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sequinsmile-x · 1 year

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All's Fair - Chapter 5

Emily and Aaron have loved each other since they were children. War might be the thing that finally brings them together, but it could also be the thing that tears them apart forever.

A Hotchniss AU, set in 1917 and beyond.

-x-

Thank you so much for the love for this fic. It means so much more than I can put into words!!

Please let me know what you think of this chapter <3

Special shout out to @cloudlessly-light who, when I said I thought this chapter was going to get away from me, was able to correctly guess how many words it was going to be haha

-x-

Words: 6.5k

A list of warnings and tags can be found on the Series Master List

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily,

I love you. I can’t think of a better way to say after the telegram I just received. I love you, and Mae, so much.

I’m so proud of you, and so relieved you’re ok. If what I’ve felt worrying about you is only a fraction of how you have felt since I left then I think I’ll be apologising for the rest of our lives.

I wish I could be there, I wish I could meet her and hold you both. I only hope that one day, if we’re lucky enough, I can be there with you every step of the way.

All my love,

Aaron

___

Aaron,

I know Mother had Rossi send you a telegram, but I also wanted to write. Mae is right next to me, fast asleep as if she’s the one who’s had a tiring day!! Although I suppose being born isn’t easy.

She looks so much like you. I know she’s only a few hours old, and babies don’t really look like anyone, but all I can think about when I look at her is you.

I do think she’ll end up cursed with my nose though.

I wish you were here. You not being here is familiar to me now, and missing you has become part of my daily life, but I haven’t felt it this sharply in quite some time.

I need you to see her. So that, if the worst ever happens, I can tell her that you met.

Stay safe.

All our love,

Emily and Mae

___

Aaron,

I just received your letter, and I imagine you just got mine. Maybe one day letters will be instant or at least take less time to arrive.

Mae is 4 weeks old now. She’s grown so much already. She only really sleeps if she’s in my arms. She eats constantly, or at least it feels that way. Mother says I spoil her, but I don’t see how it’s possible to love someone too much.

She knows I hate that you can’t see Mae, so Mother organised for a photographer to come to the house. It was nice of her, but of course, in typical Elizabeth fashion, she did manage to comment on the outfit I chose for myself (my old clothes feel like they’ll never fit again!) and for Mae.

I’ve put a photo of the two of us in this letter. I hope it helps remind you of what you have waiting here.

All our Love,

Emily and Mae

___

April 1918

“I don’t understand why I have to go.”

Elizabeth sighs, watching her daughter as she paces back and forth with her own daughter in her arms.

“Because it’s the start of the social season, Emily. Surely you remember what that means.”

Emily smiles politely, her eyes fixed on Mae in her arms, the three-month-old refusing to settle for her nap. Her stubborn streak was obvious already, something she had inherited from both of her parents.

“What I remember is you hiding me away last year so I didn’t embarrass you any more than I already had.”

“Because you’d just eloped, even though your engagement to another man was meant to be announced just a few weeks later.”

Emily sighs, clenching her teeth tightly to stop herself from responding, not wanting to start an argument.

It was hard to believe it had been a year since she and Aaron got married. Life looked so different now, and sometimes it felt like Mae was the only proof it had ever happened. If she didn’t exist, tangible evidence of their love for each other, Emily was sure their night together would feel like a dream. The memory of his touch was just out of reach. She longed to remember how it felt to simply hold his hand.

It had been a little too long since she’d heard from him. Panic tingling through her veins in a way she desperately tries to ignore whenever she thinks about it. She’d re-read the letters she already had from him more times than she could count. The paper worn thin on the first couple, almost torn at the edges from where she had unfolded and refolded them so many times. She knew them by heart. His words now, the things they’d barely had the chance to say to each other's faces, were as familiar to her as he was.

There were days when she felt as fragile as the paper that held their story. Easily fryable, tearing apart at the edges in a way she should have known only Aaron was capable of doing to her. On other days she felt strong, made of steel as she forged her way forward for her and her daughter, determined to make a good life for her little girl, even if she never got to have her father as part of it.

Every day that passed without a letter, a gentle shake of Dave’s head as he brought her mother the mail in the morning, she feels herself get more anxious. More familiar with the thought that maybe he’d never make it back at all.

Emily clears her throat, trying to rid herself of all the things she knew she couldn’t afford to feel.

“And what about Mae, who’s going to look after her whilst I’m downstairs at a party?”

“Well since you refused to hire a nanny,” Elizabeth says, her raised eyebrow the closest she’d come to expressing her feelings on the matter, “I spoke to JJ, and she agreed to sit in here with her whilst you are downstairs.”

Emily looks down at Mae, smiling softly when she sees the baby is now fast asleep. JJ was one of the only people she’d trust her daughter with completely, and Elizabeth knew that.

“Ok,” Emily says, looking up at her mother, “I’ll go.”

___

Emily remembered clearly the first time she’d had to go to one of these events. Her mother had finally deemed her old enough to go, no longer worried that she’d be too young, or cause embarrassment. It was the first time she’d felt like she was on display.

She was eleven.

She had been introduced to people she now saw frequently, members of her mother’s inner circle that had never done anything other than make her feel trapped. She’d spent the whole night wishing she’d been allowed to run around the estate with Aaron and Sean like she used to be able to, staying out until long after the sun had disappeared over the horizon, coming home with grass stains on her clothes that her mother hated.

She finds herself missing Aaron now for completely different reasons. He’d never been to one of her mother’s parties, and part of her wanted to bring him to one. To stand in the corner with him and watch him watch this, a part of her life he’d never fully understood because he was always standing on the edge of it, watching from outside.

She knows if he makes it back, he’d be part of it now. Standing by her side as her husband, the support she’d always needed but had never been sure how to ask for.

She stands at the edge of the party, her back practically against the wall as she nurses a small glass of wine. It felt wrong, watching everyone dance and laugh as if there wasn’t a war raging on elsewhere. She knew she wasn’t the only person who had someone out there. A lot of the men she’d grown up with were in France too, their parents in the room with her, a tightness in their expressions that she could relate to.

It felt like she was being watched. An item of curiosity that she hadn’t felt like the very first time when she was a young girl. People would smile politely at her before turning away, clearly talking about her choices. The husband no one had ever met. The baby who was sleeping soundly upstairs.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Emily Prentiss.”

She looks up, the accent immediately making her tense. She locks eyes with the man she should have married, the one her mother still made comments about as if she didn’t know exactly what he was like.

“Ian, it has been a long time,” she replies tightly, her society smile spreading across her face, “And it’s Hotchner now. Has been for a little while.”

“Of course,” he says, his smile letting her know that he’d purposely got her name wrong. He looks her up and down, his eyes lingering in a way that makes her feel uncomfortable, but she doesn’t show it. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Didn’t you have a baby recently?”

“I did,” she replies, taking a sip of her wine, “She’s three months old.”

He hums, looking her up and down again before his eyes meet hers, something about the icy blueness of them makes her recoil, her back pressing further into the wall.

“It’s a shame we never got a chance to be together,” he says, smirking, “We could have been great,” he leans in and kisses her cheek, his breath skipping across her skin making her clench her teeth, his hand briefly at her waist, “If you ever get bored of that husband of yours, or if he never makes it back,” he says, pulling back, his smirk wider, “You know where to find me.”

She feels a fire in her belly, her grip on her drink tightening to the point she’s surprised the glass doesn’t break in her hand. Disgust flows through her veins, spreading through her whole body and she knows from how Ian smiles at her she doesn’t hide it either, her face giving away exactly how she feels.

“You are such-”

“Emily.”

She turns, cut off from her insult by her mother, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She blows out a short sharp breath, her fake smile plastered back on her face as she turns to look at her. She doesn’t think she’s ever been more grateful to see her, or for her timing.

“Yes, Mother?”

“I need to borrow you for a moment,” she says, looking between Emily and Ian, “I am so sorry to whisk her away, Ian. It’s important.”

“No problem, Elizabeth,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek too, smiling as he pulls back, “I think we were done here anyway.”

Emily glares at him but lets herself get led away by her mother, away from the ballroom where the party was being held. She feels less tense the further away they get, the sound of the revellers and the music fading as they make it towards her mother’s office.

“God, I cannot believe that is the man you wanted me to marry. He is awful,” she complains, shivering as she thinks of his hand on her waist, his foul breath on her skin. She frowns when she realises they’ve come to a stop, her mother standing outside of her office, an expression on her face that Emily cannot read, “What’s going on?”

“There’s someone here who wants to speak to you,” Elizabeth says, clearing her throat in a poor attempt to hide a smile, “It couldn’t wait until the end of the party.” Emily frowns, her confusion only deepening further as her mother steps away, “I should get back, and leave you to it.”

Emily watches her walk away, her gaze fixed on her mother until she disappears from sight. She looks back at the office door and stares at it for a moment, before opening it.

She freezes, her hand still tight around the door handle as the person in the room turns to look at her.

He was skinnier. Some of the strength she had always admired was gone, obvious even through his green uniform. Their eyes meet and she feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

“Aaron?”

___

It felt like a lifetime had passed since he’d last been here.

The year that had elapsed in between both the shortest and the longest of his life. When he arrives at the front door, the sound of a party echoing outwards from within, he feels a sense of anger he hadn’t anticipated.

Life went on, he knew that. The sun carried on rising despite everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through since he was last here, but it felt wrong. Life was carrying on as normal as if men weren’t dying in droves on another continent. He blows out a steady breath as he knocks on the door. It’s answered immediately, a person he doesn’t recognise looking him up and down.

“This is a private event,” he snaps, eyeing Aaron’s uniform with suspicion.

“I used to work here,” he says, shaking his head at himself for that being the first thing he’d said, “I’m married to the daughter of the lady of the house.”

The man narrows his eyes even further, before closing the door. Aaron sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he thinks of his choices. He knew which room was Emily’s and he wasn’t above trying to sneak into the main house.

The door is opened again and he’s face to face with Elizabeth, her eyes wide with the closest thing to shock he’d ever seen her express. She’s dressed up, and has clearly been pulled from the party she was hosting to confirm his identity.

“Aaron.” She says, looking him up and down, and he doesn’t miss the fact this is the first time they’ve interacted since she became his mother-in-law, “I think you’d better come in. We have a lot to talk about.”

___

Emily can’t take her eyes off him. She can’t move, can’t blink. Worried that the slightest shift will make him disappear.

“What…” she drifts off, unable to formulate her thoughts, the words stuck in her throat as she continues to stare at him. Her vision becomes blurry, tears falling onto her cheeks and she finally releases her grip from the door handle, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, grateful when the door closes behind her, leaving them, for the first time in too long, alone. He takes the opportunity to look at her, to take in how beautiful she is. His memory had done her a disservice, as it always had when he tried to picture her, and the photo he kept in his pocket didn’t come close to showing how captivating she was. She looked tired, something he was sure had to do with their daughter he was yet to meet.

“What are you doing here?” She chokes out. She stops just a couple of paces in front of him, her hand stopping in mid-air as she stops herself from touching him, still not entirely sure this was real. That he wouldn’t disappear in a puff of smoke.

“I had some leave. I spent most of it getting here, and will spend the rest of it getting back,” he explains, his hands twitching to reach out for her, to hold her like he had dreamt of for a year, but he knows he needs to take it at her pace, “I just had to see you. Both of you.”

“How long are you here?” She asks, the sound of the party just down the hall muffled, as if it was miles away, her entire focus on here. On him.

“Two days at most,” he replies, hating the way her face falls, the way he can already see the grief gathering in her eyes.

“It’s a hell of a long way to come for two days,” she says, her eyes searching his face as she takes one step closer, still not touching him.

“You and Mae are worth it.”

She’s not sure if it’s the sentiment, or the fact it’s the first time she’s ever heard him say their daughter’s name, but that’s what breaks her. She closes the gap between them and buries her face in his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around him as he pulls her closer. He smells different, the soap he’s used clearly a cheap one that the army supply on masse, and now she’s hugging him she can feel that he’s skinnier, that whatever he’s eating out there isn’t enough, especially when she considers what he’s doing. She makes a mental note to ask Dave to get the cook to make whatever Aaron wants whilst he’s here.

“I missed you so much,” she says, her face still pressed against his scratchy uniform, not sure how she can let go now she’s holding him.

“I missed you too,” he replies, leaning down and kissing the top of her head, comforted by the familiar scent of her soap, something that he had fallen in love with years ago.

“It’s been so long since I got a letter,” she says, pulling back to look at him but making no attempt to move out of his arms, “I thought…” she can’t put it into words, doesn’t want to say what she’d assumed.

He finally leans down and kisses her, his lips familiar against hers, and she grasps at the lapels of his jacket, holding him close.

“I have a letter for you, I thought I’d hand deliver it,” he mutters, kissing her again and she pulls back, her eyebrows pulled together indignantly as she narrows her eyes at him. She uses one of the hands buried in wool to lightly slap his chest.

“You ass,” she says, kissing him despite her words, her forehead pressing into his before she pulls back, “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies, one of his hands cupping her cheek, holding her in place, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she kisses him once more before she pulls away, one of her hands seeking out his, not wanting to lose their connection even for a moment, “Come on, there’s someone you’ve got to meet.”

___

Emily is, as ever, grateful for JJ’s discretion. She looks shocked as Aaron follows Emily into her room, but doesn’t make any comment apart from explaining Mae had slept since she had gone downstairs before she leaves.

Aaron smiles tightly at the other woman, his usual politeness nowhere to be found, no consideration for the woman who used to be his colleague, as all of his focus is on his wife and daughter. As soon as they are alone, the bedroom door closing softly behind JJ, Aaron finds his voice, once again surprised at the first thing he says.

“I thought your room was on the other side of the house.”

Emily turns to look at him, a soft smile on her face, “It was,” she says squeezing his hand in hers, “Mother moved me here. Said its ‘more fitting for a married woman,’” she says, rolling her eyes, “But it has an adjoining room for Mae,” she adds, tilting her head towards the door that leads to it, “Which is nice when she cries in the middle of the night, it means she’s never too far away.”

She steps towards him and presses her lips to his cheek, desperate to re-familiarise herself with as much of him as possible, all too aware that yet again she had very little time to do so.

“Are you ready?” She asks softly, squeezing his hand as he nods.

“I think so.”

She smiles and gently tugs him towards Mae’s room, pushing the adjoining door open before she flicks on the light. Emily wouldn’t be able to explain her own nervousness even if she wanted to, butterflies in her stomach and her heart pounding in her ears as she prepares to introduce the two people who mean the most to her to each other.

She wonders if she would have felt this way if he’d been here when Mae was born. If the nervous excitement would have been the same, or if the relief she’d felt at Mae’s safe arrival would have overridden it all.

She hopes one day, if they are lucky, that she’d find out.

Emily smiles as she sees Mae shifting around, sharp movements in her limbs as she grunts, a sign that she had only just woken up, probably to the sound of the short conversation they’d had with JJ. She disconnects from Aaron, letting go of his hand for the first time since she’d held it downstairs, and reaches into the bassinet to pick up Mae, the familiar weight of her daughter in her arms a comfort she hadn’t known she’d needed.

“Hi sweet girl,” she says, well aware of Aaron’s gaze fixed on them, the back of her neck burning with it.” She kisses the top of Mae’s head and turns to face Aaron, making sure the baby was facing him too, so he could see them both, “There’s someone here to meet you.”

For once, she doesn’t berate herself for the crack in her voice, for the tears that press at the back of her eyes. The shock of finally seeing Aaron, of having what she’s wanted for so long, finally settling in.

Aaron feels like he’s rooted to the ground. His body not moving as he simply stares at the two of them together, held in place by love and so many things he can’t put a name to. Mae was beautiful. Everything about her reminded him of Emily, as if Mae was a tiny version of her mother, right down to the slope of her nose and the small dimples in her cheeks. The tiny photo Emily had sent hadn’t done her justice, and he knew even if it had she would have changed so much since then anyway.

“Em…she’s…”

She smiles at him and makes the decision to move towards him. She encourages him to put his arms out and places Mae in his embrace. She places one hand on Aaron’s arm and the other supports Mae’s head.

“Aaron, this is Mae,” she says, a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sob catching in her throat as she rests her head on Aaron’s shoulder, not able to tear her eyes off of their daughter in his arms. A sight she’d dreamt of for months, “Mae, this is your daddy.”

Emily feels a tear drop onto the top of her head, and looks up to see tracks on Aaron’s cheeks, his eyes shining. She reaches up, wiping at his skin before wrapping both of her arms around one of his, her head back against his shoulder.

“She’s beautiful,” he says, his voice tight, “She looks just like you,” he lifts her up, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s head, “She smells like you.”

“I use my soap on her too,” Emily hums, turning her head just enough to press a kiss against his clothed shoulder, “I’ve always thought she looks just like you.”

“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one,” he says, looking away from his daughter for just long enough to kiss the top of Emily’s head. He looks back at Mae, desperately trying to remember everything he can about her, smiling as she puts her fist in her mouth, “You did get one thing right though.”

“What’s that?” She asks, reaching out and grabbing Mae’s hand, knowing it was almost time to feed her.

“She definitely has your nose.”

___

She allows herself, for a little while, to believe it was real. That he was back for good. That this was her life now.

She just wanted one day with him that wasn’t tinged with sadness, with the reality that he wasn’t hers to keep, at least not for now, so she gives it to herself.

They wake up early, woken by a cranky Mae demanding her first meal of the day before they head down for breakfast themselves. Elizabeth raises her eyebrow at Aaron but says nothing else about his reappearance. It’s only later, when they are walking the grounds just the two of them and Mae, that he tells her about his conversation with her mother the night before. How she wasn’t as mad as he’d expected, her fury somewhat diminished by her love for her granddaughter.

The day passes too quickly for Emily’s liking. A taste of what could be, what should be, as he helps her with Mae. She doesn’t miss the sadness that crosses his face whenever the baby cries when she’s with him, quietening immediately in Emily’s arms when he passes her over.

After they’ve put her to bed, slowly backing out of her room so they don’t wake her again, Emily kisses him as soon as the adjoining door to their room is closed. She loops her arms around his neck, taking every opportunity to be as close to him as possible.

“She doesn’t cry because she hates you, you know,” Emily says, trying to smile reassuringly at him, “I talk about you all the time,” she strokes her fingers through his hair as he places his hands on her hips, “She just…”

“Doesn’t know me,” he finishes for her, shaking his head at himself, “And I’ve got no one to blame but myself.”

“Aaron-”

“My daughter doesn’t know who I am, Em,” he says, cutting over her, “She’s 12 weeks old, and she’s known me for a day.”

“Honey,” she says, making him look at her, “She’s a baby. She only figured out how to smile a few weeks ago,” she swallows thickly, pushing down her own feelings about it all for now, “When you come back for good, things will be different.”

It’s the closest either of them has come all day to address their reality. They had no idea how long he’d be gone for. It could be months. Another year.

Forever.

She leans forward to kiss him, wanting to change the direction of her thoughts, of their conversation. Wanting nothing more than to end their day as they had lived it - together.

“We don’t have to,” he says as he pulls away, and it makes her smile, makes her think of their wedding night, how she knows he meant it then too. They hadn’t had the chance last night. Both of them far too tired to do anything other than literally sleep together. They’d curled up around each other, and had woken up in the exact same position, their hands still intertwined.

She steps onto her tiptoes, eliminating the height difference between them, and kisses him fiercely. Her hands run up the back of his neck and she digs her fingers into his hair, holding him close as she licks at the seam of his lips, grateful when he responds immediately, pulling her even closer.

She pants as she pulls her lips from his, her forehead against his as she tries to make her breathing even again.

“Aaron, please,” she says, stamping another kiss against his lips, “I want to.”

He nods, his grip on her hips tightening slightly as his forehead knocks against hers.

“I want to too,” he replies, one of his hands stroking up her back, “I just…” he drifts off, unsure how to put it into words, how to explain himself. He sighs, “Last time, I left you here alone, pregnant. And…”

She hears what he hasn’t said, how he doesn’t think it’s fair to do that to her again. She pulls back to look at him, her hands drifting to his cheeks, holding him in place as she makes him look at her.

“I don’t care about that,” she says, her eyes boring into his, “Besides, the doctor said it’s unlikely I can get pregnant whilst I’m still feeding Mae, and even if it does happen…” she swallows thickly, the thought of going through all of that alone, again, almost too much to bear, “If it does happen then it happens,” she shrugs half-heartedly, “I will take of much as you as I can get.”

He stares at her for a second, considering what she’s said, before he nods, surging forward and kissing her as if they had never stopped. They shed their clothes quickly, material falling to the floor without fanfare, their need for each other getting more desperate by the second. It’s only when she’s naked, laying on the bed, that she feels self-conscious, his gaze fixed on her as he looks at her intently.

“I know I look different,” she says, pressing one of her hands to her stomach. Her skin was still looser than it used to be, and her hips were wider. There were thin pink lines that were slowly turning silver across her abdomen, signs of where her skin had been stretched almost to its limit when Mae was still inside of her, “I know it’s not-”

“You’re beautiful,” he says, cutting her off, pressing a kiss to her lips to stop her from saying anything else, before he moves downwards, worshipping her skin bit by bit before he gets to her stomach. His touch becomes even more reverent, his fingers and his lips mapping her out again as he had on their wedding night, re-learning all of her hills and valleys, “I wish I could have seen you,” he mutters against her skin.

“I was massive,” she comments, not missing the breathlessness of her voice.

“You still would have been gorgeous,” he says, travelling further down her body, his hands tracing her thighs, gently pushing them apart as he kneels in front of the bed.

She sits up, her elbows on the bed as she looks at him, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he looks at her, his eyes fixed between her legs.

“What are you doing?” She asks, and he looks up at her, making no move to get up off the floor.

“Do you trust me?” He asks in response, still not giving her an answer, a fire in his eyes that threatens to engulf them both.

“Yes,” she answers simply because it’s true. There’s no one she trusts more.

Before she knows what was happening, his focus has shifted again, his hands holding her thighs apart as he licks through her, making them moan simultaneously, her at the feeling of it, of every nerve in her body feeling like it was alight, and him at the taste of her.

“Oh my God,” she moans, her elbows giving out as she lays back down, her hands fisting in the bedspread as he carries on, his grip on her thighs getting tighter as he explores her in this new way, “Please don’t stop.”

He takes her apart, slowly and methodically as if he had thought of nothing else in the year that they had been apart. Pleasure rushes through her in a way she didn’t know it could, and it takes her a second to remember to breathe, her body shaking as she comes back down. She blinks, clearing her vision, and feels the dip of the bed next to her. She looks at him, breathing heavily as he smiles at her.

“You ok?” He asks, and she nods, clearing her throat.

“Yes. More than ok. Where the hell did you learn about that?” She asks, reaching up and pulling him down for a kiss.

“France,” he mutters, shifting them so he’s laying on top of her, both of them groaning as he notches over her. She raises an eyebrow at him, her curiosity slowly getting the better of him, “It’s a bunch of men sitting in a dug-out trench in the ground sweetheart, we talk about sex.”

“Oh,” she says, hooking one of her legs around him, bringing him impossibly closer. She doesn’t want to talk about France, about the reality that he’d start his long journey back the following morning. And she knows he doesn’t too, “Well…we’re definitely doing that again at some point.”

He smiles at her and leans down to kiss her, one of his hands sneaking between them, his finger briefly dragging over her before he guides himself into her, both of them groaning as he pushes forward.

It was overwhelming, the feeling of her around him better than he remembered. The fleeting time they’d had together when they got married was never enough. He buries his face in her collarbone, whispering praise against her skin as she shifts her hips up into him, a silent request to move that he is happy to oblige.

They move together, his hand reaching for hers, linking their fingers next to her head on the bed as they build each other up. The only sound in the room is them, and quiet gasps of each other’s names whispered against skin. He can sense she’s close, can feel it in how she’s grasping at him, in how she says his name, so he reaches between them, his finger swiping over her until they tip over the edge together.

He lays on top of her until he gets his breath back, and moves to roll off of her, but she stops him. Her still shaky legs hooked around him, and her arms tight around his back.

“Em-”

“Not yet,” she says, and he looks down at her, sadness sparking in his chest at the unshed tears in her eyes. “Not yet.” She repeats, and he nods, leaning down to kiss her, hoping he can get across everything he can’t find the words for. How much he loves her. How much he didn’t want to leave.

How much he missed her already, even though he was right here with her.

“Ok sweetheart, not yet.”

___

He wakes up alone.

At first, he doesn’t notice. His heart racing as he sits up suddenly, heaving deep breaths into his lungs. It takes him a moment to realise where he is, that he’s home. He’s safe.

It’s the silence he finds the strangest, the total opposite of what he was now used to. The complete lack of sound was louder than he knew it could be.

He rubs his eyes as they adjust to the low light of the room, and he looks over to the adjoining door to Mae’s nursery and sees it’s slightly open, light streaming into the main bedroom around it. He gets up, stretching as he walks towards the door. As he gets closer he hears quiet singing, Emily’s voice soft as it travels through the air.

“The little stars were the herring fish

That lived in that beautiful sea —

“Now cast your nets wherever you wish —

Never afeard are we”

Aaron opens the door, smiling as he’s met with the sight of Emily sitting down, Mae against her chest. She’s rubbing the baby’s back, her lips against the top of her head as she sings.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that lullaby,” he says, his smile widening as she looks up at him, her own smile sleepy.

“It’s one my dad used to sing to me,” she replies, “I think she likes it. Want to come sit with us?”

She doesn’t need to ask twice, moving across the room quickly, she stands just long enough for him to slip in behind her in the chair. He wraps his arms around her as she settles against him. He feels the last bits of tension caused by his nightmare fading away at having his girls in his arms.

“Is she ok?” He asks, looking down at Mae and watching as her eyes flutter shut, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

“She’s fine,” Emily assures him, tilting her head to look at him, “She needed feeding, and she always likes to cuddle afterwards,” she smiles, looking back at Mae, “I like it too. Are you ok? I didn’t wake you up did I?”

“No,” he says, holding her a little tighter, “You didn’t. I…dreamt about something.”

She reads between the lines, not needing any other information to know it was a nightmare, that he was trying to play it down for her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know how to. Everything over there is so…awful. Some of the men dying are just kids,” he shakes his head, chuckling bitterly, “Boys. And I don’t know how to tell you. You and her are so untouched by it,” he says, reaching out to touch Mae’s head, his fingers gentle against her soft hair, “I don’t want to bring it here too”

“We’re not untouched by it. I know it’s not the same. But my life is on pause, Aaron. I’m sat here waiting for you to come back, or for a telegram telling me you’ll never come back. I had our little girl alone. You weren’t there waiting to meet her,” she says, her eyes meeting his. She sees the sadness on his face, the guilt he’s barely covered up the entire time he’s been here, and she sighs. She takes one of her hands out from under Mae and reaches out for him, tangling their fingers together, “It’s not your fault, but I’m not untouched by it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I know you’re not,” he kisses the side of her head, “The thing is I can’t even wish I hadn’t gone. Because if I hadn’t, I don’t think we’d be here.”

She hums in agreement. She’d had the same thought many times over the last year, she was well aware that his decision to sign up for the army had been the push they’d needed.

“You’re right. I’d be married to Ian,” she looks down at Mae, realising she had now fallen asleep. “And she wouldn’t exist,” she looks at Aaron and kisses him, “She’s asleep, if you want we can go back to bed?”

He nods, kissing her again before she stands, well-practised at holding the baby as she moved around, and she sets her back down into the bassinet without disturbing her. Aaron leans down and kisses Mae’s head before he loops his arm around his wife, leading her back into their room.

They both knew the countdown was on, that their time left together was limited. Hours would soon tick down into minutes, then seconds.

They didn’t want to waste any of it.

___

She doesn’t let him out of her sight until he has to leave. Even then, she stands by the front door with Mae in her arms, her eyes fixed on the car her mother had organised for him until he completely disappears from view.

Somehow, it feels worse than the first time she had to let him go. The sweet taste of their life together that she’d had for a couple of days turning bitter as he gets further away from her.

Mae cries out in her arms, and Emily looks at her, adjusting her hold on her daughter as she turns into the house.

“Come on, sweet girl,” she says, raising her up a little so she can kiss her head, “It’s almost time for you to eat.”

When she gets back to their room, she finds a letter propped up against their wedding photo, his familiar scrawl across the envelope spelling out both her and Mae’s names.

Next to it is a small vase. A bunch of freshly picked daisies staring back at her, seeming all too bright for the heaviness in her heart.

-x-

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