Here we are! The very end. I hope you all have enjoyed the ride and I cannot thank you enough for supporting this fic of mine from the start. I never expected the response I have received and I am eternally grateful to you all. Thank you one and all 3
Special thanks to the support of analiarvb, notatroll7, secretlystephaniebrown, Yin, freshzombiewriter, washingtonstub, and voxaris from AO3 and tumblr!
New Jazz Age
Chapter Thirteen: Epilogue
She's struggling with the trunk and wondering why she's too damn prideful to accept York's offer of taking his truck instead of her car. Well, his car, technically. Not that he's ever driven it, even with his new license.
Carolina stuffs the wheelchair into the trunk as best she can and, with the forcefulness of will and spite that only a Church could possess, shoves it in and finally pops the door down until it clicks.
Almost breathless, she slides into her driver's seat and shakes her head, trying to settle what hairs have fallen out of her ponytail.
Ellison is staring at her with that unimpressed look he learned when he was seven. She resists giving him a noogie until he remembers to lose it.
"I told you that I didn't need the wheelchair," he reminds her.
"And I told you that as long as you're my brother and leaving my hospital, we're going to take advantage of every little benefit that I get in my contract," she says, pulling the seatbelt across her chest. "Also you have two legs in casts, brother of mine."
"One leg and one foot. There's a difference," Ellison all but pouts. Still, he stretches back and yawns a lion's yawn before rolling his neck around. "God, I'm so glad to get out of that place."
"Even if it's with me?" she asks idly as she starts the car and readies for the drive home.
"Yeah, my happiness is in spite of a lot of stipulations I don't find agreeable," Ellison argues back, playing with the mirror. "Including medicine."
"Lots of medicine to keep track of," Carolina agrees.
"An unsavory amount of medication to keep track of. Who knows how many times I'll forget to take certain ones," Ellison hums.
"You'll regret missing out on the pain meds," she informs him dryly.
"Wasn't talking about the pain meds," he continues. Then, when she lets there be more than a moment's pause, he leans toward her. "I was joking about going off the psychiatric ones again," he clarifies.
"I know," Carolina says flatly. "I just didn't think it was funny."
"Self-depreciation is all I have, Sis, you have to let me own it at least own it," Ellison yawns. He looks to her curiously. "So if I'm wheelchair bound, how's that going to effect your new humble abode, as it were?"
"Not much," she says. "You'll have to sleep on the couch in the living room until you can get up the stairs. But that means you've got full TV access. And the kitchen close by. But there's only a half bath downstairs so you'll need help upstairs for a shower whenever you feel up to it."
Ellison hums. "Theo says you don't have a table to eat at."
"We don't," Carolina answers. She then quickly adds, "Yet."
Her brother raises a brow at her. "What kind of house doesn't have a table for eating?"
"Ours," Carolina replies. "We just haven't found one yet. Give it time… I'm sure York will end up building one out of left over wood from the fence or something."
"Real handyman," Ellison snorts.
"He seems to think so now," Carolina sighs.
Ellison's fingers tap nervously against the window.
Carolina listens to it for a few minutes, making the turn into her neighborhood. When the tapping only grows louder, she spares her brother a sideways glance and decides to bite.
"What?" she asks. "What's wrong?"
"These, uh, boyfriends of yours," Ellison says slowly. "Have they mentioned… I mean have they got any plans for what comes after I can get up stairs on my own?"
There's a certain nervousness to Ellison's question that Carolina doesn't know for sure but thinks is abnormal for him. At least the Ellison she once knew and the one over the fast few weeks she has come to know.
Carolina, still swimming in memories of old family gatherings and dearest times buried under the sands of war, is unsure what to make of a Church being anything but snark.
So she goes with the easiest route: the truth.
"There's three bedrooms upstairs. Just one bath, but it's a full and we've somehow managed to make it work for four so far. No reason it can't work for five," she explains smoothly. "Theo's claimed one of the rooms, I imagine the third will be yours. If you like it."
Ellison nods, but it's slow. Acceptance is moving through him at the speed of molasses. "So it's cool for me to… stay a bit."
"Of course," Carolina says.
"With everyone?" he presses, eyes squinting despite the tug of the bandages on his cheek.
"Yes," Carolina replies, irritation leaking through.
"Both of your boyfriends?"
She looks at him directly and pulls into the driveway. "That's generally what everyone means, Ellison."
He holds up his hands. "Hey hey! Not judging–"
"Didn't think you were judging until now that you mentioned it," Carolina says defensively.
"Okay a little judging, but this is all weird for me, I feel like we barely know each other anymore," Ellison sighs.
Sitting in the driveway, Carolina unbuckles and turns in her seat, facing her brother directly. "And that's my fault," she replies. "I should have returned for you. For Alphonse. Even for Theo."
He looks back at her. "Yeah. You should have," he says. "But I guess… communication is a two way street."
"Yes, it is," she agrees. She reaches forward and grabs his hand. "This house… these people, I know it's not going to seem like much, but it's a new start. For all of us. And I don't think you'll find anything like it in the world. I hope it's good for you. I hope you stay beyond when you no longer need to."
Ellison looks at her and slowly nods. "I hope so too."
"Alright," Carolina says, releasing his hand and opening her door. "Ready for a new beginning?"
"I'm ready for something," he agrees. "Like getting out of this car."
It's easier to get the wheelchair out of the trunk than it was putting it in.
The door is already open, Theo running off the porch, the dog barking while York holds it by the collar, and North waiting passively at the door.
It's not a lot. But it's everything. And Carolina's never been happier to have a family. A true family all of her own.