AN: So it's maybe a little short, but after the week I just had, I wanted to write something light and fluffy (and possibly a little rambling). Enjoy.


As I may have mentioned earlier, there are advantages to sleeping with the boss. One of them, surprisingly, is not sleeping with the boss. Yeah, I stayed overnight in the hospital with Joan. She said it was okay to leave. I think she didn't actually want me there. Or maybe she didn't want it to bother me. I'm not sure, but I guess it's part of her growing up. I may also have just fallen asleep, because it was a long day. I wasn't going to stay—not at first—but sitting next to a hospital bed, with a woman I love in it… memories. A lot of memories.

Like the time you tried that new drug and reacted so badly. I held your hair back while a nurse held that bucket. Luckily it didn't take you long to purge that one. I could still only kiss you on the cheek though, and you knew I was ashamed of that. Then you told me that being willing to kiss you at all after that display was some kind of miracle. It was our love—that was the miracle. I can't remember exactly where I kissed you next, but I do remember it made the nurse blush. He was funny—I wonder if he still works here.

Now Cara's here—Tina's mom—with her daughter in tow. I didn't think today was an off day at school. It's not. I guess someone's playing hooky. I wave hello to Cara, but don't even get a look in from Tina. She's already sitting beside Joan, inspecting her cast. I can see Joan trying hard not to smile. Tina whispers something to her and she puts a hand to her mouth, failing to suppress the giggles. It's good to have friends that make you laugh.

The conversation suddenly turns to handedness, and now I think Tina's teasing Joan. "You know, now you have to use your other hand…" Tina whispered the rest of that in Joan's ear, causing her to blush a bright pink. Definitely teasing. I laughed. Doesn't really take a genius to figure out what they're probably teasing each other about.

Joan gives her supposed friend a pointed look. "You are an evil little pixie." Then she looks at me.

"What?" I give her a shrug for emphasis. She turns a brighter shade of pink as she turns away, muttering darkly. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Cara trying very hard not to laugh.

"Anna, why don't we get a coffee?" Cara gives me a look. "Give these two some privacy."

Joan facepalms and Tina is trying desperately not to look at anyone here. They really are a cute couple. I follow Cara down the hall while we hunt for a coffee machine. I decide to get a hot chocolate. It's better anyway. There is something of an awkward silence. I think it would be nice to know Cara better—she is the mother of Joan's girlfriend, after all—but I'm just not sure where to begin. She actually looks a little nervous too. Our daughters are thick as thieves back there, and we can't seem to string two words together.

"So, Anna… I've been meaning to ask what it is you actually do for a living. I know you work with your husband, and have the van."

"I'm an engineer," I turn so she can see my smile. "Nuts and bolts stuff, fixing things, conveyors, bottling machines, carpet beamers, hydraulics, putting up work platforms—the lot."

"Wow, that sounds pretty involved."

"I can just get stuck in and get my hands dirty, come away at the end of the day and actually see progress. I like it." I raise a quizzical eyebrow. "So what is it you do?"

"I'm a P.A., for the local manager of Sultan Accounting."

"So that's like, organizing meetings, and getting people together, and coffee runs for the boss."

Cara laughs at that one—it's a bright, sharp kind of laugh. "Mostly true, Anna, mostly true. I like to think of it as running logistics, except with people—who are a lot harder to handle than most freight."

"You did a stint in warehousing?"

"I was young, needed the money to get through college."

"Didn't want to wait tables?"

"I have standards," and she winks at me. "I lived close to an industry park back then. Easier commute. Work was pretty rewarding—actually where I met Westley, too."

I look away. I never liked Westley, and I'm not sorry for what happened, but I feel kind of responsible. I don't know how to respond to that, so I just let it slide, hoping she'll continue with something safer.

"I do wish he'd been a better person. I don't like Tina not having a father who'll accept her."

I look up a little, my eyes flicking momentarily to hers. Light brown. Hazel. I'm distracting myself. I cough softly. "If things had gone differently, Joan might have had two mothers."

She just looks at me, frowning in puzzlement. "…but Joan…"

"Technology's come a long way," I wink at her. "But I would have needed a donor anyway."

Now it's Cara's turn to look away. I came to terms with it long ago, but I guess it's still kind of uncomfortable for other people to hear talk about it so openly—or obliquely, as the case may be. Technology—well, science, really—helped me a lot, letting me carry Joan when Elsa and Kristoff, err… donated… to me. I look over and Cara still seems a little distracted. I blow some stray hairs from my face and let out a quiet breath.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"A bit of a shock. But you said something about Joan having two mothers?"

"It's…" I don't know why I'm hesitating. I'm telling Joan. Kristoff knows. It's not some dark secret. Tina knows, too; secondhand. So why can't I tell her mother? I dodge the question. "It's a long story."

"You were in love with a woman—what's so long about that?"

"It was…" I sigh, wishing I knew Cara better so I could be more open. "Complicated." I give her a little, hoping she won't pry too deeply. "It nearly got me killed."

I jump a little as she lays a hand over mine. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. It must be painful."

I think to myself, you have no idea. And she really doesn't. I change the subject, still berating myself for not being as honest with her as I am with Tina. "We should go check on the girls."

And when we get there Joan's itching her wrist through one of the voids in the lattice cast, and Tina's sitting beside her, nestled into her shoulder. They don't look too awake. I look over at Cara, and she's smiling softly at them. I guess she really does approve, and I'm glad. Not that I really doubted, after what happened with Westley, but I just wasn't a hundred percent sure. Then she kneels down in front of Tina and waves a hand in front of her face. Tina starts in surprise.

"Oh, hi mom," she looks at Joan, who is trying not to giggle. "I guess we kinda lost track of time."

"Sure it is, little miss lipstick stains." I have to turn away to hide my laughter when Tina starts touching her lips in panic. Cara's commentary does not help. "What—you think your mother doesn't know?"

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Joan turning an interesting shade of pink, matching that of her girlfriend. Still laughing a little, I turn to her. "We always knew," she glares at me. "But I really wanted to ask if you felt up to going to school this afternoon. You could tell everyone about your epic battle for the hand of the pixie princess…" I leave it hanging for a second. "…and the rest of the princess as well, I guess, otherwise that'd just be weird."

"Mo-om." But I can see she's trying not to laugh. "I just wanna go home today. Plus, Tink can tell me if I miss anything—" and here she turns to Tina with an evil grin. "—can't you, Tink?"

Tina fixes her with an angry scowl. Cara laughs. "We agreed you'd get the morning Tina; I didn't say anything about playing hooky for the whole day, now, did I."

"Ugh, this sucks."

Joan leans over awkwardly to plant a kiss on her cheek. "You can't win 'em all."

"See you tomorrow morning?"

"Unless there's a dragon involved."

"Alright, it's time to get moving young lady. We'll get lunch on the way there."

Joan waves brightly as Cara leaves, a reluctant Tina in tow. Having heard lunch mentioned, I realised that I've only had some vending machine food and a hot chocolate since dinner last night. I think it might be time for something a little more substantial. Joan's probably hungry too; I turn to her and ask about lunch.

"Did you want me to get you anything?"

"Out of here," she smiles up at me with her best puppy-dog face. Your puppy-dog face. It still works.

"How about I find a doctor and see if they can release you?" She smiles, making a mocking shoo gesture with her free hand. She's fine, and if all she really wants right now is to go home, who am I to argue?