det_mike_logan (det_mike_logan) wrote,

  • Location:
  • Mood:
  • Music:

New Developments

This is not good, not good at all. Millie may be going on work leave earlier than we thought, and I need to give it some serious thought myself.

He sat in front of the open laptop, typing, deleting, re-typing. Emil'd said that it was important from him to organize his thoughts when he was upset, to try and see how ridiculous things looked on the page. But he wasn't, was he? He was just ...tired. Tired of the fluctuating waves of worry and relief. Everyone told him it was a good sign, that it meant that he cared, but that still didn't make it easier. Until he tried to work some things through, he'd never be able to sleep.

1.) Genetic conditions are not my fault.
Closing his eyes, though, he could still hear his mother's voice, the low, evil hiss, tainted with the smell of her cheap rum. He rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers stroking where her fingers had dug in so hard they'd bruised. "I never asked for this. I drink because of you, you little bastard. First, you ruin my life: I coulda done somethin' if I'd have gotten rid 'a you. Then, you fuckin' did this to me. I still feel the way you ripped up my insides. The least you can do is to do what I say." Nancy Logan had her own brand of original sin, and to her mind, Mike had committed it twice, at conception as an unwanted pregnancy, and at birth, destroying her chances for another. As if she didn't invent enough excuses to beat him, there was always that. Every time someone commented on the size of their family, Mike knew another rant was on the way.
He knew Millie wasn't like his mother, and in his head, the rational thinking part believed he wouldn't be...but what if? What if Isabel died? Millie loved the baby already; the way she'd broken down when she thought it was a false alarm was bad enough, but now, when it was so close to real...he didn't think she'd hate him for it, even though it *would* be his fault; the Logan genes would be to blame, but she wouldn't see that. It was more likely Millie'd turn on herself, find reasons why she was to blame, and he wasn't sure if he would be enough to save her.

2.) Stop playing games.
He crossed that one out. He thought he'd stopped, and then he realized, it was a brand-new version of the way he'd broken off everything - say the wrong thing, the wrong time, it's over, but it's not my fault. Was it him denying her and denying himself? No, of course not. Again, the earlier scare, the look on her face on St. Patrick's day replayed in his mind, Millie telling him "It's not your fault." If it was bad then, what about now? He was scared but he was selfish, and instead of refraining, one verbal slip absolved him of guilt. He probed the root of that...and shut it down, hard. Again, the calm, clear voice urged him to trust her. He did trust her...why couldn't he trust himself? Did it matter?

He stared at it and erased the whole list. Because in the end, trusting Millie and hoping for the best were the only options; Millie believed in him, in them, and his heart and his head agreed - so did he.
He closed the computer and went back into the bedroom where Milie lay sleeping. Stretching out beside her, he put his hand on her stomach, waiting for one of Isabel's reassuring kicks.

In my heart's currency you are golden.
You are shining like the sun upon a cold gray sea.
Here's what I did not know,
How I'd come to love you so.
And in time all you'd be worth to me.

Once your words, they fell like pennies to the sidewalk.
And they shone for everyone, but they did not for me.
Pennies disappear,
But I still hold you dear.
Golden's what you've come to be.

You couldn't know,
But I wouldn't show,
How you brought to me a deeper kind of pleasure.
In your sweet glow of light,
Is the meaning of delight,
And you came to be my treasure without measure.

In my heart's currency you are golden.
You sparkle like the foam upon a cold gray sea.
Bubbles disappear,
But I still hold you near.
Golden's what you are to me.

You are golden,
shining like the sun
You are golden,
Golden's what you are to me
Tags: isabel, millie

  • (no subject)

    ...My days off were horrible. My uncle volunteered to babysit so I could sleep in - I should have known. I don't know whether to kill him myself,…

  • RP Moment - Baby, Sitting, or Where The Wyl Finks Are

    Millie was at school. Mike thought he’d get a rest on the couch, since Isa was busy tormenting the cat. He tried to tune out her happy shrieks of…

  • Catching up (RP Moment set on Tuesday)

    Mike settled down on the couch, idly flipping through the TV channels. Since Millie wasn't home yet, he was supposed to be watching Isabel, but she…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.