claire galloway (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
andthentomorrow) wrote2011-07-03 12:47 pm
andthentomorrow) wrote2011-07-03 12:47 pm
Entry tags:
fic ][ and the reason is you
{This is where Claire began. Posting it here just because.}
Claire lay in the small twin bed beside her daughter, because cramped as it was they had to share. She faced her daughter's back and her fingers ran lightly through Gillian's dark locks and down against her back. It was a slow, repetitive motion meant to soothe not only Gillian, but Claire are well. How long had it been since they'd had a moment like this one? It wasn't often, that was for sure.
Claire could hear Gillian's soft breathing, and knew the nine year old was still awake. They lay quietly, both watching the streetlamp out the window, lost in their own thoughts. Just when Claire thought Gillian might be drifting off, she spoke up quietly.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, love?”
“Why does Uncle Iain call you Red?”
Claire's eyes dropped shut and her lips curled up in the corners. Her little brother Iain was asleep in the next room over after providing a very entertaining dinner to the two girls. Everything was entertaining with Iain and his clownish behavior. “Mmm, suppose he always has,” Claire replied in a murmur.
“But why?”
Children's giggles and whispers bounced around the darkened bedroom. “And then what, Claire? Then what?”
“Stop interrupting me, I'm getting there!” The girl's voice dropped low again as she added a mystical tone to her Scot lilt. “-and the angel turned to the children and they saw the most radiant sight they could even imagine. She was beautiful, with long red curls cascading down her back. Red ribbons were woven through her gown to match, and it was the loveliest gown there ever was-”
“Was it a white gown?”
“Course it was! She's an angel, isn't she?” She took a deep breath. “-Her eyes shone amber in the moonlight as she looked at the children, and she said 'Take my hands, children, one on either side, and I'll guide you home. Keep me at your side and you'll never be lost again. I'll care for you and keep you from harm, forever and always-”
“What was her name?”
“Well, that's what the children asked her. They said, 'Tell us, Angel, tell us your name.' And she smiled the most beautiful smile and said, 'I have no name. I am the air you breathe and the ground on which you walk. I am the sun and the moon, the stars and the rocks.' So the children said, 'Oh, we will call you Red! Red for your hair and your ribbons. Do you like that name, Angel?' And the angel smiled upon them and said-”
“You can't touch an angel, you know.”
“What?”
“You can't touch an angel. They don't exist.”
“It's a story. You wanted to hear a story, didn't you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Let me finish, will you?”
“Alright, finish.” There was a pause, and before she could resume the story the boy spoke up again. “You're like Red,” he said softly.
“Why do you say that?”
“You keep me safe. You're my angel.”
“I'm not.”
“Yes you are, Claire. You're my Red.”
“Why, Mommy? Why does he?”
Claire's arm circled her daughter's waist and she placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Oh, I don't know. The same reason he calls you Gilly-Jam, I imagine.”
Gillian giggled and turned around to face her mother. “Why?”
Claire smiled and cupped her daughter's face in her hand, brushing her cheek softly. “Because he is a silly, silly man, and he loves you dearly.”
Claire lay in the small twin bed beside her daughter, because cramped as it was they had to share. She faced her daughter's back and her fingers ran lightly through Gillian's dark locks and down against her back. It was a slow, repetitive motion meant to soothe not only Gillian, but Claire are well. How long had it been since they'd had a moment like this one? It wasn't often, that was for sure.
Claire could hear Gillian's soft breathing, and knew the nine year old was still awake. They lay quietly, both watching the streetlamp out the window, lost in their own thoughts. Just when Claire thought Gillian might be drifting off, she spoke up quietly.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, love?”
“Why does Uncle Iain call you Red?”
Claire's eyes dropped shut and her lips curled up in the corners. Her little brother Iain was asleep in the next room over after providing a very entertaining dinner to the two girls. Everything was entertaining with Iain and his clownish behavior. “Mmm, suppose he always has,” Claire replied in a murmur.
“But why?”
Children's giggles and whispers bounced around the darkened bedroom. “And then what, Claire? Then what?”
“Stop interrupting me, I'm getting there!” The girl's voice dropped low again as she added a mystical tone to her Scot lilt. “-and the angel turned to the children and they saw the most radiant sight they could even imagine. She was beautiful, with long red curls cascading down her back. Red ribbons were woven through her gown to match, and it was the loveliest gown there ever was-”
“Was it a white gown?”
“Course it was! She's an angel, isn't she?” She took a deep breath. “-Her eyes shone amber in the moonlight as she looked at the children, and she said 'Take my hands, children, one on either side, and I'll guide you home. Keep me at your side and you'll never be lost again. I'll care for you and keep you from harm, forever and always-”
“What was her name?”
“Well, that's what the children asked her. They said, 'Tell us, Angel, tell us your name.' And she smiled the most beautiful smile and said, 'I have no name. I am the air you breathe and the ground on which you walk. I am the sun and the moon, the stars and the rocks.' So the children said, 'Oh, we will call you Red! Red for your hair and your ribbons. Do you like that name, Angel?' And the angel smiled upon them and said-”
“You can't touch an angel, you know.”
“What?”
“You can't touch an angel. They don't exist.”
“It's a story. You wanted to hear a story, didn't you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Let me finish, will you?”
“Alright, finish.” There was a pause, and before she could resume the story the boy spoke up again. “You're like Red,” he said softly.
“Why do you say that?”
“You keep me safe. You're my angel.”
“I'm not.”
“Yes you are, Claire. You're my Red.”
“Why, Mommy? Why does he?”
Claire's arm circled her daughter's waist and she placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Oh, I don't know. The same reason he calls you Gilly-Jam, I imagine.”
Gillian giggled and turned around to face her mother. “Why?”
Claire smiled and cupped her daughter's face in her hand, brushing her cheek softly. “Because he is a silly, silly man, and he loves you dearly.”