Sunny Afternoons [complete]

[Anna Fernandez]

[this takes place a little bit in the future after another RP that isn't done yet!]

Anna dipped a tortilla chip into the pica de gallo she'd made the day before, savoring the flavors as the sun streamed into the kitchen. It was almost as though the events of a few days ago had never happened. And yet...

She walked into the living room, bowl of pico de gallo and bag of chips in hand, ready to curl up in front of the television in her yoga pants and loose t-shirt. The house was blissfully quiet. Aimee had taken Jamie to the park, the boys were all working or at the mall. Or, in Jake's case, just 'out.' Turning on the television she snuggled into the cushions, bowl in her lap.

She heard Tycho's truck pulling up to the house, and smiled. Anna turned her head to watch him get out of the vehicle through the sheer curtains of the front window.

[Tycho Auriville]

This was becoming a familiar route, the drive that led to Banyon Street. Slowly but surely roadsigns and landmarks were ceasing to be important as the impression of the way, the sloping old streets and dusty lots, leeched into his muscles like mercury so that Tycho didn't have to think much as he cruised along, internal compass tugging him onward. It left his mind open to mull over other things - not including, of course, the implications of Redencion House becoming such a regular stop because that, like taxes and retirement plans, was too prodigious a thought to approach.

And that was fortunate because today, Ty had even bigger things in his head. A persistent buzz of thoughts, millions of bees humming to drown out the rest of the world until he was breathless with it.

There was something unsteady to the normally sure-footed man's gait as he got out of his truck and stepped up onto the curb. When he lifted his eyes he caught the filmy outline of Anna in the window and he paused, smile frozen in a cautiously hopeful way, as though he weren't entirely sure it was appropriate yet. Ty lifted a hand, then ran it through his hair.

By the time he reached the door, Anna had migrated there. She stood outlined by the shadows of the screen, sunlight checkered across her warm skin and Ty ducked his head, suddenly stupid with the urge to chuckle.

"Afternoon," he said,and leaned against the doorway.

[Anna Fernandez]

"Buenas tardes," she smiled, popping the ornery screen door open. "I did not know if you'd -" Anna looked down and found that some chip crumbs had landed on her shirt, finding a place to stay on her new pregnancy curves. She brushed them off quickly, and looked up again, her train of thought completely derailed.

"Come in!" Anna stepped back a bit from the doorway to allow Tycho access inside.

[Tycho Auriville]

"Uh, I," Tycho fumbled and glanced over his shoulder at his truck, face creased with the sort of absentminded distraction that was usually reserved for making a body wonder if they'd left the stove on just as they hit 30,000 feet. "In a minute, maybe."

There was a preemptive wince hiding just behind the green of his eyes. Ty scratched at the back of his collar, where the tag of his shirt rubbed up against his skin. "Are you... feeling okay, for visitors?"

[Anna Fernandez]

She looked at him for a moment, wondering what was going on in his head, and then nodded. "Of course! I was just going to watch some tv - no one else is home..."

He still wasn't coming inside, and she realized he meant visitors other than himself. "Um, maybe I should change my clothes..?"

[Tycho Auriville]

"No, it's fine. I didn't mean to imply anything like that. It's just my..." again he twisted, casting an unreadable glance back at the tinted passenger window of his Tacoma. "Tilly showed up."

[Anna Fernandez]

"Tilly?" Anna looked past him to his truck, and then back again. "Who's Tilly?"

[Tycho Auriville]

And that was a question for the ages. Who was Tilly? After almost thirty years of trying to figure that out, Tycho still only had a vague outline to hold to. He'd had better luck up on the alpine shores of Williams Lake, braving the marrow-piercing waters to scoop at the glittering surface with an empty mason jar because at seven he'd believed with everything in him that if he just tried hard enough, he could capture the sunlight and take the rippling liquid glow home, put it up on his trophy shelf right next to the turquoise stones and empty tortoise shell where it would burn brightly through the winter.

"She's my mother." He sighed, a belly-deep gust of breath, and fixed Anna with a piercing gaze. "I know it's presumptuous of me to just drop by with her like this, but I didn't know what else to do."

[Anna Fernandez]

"Oh! No, of course, no, it's no problem. Do not make her sit in your truck! It is so hot out!" Anna gave Ty a look, and gestured for him to get his mother in out of the sun.

[Tycho Auriville]

"Believe me, I couldn't make Tilly do anything if I tried. The other way 'round, more like," Ty said. There was a distant fondness in his eyes that seemed out of place with the sheepish draw of his posture, the quietly confident man suddenly shotgunned back in time into the guilty lines of adolescence. He kept looking over his shoulder, stiff-necked as if it twinged a nerve to do so.

It was following one of these sudden castaway turns that Ty suddenly stepped into the house and gently tugged Anna away from the door, until they were hidden from sight by the space between the bay window.

"Just the thing is," Ty said. He was speaking low and something conspiratorial crackled between them. "Tilly is different. Kind of... if you're not used to her she can be -"

[Tilly Moore]

"Don't scare her, Tycho. She's got such a lovely smile."

It was a matter of great triumph and unabating comfort to Tilly Moore that she could still manage to shake the soles of her son's sturdy feet, as old as her bones were. The creeping sensation that she belonged to a generation becoming less and less relevant with each season's passing had begun to take hold in the small, hidden places of her heart, faint cobwebs of uncertainty attaching to her memories. The notion was one that she liked to debunk with as much frequency as possible. It was, in her opinion, much more critical to leading a long and healthy life than was a low-sodium diet.

Nearing seventy, Tilly had the look of someone who had siphoned through life close to the ground, lapping up the taste of the earth and the rough of the grain as they went. Her reedy frame was softened by age but still possessed the sort of self-assured grace that was inherited rather than learned, shoulders settled back to face whatever fortune cast toward them and face peacefully aligned so that she appeared almost permanently windswept. Years in the sun had transformed her skin into a stretch of leathered copper, pale moons of colour hiding between crinkled agelines, and from this browned desert landscape her eyes peered, keen and startlingly sharp. They were closely related to the green of Tycho's irises but in them was a note of blue, a sea-green froth that looked eerie against the sandy gleam of the rest of her.

Before Anna could say anything, Tilly shook back the long sleeves of her white kurta and took one of the woman's hands. Tilly's hands were gnarled and cool, old wood wrapped around the smooth contours of Anna's skin. For a long moment, silence. And then, in a high, clear voice that seemed somehow weighted:

"Ah. I see it now."

[Anna Fernandez]

"See wh-what?" Anna felt unsteady at this turn of events, standing so close to Tycho and the smell of him, all hard work and hot sun layered over the clean scent of his deodorant. When he'd drawn her aside his touch had been unexpected but brought a quick smile to her face.

His mother - Tilly - was poring over her hand, but Anna didn't feel compelled to pull away, willing to wait for an explanation.

[Tilly Moore]

Tilly simply smiled and held onto Anna's hand the space of a heartbeat more, then released it gently, as a live bird to the sky.

"I've heard so much about you, Anna," she said. Her eyes strayed only once, to peer up at her son for a sparkling moment, urging him with a silent but unyielding force.

[Tycho Auriville]

Whenever Tilly appeared, Ty felt like he was walking around drunk or stupid, wrapped up in a thick blanket of friendly fog that only a long night spent with an expensive decanter could garner. She had that effect on people, rendered them introspectively content. Only when she wanted to, though.

"Momma, stop," he shook his head. It was the softness in his voice more than the affectionate term that would get to her, he knew. Tilly was a generous nurturer of quiet, needy sounds.

A modest nod was his reward and suddenly the air felt about a hundred degrees lighter, all the more so because until it did he realized that he - and Anna - hadn't noticed it shift in the first place.

Tycho wrapped an arm around Tilly's shoulders and gave them a grateful squeeze before he made formal introductions.

"Tilly, this is Anna Fernandez. She runs Redención House, here. Anna," that shy grin spread across his face again. "This is my mother, Tilly Moore."

[Anna Fernandez]

She took a deep breath, feeling somehow lighter as Tycho put his arm around his mother. Lightly rubbing her hands together, Anna nodded, smiling at the older woman. "It is so nice to meet you, bienvenidos Tilly, please, would you like a glass of lemonade?"

Anna smiled up at Ty, adding, "Your son has been a godsend to... my house." She flushed lightly at her verbal stumble, soldiering on bravely. "The roof was always one of those things I was forced to put off until 'next year.'" She realized suddenly they were all standing in the foyer, and she quickly gestured her visitors down the hall toward the kitchen.

"Come in, come in!"

[Tilly Moore]

Tilly stepped over the threshold, feet abandoning her sturdy cork sandals to the porch planks with little hesitation. The house and it's adornments were of great interest to her and she paused just inside the doorway to soak it in, feeling the compounded layers of tender care and faithful effort strike against her breastbone. It was less cluttered than the small home she kept outside of Taos, not littered with the debris of decades but no less full of life because of it.

"What I would really love, Anna, if it's fine by you, is a glass of water. I haven't had California water in a long, long time. There's a certain desperate hopefulness in it that doesn't exist anywhere else - tear runoff, from all the jilted and struggling actors and musicians," Tilly brushed the back of her fingers across a potted orchid resting on the entertainment center, laughing in pure delight when it turned out to be real and not a masterfully crafted imitation.

"What a fortunate thing, that you and Tycho met. He may be grown but I worry about him, fluttering about the way he does," the old woman said. "To find him so occupied is wonderful. Oh!" They had come into the kitchen and Tilly clasped her hands together at the view afforded by the window above the sink. "And a garden. Now, Anna, you're a woman after my own heart."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna laughed easily at Tilly's comment about the water, and could feel the approval of the other woman like a tangible force. "Oh, yes, the garden is an integral part of the House. Learning to grow things, to take care of the earth and produce their own food... The teenagers I take in need to feel these things."

She opened the fridge to show Tilly the Brita pitcher, but the white haired woman shook her head, so Anna obediently filled a cup with tap water, letting it run cold before placing the glass under the stream. "Some kids have been rehabilitated by the State, but still need some kind of therapy. Working with their hands in the dirt can provide relief in ways a psychologist couldn't imagine.

"And," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "Doing chores and having responsibility for something other than themselves doesn't hurt, either." Anna paused, looking outside for a long moment at the towering stalks of corn, and then settled Tilly at the table in the breakfast nook, joining her after a moment of wondering where her pico de gallo had gotten to.

[Tilly Moore]

"A little bit of ground to sink your hands in," Tilly sighed and sipped the water, her eyes closing as the metallic grief tang of it bubbled down her throat like a calling card to an easier time. Or rather, not easier - that was a mistake of the mind, thinking that things had somehow gotten harder. Life was the same; it was the people who had changed. They were closed-off shells now, building up walls with bent heads and guarded hearts. She missed the days when everything had seemed wide open, an endless stretch of encompassing experience that rolled away and was tethered by a shared sense of accountability.

When she opened her eyes, Tycho was staring at her with that distant look of concern he'd worn since he was small, his palms burrowed in the pockets of his jeans to keep from twitching.

"You're growing more than plants, though, Anna," Tilly said. Her glass left a ring of water on the table and she smiled. Anna wore a blush of promise like a halo, all hazy lines swirling around her in foggy relief. "How far along are you - three months?"

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna nodded, "Si, about fifteen weeks." She forced herself not to glance over at Ty to see what his expression was. They'd talked about it at length the other day, but she was finding it hard not to feel damaged after...

She gave herself a tiny shake, eyes closing briefly to banish her thoughts. "I am excited to find out if it will be a niña or a niño, but not for a few more weeks." She smiled slowly, "My foster daughter Jamie is hoping for a baby sister."

[Tycho Auriville]

"Tilly`s a midwife," Tycho supplied, idly running his thumb against the lip of his own glass - lemonade, not the iron water his mother had a taste for. He didn`t want to make Anna feel awkward by staring at her but his eyes skirted towards her stomach anyway, head heavy with the knowlege that there was something in there. Something alive and a part of her and all it`s own at the same time.

His lips twitched in a quietly awed way and he took a sip of cool lemonade, tartness dancing across his tongue. "She delivered my older brother herself, on a trail hike. How she got in the business."

[Tilly Moore]

"It was a campout, not a hike and we had a stove." Tilly scolded with a cluck of her tongue and dismissive wave of her hand. She canted her head toward Anna, white coil of hair falling over her forehead. "Tycho likes to make his brother`s arrival seem much more difficult than it was. Male rivalry and all that."

With a tolerent sigh, Tilly leaned back in her chair and knotted her hands together. "Have you given any thought to what kind of birth you want, dear?"

[Anna Fernandez]

"Not exactly," she admitted, somehow feeling comfortable talking about such things with a near stranger. There was something about Tilly that put her at ease. "My mother had all home births except the last - my youngest brother was a c-section. She always says he has been stubborn since before he was born, he just did not want to come out!"

Anna tapped her fingers on the table for a moment. "I think I would like to have the baby here at my house. But my doctor is very convincing about using a hospital.." She spread her arms in a shrug.

[Tilly Moore]

A shadow passed over the clear view of Tilly`s eyes, something murky swimming below the surface of still waters.

"Of course he does. That`s good business sense and convenient for his schedule," Tilly replied smoothly, a curl to her face that would have been amused if not for that strange creature snapping through her irises.

Suddenly the heaviness was back in the air and the woman`s voice lost the soft strain of seven decades worth of words, slipped into a smooth and low octave that filled the room with it`s body. "You must do what you feel is right for you, Anna. For your baby. It`s the only freedom we have, choice. They`ll take it from you if given half a chance."

[Tycho Auriville]

<i>...and you will put a flower in her hair, wide like the fears that grow in the back of your mind. But you will walk, oh you will walk a mile or more barefoot and broken before you realize... and you will realize... and you will realize... and you will-</i><br /> <br /> The slow downward spin suddenly snapped to a halt and Ty sucked in a breath, barely registered the warm fluid feel thrumming in his veins as he lurched forward to plant his hands flat on the table, blunt fingertips drumming against the wood in a loose spool of motion. The glass dropped from his hand and hit the floor... where it landed with a harsh clatter, the shiny gold gleam of it rolling to a halt by Anna`s chair, thick silvery sludge oozing out where once lemon and sugar and water had been.<br /> <br /> "Tilly." He said, voice hard but quiet. "Not asking again. Don`t. Not here."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna blinked slowly, looking at Tilly as she spoke softly. A gentle thunk at her side caused her to look away and down to where a golden tumbler had rolled against her chair.

She reached down and picked it up as though she was in a dream. Of course she would do what was right for her and the baby. No matter what her doctor might try to pressure her to do. Anna set the strangely heavy cup on the table in front of her.

[Tycho Auriville]

The warped twist of the room grew heavier and Ty's forehead dipped, lowered until it was pressed against the grain between his hands.

"Stop." He ground out, fingers curling into fists. "That's enough."

[Tilly Moore]

A rare burst of indignation fired in the kiln of her belly and Tilly's nostrils flared. She took in her son, this grown, lean line of a man bent over the table like it hurt to stand - and it did, didn't it? She had brought thousands to their knees before - and in his face she saw the boy he had once been and the adult he was now and the dim whisper of something else, some newly-forming outline. It was this unknown figure that made her pause and water down the churning sting of pride roiling about her aura.

Tilly took a breath and reeled in the net she'd begun to cast. "Interesting, my boy. You've never been there before."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna felt as though her ears were popping, but they were fine and nothing had changed. Or perhaps everything had changed. She looked at the cup on the table before her, and slowly reached out and hefted it. It was heavy, and caught the early afternoon sunlight quite impressively.

She looked over at Ty and found him beside her, locked in some sort of battle of wills with his mother. "What is going on?" She was quiet and curious, not alarmed.

Yet.

[Tycho Auriville]

"She's castin'," Ty murmured, head giving a thready pulse. He sucked in a slow breath through his nostrils. "Does it sometimes. It's harmless, mostly, but Tilly forgets that it's not her place to shape everything around her."

This last was said with emphasis and Tycho looked over at the woman in question, who raised an impervious brow. "Go on with that face. It's true and you know it. She used to be a singer, Anna, mesmerized the masses."

[Tilly Moore]

And that was enough of a throwaway gloss to coax an undignified snort from Tilly. She narrowed her eyes at Tycho.

"Was? Am, thank you. And not a singer," the word was hurled like a used and dirty thing, a limp rubber flung carelessly to dangle from the spindly arm of a bush so that when next the trail was traversed, children might find it and hold it out to their blushing and horrified parents, say, What's this, Mummy?

Tilly leaned forward, laying an open palm on the table. Just the one, and pressed towards Anna in... supplication? It seemed a gesture of openness, of honesty.

"I was - am - an artist," she said. "A voice for a generation. We all were, back then."

"Yes, but you - "

"I what, Tycho?" There was nothing sharp in Tilly's tone and yet it still seemed to prickle, tiny pinpoints of calm but sturdy defense. "I did nothing but use a gift that I was given, to touch people. To give them hope, peace, a sense of something greater than themselves and the small insulated lives that the commercial system would have us all lead. That's all I still do."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna reached across the table and in front of Tycho to touch Tilly's open hand, and placed her other hand on Ty's arm. "Please, do not argue." She smiled hopefully, looking at both of them in turn in the lopsided triangle they now created.

"Your ability sounds amazing," she added, focusing on Tilly and reluctantly bringing her hands back to her own lap, her fingers gently trailing down Tycho's arm for a moment. He was still full of tension, but sometimes one's parents invoked that reaction in their offspring. It was certainly a complicated relationship between the two.

Anna shrugged lightly and added, "My papa can bend time. Made getting away with anything when I was growing up... almost impossible." Her eyes twinkled, "Not that we didn't try anyway."

[Tilly Moore]

The storm clouds began to recede, Tilly once more tucked away inside herself as she turned her attention back to Anna. For all the world it seemed that the woman's ears perked up and she rubbed at the back of her knuckles as though an ache had settled there before picking up her glass of water and taking a sip.

"And there's more than you, isn't there?" She said. There was a way of holding oneself after growing up alone, a steady somberness that hung about the shoulders and midsection, but Anna had none of that. "I can see it in you, you're not the only one to carry your papa's footsteps forward."

[Tycho Auriville]

"'Scuse me," Tycho cut across the conversation, easing upright and stalking toward the back door. His arm still tingled where Anna had touched, where her skin had shorn away the lacy gauze of Tilly's woven machinations, and as he passed he gave her a reassuring look. "Just need some air. I'm gonna check on the tarps, make sure they aren't coming loose."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna smiled up at Tycho as he walked past and out the back door, then she turned her attention back to his mother. She seemed to be just another sweet old lady at first glance, but Anna was beginning to understand Ty's reticence about her visit.

"You are right again, I have six brothers." Anna had a small half-smile on her lips, remembering some of the controlled chaos from growing up. "Two older, four younger. I used to wonder how Mama managed with all the testosterone in the house... Not to mention she was the only one without mutation. I am beginning to understand, however. I owe a lot about myself, and even the idea for this House, to her."

[Tilly Moore]

"Mothers are unfathomably influential creatures."

Tilly was looking at Anna when she said it but she was gone from the room, floating somewhere above the peaked rise of the A-line cap of the House.

She had often wondered what it would have been like to have a daughter. There was something sacred shared between women, separate from the eternal bond between parent and child and yet stitched in close contact, a leather thong bound through with steel wire. Would it have been easier, had she not had sons?

But no, there was reason for everything. Tilly bore men because nature willed it and who was she to go against such an inherent declaration?

"I imagine you were a great comfort to her, being so outnumbered otherwise, Having backup does help," Tilly's eyes took on a sparkle. "Like Carole said: ain't it good to know that you've got a friend?"

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna nodded, "I think we comforted each other. You know how boys can be, insufferable and fascinated with bodily functions. She says sometimes I helped keep her sane," she laughed.

She brushed her fingertips against the delicate gold cup in front of her, and the conversation lagged for a moment.

[Tilly Moore]

"And you? Who keeps Anna Fernandez sane?" Tilly pressed. "Or maybe you're not - who can tell, these days? It's all the same."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna's eyes twinkled, "Estamos todos locos aquí." She shook her head lightly and laughed. "Right now I am not sure what is holding me together. The baby... was unexpected."

She sighed, tears suddenly pricking behind her eyes. "Some days I..." Anna shrugged, blinking. "I just keep going forward."

[Tilly Moore]

"Ah, but don't you see, Anna," Tilly was half-out of her chair, leaning across the table to wrap her hands over Anna's, pressing them to the cup that Tycho had transmuted. Warmth and possibility seemed to stretch out between them, rolling hills of it that went on endlessly in a carpet of fertile hope. "Unexpected is just another way of saying fated. You were meant to have this baby - something out there in the broad universe wants it to be so. There's comfort in that."

[Anna Fernandez]

She found herself focusing on the former glass between her hands, almost mesmerized by the expensive sheen of the gold as Tilly spoke. Still, a single tear dripped unbidden from her left eye, tracing a silvery path down her light olive skin.

"I suppose," she said softly, her accent thicker than normal. "I jus' have trouble believing that God wanted me to do this alone." Her grip tightened almost imperceptibly on Tycho's cup, feeling a strange sort of desperation in the act.

[Tilly Moore]

Anna seemed in that moment to shrink in on herself, a night violet bedding down for the evening in a desperate attempt to keep the cold night from ravaging it's petals. Tilly didn't let up on her grip, her head dropping gracefully until she and the deep-eyed beauty were leaning against one another, their eyes locked in a gentle embrace.


"Estás solo?" Tilly whispered, and for a moment the room seemed to glow with a golden sheen. "Esto no es cierto. And neither do you. You just haven't accepted it yet."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna shook her head slowly against the gentle pressure of Tilly's forehead. "I do not... I could not."

She looked up into the older woman's blue eyes, so close they were almost one. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I have been down this road before, and my heart has betrayed me. It is hard to trust. Even harder now."

[Tilly Moore]

"No two roads are the same. We may come across landmarks that seem familiar - land is a flowing mass that repeats itself in subtle ways, but it's never identical. Can you toss aside the all of it, just because one path - two, three, four - led down a hard slope? Oh, Anna, you will miss a lot of beauty if you shy away. A lot of life."

A broken-edged lilt bled into Tilly's tone, something deep and old bubbling up from a well within the old woman. "We're not made to be untouchable sojourners. That's not the way of things."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna sighed, something breaking free inside her at Tilly's words. She exhaled, body shuddering slightly, her hands clutching at the gold cup. "I have too much baggage."

She pulled herself together just enough to straighten up, Tilly's hands still over hers, the cup between them. Anna looked at it, what it represented in this mystical conversation, and then looked back at the other woman. "I... am still afraid to... say anything."

[Tilly Moore]

Tilly scoffed. "Baggage. Of course you have - we all do, don't we? The point of life is that we start out with nothing and gather experiences to us, pack them away and carry them on our shoulders. We're all just glorified hobos, road poets. A species of boxcar mystics."

The scant space between them was starting to feel like an interrogation, a pressure rather than a present, and so Tilly pulled back. Her gaze drifted to the door, open to the backyard with a thin screen to keep the bugs at bay.

"You know I'm so glad to be back in California. It's been years since I saw my son. Our family bends to the gypsy persuasion - I wandered when I was his age, it comes as no surprise that he's a hard man to track down," Tilly said suddenly. She canted her head to one side. "Or usually is."

[Anna Fernandez]

"Well," Anna said hesitantly, but then stopped, unsure what to say. Tycho certainly had been around for a few weeks. "He has been a great help to me," she ended, lamely.

[Tilly Moore]

"I'm glad." Tilly nodded. "And I'm sure that your brothers, your children here in this house... I'm sure that they're a great help to you as well."

And just like that, what little solid exchange had passed between them was hazy and uncertain.

[Tycho Auriville]

There had been nothing to check on the roof. That was a lie. The tarps were tied down with three-ply plexicord and secured by a single hitch knot through beveled hooks sunk temporarily into the frame struts. Unless Los Santos was suddenly struck by a hurricane, nothing was shifting the waterproof canvas.

Tycho took quiet shallow breaths, almost afraid to puncture the absence that the height procured. It was like this every time his mother visited. He loved the woman more than... well, more than any other force that his life circled 'round but they were like two positive magnets, attracting the same energy but repelling one another when they got too close. Sometimes he just needed to breathe. Was it always like that? Maybe all children felt suffocated by the shadow of their parents, never quite sure that they'd ever really wriggle out from underneath the consideration of being a kid.

As much as he would have liked to just sit up here for a while and think on it, watch the neighborhood lives unfold on the street with maybe a cold beer to mellow his nerves, he couldn't leave Anna alone with Tilly for too long. God knew the woman meant well, but she didn't know how to control herself.

With one last scan of the horizon, Tycho took to the ladder. The metal vibrated beneath his palms, humming against his skin as he got lower in a way that seemed familiar as a voice.

It was a pleasant surprise to find both women in the kitchen, chatting amiably. Tycho paused; there was a lingering hint of something, a suspicious bend that sent him tumbling right back to red, red buttes and silver carvings studded with turquoise stones. His gaze slid from Tilly to Anna. "Everything steady in here?"

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna started at his reappearance, twisting in her chair to look at him, feeling somehow like a guilty child who'd been caught doing something wrong. "Everything is fine!" She smiled brightly, and pushed up from the table. "I am going to find my pico de gallo, I will be right back."

The gold cup rocked a bit as she abandoned the breakfast nook, needing a few moments to compose herself. The chips and bowl of chopped vegetables were on the coffee table in the living room, where she'd left them. Anna wiped at her face to make sure there were no remnants of her earlier emotion, then gathered up the snacks to bring back into the kitchen.

[Tilly Moore]

Tilly beamed at Tycho, weathered face glowing as they both followed Anna out of the room with their eyes.

"We had a lovely chat," she said. "Don't look so worried, Tycho. You start to resemble an IRS agent when you make that face and you know how I feel about them."

[Tycho Auriville]

Tycho crossed his arms over his chest.

"A chat?" He repeated. "What kind of chat, Tilly?"

[Tilly Moore]

"One with words," Tilly replied dryly. She picked up her water glass, nearly empty now, and tilted her head back as the last of the clear, lonely river drained down her throat.

Sitting was not as easy a venture as it once had been, when her tendons and muscles had been eager and supple. Tilly winced as she got up, her hips protesting, and felt a wave of gratitude splash over her as a work-calloused hand gently cupped her elbow and braced her against the task of rising.

"You're a credit to your upbringing, my boy. Very helpful." The glass in her hand caught the light, it's heavy cut bottom directing a sunbeam across her face. It caught Tycho's, too, playing across his high cheekbones. For all that he looked like his father, there was something of the hungry loneliness of her in him, a sort of treacherous solitude than never really left but could be tempered, with effort and the right persuasion. In that moment she knew without a doubt that she would never feel quite so fond of anyone as she did this little part of her, this piece of history that had grown and taken on a life of his own.

Tilly reached up and pressed her palm to his cheek, thumb tracing the cleft above his upper lip. "The time will come, Tycho. And you will ask yourself how. But ask it, darling, ask the question. Don't be afraid of the answer."

[Tycho Auriville]

A rise of uncertainty grew in his chest and Tycho felt something split, some irrational fear that he knew exactly what Tilly was talking about even though he had no idea at all. The duality was astonishing, exactly the sort of eerie madness that had driven him away in the first place, landing in once place after the next like some misguided tumbleweed.

"I... what do you mean?" Ty reached up and took her hand from his face, rubbed it idly. It was cold and felt delicate, like thin china. His mother had a flare for the dramatic. He'd always assumed it was a combination of things, the nature of her power, lingering damage from the years of Woodstock era partying but this was more of a show than usual. "Tilly are you okay?"

[Tilly Moore]

"How, Tycho. How." Tilly repeated. She sagged a little, let him ease her back to her chair though there was an electric energy pumping through her veins. "I'm a little tired, I suppose. Missed my afternoon nap."

[Tycho Auriville]

An afternoon nap. That was common enough amongst the older generation - heck, Tycho himself appreciated a good siesta now and then. But he'd never equated Tilly with that sort of thing. Nude gardening? Sure. Vigils at the mesa with her strange blind neighbor, Copperhead John? Of course. But sleeping while the sun was still high? Never.

"Okay," Ty nodded. Her cup, which had somehow ended up in his hands, was moved to the sink and then he cleared his throat. "I'll tell Anna that we've got to head out."

He waited to see if Tilly would respond but her eyes were already close, face smooth. The purposeful draw of her breath was a tip-off that she was already meditating, going to some place inside herself.

Though he knew his steps wouldn't disrupt her, Tycho crept out of the kitchen anyway. He caught Anna in the living room, doing her best impersonation of a waitress.

"Here, let me," he started awkwardly, easing the bowl of chips and the salsa away. A bit of rogue jalapeno that had been pushed to the side of the bowl stuck to his hand and then fell to the carpet. "Shoot, sorry. I'll get that in a second." Tycho glanced over his shoulder, his earlier motion coming back now. "Tilly's a bit worn out. Jetlag must be catching up to her. She said that you two had a good talk. I hope she didn't overstep any bounds or..."

[Anna Fernandez]

"Oh!" Anna let him take the bowl she'd been cradling between her chest and the crook of her arm, and shook her head, her hair falling into her eyes. "She was fine, really. You don't need to worry."

She hesitated, and added, "If you have more to do here... The guest room just over there is empty. Tilly is welcome to rest while you..." Her voice trailed off as she realized she had been making eye contact with him the entire time. Anna looked away, her cheeks coloring slightly.

[Tycho Auriville]

"No, I don't have... her stuff is back at my place anyway..."

The blush that was creeping up from her neckline distracted him and Ty cleared his throat, lifting the snacks. "I'll just put these in the kitchen."

Anna nodded and he nodded and then because she was still nodding but not looking at him he turned around and headed toward the kitchen, intent on setting the bowls down on the counter. Somehow he didn't quite make it.

"Anna," Tycho came striding purposefully back into the living room, hands still laden down with tortilla chips and pico de gallo. She lifted her head and he wanted to run. Not to get away, but because the pressure in his chest was almost too much to bear and it needed to get out somehow. He swallowed. "I'm sorry about the cup. Your cup. I don't usually do that."

What the hell was he talking about? He was turning into an idiot. Why hadn't he stayed in the kitchen?

[Anna Fernandez]

She raised her eyebrows, and tried to reassure him. "It was just a cheap IKEA glass. You only improved it, Tycho, do not apologize." Anna smiled, "You should probably take it with you, however, I do not need a gang banger peeking in and finding the kitchen looks like Smaug's cave." She winked, and suddenly hoped that the Hobbit reference hadn't been too obscure, she'd been reading it to Jamie at night lately.

"Ah, that is, it is no problem. Really." Anna bent down and plucked the fallen bit of jalepeno from the carpet, mostly to hide the flush that would not go away from her cheeks.

[Tycho Auriville]

And then before he knew what he was doing, Tycho set the bowls aside on a nearby side table next to a green lamp and crouched down. He reached out and gently wrapped a hand around Anna's wrist, a bracelet of warm, hard-knuckled skin.

She was close enough that he could smell the sweet scent of her hair, some kind of flowery shampoo that wasn't overpowering.

"Anna, I..." Tycho felt like he was talking over a freeway, throat bursting with a rush hour jam of words. "What happened the other night, between us. That was something. It felt like something." He was afraid to keep looking at her, suddenly terrified that he would see nothing of the same reflected back in her face, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. "I want more of that. I know it sounds crazy and I know that you've got a hundred thousand things going on right now, more than that probably. You don't need any more complications but... it doesn't gotta be complicated. We don't have to let it get complicated, do we?"

[Anna Fernandez]

She was frozen in place, ruined jalapeño cupped in her hand but completely forgotten, the connection of Tycho's hand to her wrist a tether that was somehow keeping her from fluttering away. As soon as he'd crouched in front of her her heart had begun beating harder, and now it was practically thundering in her ears, an ocean of noise that was threatening to wash her off her feet.

The hand on her wrist kept her grounded, but she could not raise her eyes to his, afraid that eye contact might break the spell, or perhaps simply be too much for her and she would instantly burst into a million pieces. "Tycho, I..." She looked up. She had to.

Her hair falling in her eyes, Anna smiled, her blush still staining her cheeks. "I would like more of that as well."

[Tycho Auriville]

It was winning the lottery. It was opening the door to cameras in your face and a giant Publishers Clearing House check. It was your favorite ice cream on sale at the market, finishing the Sunday crossword puzzle without cheating, finding out it was just a loose valve and not a cracked radiator. It was bubblegum at a baseball game, watching Die Hard eleven times in a row, the first sip of an ice-cold Corona after a hard day out in the sun.

And it was happening, all of it, right now.

Tycho was aware of a pulling on his face and he realized he was just staring at Anna, grinning like a lunatic fresh out of the bin. Just staring because if he looked away, if he blinked, he might find that it wasn't really happening at all. He'd just fallen asleep on his couch waiting for his Hot Pockets to finish microwaving.

"Yeah?" How he managed to keep his voice from trembling with relief and excitement was lost on him. Perhaps it was a new side to his mutation, transmuting balls-to-the-wall giddiness into smooth confidence. Tycho chuffed a laugh and reached out to brush back Anna's hair, tucking it behind her ear. His hand lingered.

"Didn't even see this coming. The roof wasn't a ploy. M'not that slick," Tycho was vaguely aware that they'd been crouched there for long moments, where anyone could just walk in and catch them in this strange transfixed position. "Can I take you somewhere? Dinner, coffee - just somewhere that's not here. That isn't me working up there and you working in here."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna nodded, her free hand going to her face where his larger one remained. In her crouch her body protested its treatment, and she wobbled precariously, forced to put out her hands to catch herself on the couch beside her. Tycho was there, helped her up, and sat next to her on the sofa, his hand still holding hers. "I love dinner," she said, and then rolled her eyes at the nonsense she was spouting.

"I mean, I would love to go to dinner. With you." She lightly squeezed his strong hand, only vaguely aware of the existence of others things in the world.

[Tycho Auriville]

"Good, 'cause I love dinner too. And breakfast. And lunch. Snacks are the bees knees," Tycho said quietly. The soft laugh he got in return was the best reward.

He could have happily sat there all day, her hand in his and their hips pressing together where the couch dipped from their collective weight. But Tilly was in the kitchen and this was a delicate thing. This was fragile, more for her than for him but still a tenuous forthcoming from both ends. It required careful handling.

"How's Thursday?" he asked. That would be enough time for him to sort out something for his mother and to see about picking up a decent shirt at least, one that wasn't fit for a day of labour or lounging.

[Anna Fernandez]

"Thursday..." Anna thought for a moment, working hard to concentrate on the relevant information. "That should be fine. I think Tess is off that night, so she can watch Jamie for me."

She smiled, looking up and meeting his eyes once more, unwilling to release his hand as if he might disappear when she did. Anna couldn't think of anything important to say, and ended up laughing at the perceived awkwardness in the pause between them. "I am sorry, I... This is so unexpected. But good!" she was quick to add.

[Tycho Auriville]

Unexpected but good pretty much summed up the situation. Ty's thumb traced the soft dips in the back of Anna's hand, the ridges where her knuckles would rise like mountains were she to make a fist.

"Figure I can get the skylight out and the new seal in by five," he said, smoothing out details that he really wasn't concerned with. "There's a great little Catalan bistro down by the pier. Not crowded, good service; food's fantastic."

He didn't add that the first time he'd gone there he'd thought of her. Not romantically, just she'd been the first person that had come to mind when his order was up, thought it was the kind of place that she would like. He'd made a note to recommend it in case she ever wanted to go with her friends, her family.

[Tilly Moore]

"Yellow roses."

For the second time that day, both of the children jumped. Tilly smiled serenely at them from the doorway, her face calm as though she'd simply walked in on them playing a game of checkers rather than a budding moment of intimacy.

Because they both looked confused, Tilly elaborated in that sweetly clear voice of hers that wasn't touched by any power but still managed to feel crisp and refreshing like an alpine runoff. "Bring yellow roses, Tycho. She has a face that cries out for them. Yes, they'll do nicely. Are we all settled, then?"

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna flushed at Tilly's sudden re-appearance, but she held Tycho's hand a moment longer, just to prove his mother wasn't scaring her off. "I... I love yellow roses. How did you..?"

She squeezed Ty's hand gently and then let go, her hands automatically settling on her stomach. Perhaps Tilly was a mentalist - he hadn't explained exactly what casting was. "I think we are all settled, though," and she laughed.

[Tycho Auriville]

Tycho groaned and dropped his head to the couch.

"Don't try and figure Tilly," he warned in a long-suffering voice. "It's a futile endeavor. Trust me."

[Tilly Moore]

The old woman looked pleased at that as though there were no higher honour than to be considered impervious. It was true in a certain light; only the best Bridge players knew how to balance their hand and bid to their partner in a common language without tipping off the opposing seats at the table. Reading the footnotes of life came as a great advantage - but it was not an exclusive ability. It simply took letting go of the broader things and freeing one's mind of preconceived expectations.

"As it should be," Tilly said, the tail of her long linen blouse tumbling in a cross breeze from the open front door. "Women of a certain age should maintain a certain air of mystery. Otherwise who would authors of your generation use as foils for their impetuous and free-spirited main characters?"

Again she said hello to the little flower above the television and then she bobbed her head. "Anna, thank you for inviting us into your home. And for the water - it was, in a word, divine."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna smiled, getting to her feet. Best to enjoy her mobility now, in her second trimester, while she could. "Of course, de nada. And..." she looked sideways at Tycho for a moment before returning her gaze to Tilly. "Thank you. I am glad to have met you, Tilly."

[Tilly Moore]

The old woman padded across the carpet, soft linen scent following her, and put a hand on each of Anna's shoulders. For a moment so long it nearly became uncomfortable, she was silent and only scanned the face before her looking for something.

"It was a good thing to have met you," Tilly said finally. Her face grew dreamy and she looked down at the woman's midsection with a curling smile. "And your little one. You will let me know how the birth goes, hm? And who can tell - perhaps the next time we share a table will be at my home. You're always welcome."

Tilly leaned in and pecked both of Anna's cheeks, a dry whisper of a kiss. She ran her eyes from Tycho to the door. "I'll be in your truck, darling."

[Tycho Auriville]

"Be right there, Momma."

Tycho couldn't stop watching Anna, it was like a tractor beam that kept on tugging and it didn't just pull his eyes to her. He felt wholly consumed, as though every cell in his body was pointing at her. True North.

The front door gently swung shut as Tilly let herself out.

"I guess I'll see you Thursday," Ty said. "Well, I mean, I'll see you tomorrow. But I'll really see you Thursday."

Pushing aside the more fervent urgings of his racing emotions, the mutant man leaned in and gave Anna a hug, holding on long enough for it count. It felt like ripping off a Band-Aid when he let go.

"Thank-you," Ty said. "For not spooking out. Tilly's notorious for scaring people off."

[Anna Fernandez]

Anna was surprised at how natural it felt to be in his arms, and she took a deep breath as they released each other. "Oh, I have been doing this long enough that most abilities ...they do not scare me easily." She shrugged, unconsciously rubbing her stomach, then realized what she was doing and stopped.

"I will be looking forward to Thursday, too," she said softly, almost shyly.

[Tycho Auriville]

Ty grinned and lifted her hand, replacing it on her stomach before he brushed back that stubborn twist of dark hair one last time. He backed toward the door, unwilling... unable to turn his back.

"Thurs - " his voice bounced into a startled breath as stumbled on the half-inch drop to the porch. Ty looked up sheepishly. "Thursday. Okay, then. Take care."

That awkward second count started ticking as they both mutually shuffled their gazes away, freeing one another to go about their day. It seemed to Tycho as he walked across the lawn to his truck that the afternoon had swelled with something; not heat, but a promise.

"Well," he said, climbing into his truck and starting the ignition. It rumbled to life and he looked from his blind spot to Tilly as he pulled away from the curb. "That about sums up the California tour of my life. You hungry, Til?"

[Tilly Moore]

Tilly shook her head and watched in the passenger side mirror as Redencion House grew smaller and smaller. It became a steeply rushing peak as they descended down the slope of Banyon Street, erasing until all that remained was a glimpse of the roof and a corner of blue tarp. Then it became nothing at all.

"You must remember, Tycho." Tilly said. The cab filled with a swirling warmth, frothy waters of influence that blanketed around them and dimmed the surrounding traffic to unfocused blurs. A mass of slowly-moving chrome jellyfish. "You must remember when that time comes... and it will come... you must remember to ask the question. How?"

Tycho blinked and spared a brief look at her as he slowed at a red light.

Reflected in Tilly's high, clear eyes was a terrible sureness that did not waver. "You may find that it means life - lives."