Author's Note:

This delay was brought to you by a painful disinterest in DGM after a couple of uneventful chapters. I felt my time was better employed by immersing myself in something fresh and new and have thus spent many hours watching TV series and reading fanfiction. Now, however, I've seen all the heart breaking drama I wanted to see and I need to be creative again.

I hope you have not given up on me even though I'm being difficult with my mood-swingy changes in interest.

My writing style for this chapter is a bit fragmented, I felt it to work best because I wanted to show you glimpses of how Ellen dealing with Emily.

Disclaimer: D. Gray-man belongs to Katsura Hoshino

Kapitel 72 No Magic Words

The windows of the infirmary room were wide open. Kanda sat in an armchair next to them, looking outside absent-mindedly. It was rare for him to actually be in this room and to have a moment of quiet to himself. He held the awake, but silent Emily in his arms, the silky tufts of black hair that graced her head getting tousled by the warm breeze. Ellen had just left to send a letter to her mother and while Kanda had not read it he knew that it must contain the news of Emily's birth. He of course wasn't quite able to foresee what would happen if Charlene knew. He was Emily's father, there wasn't anything she could do to change that, accordingly her options to make his life quite miserable seemed pretty limited. Also, that deal with his mother-in-law had been based on the birth of a son. Kanda snorted at the mere thought of their questionable deal, looking down at his daughter. Actually, now he found himself to be a fool for even agreeing. What if Emily had been a boy, like he had thought all along? He would have exchanged the unborn child for Charlene's pretended acceptance of him? To buy her approval and blessings? Sometimes, when he allowed himself to reflect, he realized that he was an immature, thoughtless idiot about some things. Maybe a lot of things. But he didn't really allow himself to think about it that much… The fact remained that if Emily had been born a boy, then Charlene's arrival at the Black Order would most possibly mean giving her away.

"Good for us that you're a girl," Kanda muttered and Emily gazed up at him, her blue eyes just like his. While he found great pride in their apparent similarity, it still put a damper on his mood thinking where he had his stunning blue eyes from. Days after his fruitless not so secret mission, he still had had no time to really reflect on it. Not that he wanted to, there were more pressing things at hand. He lifted Emily up a bit and when she made a small noise of protest he kissed her forehead. "You're not going anywhere."

"Kanda!" He gave a start as the door was pushed open and Ellen rushed into the room. He looked at her, getting up from the armchair quickly. Ellen spotted Emily in his arms and hurried over to him, hands raised. "Give me the child!"

"What?" he asked in surprise, but showed little resistance as Ellen reached under Emily's arms. Emily started to whimper and cry as soon as she left her father's arms, but Ellen just held her to her chest.

"She's really pale, maybe also feverish - we need to go! Quick!" Ellen said and Kanda noticed that Linali was standing in the door, a coat in her arms. Pale? Feverish? What was she talking about? Emily was just fine for a change. Kanda looked from one girl to the other in great confusion, while Emily's cries grew louder.

"Wait! Where are you taking her?" Kanda asked in alarm as Ellen left the room without any explanation. "Hey!"

"Ah, Kanda! Sorry! We're taking her to Hebraska, maybe Emily is ill after all!" Linali explained and Kanda wrinkled his brow. "Come on!" She grabbed Kanda's wrist and pulled him with her. He didn't protest as he followed the two frantic girls down and down the many stairs. They earned themselves a few bewildered looks, running about and with Emily's cries bouncing off the walls. Kanda was glad when the gates to Hebraska's room appeared before them and reached past Ellen – who, he noted, was pale and breathing heavily after this rather short run - to push it open. The cool air of the vault hit them immediately and Linali put the coat she brought around Ellen's shoulders.

"Hebraska? I apologize for our sudden visit, but I need your help!" Ellen said and the tall figure of Hebraska appeared out of the fog, bending slowly until her face was not that far away from the three youths anymore.

"Do not apologize. I awaited your arrival, Ellen," she said and even though her eyes were not visible Ellen assumed that her attention was on Emily. The girl had stopped crying, probably exhausted, and just squirmed unhappily in Ellen's arms, probably cold in this basement room. "I wish to say my blessings for the birth of your child," Hebraska continued speaking and one of her hands reached out to Emily. It came to rest on the girl's forehead and the baby opened her eyes.

"Thank you, Hebraska," Ellen mumbled, unsure what else to say.

"And what is this all about? Care to explain?" Kanda spoke up from behind her, fixing first Linali then Ellen with a slightly disgruntled expression. Ellen just looked at him, her eyes wide and stormy, the hint of anxiety in them cause enough to make Kanda fear that something was really, really wrong with their daughter. Linali decided to put an end to his worry by enlightening him.

"Ellen told me that Emily seems to be a tad sick because she cries all the time. So we got into thinking if it might be connected to Innocence. After all, she was exposed to Ellen's all these months."

"You think she's compatible?" Kanda wondered, one of his eyebrows pulled up. The fear for his daughter's well-being deflated considerably, "is that why we're here?"

"No…" Kanda turned around to face Ellen, who had her eyes fixed on him, her hands awkwardly clutching Emily tighter against her chest. She was uneasy, she didn't know how to hold her, how to support her, she didn't quite want her so near to her, but she didn't want to let her go either. Kanda saw all of this, but he didn't know what to think about the state she was in. She was Emily's mother. Why was she so insecure?

"Then what is the problem?" Kanda urged, his tone even.

"We fear that her not being compatible might be a bigger problem," Ellen told him. "The chances of not being compatible are quite high. Actually it's most likely that she isn't… But she's been in such a close contact to my Innocence ever since. What if it poisoned her? What if it permanently damaged her?" Kanda widened his eyes at that. He had not expected this kind of answer and he had not even played with the thought. Instead of saying anything, he turned his eyes up to Hebraska, who had been very quiet during their exchange.

"Hebraska?" The white shape of the exorcist quivered slightly as in acknowledgement, then the hand on Emily's head moved, caressing her forehead gently. Kanda could see Emily's lips quiver and he expected her to start wailing again, but she didn't. She remained perfectly quiet, her eyes shifting from Hebraska's hand to her mother and back to the white figure looming over her. Kanda wondered if Emily understood what was going on. Seconds, then a minute passed in silence and Ellen couldn't help holding her breath, waiting for Hebraska to speak. When she finally did, her voice smoky and echoing in the vault, she gave a start, the breath she had been holding escaping her.

"She is not poisoned," Hebraska whispered, but her voice reached all three, "but the Innocence has left its mark. I can feel its traces and echoes in her blood, in her cells, in her mind." Ellen wasn't exactly sure if that were good or bad news, but Linali behind her let out a sigh of relief.

"Is she compatible?" Kanda asked, his voice bordering on hard and Ellen sucked in a breath.

"Kanda…," she said, almost a hiss. Did he really want to hear the answer to that? Why did he push it? Hebraska regarded him silently, taking her time before she answered.

"Whether she is or isn't I cannot say at this point in time. However, her case is unusual. Maybe this phenomenon can be likened to the Chrystal Type." Linali pressed her lips together at that, not quite happy about that thought. "The Innocence has circulated your babe's body, it had travelled her blood streams, but it has not left her like it has left Linali. I cannot feel it resonate within her like I do with other exorcists. Like I have said, I can merely feel traces, no particles that react to my probing…"

"Whatever you felt," Ellen started and Hebraska withdrew her hand from Emily's forehead. "was it Crown Clown?" Hebraska hummed lightly, as if thinking about her answer.

"It seemed vaguely familiar." Ellen sighed. She didn't know if she had expected to hear anything helpful. As it was now, she still did not know if Emily was in danger or if she would be a prisoner of Innocence just like her parents were. She didn't know if she was harmed and marked for the rest of her life. She didn't know a thing about what Innocence could and would actually do. Not knowing made her restless and uneasy and slightly nauseous.

"Ellen," Hebraska called again and she looked up from Emily's face – it was blurry. She was exhausted. "Do not worry about Emily. She is healthy." Ellen blinked a few times and her vision cleared slightly. Hebraska nodded at her and she sighed in relief. "But I need to have a look at you, if you allow me to."

"Oh… Of course." The white haired exorcist turned around and handed Emily – now squirming and frowning again – to Kanda. Hebraska reached out again and took hold of Ellen's face. A shiver went through the girl as she felt Hebraska searching her. The hands didn't leave Ellen for quite some time and Ellen started feeling uneasy. When the strange feeling of Hebraska's exploring finally lifted off her, the white haired exorcist turned her face upwards. The huge form of the woman in front of her was silent and the water dripping somewhere in this nebulous chamber and Emily's frequent sounds of displeasure were the only noises to break the eerie silence. After a long moment, Hebraska finally bent down again to talk to Ellen.

"Crown Clown is weakened," she whispered and Ellen gazed up at her in surprise, "but peculiarly your synchronisation rate remains on its remarkably high level. I do not quite know what to make of it. Are you even able to invocate?" Ellen, despite her confusion, frowned but then she lifted her hand.

"Of course, I-" she stopped midsentence and gasped. She stared at her hand, her eyes getting wider. Nothing had happened and even when she tried to force it, she didn't remember how. She didn't remember what muscles to use, where to get the energy from and her hand remained suspended in mid-air, trembling slightly. "I… What has happened? I cannot do it!" Nervousness spread in her like ice water rushing through her body. Apparently her voice had been loud enough to make Linali jump to Ellen's side, wrapping her fingers around Ellen's upper arms to steady her.

"Ellen, Ellen!" Ellen could hear Linali's voice but her eyes and focus were completely narrowed down to the fact that her Innocence was here, but she didn't know how to invocate.

"Calm down, Ellen," Hebraska's even voice cut through Ellen's rampant thoughts and she looked at Hebraska. "It is too early to panic. But you should be careful… Giving birth to Emily has disrupted the balance within your body. Your Innocence is bound…"

And you know by what.

Ellen gave a start. She hadn't seen Hebraska's mouth move, but she had heard the whisper and it made her heart speed up, hammering in her chest. Faintly, Ellen registered Hebraska addressing Linali, then the girl pulled her, then shoved her gently towards the exit.

When Ellen was sat down into the comfortable armchair in her room she had no idea how she got there.

"Ellen…? Ellen are you alright?" The girl raised her head, seeing Linali gaze down at her with a worried expression. She nodded once even though she was far from alright right now. "Hebraska told you to calm down. Whatever has happened to your Innocence, it will be fine. Don't worry. Just… Just take your time to deal with it…" Ellen forced herself to nod once again, her head oddly empty right now. Her hands were in her lap, palms facing upwards and she looked down at them – one red, discoloured, useless. She felt like throwing up all of a sudden, but Kanda's voice tore through the tense silence.

"This is ridiculous," he hissed and his anger was so apparent in his voice.

"Hebraska said that there is no indication that Ellen's Innocence will reject her now, it's-," Linali started, her hands raised to calm her friend, but Kanda snorted and shook his head. He jerked his head down slightly, towards where Emily had ceased struggling in his arms.

"That she seems to be compatible," he said. Some of the fog in Ellen's head had cleared enough that she felt tired now. She lowered her upper body slightly, rubbing her forehead with the fingers of her right hand.

"We don't know that for sure. Hebraska merely stated what we knew before – that Innocence had travelled through her body…" Even though her voice was strained, she was talking in a calm tone, but it didn't improve Kanda's irritation.

"Maybe we've made a mistake," he stated and Ellen knitted her brows, raising her head to face her husband.

"Oh, really?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "We've known that long enough."

"Ellen, Kanda, please, you are both agitated," Linali started, looking from one to the other, but Ellen raised her hand and the girl stopped fretting.

"Please, Linali, it's alright," she said, her voice controlled but she had a smile to offer when she looked at her friend. Linali knew her well enough to see the pain and exhaustion in it. "We have to face the facts. She's the child of two exorcists. If we manage to win the war soon then it won't matter. Compatible or not, Noah or Exorcists… Everything will cease to be of any import," she explained. The words she hadn't manage to force past her lips, were as powerful silent as they would have been spoken out loud.

In order to remove Emily from what she's been born into, they had to destroy this world they knew, moved in and lived in.

Distantly, as the anger drained from Kanda's face to be replaced by something akin to regret and Linali was silent, Ellen felt that she no longer was a part of the equation. Her part, Ellen Walker, exorcist, had been scratched out and replaced by something else. And she didn't know what it was.

-o-

One thing Ellen had the arguable pleasure to rediscover during the week following Emily's birth was that certain things were expected of her. There was a set of rules for her to follow, ways how to behave and react. She had been allowed back into her room, the space next to her bed, where an ornamental trunk with silky dressed had stood, was now filled by a crib. Not the heavy crib of the Bermont family, it was still firmly in place in the dusty nursery one floor up, but one Kanda had ordered from London and he held a certain amount of pride in. But for all the pride he had in it, he rarely spent much time hovering around it unless Emily was sleeping soundly (which, Ellen felt with growing exhaustion, was never).

All Ellen's usual activities in the lull between missions (and now was the lull between giving birth and finding new purpose) were denied to her. Sometimes, when Link or someone else agreed to watch Emily, she'd try to venture out of the room. She'd go to the Science department to ask if they wanted for anything. But they started fidgeting, sending her back to Emily. She'd go to the infirmary to help the nurses, but she'd just receive chuckles and was asked to go where she really was needed (that there were far more injured people than nurses seemed insignificant). When she'd go to Jerry to help cook she received tea and biscuits and was denied entrance into the kitchen. All ways led back to her room, to Emily.

She bore the child no ill will (not really), but she was getting sick of seeing the same things day after day. She was an animal, chained to the crib, chained to her baby as if the umbilical cord has never been severed.

And Kanda. The only time he was in the room was when Emily was content, silent or asleep. However, Emily didn't seem to have any respect for her parents' need for sleep. She called Ellen out of unpleasant and restless dreams.

"Ugh. God," Kanda snorted into his pillow, draping it over his head. And Emily wailed and wailed. Kanda reached out almost blindly until he found Ellen's upper arm, then he shoved her. "Beansprout. It's your turn." When Ellen got out of bed, the tried "it is always my turn" lost on Kanda, she wondered if maybe Miranda would be able to do it. Maybe she'd survive on the few hours of sleep Ellen usually got. Maybe she'd turn out like Miranda when she had still been trapped in that never ending October day. "Beansprout. Beansprout…!" Sometimes Emily could not be appeased and continued crying even though Ellen changed her diapers, dressed her in new, fresh smelling clothes, fed her and carried her around the room. Kanda was unhelpful when he wanted to sleep and had close to no patience, even though he did a good job of taking care of Emily when the sun was up. So Ellen carried the girl outside the room, slightly muffling the baby's shrill cries by pressing her to her chest. Sometimes the door to a friend's room would open for her, someone who showed Ellen a gentle, understanding smile, gave her something warm to drink and a little sanctuary where she could continue rocking Emily until she'd cried herself back to exhaustion and sleep. But most of the time Ellen would slip through the corridors like a ghosts, bare feet and white nightgown and lock herself away.

Slipping down into the worn leather of the big chair in front of the massive writing table Ellen could relax again, a change in her mother Emily promptly registered. Ellen felt oddly safe and protected in her father's private chambers. Waiting for the dawn to light up the room Ellen watched the shadows shifting. The portrait of Lord Bermont in his youth was hanging on the wall and Ellen spent hours contemplating if they resembled each other. She'd compare oil pictures, sketches and photographs, trying to find a bit of her in the fragmented pieces of him.

She felt a sense of belonging then. Emily settled comfortably against her.

-o-

At times, Ellen assumed that Kanda was too dense for this parenthood thing to work out. For all his vows that he was a modern man, a man who respected his wife's decisions and saw her more than a decorative asset, he had his not so glorious moments. Apart from leaving Ellen alone with Emily when she was being difficult, he often took her with him when she was in a good humour. Emily was his little living trophy (oh, he had won by being so incredibly obstinate Ellen thought when she felt particularly bitter), his daughter and he had no qualms in pulling her out of Ellen's arms whenever he felt like it. While Ellen was left to watch, he'd talk to his little French-speaking circle. She disliked how they made her feel excluded, she was still sore about that, she was still angry and he still didn't understand why. In any case, Emily was constantly talked to in French and, when Kanda was alone, in Japanese. For some reason, this made Ellen feel like an insignificant detail to who Emily was. Those were not her languages, that was not who she was.

-o-

Emily didn't like her. Ellen had suspected as much, but with about 2 weeks of trial and error (mostly error, Ellen mused bitterly), she was quite positive that the child disliked her. While Ellen was no longer that hesitating when picking up Emily when she was crying, she approached her with great caution when she was quiet. Whenever she wanted to hold her, she started crying. When Kanda pulled her out of Ellen's tense fingers she almost immediately calmed down again. He only had to smile at her and she gurgled excitedly or pleased in return. Of course, Kanda had no magic baby-soothing charms and Emily did cry at times when he held her, but he always had enough sleep at night to be patient with her. With Emilia and Linali it was similar and while Miranda didn't dare to lift the child at least Emily was good in her presence. But Ellen, her mother, she did not like. It almost made Ellen return the feeling, but mostly it made Ellen feel alone and wrong.

-o-

Emily is relentless in her pursuit of making Ellen feel miserable. Her cries were a constant noise within the constricting walls of Ellen's room.

"Oh, come now, please," Ellen whispered desperately, carrying Emily around after nothing else had worked to calm her. "Why must you be so difficult? You were fed, bathed, changed, what else do you want?" Emily didn't dignify her with an answer but her wails gained in strength and Ellen felt like the window panes could shatter if they were exposed to more of the little siren's screeching. Ellen was tired and sore and hungry and desperate so she opened her mouth. Something quivered deep inside of her and the words rolled off her lips like warm, dark waves. Like gushes of blood, and while it was not exactly painful her chest felt like heating up in a slow warm-wet burn. And she started her own siren's song:

"And then the boy drifted off to sleep…"

Ellen opened her eyes and stared when the wailing died down to silence. Her voice faltered but didn't stop until she saw Emily's expression. The girl's eyes were wide, her face completely unmoving and the silence were enough to give Ellen a fright. The song died on her lips and it took only a short moment for Emily to react to that with renewed crying.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Ellen hissed lifting one hand up to grab her hair for a second, then she went back to rocking Emily as gently as she could in her frantic state of mind. "Please, please stop crying…! Don't… Don't you want me to hold you?" Ellen hurried over to the crib and put the baby down. "There. Okay? Just," Ellen stumbled over the words but Emily's crying didn't let up and she trashed faintly. Ellen bit her lips hard enough to hurt, no longer able to keep tears from filling her eyes. "Fine! I don't care anymore! Go on crying!" The white haired girl whirled around and threw herself face first into the covers of her bed. And Emily cried and cried.

-o-

And this is how Charlene Bermont found them. She stood in the arch that separated the bedroom from the sitting room. She took a moment to memorize what she saw before her. The air was fresh mingled with the fragrance of flowers and bright light spilled into Ellen's chamber in window pane shaped patches. The crib – not the family crib, Charlene noticed with remote curiosity – and the hiccupping and irregular wails that she had heard even outside of the massive door had its origin there. Ellen herself was a mess of fabrics and limbs splayed on the bed in less grace than Charlene would have thought humanly possible for a girl of her station. She could see her creamy white shins where the silken stockings had slipped to her ankles and only one Indian slipper remained dangling from her foot. Her summer dress was crunched underneath her and higher up than the back of her knees, the bedcovers were also a mess around her, like a hastily made and equally as hastily destroyed nest. She could see Ellen's white hair on the dark brown covers (clearly a choice of her husband, Charlene recognized the way it was woven and the unimposing black and ochre patterns. A good choice, an expensive one. Charlene must remember to congratulate the boy on acquiring taste or at least to be convincing enough in faking it). A big cushion was thrown over the back of Ellen's head and it looked mildly suffocating, especially with Ellen's arms lying so lax, palms flat on the mattress, next to her. All in all, Lady Bermont found the scene to be highly entertaining.

"I see that I have not misinterpreted your written cry for help." Ellen gave a start and sat up, the cushion slipping down her head and landing on her skinny calves. Her hair was a mess, as was her face, long since dried of tears but the wrinkles of having frowned for so long were still etched into her cheeks and brow. Ellen was far too surprised to say anything to her mother and Charlene pulled out a folded piece of parchment from her pocket. She unfolded it under the still wide, but now also watchful eyes of her daughter. "Dearest Mother. It is with joy that I can announce to you the preterm birth of your grand-child, christened Emily. Despite the circumstances of her birth the doctors have declared her healthy. However, she continues crying with such fervor that I have reason to believe that she needs it more than breathing. She had taken a liking to my husband who has in turn taken a liking to be a father in the intermezzi between one crisis and the next." Ellen finally moved, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes together. "Really, Ellen," Charlene said, hitting her outstretched palm with the parchment lightly, her voice clearly holding amusement, "I have always had a soft spot for your ability to be dramatic, though you used to be more subtle about it."

"Mother. It is so good to see you," Ellen breathed in relief, taking away her hand from her face. She looked over to the crib, Charlene following her eyes. "I am so close to giving up. I just cannot do it. I am no mother." She breathed in deeply, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice. "The child does not even like me, most probably it hates me. She's a good girl with everyone but me!" Charlene walked around the bed and peered down into the crib with her lips in a firm line and eyebrows raised as if she'd have to study the value of a piece of jewelry. Not letting on how she thought about the little siren and apparently not disturbed by the wails in the slightest, she turned back to Ellen, the usual strict expression slightly softened, but still admonishing.

"Are you honestly surprised that you find yourself struggling with your new-born? You are completely inexperienced and just as taken by surprise as you were with your pregnancy." Ellen's face fell slightly and she looked at the etchings in the surface of the crib.

"What am I supposed to do, mother? I am overwhelmed but everyone behaves as if giving birth to a human being unlocked the ability to be a mother within me. Nobody believes that I am struggling or that I'm exhausted…!" Charlene looked at her with a mild expression and Ellen felt brave enough to go on. "Did you never have any problems? Am I really wrong somehow? Is maternity really something that I should have in my blood?" Charlene chuckled at that, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No Ellen, there is nothing wrong with you. You're a child still. I had a lot of time to prepare for you, as you must certainly recall. And a devoted husband that assisted me in everything. Of course, I struggled and your father struggled with me." Ellen's face fell at that, something that did not escape Charlene's watchful eye.

"Kanda… Kanda seems to have totally different ideas about how to take care of a new-born than I do. It's my responsibility to struggle and it's his prerogative to enjoy. Well, he is her father…" Ellen laughed, but her face was bitter, "And I'm just the one that made his little bundle of joy." Charlene rolled her eyes at that. She didn't know if her daughter was again being dramatic, but it certainly bothered her enough to be important.

"Horace," Charlene started after a while and Ellen looked up when she heard her father's name, "was utterly in love with you. He did not care one bit what other people might expect of him in the role of a father. He fed you, he changed your napkins, he bathed you… Together with me he made all of the mistakes and did everything right. We were a team," she told her daughter, "not two youths that try to approach this as two individuals. You and Kanda, I must say, are not a team." Ellen's immediate reaction to that was to frown. Clearly Kanda and Ellen were a team when it mattered, as exorcists they were highly effective. But, and here she had to agree, as parents they were really poor.

"I… must tell you that I do not feel thrilled to hear you state that and in my capacity as wife I feel compelled to contradict you to protect his honour. However, you are right." Ellen sighed deeply and wiped her hair out of her face. A moment of silence followed, as silent as it could be with Emily in the background. "And the baby just won't stop crying." Charlene lifted her finger at that, as if she just recalled that she had to show her something of import.

"Maybe that is because you won't acknowledge her properly for what she is." Charlene reached into the crib and lifted Emily out, the crying dying down fast. Ellen's heart made a jump in her chest to finally have her stop, but as soon as Charlene had put her in Ellen's stiff arms the girl was confronted first with a bright blue stare and a new wave of wails. Instead of panicking again, Ellen just groaned and focused on the conversation.

"Then what is she?" The answer that followed was painfully simple:

"Your daughter. And that makes all the difference." Ellen first widened her eyes, before narrowing them in confusion. "Sing our lullaby." Again, Ellen's eyes widened in shock then in deep rooted fear.

"On, no. Please… It scares me, I shouldn't."

"You should," Charlene said and Ellen searched her mother's face but only found a mild smile. So Ellen tried to even her breathing and though the first few words and notes came out shaky and unsure, the room soon filled by her voice singing that Noah lullaby, that Walker. By the time the room fell silent again, it really was silent. Emily was breathing evenly, looking up at Ellen with a focused expression that soon softened into drowsiness.

"Don't be afraid Ellen," Charlene told her and Ellen noticed that a tear had rolled down her cheek, "I was shaken too when I didn't know what was wrong with you. And I have made many mistakes without Horace and with Mana, but you have to listen to yourself, to what you think is right…" And her mother's voice was so gentle and assuring that Ellen couldn't help smiling, wiping her eyes and nodding.

"Thank you, mother," she said, gently rocking Emily. Her mother nodded once, slowly, then she folded her hands.

"So. Have you thought about how to call her? Which family shall she be part of in name?" Ellen was a bit taken aback by the sudden change of topic. "You know nothing of the Kanda and I am slightly averse to giving over one of my own blood into one family tree I cannot trace in the slightest. She would be safer to be a Bermont or a Walker. If not in name, then at least in spirit." Ellen found it in herself to groan at that.

"Can't we just ignore that for now and call her Emily?" Just after she had said that, Ellen blinked and her mother made an agreeing sound in the back of her throat.

„Of course. Go on, do it," she urged calmly and Ellen was confused. Still, she looked down at her daughter who had opened her eyes again and seemed almost expectant.

"Emily," she said and Emily reacted with a kind of snort and kicked her legs. For that Emily had always been largely unresponsive to Ellen this seemed like the closest thing to a happy gurgle she'd probably get. Ellen was awestruck and tried again, with the same result.

"It's no magic word or anything, but you need to consider that a baby too is a sentient creature. It is aware of much more than you credit it for. She reacts to your insecurities and you pushing her away," Charlene explained and Ellen looked up at her.

"I'm not push-"

"Are you sure? Then tell me? Do you even want Emily?" her mother wondered, now stern again and Ellen withdrew slightly. But she nodded. Charlene raised her chin, looking down at Ellen with a challenging expression. "Really now? You don't think you'd be better off without her? That she represents everything you were forced into? Isn't she a product of ignorance and one that punishes you by making it impossible to achieve what you imagined to achieve?" Ellen knew that her mother was trying to coax a certain reaction out of her. And for once, Ellen knew exactly what she wanted to say to that:

"Mother, she just made it impossible for me to achieve what you wanted me to achieve…" Charlene had to laugh and nodded, then she looked at her child fondly.

"But you achieved just what your father always wanted for you." Ellen looked up at her in confusion, but instead of explaining Charlene handed her a small package. Ellen turned it around in her hand, but clearly Charlene didn't intend to say anything about it. "Well then, I think I have successfully averted the suicide of my daughter. Now, one crisis a day is not enough for me, I need to return to London to see that the machine keeps running smoothly." Ellen had to laugh, shaking her head at her mother.

"Yes, at times I do think you are the one gear that keeps London's gentry running," she admitted and Charlene smiled.

"Well and it is getting more difficult, it's the end of the century and unless we want to skitter into decadence like certain states do these days, I need to work harder."

"Mother, one moment please," Ellen stopped the woman before she could turn to leave, "what should I tell the family? About my marriage, about my baby?"

„I think we should discuss this as a family. Because, remember child, it is always also about performance. To the outside world, to other families, to the political stage. Never forget, that being a Walker, but also being a Bermont, means that you need to perform like an actor on a stage. That, dear child, is the one thing that is actually in your blood." Ellen looked at her in wonder, but this she could understand and she nodded. "Now, I must make my exit. I will visit again. Properly."

„Yes mother. Thank you again for your visit and your help. And the package," she said and Charlene wished her a good day before she left the room. Ellen sighed and relaxed visibly. She shifted Emily slightly to her lap so she had her hands free for the package. The tore the paper away and found a small casket made of polished dark wood. She opened it and on top of a little velvet cushion rested a key made out of iron painted in white varnish. She took it out, her eyebrows drawn down in a perplexed frown. She turned the key, surprisingly heavy in her palm, around.

"Hah," she said „I've got a key but no door."

To be continued

Notes:

I recalled that I had not written down the words of the 14th lullaby in any past chapter and I was not inclined to do it now. I am treating it as nothing but a lullaby with no hidden meaning in the words, just a symbolic meaning in its use. Therefore I did not feel it necessary to write more than the first few words.

Ellen had not called Emily by her name because she felt an emotional distance and a distaste for how people took her bond with Emily for granted.

Anyway, I'm trying to work myself back to a certain pacing in the story so that things actually progress. I don't think there will be much action in the rest of the story, but I'm not going for full-on domesticity just now (or at least not in the fluffy way I usually enjoy and you find traces of in every second story I post).

For now we still have a few open issues; the results and the reason of Kanda's short visit to the continent, Ellen's key without the door and the mysterious situation of absent Noah and Innocence. Next to some baby and family issues. A lot to work with! Yay!