tinuviel-undomiel said:

Belle has a nightmare of Arthur dying. She wakes up in tears and Arthur cuddles her. Maybe she could talk about her mom too.

Belle was fairly certain it was Bae's fault. He'd been so upset at the idea of not being able to find his father when he'd woken up from that damn dream. It had only taken fifteen minutes or so to calm him enough to go to sleep, but even after they had tucked him back into bed and returned to her room Belle couldn't quite sleep. The doctor had been optimistic, but Bae's nightmare had set her on edge again.

She hadn't lied, she reminded herself. She would always be with her son, and there was every reason to believe his father would be, too.

Arthur was asleep before Belle, and she rolled to her side to watch him. It was hard to believe how much they'd gone through as a family this year, and how much more they still had to go. Had this been how her father had felt when her mother was ill? Had he lay awake at night and wondered how much to tell his daughter? It wasn't the first time she wished that she still had her dad with her. She'd wanted his advice from the day she first had Bae put in her arms, wanted someone to tell her what she was doing wrong and how to soothe the baby and teach her how to hold him. They'd gotten on fine by themselves, but she still wished that her dad could have met Bae and Arthur and given her his approval. She had missed her mother, but at least when she'd lost Colette she'd had Maurice. When she'd lost Maurice, she'd had nobody.

She wasn't really aware of falling asleep until she found herself in a dream that was more memory than dream. The church was empty, save for the casket at the front where her mother was. Belle remembered this scene from her childhood, her father had brought her here before the funeral to try to explain to her what would happen at the funeral and give her some time to grieve ahead of the well-meaning but oblivious distant family in attendance. She hadn't even known to be grateful for that foresight then, but now that she was facing those demons once again she understood what he had done in giving her a space to mourn her mother in her own way.

The walk to the coffin wasn't as long as Belle had remembered, though perhaps she was just bigger this time, or perhaps she was altering things in the dream. When she reached the front of the church, though, she didn't find her mother's body there. Instead, a single red rose lay on the white satin. Belle reached out to touch it, feeling the velvety petals under her fingers. Her mother had loved roses, planting bushes in front of their house that Belle still maintained. It was one of the few things she still had connecting her to her mother.

"She's not there anymore," a voice came from behind her, familiar and strange all at once - a voice like coming home after a long time away.

"Papa!" she exclaimed, turning to embrace her father. "I've missed you."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, but she barely felt it. It was a cold reminder that none of this was real.

"Where's mum?" she asked him at last. Dream or vision, she didn't care anymore. She wanted to see her parents and hold tightly to this last piece of childhood just that little bit longer.

"You don't need her right now," her father said patiently, sitting in one of the pews.

Belle wanted to sulk, but knew he was right. She'd clung to her father not just after the funeral, but for the years before when her mother had been ill and too tired from treatment to parent her daughter. It had almost been a relief for everyone when the end had finally come.

"I don't know how you did it," Belle blurted out all at once, feeling herself start to cry at last and slumping into the pew next to her father. "I don't know if I can go through all this again. I don't know how to do what you did."

"Nonsense," her father replied, kissing her on the forehead. "You did it all before. You know how to do it again."

"No," she sobbed. "I'm not that strong and it's so scary."

"You're stronger than you think, my girl," he said soothingly. "We do what we have to do for our children."

"But I'm all alone this time."

"You're not alone," this dream of her father replied. "You've never been alone."

"You died," Belle said through the tears. "You died and you left me and I was all alone."

"And then you had your son," he said. "And you weren't alone anymore."

"I wish you'd been there," she said. "I missed you every single day."

"But you still did it anyway."

Belle nodded, trying to get her tears under control even in the dream.

"I wish he knew you," Belle confessed. "I think you'd like him. And his father."

"I would," her father replied. "They make you happy, and that's all I ever wanted was for you to be happy."

She took a deep breath. He was right, he had always wanted her happiness. And she was happy. Even with everything, she wouldn't have changed meeting Arthur or adopting Bae, even though both things had caused her so much grief. She'd have lost out on so much joy.

"There there," her father comforted her as though he could hear her thoughts. Maybe he could - it was her dream, after all. "Better?"

"No," she confessed. "I just want for it to be next year when this is all over."

"It'll be next year soon enough," he promised. "And I'll be with you the whole way. You carry me with you."

"I love you, Papa," she said. "I didn't say it enough when you were here. I never even thought about life without you until you were gone one day. I wasn't ready."

"I love you too, Bells," he replied. "And it's time for you to wake up."

She wanted to protest that she wanted to stay with him, but no sooner had he said the words than she jolted awake so hard she almost fell off the bed. It felt as though her father had died all over again and she felt the pain of it deep in her chest. She was shaking and sobbing and Arthur's arms were around her all of a sudden - she'd halfway forgotten he was there but it was the most natural thing in the world to press her face into the crook of his neck and cry hot tears while he shushed her the same way she'd comforted Bae earlier.

"What's wrong?" he whispered into the night once her sobbing had subsided.

"I dreamed of my father," she said. "But it didn't really feel like a dream."

"Oh?"

There weren't words to explain what had happened. She hadn't been raised in any particular religion, and hadn't been in a church since they'd buried her father. She certainly didn't believe in ghosts but this had felt bizarre and otherworldly and real in a way that dreams weren't supposed to. She wasn't sure how to tell all that to Arthur, though - she wasn't even sure how to explain it to herself.

"My mother died when I was a little older than Bae," Belle finally said. "She was sick for a long time, though."

"What did she die of?" he asked her in a tight voice, and she knew it hurt him to hear this parallel almost as much as it hurt her to say it.

"Cancer," Belle replied, leaving breast cancer unspoken. He didn't need to hear that part yet.

"Oh."

"She didn't catch it right away," she rushed to continue. "By the time the doctor's found it there wasn't much left to do, although we tried everything anyway. Chemo, radiation…"

She didn't know of she was trying to reassure him or herself, but as she whispered those truths into the dark of the bedroom she knew it had to be different this time. This was something they could overcome as a family. It would hurt, but they would survive and they would come out stronger in the end. They had to, because she wouldn't let her family fall apart again.

The next morning came too soon for Belle, though she wasn't sure she'd even quite slept for most of it. It was Saturday, at least, and Bae would be out of school. They would be telling him about his father's cancer after breakfast, and she was not prepared for it emotionally. He had to know - Belle knew first hand that hiding it would only make things worse, after all. But it was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done to tell him.

Arthur made breakfast again that morning. Belle felt useless with nothing to do besides watch him cook. Bae, at least, seemed better than he had the previous night. She somehow suspected this whole thing would be harder on his parents than on him, but then he had no context in which to frame the idea of a problem his parents couldn't fix if they tried.

After everyone ate in a strange sort of awkward silence, Bae tried to make his excuses and go upstairs, but Belle stopped him.

"We need to have a family meeting," she explained when he asked. "There's a lot of changes happening right now that you need to know about."

"You mean that you guys are dating?" Bae asked innocently. "Because I'm okay with that."

"No," Arthur said almost instantly before pausing for a second. "Well, yes. Your mother and I are dating. But that's…"

He looked over at Belle for support with the words, though she didn't know what to say much more than he did.

"That's not why your father is staying with us," she finished for him at last. "Your dad is...sick."

"How sick?" Bae asked them, looking between the two cautiously. She could tell he knew there was something wrong even as nobody wanted to admit that.

"I have cancer," Arthur replied. "The doctor says I'll probably be okay, but I'm going to have to have surgery to remove it and I'll be staying with you guys until it's better."

"Cancer?" Bae exclaimed, leaping to his feet and looking at his mother. "Is Dad dying?"

"No, honey," Belle said, reaching out for her son's hand only to have him jerk it away. "Your dad's going to be fine."

"It killed your mom," Bae shot back and Belle felt a pit open up in her stomach.

"Your grandma had her cancer a lot longer," Belle tried to explain. "They caught your dad's really early so it hasn't had time to spread."

"No," Bae shouted, looking back at his dad. "You can't be sick. Why did you come find me if you were just going to die?"

Bae seemed a little startled by what he'd said, and Arthur just looked completely dumbstruck by the outburst. After a second of silence, Bae turned and fled. They heard the sound of his feet pounding on the stairs and his door slamming.

The tension in the room was stifling, and Belle wasn't sure what to do to cure it. The last time her son had stormed out like this had been because he'd discovered he had a father, now he'd run from them for fear of losing him. What a difference a year could make.

"I'll go talk to him," Belle offered.

"No," Arthur said, pushing his chair away from the table. "I'll talk to him. This is something I need to do."

She nodded and watched him as he left as well. Their breakfast plates were still on the table, she'd need to clean them and then get a start on some other chores she'd been putting off. The living room needed to be vacuumed, the laundry needed to be done, there was toothpaste in the bathroom sink, and her son's father was sick and her family was in turmoil and she had absolutely no idea how to fix any of it.

Belle set her face in her hands and finally let herself cry.