do you still believe [morgan]

[NELL DOE DALE]

mistaken for a vision

Nell washed her hands in the kitchen sink, having carefully placed her rings on a napkin by the side. She would not be losing them, not ever. The only other piece of jewelry that meant anything to her was the medallion on her neck that dangled free from her shirt as she leaned over. She'd left Emmaline to watch cartoons for a moment while she washed some of the dishes they had used that day. Glancing over her shoulder for a moment, she smiled. She actually enjoyed babysitting, especially when it was for Morgan's younger sister. Or who she had thought was her younger sister until today. Reassured that the child was behaving herself, she returned to her business. She had always been good with children, but she supposed it was because she had always been good with taking care of people. Both her sister and her mother had needed caring for, and her entire life had been spent looking after them. Add in a fondness for anyone younger than her, and she felt her most maternal around children. Not that she didn't have mother hen tendencies with the other people, even her own husband. She couldn't help it, that she constantly worried and fretted over people in what must have become annoying for some. She knew that Morgan didn't appreciate it half the time.

Thinking of her friend, she wondered why she had kept the truth about Emmaline. In this day, girls had no problem with admitting their pregnancies in children. Back in the day, from what she knew, girls were sent away to their relatives when they got pregnant. Nell had never given a second thought about babysitting for the family before, having always been told that the energetic child had been Morgan's sister and nothing more. It made sense and she never questioned it. Until Emmaline spoke up. She believed the young girl, too, why wouldn't she? Children always lacked a filter that people learned through maturing, they were brutally honest and sometimes it was in bad ways. As she put dishes in the drying rack, she thought about raising kids. What was it like having a child so young? Nell couldn't imagine, especially being around Morgan's age. Josh had told her he wanted kids, and she allowed it to be a possibility, though she made no promises because the future held so many what ifs. And he'd been right, they needed to plan it. Clearly, Morgan hadn't planned Emmaline, otherwise it wouldn't be a secret.

Honestly, Nell didn't think any differently of the girl now that she had this information. She viewed the Fire in high-esteem, even though she had always been a wild sort. That just made her more interesting. And she cared about her. Did it hurt that she'd kept this secret? Nell thought about it as she slipped the rings back onto her finger. No, she didn't think she could hold it against her. Morgan didn't do things without reason, and she could see the reason for lying about Emmaline. The real question was if she should ask or not, what she should do about this. Nell figured she wouldn't be keen on talking about it, and so she had decided it would be best not to talk about it. And she didn't, hadn't brought up any conversation. Rolling down the sleeves of her blouse, she walked over to the couch and pulled her coursework into her lap. She had a few things to do for sociology, but nothing too difficult. Then she wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Emmaline. Her load this year was significantly less than last, but she believed that may have just been her adjusting to the college regime. As her pen scraped against paper, she waited for her friend to return home.

[MORGAN JANE FARREN]

i'm waking up, i feel it in my bones

Silence is a perfect thing. It is unbroken, and unquestioning. Some saw silence as uncomfortable, as distinctly foreign. Some even associated it with some misplaced sense of danger. This was ridiculous of course. There was nothing safer than silence. Silence couldn't argue, couldn't scream or shout or do any of those annoying things. And Silence couldn't accuse you, bring to light all the things you knew you had done wrong. Silence is perfect, because Silence is nothing at all. It is solitude, it is secrecy, yet it is nothing. And perhaps, that was why Morgan found it so appealing, why she found herself almost constantly in search of it. How could anyone not desire the simple pleasure of silence? There were those that felt the constant need to speak, to be heard, and to hear others.

The way she saw it, if one embraced silence - there was so much more to hear, to see, to learn. Noise encased the ignorant in a narrow-minded world. Then again, perhaps all of this was simply a rationale. Maybe all of this was Morgan's way of saying to herself "I dislike the rambunctious noise of city life". But did it really matter? A preference was a preference, and simply put - nothing more. An identity was really made up of preferences, of preferences and history and weaknesses. Some might add strength to that list, but Morgan never did. Strengths were really just what remained when your weaknesses were taken away. And did a strength even really form someone? Or did their weaknesses? Were we defined by what we could do, or what we had failed to do? She had always believed it to be the latter option.

The young woman in question raised her head. She had been making her way down one of the many darkened alleys on the outskirts of Maple Hollow, making her winding way back to the home she shared with her parents, sister, and daughter. She moved quickly, having little desire to attract any attention. She was small by nature, almost unusually so, though it had never truly bothered her. Some assumed that simply because of her size, she was an easy target. But those who assumed such a thing knew nothing – at least nothing of her. For they failed to account for her unusual talent. Morgan smiled, her confidence rising just a bit as she pulled her coat tighter around herself. She was weak, yes, but powerful all at the same time. Morgan was anything but blind to her own faults. But that didn't keep her from passing judgment on others, as she assumed they passed judgment on her. It was natural, instinctual in every way. Life was a selfish thing, focused on survival and the betterment on one's self. Morgan ran a hand through her hair as she walked. She had no intention of stopping until safely inside her door.

She turned out from the alley, now nearing the neighborhood in which her home was nestled. She wore her pinstriped dress from work, a contraption she was convinced was devised for her pure torture. The thing was preppy, something from a decade long passed. And she had never been one for dresses anyways. She shoved her hands deep in her pockets, pulling her worn jacket closer around her. Fallen leaves crunched underfoot, a constant reminder of the approach of winter. She kept her head down, walking determinedly down the sidewalk. The sooner she made it home, the sooner she could boil some water and make a cup of tea. She had no intention of leaving for the rest of the afternoon anyways. Her mind wandered, anywhere but on the current thoughtless task of walking home. She’d left her closes – and perhaps only – friend at home. Her parents were each at work, Elizabeth out with some friend or another. Morgan hated leaving Emmaline with her parents. It just reminded her of her own foolishness. She could never regret Emmaline. She loved the little girl with all her heart. But she wouldn’t make her family pay for her mistakes. Instead, she’d paid Nell. The woman was good with children, better than Morgan. The only child who seemed to love her was Emmaline, and that was more human nature than anything else.

She stamped her feet, her pace quickening as she neared home. She climbed the stoop, reaching around in her pocket until her fingers grasped the key. She was a bit paranoid, and always insisted on locking the doors. She turned the key, pushing open the door only wide enough to slip inside. She immediately tore of her gloves, kicked off her boots and shrugged of her jacket. She hung it up on the rack, calling hesitantly through the house. Her voice had its usual degree of irritability. “Nell? Emmy?” No sooner had her voice died away than a high shriek echoed through the house. Tiny feet pounded on the floor as toddling Emmaline came racing around the corner and into her mother’s arms. “Mommy! Mommy! There’s a giraffe on the TV!”

[NELL DOE DALE]

mistaken for a vision

Nell focused her attention on her work, left thumbnail between her lips as she read something off of the small book she had. It didn't have many pages, and could barely constitute as a textbook, but she was happy that she had one that didn't weigh down her bag like her math texts and history ones did. Even the smaller but thicker books were welcome. She let the sound of the television fade to the background, focusing her energy on the work. She liked this kind of work, she was good at psychology and sociology. In the end, she supposed she had chose the right major for herself, though she always had to doubt herself. What did she even want from the future? She didn't entertain the thought for long, she never did. Nell lifted her head when she heard the door open and Morgan call out, pushing her work to the side and going up to follow Emmaline out.

An awkward beat followed after Emmaline referred to the woman who was supposed to be her sister as her mother. Nell took time to consider what to do. Pretend like she hadn't heard it as she leaned against the door frame of the next room? It seemed logical enough. But Morgan had seen her, she was right there and Emmaline hadn't exactly been quiet. Plus, Nell hadn't exactly felt comfortable in keeping a secret through all this. Not when it was Morgan's secret, and she didn't even tell the girl she was aware of any of this. She would keep it from everyone else, that went without saying. By now, Nell had become a professional secret-keeper, for both her own secrets and others'. She knew about Israel and Knox, and kept that a secret without having to be told that it was meant to be on the downlow. She didn't talk to anyone about anything, and sometimes her secretive nature backfired. Mostly, it kept things like the truth of Emmaline from getting out to people that Morgan probably wanted to keep her from.

In the end, she decided it was best to just come out and tell her friend. She shifted, standing a little straighter as she cleared her throat and played with a strand of her hair for a moment. "Uhm, don't worry about that, I know..." She waved her hand as if to dispel any concerns that Morgan might have. She met her eyes firmly, a shrug lifting her shoulders. It didn't matter to her. She didn't seen Morgan as an irresponsible kid, just as someone who hadn't planned it to happen. It was a mistake. Everyone made them, and anyone who tried to say otherwise was obviously lying. "How was work?" she questioned, quick to move the conversation from that, just in case Morgan didn't want to talk about it. Even though, admittedly, Nell wanted to talk about it. She was that kind of person who believed that talking helped. Not with herself, but with other people. And she wanted to be supportive of Morgan, to show that she would still be friends. She could get past everything else, the temper and the sarcasm, she could definitely get passed a lie about a child.

[MORGAN JANE FARREN]

i'm waking up, i feel it in my bones

Morgan straightened abruptly, Emmaline’s arms wound around her neck. She held the little girl aloft, staring at Nell over her daughter’s cascading red-brown hair. Her lips folded into a grim line, her eyes dark and burning. She knelt down, placing Emmaline back safely on the ground. She smiled at the little girl, stroking her hair. “Why don’t you go get your toys? We’ll play a game.” The little girl shrieked a wordless exclamation of excitement, whirling around and racing back down the hall. Morgan watched her until she vanished up the staircase, her little steps fading into silence as she searched out her favorite toys. Morgan turned back to Nell, fury evident on every inch of her features. She took a threatening step forward, her fingers curling into fists. She liked Nell, she really did. The woman was kind, didn’t pry into business that she shouldn’t be concerned with. And honestly, she took more shit from Morgan than most could take in a lifetime. She’d even begun to trust her, albeit reluctantly. Hell, she’d trusted the woman with her daughter, the most precious thing in the world to her. But it appeared those times were over. Nell had most certainly stuck her nose in where it didn’t belong.

“Back it up, bitch. You’re not getting out of that one.” Her voice was a growl, cold and pointed. She would never have reacted this way, not with Nell. Really, Nell could get away with just about everything. But she’d stumbled onto the one thing that Morgan would not let go – pressed just the right buttons in the perfect sequence. It was time to duck and cover. “Whatever the fuck you think you know, you’re wrong.” She lifted her hand, running it angrily through her hair – shoving the stray strands away from her face. Her makeup was smeared from the diner, she smelled of grease and crappy food. She was in no mood to play nice. “Don’t you dare think because you come in here, because I pay you to watch my sister while I work, that you know anything at all. You don’t know anything, and you sure as fuck have no right to go about making assumptions.” Morgan yanked at the ties of her apron, tearing the thing from over her head. She balled it up, throwing it on the ground. She still wore the pinstriped dress, the one she so hated.

“Especially based on the words of a three-year old!” She made a wordless sound of anger in the back of her throat, shaking her head. She was gesturing wildly with her arms, energy radiating from every pore. She yearned to set something on fire – preferably Nell’s hair. It was her fear of Nell’s newlywed husband that kept her in check. “I’ll pay you for today’s hours, but don’t come around here again. I don’t need some presumptuous rich bitch playing make believe in my house.” She snatched for her wallet, riffling through the bills. She just about tore them, yanking out a handful and throwing them at Nell’s feet. She didn’t care that Nell was older, wiser, calmer – had been the only friend Morgan had thus far known. Morgan didn’t give a damn about all of that. She had one secret, one precious secret, and Nell had stumbled her way upon that. Whether Morgan wanted to or not, Nell had become expendable – needed to be purged. It was for the safety of them all, really. That, and Morgan’s sanity.

[NELL DOE DALE]

mistaken for a vision

"Back it up, bitch." Even before then, Nell knew she was in trouble. It read clearly in Morgan's expression, in the anger written on her face. If she were a less controlled person, she would have flinched under the words. As it were, she merely held her hands together, twisted them around as she was torn into. Morgan told her that she was wrong about all of it, that she didn't know anything, all the while taking off her apron. Like she did when anyone tore into her, she stayed quiet. She feared that speaking would incur more wrath from the petite brunette giving her a good tongue-lashing. Of course Nell felt bad, but she hadn't imagined that her little admission -- those six words -- would have brought down Morgan's fearsome hammer. Oh, she predicted anger. It would be out of the ordinary to assume that anything else would come out of this. But not the pure rage. She watched as the bills fluttered down around her feet, but didn't pick them up. Nell didn't move. Especially because of the last words she spoke. She wasn't about to lose a friend because of this, no way. At least she could admit that she made a mistake, that she shouldn't have said what she did, and that it was unfair to Morgan. But was it better to just keep it to herself?

The silence became the most prominent thing between them in those seconds. Nell met Morgan's gaze calmly, unafraid even though she should have been. Fire versus Earth didn't work out well for her. She took a few moments before saying, "She told me in private before. And why else would she call you that?" Her voice was soft, gentle to Morgan's fierce ones. They weren't mean to be dangerous, they weren't meant to inflict wounds like the other girl's had been. They hadn't even been to console her, not in the way that a mother consoles a child during a thunderstorm. She took a step forward, over the money, scratching her arm with one hand as if to protectively cover herself. "Children tend to tell the truth a lot more than they should. I spend enough time around them to know that." It was something she learned from the day care. She knew quite a bit about the daddies and mommies of the children, more than she would have wanted before. How many times she had to tell them that their parents were just wrestling in their rooms, or that their Aunt Agnes wasn't actually crazy, and that they shouldn't be talking about their uncle's "rug" problems, proved to her that they did not yet have the filter that they needed in the adult world.

Before she could say anything to that, Nell lifted up her hands, wanting to make it clear that she wasn't just trying to prove herself right against Morgan. She didn't want to get the flames going again. Fires were dangerous when it came to their tempers. She should know, she'd married one. "This is none of my business and I'm not trying to make it my business. This is your life and I fully respect that." She hadn't told anyone yet, but she knew that the woman would probably not believe her. And maybe still claim that it wasn't her child. Why was she adamant in believing Emmy about what she said? Because Morgan had a point -- she was just a child. "I can pretend that she's your sister, it doesn't make a difference. I just thought it would be easier for you because of how much time I spend around here." And it wasn't for the money, she didn't care that much about it. It sure helped when she was in a spot when it came to cash, but she cared about the family more than that. And she didn't want to fuck anything up. "Please don't be mad at me, I didn't mean to find out." She shook her head, her eyes pleading. She especially didn't want to lose her friendship with Morgan.

[MORGAN JANE FARREN]

i'm waking up, i feel it in my bones

Morgan stalked up and down the entryway, seething. Her eyes were narrowed, her fingers were curled into fists at her sides. Another day had gone by, a day that could have been successful – meaningful even. Instead she was met with this. Each precious moment that ticked by was a moment her lies were becoming harder to believe – an hour further she fell behind. By any normal standards, she was a brilliant liar. But there was something about Nell, as if she had a built-in bull-shit meter. She just knew. And for Morgan, this was unacceptable. She had a schedule to keep. She wouldn’t stand by and watch the others pass her by, succeed where she had failed – a failure not produced of her own doing. She wouldn’t allow her life to be turned around by a woman she could barely call a friend. Her eyes narrowed further, her expression downright icy. Emmy was still out and about looking for toys, for once not glued to her mother’s side. And Morgan was half-glad. She knew she would have taken her anger out in front of her daughter despite her best intentions, and later regretted it. As of now, there was no one for her to take her anger out on, no one but Nell who truly deserved it. Her mother and sister were out doing various things – all of them but her. She made a sound in the back of her throat, something similar to a growl, and stamped towards Nell – pointing an accusing finger.

“Oh, you didn’t mean to,” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm, blunt and exasperated. “That makes it all better then!” Her voice was close to a hiss, fury in her every movement. She was imagining hundreds of things she could do. For a moment, there was nothing she wanted to do more than light Nell on fire, maybe set the ends of her pretty hair ablaze. She could watch the woman screech. But that was only a flash of a moment. It wasn’t a true desire. Morgan was bitter, bitchy and aggressive. But she wasn’t some sort of psychopath. She wasn’t violent, not unless provoked. And though Nell had provoked her, well it just wasn’t enough to warrant hair-burning. She talked the talk, but when it came down to it, she resisted walking the walk. She knew the consequences. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew one slip, an expression of anger gone wrong, and they could take Emmy. They could come and cart her far away. And though raising a toddler wasn’t easy, wasn’t what Morgan had planned for her young adult years, she would never let the little girl go.

“You don’t understand the consequences of your fucking curiosity.” Morgan’s voice was dark. She took a step backwards, folding her arms over her chest. Her eyes were still narrowed, but some of the crazed fury had gone out of her. She shook her head, her words scathing. “And this isn’t about me, isn’t about my sick pride.” She waved a hand, gesturing towards the stairs. Emmy’s light footsteps could be heard as she wandered around her room, procuring her favorite toys. “People in this town can be narrow-minded, sickeningly conservative. We’re all freaks, compared to normal people. But there’s nothing more they would like than to set one of their own apart – to have the freak among freaks.” She’d heard the names they would call her, in dreams and her worst nightmares. Slut. Ho. She’d be like one of those annoying American shows – Sixteen and Pregnant. Emmy would grow up with labels on her shoulders, blazing across her forehead. Maybe it was foolish. Things could have been much worse. She could have been destitute. Her mother could have thrown her out. She could have cancer or, god forbid, Emmy could have been born sick. Yeah, life could be worse. But that didn’t mean things were exactly easy on her end. She shook her head again. “You don’t know what it’s like, to constantly be afraid someone will stumble upon your secrets. To fear each and every day that someone might get suspicious, make a few calls. And then CPS is at the door and a pink bedroom is left barren. I’ve seen the news, I know it happens.” And perhaps it was a ridiculous fear. Emmy was perfectly safe, well cared for. There was no reason for the Government to take her away. But Morgan didn’t truly understand that, couldn’t reconcile her fear.

[NELL DOE DALE]

mistaken for a vision

Nell supposed this was penance for treading on the slumbering beast. Understanding held deep refuge within her, the fact that elementally, Morgan could bring her to her knees. And Nell would allow that, should she attack. She didn't defend herself, she didn't like to fight. Hated any use of physical resistance unless it was in defense of someone else. Therefore, she should have been more willing to back down and say, "Okay, you will never have to see me again." It would have been the wise thing to do. Unfortunately, two of her prevalent traits would be stubborn and naive. She had hoped the fact that she didn't intend to find out would work in her favor. Morgan made it clear that it wouldn't work that way, and so Nell felt at a loss. If looks could kill. The thought didn't do much to cheer her up. Nothing could at this point. She felt like she had betrayed someone she cared about.

Because Nell wasn't actually curious, not in the way she wanted more information about this where the fellow brunette wasn't willing to give it, she had never tried to dig more information out of the child. She would never do that. The Earth elemental kept her brown gaze on the other girl's, even seeing the ire there as they narrowed into slits. She held her hands in front of her, leaning back a bit. Words of being a freak among freak met her ears, and she looked away for a moment. People could be terribly judgmental, she knew that well. They talked and they made things up, they spread stories and created labels and you never truly created an identity, you were given an identity by society. She almost smiled when she spoke of secrets -- not a real smile, it wouldn't have been of happiness -- but one of hollow understanding. She didn't have a daughter. But she had something. A year as a fugitive taught her all about paranoia.

She rolled her head around, rubbing the side of her neck. "No, I don't know what it's like to have...something like this going on. But you're how old now? I mean, they can't take her away from you when you're an adult. And still living with your parents." Though she couldn't admit to knowing a lot about the Canadian CPS, she knew some things. She wanted to say that Morgan didn't have worry about it getting out because of her, but she could talk all she want and the Fire may still not believe her. So what was it worth to keep trying to convince her of her ability to keep secrets? "Listen, I understand why you're keeping this a secret, I get it. Em's your sister. That's all I know." She lifted her hands up in a surrendering gesture. For all intents and purposes, that's all she knew and that's all that would ever leave her lips. Morgan's sister, the children of Mr. and Mrs. Farren. There were three siblings, not only two.

Her desire for cleanliness took over and she bent down to gather the scattered bills from the floor. As she did so, she spoke to Morgan, hair falling into her eyes. "She was good today. We played with her dolls and watched television. She really likes those giraffes..." Since Morgan had been ready to tear her head off for what she said after the girl went upstairs, Nell figured she might as well tell her now. She groaned a little as she straightened up, folding the bills in half before brushing stray hairs behind her ear. Usually the extra cash would have been going toward her sports car, but now that it was finished, Nell figured she needed some new, big project to work on. She looked at her friend -- the woman she would always think of as her friend. "You hungry? I could make something." She pointed a lazy finger toward the kitchen. After the yelling and the accusations, she still wanted to cook for the enraged woman. Maybe it was a way of apologizing, even though she wasn't upset by what had happened.

[MORGAN JANE FARREN]

i'm waking up, i feel it in my bones

Morgan had a secret. It was a secret she had never told, and truthfully didn't often think of. It was a secret that had once defined her, and had irrevocably changed her. It was a private thing, a small thing. To some, an important thing. To others, a trivial thing. It was both small and large, and altogether far too much for her to share. It had once been overwhelming, and was now simply embarassing. It was a think Morgan had never told anyone, and probably never would. See, here was Morgan's secret, the one she had never told and never much thought about. Morgan had once been in love, or at least had believed herself to be. It was an altogether mortifying memory for her. It had been a mistake made in her youth, one she never intended to repeat. It was a secret she would take to her grave, and one that she could never - in particular - reveal to her daughter, or to Nell. You see, Morgan, when she was still just a young girl, barely into her teens, had been timid. She’d been easily intimidated, still stubborn and easily irritated, but had tended to keep to herself. A young man, then already in the twelfth grade, had smiled at her. Daniel was everything Morgan had envisioned of the perfect man- calm and intellectual, kind and smiling. She had done her best to model herself after him in every way. She often asked herself, what would Daniel do? She had fallen pathetically, youthfully and stupidly into what she thought was love. She was convinced she would grow older, spend more time with him, and he would confess his love for her. That had been Morgan's foolish daydream.

But obviously, her dreams had not come true. Morgan had believed they would, right up until his graduation. She had run over to him, full of excitement, ready for him to make his big speech. Her eyes had been bright, her hair perfectly ironed and prepped for this moment. And it was then that another twelfth grader, a perky Thunder had chosen to interrupt with a shout of "Daniel!". And off Daniel had run, sweeping the pretty Thunder girl into his arms. Morgan had never really associated anyone with Daniel. So when she saw him, twirling this girl in his arms - Morgan had been crushed. And that was her sad little story, her pathetic secret. One she had never told, and truthfully thought little about. She’d grown up, started dating – partially out of some misplaced desire for revenge. And look where it had gotten her. She’d given birth to a child – not his, not part of the dream she had harbored as a young girl. Emmaline was a new kind of dream. Morgan’s stance began to relax slightly, thinking of Daniel and foolish youth. Nell was still babbling on, assuring her, talking about dolls and giraffes and shows on the television. Morgan shook herself, straightening slightly. She couldn’t let her guard down, not entirely. After all, she had a reputation to uphold. And she wasn’t entirely a pleasant person to begin with. It was a Fire’s inherent nature.

She gave a slight nod, bending to pick up her cast-off coat. She moved past Nell, into the kitchen. She slung her coat over a stool, sliding into it with a groan. She’d worked a double shift at the restaurant. She was stained with grease and ketchup, and that pinstriped dress made her blood boil. “There should be some penne in the cupboard.” She waved towards a cupboard near the refrigerator, setting her head in her hands. She rubbed her temples. She wanted something more than a sandwich, nothing that would remind her of the hell she worked in. Just then she heard little feet pounding on the stairs. Emmaline came skidding in, three or four stuffed giraffes of varying sizes clutched in her arms. She gave one glance at her mother and wrinkled her nose. “Can Nell stay and play? You’re going to get smelly all over my giraffes.” Without waiting for an answer Emmaline plunked herself down on the floor. She sat with her legs sprawled out, enthralled in setting her giraffes up just the way she liked them. She’d pick one up, smooth down it’s fur, murmur a few words, and move to another one. Morgan shook her head with a smile. “You don’t have to stay. I can watch her now.”

[NELL DOE DALE]

mistaken for a vision

Nell couldn't imagine what it must have been like to be a mother at Morgan's age. Though she had discussed with Josh, given him her word that it was possibility, that she believed she wanted to have children, she didn't know how she would have gone into it unprepared. And Morgan must have been unprepared. Nell already took care of other people, gathered them under her wing, thought of them as her family but it was not the same as having a little child, her own flesh and blood. Someone who looked up to you for guidance, whose future and well being were in your hands. But Nell knew, no matter what, she would have Josh beside her. It wouldn't just be her grappling through parenthood, it would be them, together. Morgan didn't have that. She didn't have the partnership of a marriage, of being with someone she was in love with. As far as she knew. If there was a man (or a woman, whatever Morgan wanted in her life), she had never seen it. That meant Emmaline didn't have a father. She had grandparents and aunts but no father, and she wondered how Morgan could even handle that. Her own mother didn't have anyone after her father left, and it went even further downhill. And Nell, if she was going to raise children she wanted it to be with Josh, she wanted them to be his children. Nell didn't want it to be a broken family, she didn't want it to be the kind she grew up in.

But thinking of Emmaline, she figured it had to be what Morgan wanted. To raise this child, even if it was alone. In Nell's mind, she was a great mother, no matter how young she was. The fact that she did so much to protect her was enough proof of that. Could she ever be like that, aspire to have the same protective instincts over her own children that Morgan? What would she be like as a mother? Not like Mia, never like Mia. This was why she didn't like to think of it, why she didn't like to consider all the future possibilities, why she had been so terrified to talk it over with Josh. He'd been so certain, so confident, and it scared her even more that they were so different. Not in the ways that she had always known, but in the fact that he had these goals and he had always had plans. She didn't. She stayed in the present and never thought about her career or where she would be in ten years. Josh had all that in line, and while she admired that, she preferred her way of thinking. Staying in the moment, taking what comes. Turn lemons into lemonade. But children took planning. What would it be like to have a daughter? Somehow, the thought made her stomach tickle. It was exhilarating and horrifying at the same time. She had taken care of children before, but having one full-time? It's where her way of thinking got in the way of everything, when she had to make decisions like this. It was kind of blowing her mind.

Instead of getting too far ahead of herself in that sense, she followed Morgan into the kitchen, searching through cabinets to look for the pasta. There was still a little adrenaline left over, winding through her veins as if Morgan was a time bomb waiting to go off. She focused on easing the apprehension so it wouldn't take over, so she wouldn't have to feel this wariness. Nell pulled out a pot and set it on the stove, looking for the ingredients she'd need as Emmaline came in with all her giraffes. Noticing her, Nell laughed. But she had to look at Morgan to answer the question, who told her she didn't have to stay. "I can stay however long I'm welcomed," she said, smiling back to the child. She didn't have any other plans for the night, as a matter of fact. This had been her work for the night, so it would be easy to hang around for a little bit, even though she now liked to spend as much time around her husband as possible. "And I'll play with you after dinner, kay Em?" The child seemed content with her giraffes as of right now, and she figured she would leave her to it as she made the penne for Morgan.

[MORGAN JANE FARREN]

i'm waking up, i feel it in my bones

Exhaustion was a funny thing. It was as if an entity all its own – not a god, nor a spirit, nor a mortal. But it was something, something alive and pulsing with energy. While many such things lived by common law – whether it was social law or simply the law of physics – it was often as if exhaustion simply chose to ignore these things. It was too good for common restrictions, above it all entirely. It was a deadly thing, a welcome thing, all-powerful to an extent. For it was tied to a great many of the comings and goings of life. Though perhaps that was a stretch. Morgan found herself exhausted quiet often. But there were different types of exhaustion. There was mental exhaustion, physical exhaustion, a combination of the two. Then there was that persistent exhaustion, the exhaustion of the soul. Now that path, of course, more often led to a bullet in the brain. People couldn’t take it anymore. They were too tired. And every hour asleep only seemed to laden them further with worries and concerns. But eventually, should a certain path be taken, that exhaustion was alleviated. Morgan had never understood, never experienced, this sort of hopelessness. And she truthfully hoped she never would.

She couldn’t imagine that sort of misery. She wasn’t a particularly joyous or pleasant person, this was well known. But she was content, in her own way. She was content with Emmaline, with Elizabeth, with her parents. Hell, most of the time she was content with Nell. There were things she dreamed of, futures that simply couldn’t be. They were daydreams, the product of every functioning mind. Though she didn’t know it, even Nell was at that moment imagining children of her own, winding about her feet and shrieking happily as only children can. Morgan dreamed of normalcy. It was a simple dream, perhaps. Some would even snort, call it foolish or wasteful. What is normalcy, they would ask. It was a cliché. But for Morgan, it was simple. She dreamed of graduating from the Academy, from University. She dreamed of being married, of finally giving Emmaline a father. She dreamed of siblings, of a stable home life for her little girl. She dreamed of when she owned her own home, furnished it, kept it clean and sparkling. Emmaline would skip off to school, make friends of her own. And no one would point, whisper behind their hands, at her slut of a mother.

It was silly, really. But somehow, sitting at the stool, Morgan felt pampered. She watched Nell bustle about the kitchen, as familiar there perhaps as she was in her own home. The other woman took out the pasta, casually set the water to boil. Morgan smirked to herself, shaking her head. She lived a busy, simple life, when the simple act of seeing food made for her made her feel somehow regal. She heaved herself from her stool, onto her aching feet. They screamed with protest, but she ignored them. She couldn’t allow Nell to do this, work like a servant. Morgan was home now. And whether she liked it or not, her life was a full time job.

She set about choosing an array of tomatoes, some peppers and feta cheese. She began chopping, staring unseeingly at the cutting board. She tended to zone out – which probably wasn’t the wisest move with a knife in her fingers. But she did anyhow. She could hear Emmy in the corner of her mind, humming off-tune to herself and shifting around the stuffed giraffes. Morgan sighed, slightly mumbling her words. “Has Emmy eaten yet?” It was past seven. Usually the little girl ate early. After all, she was only three. Soon it would be bedtime. She gestured to the cooking dinner, speaking rather impulsively. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. Off the clock I mean.” She whirled rapidly around, uncomfortable with this new familiarity she was extending. She cleared her voice, motioning with her head towards Emmaline. The little girl let out a massive yawn right on cue. “I’ll be putting her to bed pretty soon anyways.” Elizabeth was out getting pizza with friends from school. Her parents were likely out enjoying a night to themselves, one of precious few they ever got. Morgan would have the house to herself. She shook her head, inwardly berating herself. Nell wouldn’t want to stay for noodles and chopped vegetables. She had a husband and a mansion to return to.

[NELL DOE DALE]

mistaken for a vision

Nell liked doing things, taking care of people. And though she had many questions that she would like to ask, she understood how off limits they were and so left them alone in favor of going about making food, something she was actually very passionate about. She wouldn't cross boundaries that would make Morgan uncomfortable. If you could count on Nell for anything, it would be understanding secrets, and the importance of keeping them. No one knew much about Nell herself. Some may know where she came from -- with her accent, it wasn't hard to figure out -- but other than that she didn't talk about her family (or rather blood relatives, her family was Josh and Annabel and her in-laws), her past, much about herself at all. Half of it was because she liked to keep her private life very, very private, and the other half was that she didn't feel very comfortable talking about her own life. And she honored that quality when she found it in other people, respected their need secrecy.

It was better left alone, she decided. If half the people she felt very close to knew nothing about her, then she wouldn't feel comfortable at all in forcing that information out of other people. Morgan was cagey, protective, and the fact that she herself knew about Emmaline must have been disruptive. She couldn't expect the Fire elemental to trust her like that, with something that was a family matter. She's her sister, that's it. Not that she would be telling people much about Morgan, anyway. Maybe if she had to babysit, she would tell her company such. And in the instances she did talk about the other girl, she only had good things to say. She blinked when she saw Morgan starting to chop ingredients, but smiled a bit. She really didn't mind, but she wasn't about to tell Morgan to go sit down because she had just come back from work. She struck Nell as pretty independent.

"I gave her a snack, but she hasn't actually eaten anything real." She'd been waiting for Morgan, as a matter of fact, before deciding to make dinner. It was something little she could do to help out, because she'd like to any little way. She wondered if Morgan understood that, the fact that she really enjoyed helping more than anything else. Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she started on boiling the water. "Yeah, I can stay. I'll just text Josh that I'm staying later." She was sure that he could make something. She enjoyed cooking herself even when she had a long day, but her husband was very capable with a stove. Hell, he could even order out. "If you want, I can make the sauce." She actually had a way of making it, without recipes or using the actual jarred stuff. No one could say that she didn't have a passion for making food.

[fin?]

[THADDEA ARYN MELANTHA]

fin!