Realism Fan Fiction ❯ Repaired Shards ❯ Chapter 2

Margaret intervened by letting her hand rest at her counterpart's upper forearm, she did not want Madlax to feel as if she needs to carry any more of her own responsibilities than she already has. "Don't..." She pleaded wearily, closing her eyes and letting go a heavy sigh as well. She pinched the bridge of her nose and recollected her thoughts briefly, "There's no need for you to do the dishes, I can do it, myself." Madlax began to let a tired smile show between the corners of her lips and politely refused, "No, no... I'll handle it. I just have some things stuck on my mind right now, but it will be okay... Please, let me handle the dishes and the rest, I want you to have some space for a while to re-cooperate."

Margaret let the words sink in for a bit in her exhausted mind, and understood what she had meant; it is no use to get involved over a tedious, simple chore – as what good can it do? So she withdrew her hand from her counterpart's upper forearm and sighed, reluctantly accepting the help. "Okay then, Madlax... whatever you say."

"No, no... Don't feel obligated by it, Margaret," Madlax replied with weariness, but for the sake of wanting to shed some light on the subject, she tries to reassure her younger counterpart by having her wet hand rubbing the top of her hair and scraping her fingertips gently at the back of her scalp that only a faint hint of warmness shows in Margaret's expression. Then, a tender kiss at her forehead. "I insist it, Margaret..." Despite the reassurance Madlax had given her, the feeling of emotional heaviness has already seeped itself into her thoughts. Before Margaret left Madlax alone with the dishes and went into the living room, she rubs at her arms and sighs again with yet another tired reply, "By the way... I've already put Laetitia to bed... Be sure to check in on her..." Madlax solemnly nodded and faintly smiled, while resuming with the dishes. "I'll be sure to, Margaret. Afterwards, I'll probably make some tea for the both of us..." Soon enough, only a trail of Margaret's voice followed distantly along with the words; "Thank you, I appreciate it."

The mercenary knows that this would be a very long night...

Margaret passes by the living room and into the bedroom. Once there, she closed the door behind her and prepared herself to undress from her recent clothes, the skirt, the tie, and the blouse were stripped and folded neatly and delicately laid out inside of her drawer. There was a forlorn expression across her face; her green eyes seem to lose its warm colour to a very dull, muddled colour around her irises and her mouth twitched slightly as if feeling very uncomfortable putting away the clothes she has worn for quite a while during her long stay in a foreign country. So, she opens the drawer again and stares at the clothes for a moment and blinks twice, there was another twitch at her mouth – now that she has realized it, they began to remind her more of school and most importantly, home. She began to miss being in either of those places, as they had truly brought her the comfort she has wanted, it has been a long time since she has ever thought about it. When it appears as if she was going to reach for the clothes again and evoke an emotion, she had reached only for something to wear for the evening, it was a dark-brown overly large t-shirt, but she paid no mind to it, as long as it kept her comfortable, and slipped into it. Afterward, she unclips the small, golden bands at the end of her frontal hair and let the braids unfurl and loosen to mere strands of curled, layered brown hair and sets them on the nightstand.

Then, she sits and lays onto the thick, large mattress for a while to re-order her thoughts, she closes her eyes and sighs deeply. How can I put up with all of this...? She rolls to one side and ponders on her situation...

The majority of the dishes were clean and dried to be put in their respective places to their cabinets, save for the two hard white plastic cups that were left on the counter for the tea later as Madlax begins to check on Laetitia while she slept, or so had she thought, when Madlax stayed in the room for a few moments, and watched intentively over her. She does not know of what to do in this situation, especially when it is going to involve Laetitia in a major step of their developing lives as a whole. She had placed her hand slowly on the top of her auburn hair and stroked it in a comforting manner, much like of how a mother would comfort her child.

Underneath the appearance of being asleep, the small, low, and droning voice of hers began to surface, "Madlax... What... what do you think is going to happen later on...?" A pause. Madlax's muscles stiffened, so has her fingers on the hand which were easily stroking at her youngest counterpart's soft, fine hair. For a moment of hesitation, in the wake of a child's vulnerability as well as her own, she has only spoke of what she does know about their situation overall. "...Dear Laetitia, all of what I know is... Margaret and I will be discussing a few things and that you will be a part of our discussion. Do you understand what it means?" Laetitia shifted a bit on her side where she couldn't face her much older counterpart, solemnly she replied, "...I can try to..." At least there was an answer... Madlax's muscles began to relax and felt at slightly at ease.

Madlax rubbed her hand gently on her shoulder and gave her a kiss on the side of her head, having to bid her good night, along with the words, "You are such a good girl, Laetitia... Margaret and I are very lucky to have someone who understands our situation right now. We both love you for that." And with the reassurance, that possibly could predict a promising future, gave Laetitia just a bit of hope. "...I know that, too... I love you both, too..." Then, the door had closed and Laetitia slowly began to fall back asleep...

After a while, Madlax started back into the small kitchen, in which she had settled into setting the kettle on the stove and grabbed a small cardboard box with teabags inside, she took a couple bags and let the heat settle onto the kettle for a short time, then added the two bags in both cups. From the living room that is partially divided by a small, half-wall to the kitchen and dining room, Margaret heard the quiet sounds of Madlax making tea, which gave her some comfort. It kept her mind preoccupied from the television set, as it was also something that she is not accustomed to either – the media that is portrayed leaves her uneasy and uncomfortable. She peeks a few times just to see Madlax being almost done with the tea, eventually Madlax called out in a moderate tone of voice, "What do you want in your tea, Margaret?" With her elbow propped to the arm of the sofa and her palm resting underneath her chin, she replied. "Honey is fine."

A slight squirt of the honey being extracted from its plastic bottle and the light tinking of the spoon mixing it in with the sweet, soothing aroma could be heard as well as smelt. There was another sweet smell from honey as well as some cinnamon spice being added to a second cup of tea. "Do you also want some honey in your tea, Margaret?" Margaret looked idly at Madlax and nodded, the corners of her mouth gave out a warm smile. It's been a while since she had last smiled. "Yes, it wouldn't hurt to try it." The trickling sound of the honey poured a slight amount into Margaret's tea. Soon enough, Madlax joined Margaret in the living room with a tray of tea in her hands and settled it neatly on the small burgundy, wooden table in front of them.

Then, they drank their tea in silence – the warm and soothing sweet taste of it made the entire atmosphere as if in a near state of relaxation and comfort. A teacup was placed back on the tray. The older woman moved her shoulders, stretched them a bit, and settled herself back on the sofa with a very wide, pleasant grin across her face while affectionately eyeing towards her partner. Margaret had noticed this as she sipped her tea casually, albeit taking a quick peek, then sipping her tea again, but this time, she peeked passed Madlax's gesture, and towards the windows that were in the kitchen. The anxiousness and brief paranoia begun to settle in her fragile state of mind as she asked timidly, "Are the windows closed and covered?" She wanted to make sure the safety to do anything else, was insured. Madlax looked to the windows and nodded, "Yes." As they were already secured by the wooden, manual blinds.

The weight on Margaret's shoulders were lifted as the reassurance was honest, and carefully, she accepted her partner's intimate, non-verbal invitation that was giving and supportive, she leaned forward into her arms, to where the both of them laid back gently onto the sofa. Lying back on the sofa together seemed to have brought comfort and considerable intimacy, to which it would keep their minds off the certain stressful factors for a while. For example, the physical and emotional contact proved to be a temporary escape from the harshness of the Gaza. Even the idea of keeping the contact simplistic as possible seemed impossible with Madlax's fingertips scrapping against Margaret's scalp, which only deepened the contact, when the same hand that provided the gratifying treatment, began to massage the exposed, tightly-wounded shoulder that slid off the shirt's too wide neckline. This treatment felt to be tempestuous and enticing of fulfilling a primitive, sensuous need.

Prior to this feeling that is wonderful and relaxing, Margaret was feeling less anxious and bit by bit, relaxed – the small, loving smile that had spread to the corners of her mouth was evident of accepting this feeling. She eased into her partner's arms in a cat-like manner where both of their eyes met – the curiously-driven green to the passionately amorous lavender. Both of them smiled a bit, along with an echoing chuckle from the older woman as the younger of the two brushed a hand to the ashen-colored skin, fingering some of the loose strands of dark-blonde hair and pushing it back into place. Once seeing an excited, optimistic face that always managed to be of comfort during times of hardship, Margaret felt grateful and hovered her face over to Madlax's, leaned in with precise tenderness, and kissed her.