I've turned the grief to medicine

the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead

Torchline has been busy for weeks now. The cause of the persistent cold weather had been determined but not destroyed, the Stargate’s construction was complete, and behind the scenes of it all, Maeve and Harper were feeling out the new relationship they had committed themselves to. Admittedly not much has changed there. They co-raised Jude and Edmund as they always had. After Maeve had moved Harper and Jude in when he’d broken down, they’d adjusted to being there for one another physically long before any kind of romance had been introduced. Now, it was like nothing had really changed, aside from murmured sentiments and reassurances.

Today is his day off, and he spends it on the carpet with Jude in the sitting room. The babe is nearly a year old now, his birthday approaching swiftly in Longheat, and Harper never stops marveling at the changes in his son. Able to stand, walk, and even run on chubby little legs. Able to say his first word - dada, which had made Harper cry for hours the day it happened - and capable of developing motor skills that Harper found deep joy in cataloguing as the tiny little life he’d helped make grew and developed before his very eyes.

Jude is playing with soft blocks when the attendant pokes her head inside, eyes huge and face pale. Harper’s vague turn towards her becomes a sharp look, immediately standing. “What is it Julie?” he asks, voice low and commanding. The secretary tucks hair behind her ear; Harper sees her hand shake. “There’s someone here to see you sir,” her voice wobbles, and Harper frowns deeply, picking up his son from the carpet just in case he needs to be moved to safety swiftly. “Who?” he prompts, trying not to become restless or irritated by her nerves. “Phoebe, sir,” Julie whispers, and the floor falls away from beneath Harper’s feet. He staggers, and Julie rushes inside as he catches himself on the couch, Jude’s voice rising in objection only to go silent at the expression on his father’s face. Julie touches his elbow, and Harper waves her away with a hand that shakes terribly. Whatever she says next is muddled, like he’s underwater and she’s trying to speak from a great distance.

She follows anxiously behind him as he shoves his way out of the room, Jude clutched tight to his side. The same steps he has taken a thousand times retraced until he is at the entrance to the Court of the Stars, where a woman with long blonde hair stands just beyond the desk. His heart feels like fire in his chest, and he isn’t sure if it’s a good feeling. It hurts all the same. “Phoebe?” he whispers, desperate but uncertain if this was some sort of trick, one of Caido’s grand deceptions. Jude sniffles into his chest, clearly perturbed by his father’s rare shaken disposition, and the pair stand there waiting for the pin to drop.

provides the tempo for the song
describing how all things went wrong

Phoebe Steadman I've dropped out, burned up Fought my way back from the dead Phoebe had looked far and wide for Harper. Apparently, even after just a few hours he had moved on to somewhere. Somewhere. What was going on?! This seemed so out of character. What was this? Somehow, through word of mouth, she found Harper at a compound. She had no words. A woman took her name and hurried to another room. She had to wait?! But before long Harper appeared and she rushed forward to hug him before stopping, a child in his hands. What was this? Harper she breathed. What was going on? The question implied.

the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead

It is. It’s her. At least, he thinks so. She looks the same as the day he lost her, but this is Caido, and Gods he doesn’t know what to believe. But her expression is all sorts of wrong; impatient, confused, the beginning threads of suspicion and hurt. She stops short of them, and Harper’s throat works hard, clicking noisily as he tries to swallow.

He wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to coldly tell her to leave and never come back. He wants to kiss her and take her to bed and never let her leave again.

“Phoebe,” he says again, a croak of a word, because he doesn’t know what else to say at first. What comes next? Accusations? Pleading? Forgiveness? “It’s been a year Phoebe, where have you been?” His voice is torn with agony and grief. He had grieved her, had tried to move on - because she had told him to do exactly that when he’d been honoring his previous partner and had been grappling with the budding feelings he’d started feeling for Phoebe. He had tried to honor her every single day. And now this? Out of nowhere?

Jude makes a noise of discontent against his chest, but Harper can’t bear to turn him around, to present him to his mother who had only raised him for the equivalent of a blink of an eye before disappearing. Afraid of…he isn’t sure anymore. That Phoebe would take him and disappear for the third time? Hate him? Hate Harper?

provides the tempo for the song
describing how all things went wrong

Phoebe Steadman I've dropped out, burned up Fought my way back from the dead " A year?!" Phoebe breathed, aghast. "It's only been a few hours!" she said in defense. But also disbelief. Slowly she lifted her hand. Pointing at the child in his arms. " Is that baby mine?" she said, quiet, almost deadly. Then she screeched. "Give me my baby!" She held out her arms, longing, needing, the child. But she was no deranged woman. She was a woman longongher child.

the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead

His doubt is palpable, dark brow drawn tight as he watches her silently. Trying to determine if this is real or if she is some shade or doppelgänger. The realization seems to set in at least a little bit if the way she eyes Jude means anything, but her feverish intensity has instincts Harper didn’t even know he had rising to the fore. Fatherly protection sharp and threatening like raised hackles, like glinting knives.

“His name is Jude, like we agreed on. And yes, he’s yours. You disappeared days after his birth. You don’t remember this?” Harper clings desperately to his composure, trying to have faith in the woman he loves but struggling against the paternal instincts that tell him to get Jude far away from this mess. Instead of handing Jude over directly, Harper moves closer, shifting the babe in his arms and whispering encouragingly to him. “Jude? Can you say hi?” he cajoles, until the baby reluctantly turns his head to look up at Phoebe from Harper’s chest. A tiny hand waves, as they’d been practicing, and Harper smiles tightly. Strained. Praying for strength and guidance, to know what choice was the right one to make. “Will you let her hold you honey?” he asks, trying as always to honor his son’s bodily autonomy. The child wilts, but perhaps he remembers his mother somewhere deep inside, because he reaches little arms out in the universal gesture to be picked up.

provides the tempo for the song
describing how all things went wrong

Phoebe Steadman I've dropped out, burned up Fought my way back from the dead "No, I don't remember any of it!" Phoebe said, a hitch in her voice as a wave of emotions came crashing down on her. How could she not remember such an important moment?! She was pleading with Harper to believe her, distraught and confused. "I was looking for a place to put the baby garden for Frey and walked into a beautiful garden...then suddenly my stomach was flat and I rushed to find you." she said, tears welling in her eyes. Why would she lie about something she had wanted for as long as she could remember, something he knew meant more than the world to her? "Jude." she breathed, another small hitch in her voice as she grasped onto her own exposure. Wide brown eyes that reflected hers looked up at her and she all but melted. Perfect brown waves of hair, his mother's complexion...he was a perfect blend of his parents. As his arms lifted she reached to take him expertly in her arms. How many babies had she held over the years? How many times had she dreamed of this moment? Her baby. Hers. Instinctively she began to rock gently side to side, hesitant fingers brushing over chubby cheeks. "He's so perfect." she managed after a moment, a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead

His own face falls at her admission, and despairs further at the explanation she gives. First the transformative cocoon she’d been placed in, now this? It may not have been Frey’s design, but all he knows is ever since she became a demigod, she has been disappearing more and more from their lives. To the point she does not even recall one of the happiest shared days of their lives. But her sincerity, at least, is enough for him to believe her; no matter how hard it is. “Wherever you were…you were gonna for a year Phoebe. I put missing posters up in Torchline and Stormbreak every single season. Jude’s birthday is in a few weeks.” He says it as gently as he can, but the devastation is obvious. Trying to make her believe him too.

She seems to calm when she finally has Jude in her arms. Harper hovers mere inches away; no longer certain of how he can touch her, but wanting to be close to his son and the woman who had brought him into the world. Jude, for his part, seems to move past his uncertainty gracefully enough, inquisitive hands pulling on Phoebe’s long hair. He babbles senselessly; still mostly restricted to ‘dada’ at his age. He gazes up at her, at ease and content, and Harper’s heart only shatters further. It should have been like this the entire time. He should have nearly a year of moments like these, but they’d been stolen from him. Maeve had stood in that place each day, and Harper couldn’t regret that; Jude had needed the support and love of more than just Harper.

But now what?

“He can say dada now,” he shares, voice choked with emotion. “He hates peas, just like me. Loves applesauce. He loves to yell back at the Hels on the beach.” Wetness clings to his lashes, voice wobbling as he shares information about her own child that she hadn’t gotten the chance to learn firsthand.

provides the tempo for the song
describing how all things went wrong

Phoebe Steadman I've dropped out, burned up Fought my way back from the dead A choked sob broke through her lips. A year. A whole year. She had missed so much, so many firsts, so much time with Harper. How could she even begin to repair that? The first time it had been so simple, but now with Jude... Phoebe rested her face on the babe's abdomen, crying silently, betrayed only by the shake in her shoulders as Harper went on describing her child, the stranger she clung to as though life itself depended on it. He could rip chunks of her hair out and she would not care, not wjile she mourned all she had lost in the span of a year. Only when she could feel the wetness of his onesie did she lift her face, red and white splotches freckling her face. "I can't do this again. I won't. I won't have more taken from me." she said with some resolve in her voice. And when she was determined, nothing could shake Mount Phoebe. "What's his favorite song?" she asked, knowing they had shared lullabies and children's folk songs from their worlds in anticipation of his arrival.

the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead

He doesn’t know what to do to help her as she cries. Though she doesn’t know it, she is no longer his - or perhaps he is no longer hers? She has abandoned him twice now, even unintentionally so. But this time, Harper has already grieved her. Mourned her. He had picked up the few pieces left in the ashes and through the fires of his will had forged something ugly but whole - functional, if nothing else. There had been no option to stagnate, to hunt for her, to wait around in the wake of her absence. He’d had Jude. Jude, who needed him to be more than a mere shell of a man. So Harper had done that - because he knew Phoebe would have wanted that, would have wanted him to heal for the sake of their son. But now…he had already moved on from the hole she left in him, and the pieces don’t fit properly anymore.

Her vehemence makes his mouth go dry, uncertain what to say. If she’d had no awareness of the garden’s powers, how could she claim it would never happen again? He is brittle now, pessimistic, and uncertain how to be anything else. But information, at least, he could share. “Hushabye Mountain is his favorite,” he murmurs, watching as a Jude - uncertain why Phoebe is crying into his abdomen, hugs her head with his chubby little arms and pats as gently as a one year old can, trying to comfort her.

provides the tempo for the song
describing how all things went wrong

Phoebe Steadman I've dropped out, burned up Fought my way back from the dead A chill ran down Phoebe's back at his silence. His distance had been noticed. Physically. Emotionally. She bit her lower lip to stop its tremble as she gazed down at the perfect boy in her arms. For all her optimisim and persistence in the face of adversary, the midwife was no fool. She took a deep breath to steady herself before looking at Harper, searching for anything that might remain to grasp onto. "Should I change my name back to Steadman then?" she asked softly. "I'm...I'm not what you signed up for. Too many accidents." she whispered. Old hurts and insecurities rose, of her own unlovability, unwantability. Not enough but too much. Soul too bound to the whims of fate yet too normal to be intriguing. She looked back down at Jude, smiling through her tears at the boy as he consoled her. Unlike all the times before though, she couldn't fall apart. Jude needed her. So in a whisper soft tone she sang instead: "A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain Softly blows o'er Lullaby Bay It fills the sails of boats that are waiting Waiting to sail your worries away It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain And your boat waits down by the quay The winds of night so softly are sighing Soon they will fly your troubles to sea So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain Wave goodbye to cares of the day And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain Sail far away from Lullaby Bay So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain Wave goodbye to cares of the day And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain Sail far away from Lullaby Bay"

the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead

Her question is blunt, but it doesn’t mean the answer is that simple. Harper runs a hand roughly over his face, trying to force away the burn of his eyes with the callouses on his fingers. “It’s not that simple Phoebe,” he murmurs, shoulders sloped with defeat and a sudden exhaustion he can’t explain. “For you it was hours, for me - for us - it was a year. I haven’t even had more than a few minutes to even come to terms with you being back.” And for once Harper doesn’t want to have to deal with it. He’s sick of always being the one with the answers, the decisions to make. At least with his heart.

“It’s not about what I did or didn’t sign up for. I grieved you; I had to move on for Jude’s sake.” Jude, always Jude, who slows and becomes sleepy-eyes and complacent the moment Phoebe begins to sing. Recognizing the song as the one always used to cart him off to sleep. Harper reaches a hand forward - but it’s only to lay on Jude’s back above Phoebe’s, rubbing gently. The babe gives a small yawn, forehead nodding against Phoebe’s collarbone as her voice and gentle rocking eases him into the beginnings of a nap.

provides the tempo for the song
describing how all things went wrong

Phoebe Steadman I've dropped out, burned up Fought my way back from the dead Phoebe is quiet, contemplative, but unable to help as Jude nods off, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. Her baby. The only bright spot in all the gloom that surrounded her and Harper in that moment. And of course things weren't so simple. They never were. Not on Caido. So she listened and rocked their child, not interrupting. He had every right to whatever frustration he felt, just as she had a right to her confusion and heartbreak. "So it's between me and someone else." she gathered from his use of the term moved on. She was complicating a new relationship. Flashbacks to Sunjata when his long lost love appeared in Caido spun in her mind. "I still love you. I still and always will love you. But...if you need time, then you need time." she said softly. "Just please...don't take him from me." she whispered, fingers curling into Jude's clothes. She couldn't bear to lose them both, because something in her gut told her that once again she wouldn't be the one.

the echoes of the thunderclaps
reverberation of the dead

He won’t lie to her - he never has, and he never would. “Yes,” he says quietly. “You encouraged me to move on when I felt staying loyal to Kora even after she’d passed was the only way I could honor her. I thought…I thought I was honoring you by trying to be happy again. To have someone help me raise Jude.” Because between being a councilman and a father to a days-old child - the first he’d ever had - he’d been splintering within weeks.

But all of that is merely explanation, not excuse. Or he’s sure it can be called that. Her fear is palpable, and Harper softens. The hand on Jude’s back reaches to gently cradle the side of Phoebe’s head. “No, I’d never take him from you. Never. We showed him photos of you all the time, we’ve told him your name and told him stories of you even if he may not remember them. I would never try to keep you out of his life; you’re his mother, nothing can change that.” Especially to a modern man like Harper, who had seen all manner of relationships work with children in the mix. Step-parents, foster parents, polyamorous parental groups. He knows how important this is to Phoebe, he would never dream of keeping her from their son. “I still have the house, it needs to be aired out and cleaned but we can use it while we figure things out. We just have to take it day by day. I can come with you and tell you his schedule if you want to spend the day with him for now?” He tries to present a goal, something attainable and distinguished in this mess that has landed in their laps.

provides the tempo for the song
describing how all things went wrong

Phoebe Steadman I've dropped out, burned up Fought my way back from the dead It made sense. It was logical. Sensible. To her, a woman could easily raise a child on her own - her body was made for it - but a man could not, even a forward thinking man like Harper. Maybe an older child but not an infant. And that feelings had developed...it was only natural. Jealousy and anger itched to be unleashed, but she held them back. This wasn't about her. She had disappeared. This was about Harper and Jude. Most importantly Jude. "Who is it?" she asked, voice cracking slightly. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, but knew it would nag at her endlessly if she didn't. Finally he touches her and she leaned into it, eyes closing as a few tears of relief fell. She may lose Harper but she would have her baby, her precious child, and with him a small piece of his father too. "Thank you." she whispered, kissing Jude's head once more. Harper's solution is more than generous, especially if there was another woman now in his life. "I would like that." she said as she quickly dried her cheeks.