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Celia walked home in silence.
Alice had been…surprisingly okay with the news of Celia’s plan. But---maybe ‘okay’ wasn’t the right word. “I was planning to throw him in,” she had said, on the train back. “But I hesitated---I really loved him, you know? We both fell for it, for each other, hook, line, and sinker…I don’t know if I would’ve gone through with it if the Archivist hadn’t interrupted. I think that’s worse. I…I’m so sorry, Alice. I know that doesn’t make up for it, but---”
“Yeah,” Alice had responded. Monotone. Not tired; strung-out. Not emotionless, but Celia couldn’t identify what emotion it was. Still couldn’t.
Alice had swallowed, refusing to make eye contact. “Yeah,” she repeated. “It’s---I guess I’m not much better, huh?”
Before Celia could even process that reply, Alice had continued, “Go home to your baby. I’ll see you…whenever, I guess.”
And then the train had arrived, and Alice had disappeared in the throng of commuters, and that was that.
So Celia walked home in silence.
Would she had gone through with it? Given a choice between Jack and Sam…G-d, it was impossible. The moment had passed. The choice made---but not by her. By the Archivist, who followed and attacked them, and by Sam, who chose to save her. By sacrificing himself.
Would she had done the same, in his situation?
Celia didn’t know.
She didn’t know.
She numbly unlocked the door to her flat and locked it behind her.
“Hey, you’re back!” Georgie said, looking up from the groove she was pacing into the living room. She was holding Jack, who was crying.
Jack was crying. Her baby was crying, shit---
“Hey, you’re okay,” she soothed, hurrying over to grab him out of his babysitter’s arms. Each piercing wail felt like a stab in the gut, a stab in the throat, a stab in the heart. How long had her baby been crying, scared and without his mother?
She pressed him close to her chest so he could hear her heartbeat. “You’re okay,” she said. “I promise you’re okay. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I’m here, baby. I promise you’re okay.”
Suddenly realizing Georgie was still there, she looked up and tried to smile. “Thank you so much. Really.”
“Hey, it’s no problem,” Georgie promised. “Rough night?”
Celia chuckled wetly. “You have no idea.”
Georgie smiled sadly, sympathetically. “I’ll leave you two alone.” Then she said to Jack, “Hey, baby, you feel better, ‘kay? Your mama’s here now! Mama makes everything better, after all.”
Jack didn’t care. He scrunched up his tiny face and screamed louder.
“Thank you, Georgie,” Celia said. “You’re a lifesaver. I really don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Hey, I try,” Georgie smiled, opening the door. “You two take care, okay? And feel better soon.”
“We’ll try. Goodbye.”
“Bye!”
And then the door shut behind her.
Jack screamed, wailed, sobbed.
“You’re oka-ay,” Celia said again, voice cracking. She began to pace along the rug in the living room, gently rocking her son. “You’re okay. You’re okay…”
Jack paused, but it was only to take a deep breath and start up again, worse than before. He beat his tiny fists against her, and Celia began to cry.
“You can tell he’s gone, can’t you?” she asked between tears. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. G-d, what have I done? I’m so sorry…I miss him too, I know…I’m sorry…”
Jack and Celia, son and mother. They cried together, and they cried for a long time.