Midnight Conversations

"Mera, are you comfortable?" shifting and rolling towards Paris this time she harrumphed.

"No. But I don't suppose being about four months pregnant has anything to do with that. I thought it wasn't supposed to get terribly uncomfortable for a couple more months. But everything aches! My hips, and my back, and my feet! Paris!" She pouted at him, and he smiled sweetly, wrapping an arm around her.

"I'm so sorry, love. I know even less about this process than you do. I wish I knew more."

"Have you heard anything about any of those midwives? I keep trying to find someone who will really help us, but I just can't seem to get anyone to commit. And I'm starting to feel desperate."

"We'll figure it out."

"Is it time to wake up, do you suppose?"

"I doubt it. Everyone is sound asleep, no one is even stirring."

"I'm glad they're all getting some rest. They need it. They've been working so hard."

"I know. I'm really proud of them."

"Maybe not hard enough though. We're going to be out of money and out of food pretty soon."

"I'm aware Mera, but couldn't we keep talking about sweet things for now?" Paris moaned his complaint into her neck as he tucked his body closer to hers. She liked feeling him close, but sometimes in the middle of the night she would panic, she would have flashbacks to that night. The horror. And she would wake to find herself frantically pushing Paris away. He never took it personally, just gave her the space she needed. But she always needed him back. He hadn't asked to marry her again. He hadn't even mentioned it again.

"We could, I suppose. But Paris?"

"Mmhmm?"

"We do need to keep taking care of them. It's our job."

"Mmm."

"I love you, Paris. So much."

"I love you, Almera." He nuzzled into her again, she could feel him smiling against her skin.

"Do you still wanna marry me?" His entire body tensed. Maybe he didn't. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything. Shit. What if he didn't want her anymore? What if he'd changed his mind and now she was about to make it so weird?

"Of course I do. Of course."

"Why haven't you said anything about it again?"

"I thought you didn't want to get married. I thought you would want some space and time to think about it."

"It's been four months."

"Are you saying that four months is enough space and time?"

"I'm saying that I don't know if it's enough time to recover from everything, but that I do love you. And sometimes, Paris sometimes I-" she couldn't speak through the knot in her throat.

"What? What is it, love?" Paris leaned up on one arm, just enough above her for them to see each other's eyes.

"Sometimes I feel like I can see what our future would look like, and I love it. I love what my life looks like when you're in it, Paris. I just want you in it."

"Mera," his voice is just a whisper, a quiver, but it's full of awe and fear.

"This might not be a great time to talk about it, but I just wanted you to know. I just wanted to tell you that when I see the rest of my life, however long that gets to be, I see it with you. I only want it with you. With you and our little guy in here." She places a light hand on her stomach nervously.

"You think it's a little boy?"

"I don't know." She's whispering. So nervous. So scared he'll turn away.

"I think it's a little girl."

"Well, we'll find out in a few more months."

"You're just barely showing. Can you feel them moving in there yet?" He places his ear softly on her tummy, smiling.

"No, not yet. I don't think so anyway. I'll tell you when I do!"

"I can't wait," he opens his eyes to look at her, they're bright. Alive with hope.

"Paris, are you going to respond to the marriage thing?"

"I don't know what to say, Mera. I want to marry you. I love you. And I want to spend every moment I get with you. I've always loved you. It hasn't always been this way, but it is now and I'm terrified that it's not real for you. That you don't feel what I'm feeling. And I just, I don't want to be broken if you change your mind. If you call it off." He's biting his lip nervously, watching her. Waiting for a response.

"I don't think I would do that. But I think it's a fair concern."

"Those are your words of reassurance to me?" The skin around his eyes crinkle in amusement.

"I can't tell you anything but the truth. And the truth is that I think we're going to have a second baby."

"I'm not having sex with you again unless we're married." Paris' eyes grow wide before the words are even out of his own mouth. "I didn't know I felt that way."

"I think I knew you felt that way. I didn't expect that from you. And I certainly don't want it right now," Mera turns away suddenly, uncomfortable. Paris moves to sit facing her, they're both awake and sitting with their legs crossed now.

"Is your back okay?"

"No, but I'm not sure you can help that right now, thank you for asking," she's still not making eye contact with him.

"You know, we should probably talk about it."

"I don't want to."

"It's been four months, Mera."

"And that's not enough time to start talking about it. It was horrifying, Paris. I can't. I can't do it."

"Mera. Maybe we should talk about us. About what we did."

"Oh. I don't, I don't' about that."

"I do. I know about it. I was terrified. I was so scared." Mera looks up at him curiously now. "I was sure I was going to do something to upset you. I was sure I would scare you so badly, you'd never talk to me again. I'd always loved you, Mera. And recently I'd been so in love with you that I'd found myself daydreaming about your lips. I wondered what it would be like to feel them on my skin. When you asked me a few days before to kiss you, I thought my heart would stop. I thought that would be the end of me. But Mera, when you asked me to have sex with you? I wanted to say no. It was all still so new. I hadn't even had time to wonder, to fantasize. I didn't want to do that and have you only see him. See someone who hurt you. Because I loved you so much. And I had no idea how much I would come to love you. So I was scared. I was scared of what we were doing. Of what it would mean for us. I was so scared that I would do something wrong."

"But you didn't," the words are barely audible. But they're enough to stop his endless rambling. "You didn't do anything wrong. You did everything right. Paris, I'd daydreamed about your lips on mine for years. It started as a bit of a joke, but then on really cold nights, I'd imagine that you kissed me goodnight, and with that in mind I'd let myself sleep. After you kissed me for real, Paris I felt like my entire life was a dream. You told me you loved me. You told me you loved me the very next day! And I knew on my way to the palace that I wanted your hands on all of me. I wanted every intimate moment with you. But, but Paris then the Prince, he, I feel like he stole that from me," There are tears on her cheeks and she knows they won't stop. She let them roll slowly, but freely.

"Mera," Paris wiped the tears from off her flushed cheeks, her eyelids fluttering closed.

"He stole that moment from me, and his servants saw and listened, and they did nothing. His guards did nothing. They might protect him, but they don't protect anyone else. And I've never felt so weak, Paris. I felt utterly helpless. I wanted to die. All I could think about was getting back to you." She opened her eyes then, the tears stopped. A determined look in her eyes now.

"What is it?"

"When you told me to take the lead, thank you." He looked at her partly puzzled. "I was confident that you would come, and that I would feel the same way. I was convinced this short lived daydream would be revealed as a nightmare. But you gave me back my control. You gave me back my ability to choose, and experience it as my own. I was so scared. And I still am. I think about, um, I think about having sex with you again and," she was flushed, trying terribly not to look at Paris, but he wouldn't let her look away, capturing her face in his hands. Smiling fondly at her with his gentle eyes. "I think about it, and I know in my mind that I'm safe with you, and it would be good and I would be okay. But then I have nightmares about him and about that night and I just don't know if I ever can. But I want to, Paris. I want to, because I have these flashes where I see our little girl and she's blonde, and she has your nose and then I see something else. I see our little boy. Oh, Paris. He looks just like you. And maybe I'm crazy to think that these moments are real, but they feel real. I see you and those little ones and I just know that they're mine. And they're yours and he looks just like you. I'm already worried about the girls who will undoubtedly be in love with him, and their hearts that he will unknowingly break. It will be a different world, and we'll have the prettiest, most perfect children in it, Paris. And I want to marry you and I want to have those children. But there's so much that we still need to discover, and fix, and do to make that world possible for them. But I want it. I want it with you and I want it for all of the Children of the Street, and I want it for our children. I want it for them." Paris has tears on his own face now, but he's smiling.

"I can't wait to meet them both."