sundown | mutant au

Things within her field of vision begin to bend and manipulative themselves. She can't be sure it's him, or if it's Hope. Her powers has been growing in leaps and bounds; it's a not insignificant part of why they have kept her sedated. She doesn't know that.

She's naive. Still. Even as jaded as she's becoming, she doesn't grasp quite the reasons behind why the people in charge want to restrict her movement.

They're both chained animals. Nathan is just more inclined to chew his leg off right now.

Trusting him -- choosing to trust him -- she closes her eyes. When she opens them, it's not the yellowing walls of the clinic. She's not in a sick bed.

And he's there. The pressure of his hands around her arms. Not simply a voice.

His name falls from her lips, an octave above a breath. Close to a prayer. Her forehead falls onto his chest, her eyes swimming with tears of a mixture of exhaustion and relief.

He looks well -- she does not, with a belly significantly grown from the last time they saw each other. It presses against his own, her arms looping around his neck.

"You're real?"

His fingers bury into her hair and grip at the fabric of her clothes. His chin drops so he can press his lips against the top of her head, smoothing his hand down her hair.

There's a strange warmth between them, so subtle he can't parse if it's just body heat, his mind filling blanks or Hope reaching out to both of them. He does know that it feels nice. It doesn't heal the ache, but it soothes it.

"That's complicated." Because it really depends on her interpretation of "real".

"But it's me-- I couldn't-- I can't stay away. I need to show them that you need me."

It isn't fair, that this is all there is, but that doesn't register for the moment. All she knows, all she feels is a sense of keen relief. He feels real. She can smell him, feel the heat radiating off of him. Solid, unyielding. Strong.

He'll fix it. Either her subconscious knows it, or the life inside her fills her with its own surety.

Hope tumbles excitedly, as if she, too, can sense how close her father is. The oceans he's crossed. It manages to summon a smile to her face, despite the tears. She shifts so that he might feel the activity as well. How lively she now is, even more so since last he was with them.

"We need you." Amendment. Therein is a firmness. One she might not have voiced so well last time. Her voice falls, soft. "Both of us."

"Both of you." He says, if only to remind himself. He's never gotten this far into fatherhood, it makes him wonder if he's meant for it or if he's setting their family up to fail.

His anxiety is brief, because when he feels Francesca's faith and Hope's joy it seems to bolster him somewhat. He squeezes her upper arms gently, finally inviting her to look at their surroundings. It will be unfamiliar, because it's a warm, little homestead he's imagined for them.

"It's as close to a home life as I can give." He admits, sheepishly. Knowing she's lying in a hospital bed makes his stomach turn. He needs to lean into this so she will as well. He starts to lead her by the hand, walking backward toward a chair he invites her to sit in.

"Here. Put your feet up."

Weeks ago she had been livid with him for surrendering. Now, she lets him lead her. Her steps feel lighter than they ought to, it's the only thing that reminds her they aren't actually in a cozy home.

And cozy it is. Small, with the charm such places carry. She takes in their surroundings with wonder, no hint of disappointment to be found. A fire pops nearby. It's a far cry from the four walls containing her, keeping her bed bound, all but strapped in.

Clumsily, she sits where he instructs her, but refusing to let him put any space between them. Her fingers remain curled around his wrist. She turns her gentle eyes to him.

"It seems very ... familiar? Did you -- did you create it for us?"

Nate smiles as the fire pops up. He notices the way she grasps him and he lifts her hand to his lips, reassuring her with a kiss.

When she sits, he lowers himself to the ground in front of her. He guides her feet up onto an ottoman.

"A bit of me, bit of you." Things he's seen on TV, things she remembers, things they've read about. He peels her shoes off her feet, replacing them with his hands. He rubs her feet with slow, firm circles. When he looks up at her, he looks absolutely besotted with her.

"And her." He finishes his thought, finally. His eyes fall to her stomach, smiling.

Fran watches him a little too attentively, as if he might disappear at any given moment.

She wasn't wearing shoes a moment ago, but now he's pulling her feet free of them. That tickles something inside her. His hands encourage a sigh, her back arching with newfound relief.

" -- oh. That's lovely."

She notices his smile. Under his eye, her hand smooths over the roundness of her belly. A surge of pride swells her chest. Less and less does she want to show off their child; not for lack of pride, but for a burgeoning sense of unease. Protectiveness.

"She's gotten so much stronger. And clever, too. I think she'll be as strong as you." She bites her lip. "Maybe more."

Briefly, Nate feels a little guilty for finding her reaction arousing. He pushes the feeling down, but it makes his heart thrum anyway.

His smile turns lopsided when she suggests that Hope will surpass him.

"Maybe." Non-committal, mostly to challenge his unborn child. He shifts closer to her, realising he's never been this close to a woman this pregnant. It makes him feel a little too much like a rookie for his liking. He doesn't want nerves to control him.

He slips his hand under hers and over her belly, circling slowly and watching carefully.

"I think she'll be kind like you."

"Hm." She hums back, chin tilting so that her hair falls over her ear. She felt that stir of passion, only for it to be tempered. Nevertheless.

"Doesn't feel very kind when she's beating on my bladder." Hardly much of a complaint. If she really wanted to get into it, the state of her would be enough -- but being here has returned some of the color to her face, diminished the shadows under her eyes, and soothed the sharpness that has hollowed her softness to angles.

All in jest. She's very evidently basking in his attention, the sweep of his hand. Her eyes flutter shut, briefly, but her hand circles his wrist, pressing her thumb against his steady pulse. She's quiet for a few beats.

"I missed you. And I don't want to go back."

"I'm sure she can't help it." Nate reasons, though there's a tone in there that suggests Hope should consider not doing that anymore. Some things he can't control.

Wanting to be closer, he tucks his head against her stomach and shuts his eyes as well. He feels truly robbed now, knowing how good this feels. Nothing feels worth giving it up again.

"I'm here now." He assures her, it's all he can offer her.

"I'm going to fix it." He has absolutely no idea how, but he feels resolute about it now. If he loses his girls, he'll never recover. For now other than assurance, he's offering what he can in the way of washing his power over her body. Letting her absorb some of his energy, soothing her nerve ends and her nausea.

He's all but climbing the chair to get closer to her, but it's not practical nor comfortable for her. When he plants his hands either side of her head, the world goes topsy turvy for a second as she shifts from sitting upright to her back.

She lands gently, but with enough oomph to make the fluffy quilt of the bed underneath her puff out air. The movement also flicks rose petals up into the air around her.

mutant au | cable

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