He was reading about babies. And what they might need, troubleshooting difficulties as he might a faulty power cell.
Perhaps that should disturb her, but instead there was a funny warmth that spread through her, and they had endeavoured to uncover the perfect formulation.
Together.
Some days felt horribly long and tedious while others passed more quickly than she could have believed possible.
Most were filled with flying, but on rare occasions Cydrin would have them land, either to make adjustments to the ship or others to investigate—possibly even question locals.
Clairy did not know, for she often elected to stay behind. Never did she think she would do so, not when there were new worlds to see and experience, but there was a new life to consider, one that likely would not take well to being exposed to so many new people.
And they had only the rudimentary tools for diagnostics, and she could not imagine what would transpire if she had to beg Cydrin for a doctor.
In all respects that she could see, her little charge was a perfectly normal baby. She grew as she should—or as well as Clairy could remember her siblings doing, though she ashamedly realised she had not paid close enough attention to make an assessment with any confidence. They had no scale to weigh her, but her legs were chubby things, her belly often round and contented after one of her meals, so Clairy was not overly concerned.
But if she could not keep her, could not raise her, then she would at least keep her safe in the meantime, and that meant no excursions into the bright and fascinating worlds that Cydrin chose for exploration.
She reminded herself that he did not do so for pleasure, or to escape her or the baby. In truth, he had seemed almost disappointed when she had first explained why she would be remaining behind.
And then wary.
It had taken her too long a while to think why, and it was a testament to his trust in her that he had agreed to go at all without waiting for her assurances to first assuage his suspicions.
It was only when he returned, a hint of surprise eking past his careful reserve that she was able to tell him how silly he had been.
“Did you really expect that I would have up and left you while you were gone?” She’d asked, hurrying to the door as soon as she heard the first hiss of release.
He grunted, accepting her embrace—one of the few she could freely offer as there was usually an infant tucked into an arm or bundled against her chest. But she was sleeping downstairs and Clairy was able to hold him to her as she chastised him for worries that she hoped would not plague him for always.
“Not expect, no,” Cydrin clarified, holding her in return. She still wondered at that, if he did so simply because he knew that she liked it—craved contact with another and... well... maybe just craved contact with him. Or maybe there was a part of him that needed it too, but he could not bring himself to admit it aloud.
That was fine. As long as he would tuck her so neatly beside him, as long as she could breathe him in and relish the contact just for a little while.
“You did not lose our charge while I was gone, I trust?” he continued, and she gave an exasperated sigh, though there was a tiny thrill of happiness that he would refer to her as belonging to the both of them.
Even if the time was short.
“Napping,” she clarified, easing her head against his chest. She should be doing that as well, the night before a tedious one where nothing seemed to soothe. Clairy wanted to blame the ascension of a tooth—her mother was always saying that a baby was fussy, or drooly, or leaking with mucous because of a tooth—but Cydrin had still insisted on a diagnostic as it was evidently far too early for such things, at least according to him.
Nothing was amiss, and after a great deal of tears, many of them Clairy’s, the baby finally slept and Clairy had fallen into a heavy slumber, woken only by the announcement overhead that the ship was preparing for landing.
“You are very attentive to her,” Cydrin complimented, his forefinger drifting over the delicate skin beneath one of her eyes. She was certain the skin was dark, and she must look fairly frightful.
She was not going to cry about it. Was not going to weep into his chest that she was tired and how could her arms possibly be sore from carrying a baby that weighed so little?
“Any luck?” she asked, referring to his excursion.
“I am uncertain if luck is what will be necessary to find them or rather skill and careful consideration.”
Clairy suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “Did your skill and careful consideration find any hints of them?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Clairy was ashamed of herself that in that moment, she was almost disappointed.
It was only because she was exhausted, she tried to tell herself. She was certain that many birth parents in the midst of difficult feedings and long nights often wondered if their own babies could be returned.
Or maybe she was just dreadful at this. She was a sister, not a mother.
She hoped that the brute had a good, kind wife, one that would make a far better mother than Clairy.
And she hoped that Cydrin was right and the brute wasn’t really that at all, and he would be like Clairy’s own father. Steady and dependable in his way, generous and self-sacrificing for the good of his children, with the warmest hugs on their side of the quadrant.
They had not broached the subject of marriage since their initial conversation, that possibility wrapped up in too much uncertainty—at least on Clairy’s side. That was the future they had picked if they managed to find parents for their little rescue, and if they didn’t...
Then she wouldn’t be going home after all. And there was no need for Cydrin to gallantly petition for her hand and give her a name he didn’t have as protection against others who might wish the same.
She found herself thinking of it often in between bottles and nappies, trying to work out with any kind of certainty if she was accepting because she wanted to be married to him or because it was the only logical solution to her being reunited with her family.
Would she marry him if they couldn’t go home? And it was just the two of them left with a baby, forced to settle in some unknown place? Probably.
It would be an easier story to give to her parents as to why she hadn’t returned, and even now the thought of lying to them at all gave her stomach a quick clench of unease. They were an honest family, even when it was hard, and not even allowing them the full truth of her experiences with Cydrin was a difficult thing to maintain.
But she would. Because she wanted them to know the man he was now, not the sordid history that had polluted their first exchanges.
Her mother was growing more anxious for her return, as if she sensed there was some reason for the delay that Clairy simply wasn’t sharing.
Cydrin had been the one to remind her that she could not sit with her charge in view, and it was unreasonable to think she was capable of remaining silent for the duration of a transmission. Clairy had taken that to mean he did not think she should speak with her mother at all until they had found the brute, but then he was there, holding out his hands, and, when she dumbly looked at him rather than surrender her burden, took the baby entirely.
And disappeared downstairs, leaving her to speak freely. Unwatched and unsurprised.
It had been a temptation, more than she would like to admit, to tell her mother everything, to ask for advice as she had so often done in girlhood. But she realised with a settling sort of calm that to do so was selfish. It might be to her own relief, but it would do nothing for her parents but cause them further alarm.
And it would do nothing for Cydrin.
And she cared a great deal more about all of them than she did the niggling discomfort of an open deception, so she placed the call and smiled and asked after all of her family, diverting conversation from any further difficulties.
It had been a short call, as Clairy grew more and more concerned about trespa
ssing on Cydrin’s patience. Did he know where the extra nappies were kept? Would he remember the code for her preferred bottles?
It was when her mother finally asked if she needed to go because she clearly was not fully engaged in her story about her youngest sister’s antics that she admitted she did and disconnected the transmission.
She was not going to rush down in a panic of apologies. He had offered her time with her mother and she was the one that was too attached and worried about the both of them to allow herself to fully appreciate it.
But when she descended the ladder there was no chaos to be seen. Or heard. Or smelled. Just Cydrin seated at their table with a baby in his arm suckling determinately at the correct bottle, and Clairy felt a strange warmth spread through her to witness it.
He wasn’t a father—hadn’t volunteered for the job and certainly hadn’t submitted any genetics for the institution. But he was a caregiver, and that was...
Pleasing.
To see him gentle and soft because that’s what the baby needed. For him to observe on his own what Clairy used for her care, saving her from listing off too many details on the rare occasions she was allowed a moment to herself.
“Did you choose to feed her at the table because that’s where we eat?” she asked, coming closer and scooting in beside him. She made no movement to take the baby, not when she was happy to enjoy this new view a little longer.
“It seemed logical,” he assented. “I was explaining to her that manners dictate that meals be consumed at such a place, and not lounging in a bed like her usual minder likes to persuade her.”
He gave Clairy a pointed look, and she was too amused to allow the retort that wanted to spring forth. Because undoubtedly, if he thought it important, Cydrin would wake at every juncture in the night and bring her to this table and feed her there, because manners.
And it was absurd and ridiculous, and perhaps even a little insulting to Clairy’s own attempts at childminding, but even more so...
It made her love him a little more dearly.
And made her lean up and press a kiss to his cheek, because she could.
And she wanted to.
Just like she found herself wanting him to be hers, regardless of where they were able to settle next. He had grown a great deal during their time together, and she was tremendously proud of him. Marriage was seen a necessity on her homeworld, yes, and for a time she had thought herself free of that. And she was. Cydrin would never force her into anything, would gladly change their ultimate destination should she tell him to do so, and the knowledge of that was almost humbling. He valued her opinion, and that was...
Daunting. But lovely.
“Your transmission was very short,” Cydrin commented, of course choosing to focus on that rather than the fact that she’d just kissed him. That was fine. She would not mind if kisses became so commonplace that they were no longer worth discussing afterward. “I trust that nothing was wrong?” He glanced down at the baby in his arms. “Because surely you did not end it more quickly on our behalf.” Cydrin gave her a knowing look next. “Or do you still fear that I will jettison her into space if she cries too much?”
She bit her lip, her cheeks pinking. He had never threatened that, nor would he. She knew that now, but still had so many doubts then, and clearly he had not quite forgiven her for it.
“I just don’t want to bother you,” she admitted, seeing no point in lying to him.
“I believe we discussed sharing each other’s missions. Even when they are not quite what we would have picked for ourselves.” They had, hadn’t they? And she had thought him sweet, but like one of those fathers she had heard complained of back at home. Where they would say nice things and promise to help with the inevitable offspring, but not truly mean it. Not when it was easier to disappear under the guise of work—work that did not wail and drool and require napkin changes.
He repositioned the baby so he could burp her, his hands strong and sure that he coaxed out any bubbles that had settled in her delicate stomach, and Clairy laughed as he instructed her that once she had reached adequate age, such bodily sounds were no longer encouraged to be displayed, nor would they be praised.
The baby merely blinked and looked back to her bottle, evidently not quite finished her with meal.
Clairy took the opportunity to come closer to him as he readjusted his hold, this time allowing Clairy to settle her head against his right arm, and even allowing her room to twine her own through his, hugging it to her. “I do love you, you know,” she told him, doubtlessly no one ever had, and it was true. Right or wrong, it was true, and there was no sense in denying it.
Cydrin stiffened, though he forced himself to relax quickly after, and she wondered if she had been wrong to say it.
“I did not know,” Cydrin said at last. “Although I... appreciate you informing me.”
She was certain, in any other circumstance, with any other man, she would be terribly hurt by such a response. That she would feel stung that an immediate reciprocation was not forthcoming, her words merely appreciated.
But not with him.
With him she smiled and pressed her face against his arm to keep from chuckling, as she did not wish to embarrass him with her amusement, when likely he was merely attempting to be polite.
Just as he had often accused her of being, despite seeming to find it a positive.
She did not expect him to return such sentiments in any case. She struggled enough with identifying the subtle nuances and the deeper, more urgent feelings that suggested love. With Cydrin’s inexperience, she doubted he would be able to reach such conclusions on his own, even if he felt them.
Perhaps that should trouble her more than it did, and she should give more thought to what might be construed as a one-sided arrangement. She could feel his eyes on her and she rotated her head just enough so she could peek back at him, still waiting for the tension in his body to leave him. “You are not angry with me?” he asked, a wariness in his voice that should not have surprised her.
She used his arm to prop her chin up so she could look at him better. The baby was coming to the end of her bottle and would soon require more attention, so their conversation would be short, and they had to make the best of it. “Why would I be angry?”
He blinked once, slowly. “From my readings, I believe I was in error with my statement. It is custom to respond with a repeat of the phrase, and perhaps a physical sign of affection.”
He risked jostling the baby slightly as he leaned closer to Clairy’s direction, pressing his lips to her forehead—the highest portion of her he could reach without risking even further movement—before pulling back to his original position. “I love you as well.”
He was likely just saying it for the reason he’d stated. But... a part of her believed him. And it made her smile grow and made her hug his arm closer to her, snuggling as close as possible. “That’s good, then,” she murmured, feeling a sudden onset of tiredness that she felt no great need to deny. She could nap here, with a man that she loved and a baby that was growing on her far too rapidly, and maybe she’d send another transmission to her mother later and tell her there was this gentleman that she’d met and that she’d like to bring him home with her if that was all right...
Cydrin had been most adamant with his concerns when she’d broached the subject of informing her parents about him. She tried to explain the benefits to laying the foundation for a story they would need to call upon whether they went back to her homeworld or not, but he maintained his grim determination that to do so would be foolhardy.
Time pressed steadily on since they’d left the second facility and the baby was growing more active. It was no longer safe to leave her unattended in Clairy’s bed, at least to Clairy’s estimation. She had learned to jerkily roll over, and though Clairy had yet to see a full rotation that would mean she would find a way to deposit herself onto the floor, she was certain it would happen if she was left unattended.
&n
bsp; Which meant that unless she fashioned a suitable sleeping spot on the floor, Clairy had to keep her with her, something that she cherished and resented in equal turn, depending on what task she was trying to complete.
In this moment, she was fairly glad of the baby’s presence, as it meant she had to keep calm even with Cydrin’s unreasonableness. “I’m afraid you’re going to need to explain yourself more fully if you want me to understand,” she told him, easing into her seat beside his. The baby’s head was warm against her neck, and she was certain her skin would be red and angry from the contact by the time she woke again, but it wasn’t worth adjusting her position.
Cydrin gave her a dry look, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Has it not occurred to you,” he began, a woeful start since she would not be asking if she had thought of it herself, “that if you were to make such an announcement, they would ask to speak with me?”
She blinked at him, wondering how that possibly could be of such grave concern. According to their plan, the one that he had concocted, they would be meeting them at some point. Together. And she was beginning to grow more confident that it would be far better to give her parents some warning before simply appearing with a husband.
Most especially since she could be honest now. It wasn’t convenience that would make her accept him. Wasn’t a sacrifice she’d be making in order to gain access to those closest to her.
It was because she wanted to.
As incredible as that still seemed to her.
“I fail to see why that is such a problem,” she insisted with a sigh. She gave the baby’s back a slow rub, attempting to be calm lest she disturb a much needed nap with her agitation.
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