Part 3 – Mercy

Shared pain is lessened. Shared joy is increased.

- Spider Robinson

Chapter 49

The morning after the funeral Spencer woke early, as he had for months now. But for the first time in weeks he realized that he had slept the night through.

It didn't take a department shrink to tell him the meaning behind the nightmare he'd been having. He'd been running from room to room, crime scene to crime scene, trying to find the baby that was wailing in terror. And then, in some random scene, with a bleeding body at his feet, the crying would stop. It would just stop and there would be this silence and he would know, he would know and he'd wake up calling for her. Laura understood completely, she had the same dream, only in her case she was digging frantically through a pile of blankets and pillows on a bed. But last night they'd both slept the night through. Probably because she's safe, he thought, her body is at rest and her spirit is in that warm light.

This morning he finally felt like he could move on. Never forget but he could think about other things now.

As he came out of the bathroom Laura sighed and shifted in the last of her sleep, and he was suddenly hit with a sense memory so hard it nearly knocked him over.

Yes.

So it was kiss and kiss again, coaxing, then deeper, letting him into taste, letting her taste in return. "So what do we do?" She asked between kisses.

"I don't know." He replied. Biology was one thing, technique was something entirely different. He kissed her again. "We experiment. See what works. If it doesn't then say so and we'll try something else." He suddenly had an idea, something he'd wanted to try and that might solve a concern he had. "I want to try something." He said, before nipping at her jaw and then the nerve under her ear.

"Yes." She gasped out, before involuntarily writhing against him.

OK, that nerve was a good spot for kisses. He kissed there again, then tried biting gently, causing her to moan as she squirmed. "Yes?" It was a question; did she enjoy that as much as she let on? In response she gave him a nipping bite of a kiss right on the same nerve and he felt every other nerve between there and his groin come flaming to life. Yep, that was a good spot, right there.

While they were doing that, and kissing over and over, she'd run her hands down his back and up under his t-shirt, gently caressing his skin in ways that made him seriously want her to move her hands to places where it would feel so much better. "Off." She murmured now, tugging at the hem of it. For a moment he was frightened, he still remembered high school and the football field, but he forced that memory away and let her draw the shirt over his head and toss it aside before pulling her back in and kissing her again. "You're warm." She murmured.

"Is that a good thing?" He asked.

In reply she pulled her own shirt over her head.

At that moment something Spencer had been curious about finally made its way to the front of his thought queue. He'd never seen any bras around. They never seemed to wander through the laundry, and he didn't recall seeing any in the drawers or lying about the bedroom. But only now did it key in that she wasn't wearing one, it took him that moment to realize that there was a woman in his arms who was naked from the waist up, who's breasts were small but nicely round, and who had pointed nipples that were pressing into his chest. "A very good thing," she murmured as she put her arms around him and kissed him again.

Spencer was jogged out of the memory as Laura turned and sighed once again. She'd kept her breasts bound for weeks, at first forcing them to stop producing milk, and then…well, he wasn't sure why anymore. Support? Too tender? Some psychological issue she had yet to speak of? He didn't know, but he found he missed the sensation of holding her in his arms, of feeling her softness against him. Even if they had gone back down to tiny he wanted to hold her like that again. More than that, he wanted her to be as comfortable with her body as she had been on that night so long ago.

It was time to settle back into the routine that had been broken with Maggie's death, he decided. They may not be able to keep it up every day now that they were free but on the days they could they should. Laura was a bit further along the spectrum than he was; routine was a strong comfort for her. And even for him, having at least some days out of the week that had a routine provided a certain balance and stability he needed. So to that end, knowing that her shifting and sighing meant that she would be waking soon, he padded downstairs.

The house was silent nearly around him, but thankfully not entirely. Specifically he'd picked up a shadow, Dave's dog Munchie. He was still not quite comfortable with dogs, too many paranoid warnings from his mother about how they would tear your face right off if you weren't careful. But he let the dog out, he could do that much, before going about building two mugs of decaf from the pod based coffee pot. Coffee in the morning, tea in the afternoon, cocoa in the evening, he thought.

When he had two mugs built he let the dog back in and headed back upstairs.

Laura waited until he left before making her own way to the bathroom. It wasn't that she was hiding or sneaking or anything, but there was something she needed to do right now, this morning. She'd started thinking about it as she fell asleep last night, and now it needed to be done. She went to the bathroom, did what needed doing, rinsed off her face, and then unwound the bindings on her torso.

For the past few weeks she'd hated her body.

It had been so magical, really, the entire pregnancy. She hadn't gained much at first. But by the end of the first trimester her breasts had started growing. Always small and round and high, kind of perfect for her form, she'd never felt the need to wear anything as restricting and uncomfortable as a bra, except under dress clothes. A snug camisole or tank had usually done the job. But then they started growing, and growing, and for the first time in her life she had a real set, and a sensitive one as well. It seemed like the slightest touch had set her off. Thankfully Spencer had been fascinated by the entire process and what he was fascinated with he had explored. The second trimester was good.

They had stopped as soon as they started suspecting that the baby might come early, which she had anyway, and then after it had been time to feed. That had been the most lovely, amazing sensation. Not sexual, not like that, but amazingly sensual, she had never felt closer to any being in her life than she had the first time Maggie took her breast and the hormones really started to flow. At that moment she'd suspected that she might end up as one of those Mom's who never did deliberately wean, they just let the kid go as long as they wanted to.

Then there was that silence.

After that the sensitivity that had so charmed them at first became a curse. She'd been in pain for weeks, so much pain that it made her sick, she couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, honesty wanted to just cut them off and throw them out the nearest window just so they would stop constantly, achingly reminding her of what she had lost. On more than one occasion she'd tearfully threatened a double mastectomy as soon as they got home, any future children could be formula fed, so long as she never, ever had to go through that again. Spencer had held her through those tearful outbursts, but always carefully so he wouldn't touch and prolong the agony.

But now that was all over. Her daughter's body was in the ground. And truthfully she could have stopped with the bindings and the short, cold showers a week ago. But she'd been afraid of the pain and the reminders and the loss so she hadn't even tried.

Now it was time to heal. Now she took them off for the last time and took a good look at herself.

Completely normal.

OK, maybe a little less perky than they were before. They sloped a little now, sagged just a touch. But not enough to be awful at all. She ran her hands over them, cupped the slightly, still small enough to fit, and lifted them with a hiss. Still sensitive as they had been, more so than before. "Now I need a bra." She sighed.

"Do you?" Asked a voice behind her.

"Yeah," she replied. "They're a little droopier than I would like, and too sensitive to just wear a t-shirt anymore. Still…" She turned and looked at herself again. No pain. Her body was starting to feel like her own again. She smiled as he stepped up behind her and wrapped her arms around her torso, his uncasted arm grazing over her nipples lightly, making her arch as her body came alive again. "Not until next week."

"I know." Spencer replied as he kissed her neck. "You're still beautiful."

"Good to know."