This chapter is inspired entirely by 5x05 and the full spectrum of Jean's backstory. [Warning for any and all topics raised in said episode]. Enjoy.

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The air was cool and the house very still when Amelia fussed in the middle of the night. Jean was already awake, staring at the ceiling, a million and one thought running through her mind and none of them lingering long enough to make sense.

She got up quickly, not wanting anyone else to be disturbed, and brought Amelia back to her room, closing the door softly behind her.

Considering that Christopher technically left Amelia in her care, Jean hadn't spent much one-on-one time with her the past week. Between Lucien taking custody of an evening, and Matthew and Charlie coming and going of a morning, the middle of the day was the only time they were truly alone, and even then there were patients to attend with Lucien and shopping or errands to be done down the street. Amelia didn't seem to mind; other than the teething she was a very relaxed baby, happy to be passed around to any sturdy pair of hands that wanted a hold.

Still, as much as she didn't coddle children, Jean enjoyed having a private snuggle with Amelia, especially when she was sleepy and placid in the middle of the night, the two of them undisturbed by the rest of the house. She laid her on the bed next to her, placing a pillow on the other side so she wouldn't roll off the edge, and then Jean settled on her side, her hand rubbing the baby's tummy to keep her calm and help her get back to sleep.

These quiet moments reminded her of the boys when they were little, when everything had been new and overwhelming and she was just struggling to keep her head above water. Night time on the farm had been a reprieve from the chaos, when she could enjoy her babies; now, as a grandmother, the middle of the night felt relaxed and decadent. Not at all like they did thirty years ago.

Her mind revisited one of the many thoughts that had been plaguing her, and Jean sighed deeply.

She was getting so sick of purgatory.

Lucien had been especially attentive to Amelia tonight, free for once of any work responsibilities, and he had spent most of the evening on the floor with her, encouraging her tummy-time play and then reading to her from Blinky Bill on the couch, knowing she couldn't understand it but not caring. He helped bath her in the kitchen sink, and sang her to sleep in the spare room, and if Jean wasn't already irrevocably in love with him, then something about his softness – about the gentle humanity he showed her granddaughter – would have sealed the deal.

Jean took Amelia's hand in hers, and kissed the tips of her little fingers, and felt the weight of her future laid out before her; she tried not to think about raising her own little girl, once upon a time in another life. She didn't like to linger on lost possibilities or what-ifs. There was too much to be thankful for in the present, and too much time had passed, and anyway coveting something that could never be didn't seem like a very healthy state of mind. So she didn't linger.

But she was getting impatient in waiting for her love; impatient to let the rest of her life start anew. She wasn't nineteen and naive now, and she would do things the proper way. But her love was profound, and each day it bubbled closer to the surface.

It wasn't fair to either man to draw comparisons, but some nights – like tonight, her mind too awake – she could recognise the differences in herself; her first marriage was safe and boring in the best ways, and some days she did long for that again. But this upcoming marriage, with this man, would be an adventure every day, and it frightened her and exhilarated her in equal measure. It was… bigger, somehow; bold like fireworks. She wanted so much for Amelia to find fireworks in her life, and to never settle for less.

Jean learned to love Christopher. She was so young when they married, and nervous about the future, but every day she woke with a promise to herself to stay dedicated to the life she was given. She had fallen for that handsome boy at school and they promised each other so many things, and he loved her so much that she knew they could make a happy life together. They had to, because good Catholic girls did that sort of thing; they got married young and had babies and stood by their families even as the burning for something more simmered under the skin. Good Catholic girls confessed their coveting for a grander life and repented every Sunday, and come morning they re-promised themselves to this lot and thanked the Lord for His blessings.

She learned to love Christopher the way others learn to love the weather in a new country. Never quite the same, but nice in its own way, with its own set of challenges and rewards. And before long, with young children and a farm to run, she didn't have to try to love their life together. The days of feeling trapped and wing-clipped became fewer and farther between (though when they did hit it was like a tornado, stirring up every feeling of resentment and anger inside her, and she spent a good deal of time praying for guidance). Her boys all needed her, and she answered their call, and didn't think too long on other lives she might have lived; as a flight attendant, a wartime nurse, a legal secretary in the city, the wife of a diplomat stationed in Europe or Asia or even somewhere daunting like Africa. She had her books for that sort of thing, and she learned to love Christopher and this life they fell into as young and reckless teenagers.

Looking at Amelia in her infancy, Jean could see every ounce and inch of potential in her future, and her heart soared.

"You can be so many things" she whispered into her downy baby hair. "You can be anything you want"

She thought of Mattie, living in London and dating a young medical student she met there; Mattie, who looked her father in the eye and told him she wasn't going to live the life he had laid down for her no matter how much it hurt. She thought of Li, equally defined by her circumstances as Jean had been, forging her own path with steely courage to build a life from the wreckage of relative abandonment. She thought of Rose, feisty and combative, who probably annoyed more people than was wise but who always did it on her own terms, and who knew herself well enough to wait for the quiet life. Jean thought of Tillie Robinson and Elizabeth Chapman and all the girls of Ballarat who had so many options ahead of them, each one more terrifying and exciting than the last.

She knew times were changing fast outside their town; Ballarat was a bubble of old-world country life, the way so many towns were, but there was a simmer of change about to burst forward and these girls were on the cusp of it. Young Amelia would see the most of it. Jean envied her a little, but mostly she was so excited to get to see her grow up.

"I'm going to tell you something your Grandpa Lucien once said to me" said Jean. The sound of her voice was lulling Amelia towards sleep, her eyes drooping. "And I'm going to keep telling you this as you grow up"

Jean resumed rubbing Amelia's belly, and took a deep breath.

"Find that one thing you want in life, and go for that one thing"

She smiled at the memory, bittersweet though it was. If only she had known then what was to happen. If only she had known he was right; that their moment in the garden was the beginning of her being ready, and that she would decide in her heart that he was her one thing, and she would go for that one thing and never let go, not for anyone. Not even for God. Suddenly the thought that was plaguing her came full circle, and the problem standing before her felt like no problem at all.

"No matter how big your dreams are, I promise… you can make them happen"

Amelia's eyes dropped closed and stayed that way.

"And we'll be standing right behind you every step of the journey"

Jean waited a moment, and then gently stood from her bed and picked up Amelia. She didn't stir, and Jean walked her back to her room with soft footfalls and her heart bursting with love. Placing her in the cot, Jean let her hand rest a moment on her chest, feeling her tiny breaths go in and out.

"You are so very loved, baby girl" she whispered, smiling with pride.

When she went back to bed, her mind was calmer and her problems seemed easier to deal with, and before long sleep took over like a calm washing away the day. All the potential and the excitement for the future sat firmly in her heart and it felt wonderful.