[ With a cheery tinkle of the bell over the entryway, the cafe door swings open and another passing-through guest makes her way inside. She moves on autopilot, not quite seeming to know where she is or what she's doing and it's not until the door clicks shut behind her that her eyelids suddenly flutter and her eyes suddenly spark to–
Well. Not life.
Ai stands there in the low amber light, blinking and peering around like she doesn't fully believe her eyes. She doesn't see the corridor of their new apartment. Or Aqua, or Ruby. That's good, a part of her intuits because that means they're still at home where they belong she's–
Here. Elsewhere? Her thoughts are unmoored and drifting. She feels an odd sense of calm that she suspects will only last as long as it takes for the reality of her situation to sink in. Her hand drifts to her belly and she touches the spot that just a moment ago had been wet and hot and glassy with pain. Her clothes are dry and clean. She doesn't feel a wound.
Like a bubble rising up through water, a memory resurfaces. She was sat in the hospital waiting for her first examination and the President had panicked at the thought of a C-section – had worried what a tell-tale scar on her stomach would to her career after she recovered.
Guess it's a little late for that now, huh?
The bubble pops. And all at once, Ai breaks into a laugh. She laughs and laughs like a fool, like she's the punchline of the world's funniest joke, she laughs until her knees unhinge and she has to stoop down in the doorway and she can't really breath but she can keep laughing, has to keep laughing because the alternative is a little too much to think about right now. ]
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Well. Not life.
Ai stands there in the low amber light, blinking and peering around like she doesn't fully believe her eyes. She doesn't see the corridor of their new apartment. Or Aqua, or Ruby. That's good, a part of her intuits because that means they're still at home where they belong she's–
Here. Elsewhere? Her thoughts are unmoored and drifting. She feels an odd sense of calm that she suspects will only last as long as it takes for the reality of her situation to sink in. Her hand drifts to her belly and she touches the spot that just a moment ago had been wet and hot and glassy with pain. Her clothes are dry and clean. She doesn't feel a wound.
Like a bubble rising up through water, a memory resurfaces. She was sat in the hospital waiting for her first examination and the President had panicked at the thought of a C-section – had worried what a tell-tale scar on her stomach would to her career after she recovered.
Guess it's a little late for that now, huh?
The bubble pops. And all at once, Ai breaks into a laugh. She laughs and laughs like a fool, like she's the punchline of the world's funniest joke, she laughs until her knees unhinge and she has to stoop down in the doorway and she can't really breath but she can keep laughing, has to keep laughing because the alternative is a little too much to think about right now. ]