A World in Autumn
a/n Cross posted on AO3
The air that fills Shadow's lungs is crisp and carries a hint of dew that speaks of early morning. It's a sensation he doesn't take for granted, this thrill of a quiet, intimate cleansing that only this time of day can provide for his perpetually-thinking mind. He takes what he can get while he can get it, as the months will soon be thinning into weeks, and Amy's belly continues to swell. He finds that leaving her side for hours at a time, even for a morning run, is becoming increasingly more difficult, in spite of her constant reassuring.
"She's not due until spring, Shadow. Relax. The hospital's a phone call away."
Here, in the hour before time unfreezes and life begins anew, he can face every problem with an inhale and solve it within the exhale. He can run until the colors of dawn-dipped foliage blend, run fast enough until he's seen the dawn as many times as he pleases and still make it back in time to watch it again with Amy, provided she's awake that is.
Sometimes, he slows to a jog, memorizes the way the sunrise highlights the autumn leaves, drawing-out a red that doesn't seem of this world. . .
"I hope the baby has your eyes," Amy had told him the day they'd found out they were expecting a girl. October was new then, but it was already cool outside. Still, Amy had insisted that they go for a walk in the city before heading home. She missed living there, missed the apartment that had been hers when she was only a girl. The landlord was strict, though, and didn't rent out to people with young children and pets. Shadow didn't mind; he didn't care for city life. Too much noise and too many people for his liking. It was distracting.
They compromised and got a house in the suburbs that was only a seventeen-minute drive to Station Square. Quiet enough for Shadow, close enough to the mall for Amy.
"Why," he'd asked, relishing in the way she squeezed his hand as they crossed the street and entered the city park. They'd looked at each other then, Amy's bright smile coloring her eyes brilliantly. "She'd be better off with yours." That made her eyes sparkle, and he felt her grip on his hand tighten.
"Your eyes are your best feature, Shadow. Well, next to your smile anyway." She pulled their linked hands down to straighten their arms and nudged his shoulder with her own. "You know that." She winked, the power of it drawing out a smile of his own.
He tried saving face, forcing it into something smug as he lifted his chin. "Yeah, I know. I just like to hear you say it." The sound of her laugh as she teasingly pushed him had his heart soaring.
"I just hope she doesn't inherit your big ego."
Sometimes, when he stops and loses himself to the living kaleidoscope of color all around him, he feels like he's drifting from dream-to-dream, never waking, like he's still stuck in stasis, waiting for someone to stumble upon him and wake him. The fear that the last eleven years of his life were nothing but an illusion of his wanting heart sinks in; that's when he runs his fastest, on his way home, back to where Amy is -hopefully- waiting for him on the front porch so they can watch the sunrise together and talk about baby names and what color to paint the nursery and the-
"The baby just kicked! Gimme your hand! Hurry! And when he puts his hand there and presses down like Amy instructs and feels the baby press back, he knows this can't be a dream. His dreams have never been this pleasant.
Maria, he believes, would be proud of him, if she were here. She always saw him for who he is; she looked past his assigned purpose in life and saw him for him. She'd be thrilled, no doubt, to see him like this. There is hope, he thinks, in bringing new life into the world.
But there is also fear. Their shared reality isn't without its anticipated cruelty. After all, there isn't anything normal about him. He considers it a great miracle that he's even going to be a father, what with the chaos surrounding his own creation. He waits ,with a knot in his stomach, for the day when the sonogram reveals wing bones sprouting out of his unborn daughter's back. . . .or something much worse. He isn't so sure he can even bring it to Amy's attention, but somehow he's certain she's thought the same. She's more perceptive than people give her credit for.
Shadow moves along the lakeside , sees how the morning light pours onto the water like liquid gold. It's time to go meet Amy. She'll be waiting, sleepily but happily, on that porch swing, and then they will sit and watch the sunrise. Maybe he'll tell her about his fears today, but maybe they'll just quietly soak in each other's company, like they are wont to do at times.
Hopefully, if there's one more miracle left for them, none of this fear will have been necessary.
But if not, they'll cross that bridge too, together.
End Notes
Written in the spirit of Shadamy week, but since I'm neither creative nor quick enough to follow prompts, I hope this ode to marriage and parenthood will do instead. Written in a day; I'm sure it shows. lol!