Work Text:
London, evening, 1946
Randall paced back and forth furiously in the living room of the apartment he shared with Lix and their daughter Sophia. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, as if he were trying to hold in the emotions simmering under the surface. His hard-soled shoes echoed with each footfall in the sparsely furnished room. The family had been forced to flee their old apartment during the Blitz. As they hid with other Londoners in the Underground their apartment building had burned to the ground, taking many of their most cherished possessions with them (including Sophia’s birth certificate and the first articles Lix and Randall had ever had published)
Randall had left work early that day, a nasty cold getting the better of him. On his way home he stopped to wait for Sophia to get out of school and they walked home together. She was still young enough not to be embarrassed to walk hand in hand with her father down the street. They’d gotten home hours ago, Sophia going to her room to get started on a bit of homework. Randall set about in the kitchen to make her a light snack. Now he paced nervously in the living room, having seen something that had dropped his heart down into his shoes. He stopped on a dime when he heard Lix’s keys turn the lock. He stood and waited as she entered their home, a smile flitting across her beautiful features to be replaced quickly by concern when she saw the state Randall was in.
“Darling what ever is the matter?” she asked as she set her keys down and kicked off her shoes. Randall took a deep yet shaky breath. He fiddled nervously with the lapel of his jacket.
“It’s Sophia...”
“What about her? Is something wrong, did she get hurt on the way home?” Lix moved to walk past Randall to Sophia’s room. He grabbed her arms, stopping her.
“No Lix she’s physically fine, she’s not hurt or anything.”
“Well then what is it, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost. Darling you’re shaking.”
Randall was indeed shaking. What he had seen earlier had terrified him.
“I think...I think she’s a bit different. Like me. We’re the same.”
“What do you mean Randall?”
“These things that I do, the fiddling, the rearranging, the....outbursts. I think she might be the same.”
“What makes you think that Randall? What’s happened?”
Lix took Randall’s shaking hand in hers. She could see that he was upset. His eyes were red behind his glasses and his face was even paler than usual. She guided him gently over to the worn sofa, made him sit with her as he explained.
“When we got home she went to her room while I fixed her tea. When I took the tray into her room she had taken out her schoolbooks and lined them up on her bed. She’d also lined up her pencils, just so. When I asked her why she’d done it she told me, ‘It feels right to have them like this. It makes me feel better.’”
“Oh Randall...”
“It’s...it’s because of me Lix. It’s because of how I am. It’s all my fault. She’s going to be like me,” Randall said, voice faltering. Hot tears burned at the corners of his eyes.
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
“You’ve seen me at my worst Lix. You’ve seen how bad it can get. If you could be in my head for one day, you’d see what it’s really like. How hard it is for me, every day. How much effort it takes just to be...normal. It’s so very tiring.” Lix ran a hand up and down his back, trying to soothe him. He leaned in against her, resting his head on her shoulder.
“I know darling, I know what you go through.” He leaned back up, faced Lix full on.
“I don’t want that for Sophia. I can’t stand the thought of her suffering like I have, like I do. To never feel like things are quite right. To endlessly count things out in her head, to be in a room full of people and feel so alone.” The tears spilled down his cheeks in earnest now. Lix reached out and brushed them from his cheek, kissed him.
“We’ll help her Randall. YOU will be able to help her. You’ve gotten better since Spain, you know you have. You can show her how to cope.”
Randall took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. “I hope you’re right Lix.”
“Aren’t I usually?” she asked in her usual self-assured manner. Yes, she was.
Usually...