner. Then the two would sit at the kitchen table and write. Mostly for their respective columns, but sometimes other things. Things that caught their fancy. On this particular night, Louise was writing about Edith. Of course, Edith didn't know who Louise was writing about. The nature of the piece called for a bit more... elusive adoration.

When both women's eyes were weary, they would swap papers to see what the other had written. Edith hadn't done much, and Louise soon found herself just sitting and watching Edith's eyes move across the page. There was a nervous tension winding itself tighter and tighter within her chest. Finally, Edith looked up and let out a sigh that carried a multitude of compliments and affirmations. In return, Louise filled her lungs with air, stood up, walked around the table, lent over Edith... and kissed her.

In a split second, Louise was backing away, spewing noises that sounded like she was sorry, she shouldn't have, she didn't know– and then she left.

Edith remained motionless in her chair, her fingers resting lightly on a part of her left untouched by anyone since Michael. It wasn't until Louise has dressed for bed and made a place for herself on the couch that Edith dared to get up. She walked directly into the bedroom, and fell asleep to the sound of Louise crying.

The first time that Edith kissed Louise was the following morning. It was early, before the light could be described as anything but pale, and Edith awoke to the sounds of Louise readying for work. Again, they met in the kitchen. This time, Louise was sitting, Edith standing a few feet away. "I'm surprised you even want to see me, after last night," Louise's voice was rough, and her eyes puffy.

"Of course I do." It was Edith's turn to bridge the gap, lean over, and kiss her.

Again, it lasted only a second, Edith pulling away with a deep blush. Then Louise was standing, and kissing again, and Edith was kissing back. They stayed there together, locked in a tentative embrace, exploring each other as the light changed from pale to morning glow, and the cry of an infant broke the silent night.

And so began the first day.

Heavily absorbed in the chaos of mothering, Edith didn't have a chance to even think until midday naps. With the force of a tidal wave, what they had done, what she had done hit her squarely in the chest. It was… It was madness. It was wrong. So completely and utterly wrong. She could be arrested for heaven's sake! What good would that do her children then? Kissing Louise like that had been a mistake. Kissing Louise had… had… had left a violent streak of giddiness in Edith's heart. She quite suddenly realized that she wanted to kiss Louise again. And she thought that maybe, quite possibly, Louise did, too.

It was still lying on the table, untouched from the previous evening. Picking it up with shaking hands, Edith began to reread.

I dreamt last night that we were on the beach. I don't know why we were there, perhaps for the air, perhaps because that's just the sort of place your brain takes you in a dream. The sun was in your eyes and so you lifted your hand to shade them, while I used my own eyes to trace the lines of your body. You turned into a map, and before me I could see every city that was you, everywhere you've been, and everywhere you'll go. Down the center of the map, a red line appeared, following your roads from city to city… seemingly journeying with you. I looked at this line, puzzled by what it could be. It took me a long while to reach the obvious conclusion that the red line was me.

This beautiful dream of mine suddenly became a nightmare when my eyes landed on the spot where the red line stopped. It was a smaller dot, a village maybe. Your long, winding road continued on, while mine ceased to exist. I realized that there would come a time for us to separate, and for you to continue on without me.

That is what I dreamt last night, and I fear that tonight is the dot where my red line ends.

"But it wasn't, was it? Because you're still here, and so am I," the author stood in the doorway. "I think we ought to talk." It was a Thursday, after all.

Author's Note

Hey... So here we are with some Valentine's Day fluff, nearly six months after I posted the last angst-filled chapter. I hope you'll forgive me the major time jump.

Tons of thanks to girliestarkid, for fixing my grammar, spelling, and sentence structure, for being a wonderful human, and for being my Maggie. I love you, dear.

I'm not going to say much more, just warn you that it'll probably be a long time before the next chapter is posted...

Please, let me know what you think

-helladella