AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing! That's the only surefire way to keep me writing. I am guilty of letting stories die without finishing them. Very guilty. The spark fizzles and I just never find it again. I'm going to finish this one if it kills me. And soon. Maybe another chapter or so, but possibly some more stories in this verse if it's in the cards. Main things: Thank you muchly, please continue to review, and I hope you enjoy.
Four months before.
She didn't know when it had started, or how, but she knew things were all wrong between her mommies. It was in the way they spoke in clipped tones and didn't cuddle on the couch when they were watching TV after dinner. It was in the way Mama sighed after getting early evening phone calls from Mami, before announcing that it was pizza night again because it would just be the two of them … again. It was in the way Mami would come home after Ily was already in bed and strained whispers would float up the stairs, sometimes getting louder until she could pick out actual words and none of them sounded very nice. It was definitely in the way they both seemed preoccupied and easily annoyed—even Mama, who was usually the most patient person in the world, had been getting onto Ily for what she felt were unfair and unimportant things like forgetting to hang up her towel after her bath and using words like "crap," which Mami used all the time and wasn't even one of the really bad words she knew but would never let her mommies hear her say. ("It's not a nice word and I don't want to hear it from you anymore," Mama had said. "But why, though? Mami doesn't care if I say it," Iliana countered, genuinely confused and not really trying to argue. "Listen, MAMI doesn't always have the best judgment, Iliana, and I said no, so knock it off.")
It was mostly in the quiet, though. There was something scary and sad in the way the whole house seemed quiet even when it shouldn't have, even when they did manage to have dinner together or watch TV like they used to before all this … weirdness started. Iliana hated that heavy quiet, she thought, more than even the arguing.
One night she was sitting in the kitchen trying to do her math homework, but she needed Mama's help. Her mama was doing the dishes at the sink and her mami had disappeared as soon as she'd cleared the table. Now the only sounds were sloshing soapy water and the slightly-too-hard clanking of ceramic against ceramic.
"Mama, I can't do this!" Ily said for the third or fourth time.
"San, can you please come help Iliana with her homework?" her Mama called, and there was something strange in her tone. A challenge?
Mami appeared in the kitchen doorway, her handbag under one arm. "James just called; I have to go back to the office."
"You're kidding."
"I wish I was kidding; this case is killing me."
Ily's mama barked out a laugh but it didn't sound like she thought anything was funny at all. "This case is killing us all," she said.
"Brittany." There was a note of warning in Mami's voice, and Iliana glanced up from her wrinkled worksheet in time to catch the glance Mami threw her way.
Mama turned off the faucet and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "Baby girl, go upstairs for a minute," she said, not even glancing at Ily, who didn't move. Maybe if she stayed put, they'd stop.
"Britt, you knew this was going to be a big deal. We talked about it, about the hours I'd have to put in. This case could make or break me; I have to be available when the partners call."
"I guess I didn't know it was going to be a bigger deal than your family, is all," Mama said, tossing the dishtowel onto the counter. "I haven't seen you for a week, other than odd hours here and there. When is the last time we even went to bed at the same time, or saw each other in the morning?"
"And that's all on me? Really. Really you want to go there?"
"If you have something to say…"
"I have plenty to say, I just don't have time to say it because I have to go to work. Jesus Christ, Brittany, you pick the worst times to fight."
"Next time I'll make an appointment, then. You can pencil me in."
"Fine, do that. And I'll make a note to point out that you and Christopher manage to work plenty of hours yourselves, and they just happen to be the opposite ones that I'm on. What do you think his endgame is?"
"Don't you dare go down that road again, Santana Lopez. That's unfair and hurtful and you know it."
"Like you implying that I'm choosing to work these ungodly hours over spending time with my wife and little girl?"
"I'm not implying anything, San."
"Wow. Wow, Brittany, I don't even know what's happening to you."
"Yeah? Maybe that's something we need to discuss. You know, when you have time."
Her mommies seemed to have both forgotten she was sitting there, pencil poised over her paper, angry tears standing in her eyes. She looked at them looking at each other, the glares they were shooting each other's way like nothing she'd seen between them in all her eight years of life.
"I have to go," Mami finally said, her voice husky with either hurt or anger or both. "I'll see you tomorrow if you and Christopher don't pull another all-nighter."
"Fine, go. Don't worry about us. Not that you would."
Mami seemed to suddenly remember that Iliana was still in the room. Her eyes locked on their daughter and her mouth fell open. Mama followed her gaze and did an almost perfect imitation of her wife's expression. Iliana stood up shakily from the table, threw down her pencil, wadded up her undone math homework sheet, and threw it in their direction. "You're both being stupid!" she shouted. "These are stupid fights and stupid mean words and I don't like either one of you!"
With that, she stormed out and up to her room, slamming the door for all she was worth and sobbing into her pillow until she fell asleep.
Present day.
Iliana was silent on the way home. She sat in the cab sandwiched between Uncle Kurt and Aunt Rachel, holding Rachel's hand and fretting. What if it hadn't worked? What if it had only made things worse? Maybe the whole thing had been a horrible idea thought up by a horrible little kid who only thought she knew how to put her family back together. Maybe she'd risked being grounded for life and only succeeded in driving the wedge even wider between her mommies.
As if reading her thoughts, Kurt glanced over at her and said, "Iliana, you know, the only two people who can fix a relationship are the ones involved in it. If your moms aren't ready to work things out, then there's nothing any of us can do but wait and see."
"I've been waiting for a long time," Iliana murmured. "They're not getting better on their own."
"That's true. And that might mean that they're just not ready to work things out. Or it might mean something else. Either way, it's not something we can force. If we could, Rachel and I would've had your moms back together a long time ago."
"But also, Iliana," Rachel broke in, "It's important to remember that even if they aren't ready to work out their issues, that is in no way a reflection on their love for you. They love you so much there aren't even words for it. You know that, don't you?"
Iliana bit her lip and nodded. She didn't need the pep talks. She needed to see her mommies together, in the same room for the first time in a zillion months, and read the air. See if that weird heavy quiet had lifted at all, see if they sat closer together on the couch or communicated with their eyes like they used to. She would know, once she saw them, if they were going to be okay. She would know.
