Isla
Main Pairings: Michelle x Quinn
Summary: Michelle and Quinn bring home their new baby girl.
Word Count: 7748
Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @mauvecatfic @rhemenway888
Thanks for reading!
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“This is insane. In. Sane.” Michelle dropped her bobby pin and swore. However she’d anticipated becoming a mother, this sure as hell wasn’t it. But somehow… now that the possibility was there… it fit. She raised her eyes to Quinn’s, and accepted the retrieved pin with shaking fingers. “I want to say ‘yes’,” she said quietly, but with so much more conviction than she herself had expected. “So, what happens next? I’m guessing we sit down with Jen and have a conversation between the three of us.”
Quinn took Michelle’s hands in her own, squeezing them until the metal of the pin pressed into her skin, and met that strong gaze.
“I… I want to say ‘yes’, too,” she said. “I feel it deep in my bones, that this is right-- you know?” Laughing with exhilaration, she could feel tears prickling her eyes. She was never supposed to live long enough to be a mother-- but even in that joy there was the deepest pain in knowing what was being lost. But her friend trusted her, her out of anyone, her and her amazing, brilliant Michelle, to take that little life into their hands. She was touched right at her heart. “I think we need to tell Jen that we want to be moms to her baby with her.”
USA, February 2027
Life, Michelle had come to realise long ago, never really did run out of curve-balls to throw her way. Life could be turned on its head at any time, and she’d just have to learn to roll with it. No, it wasn’t ‘trapped at the end of the world, everyone else is dead’ level, but bringing home your first child-- and one born in deeply emotional circumstances-- was certainly… a lot.
Ready or not, she and Quinn were bringing home baby Isla. Their perfect little girl; eight pounds, and with a fine dark smattering of hair. She was strong and healthy, putting to rest persistent fears for the expectant mothers, of which Isla had more than most.
Eager grandparents on both sides had already been warned that the newly formed family would be taking at least a couple of weeks to settle-- any visits would solely be by invitation, specifically if help was needed. No one, not even an eager Craig, was fool enough to come barging in when Michelle had put her foot down. She had to be staunch in her resolve; there was a lot that they were struggling to come to terms with-- Quinn especially. If her wife needed time and space to get her head around all this, Michelle would make it happen.
The door creaked open, and they were home in their spacious Northbridge apartment.
“Home, sweet, home, Isla!” Quinn announced, but the tiny child in the carrier didn’t even stir. “I guess we’ll have to show you around later; even if you were awake there’s so much that you won’t be able to take in yet, little one.”
Michelle gave a shiver. “Oh my god-- goosebumps! I can’t believe she’s really here in our apartment. She’s home!”
She’d half expected some wrench to be thrown into their plans at the last minute-- some long-lost relative of the birth-mother show up and demand custody of the baby, or some adoption official swoop in and insist the baby would be better off in care. Or even a yeti take the baby as her own. None of the scenarios were likely, but with so much on the line, catastrophising was all too easy.
Even with everything going exactly to plan, the turmoil was immense. Isla’s birth mother, Jen, always to be acknowledged as one of three mothers as important of either of the remaining two, was dead. The strain of labour proved more than her frail body could handle, and Rotterdam’s took her after a lifetime of courageous fighting. A chance meeting at a Kelly Foundation event several years prior had resulted in a firm friendship between Quinn and the younger woman with whom she shared so much… and in time to come, the answer to Jen’s prayers when she’d found herself pregnant. Then had come the rollercoaster; fears that the unborn infant might have inherited Rotterdam’s and the hard discussions about what they’d do if she had, the doubts and the fears, the nights Michelle and Quinn spent wide awake wondering if they were unconsciously taking advantage of a dying young woman. But through it all, Jen had remained adamant; her baby girl would be her gift left to the world, and the trusted friend who’d supported her would, in turn, support her daughter. Their daughter.
The baby began to fidget in her sleep, and Michelle jumped to make a bottle of formula-- or, she attempted to, but Quinn, catching on to her wife’s nerves, caught her hands and twisted her round into an embrace.
“First bottle in her new home? I think that might be a job for two mommies rather than one.”
“All right, fine.” Michelle exhaled slowly, then threw herself into the hug. And breathe. “Between you and me,” she said, rather too shakily to convince a soul, “how hard can this parenting crap really be?”
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USA, 2039
The scream reverberated all around her. It was everywhere, and it was everything. Years of medical training, of dealing with uncooperative patients, had prepared Michelle for this moment.
Isla kicked out on the floor, hitting a shelf, and sending a cascade of boxes and packets tumbling down. And still she screamed, unintelligible.
Crouched down with her daughter, Michelle tried to get hold of Isla’s hands, met only with resistance. She tried to ignore the gaze of onlookers-- probably a fifty-fifty mix of scornful and sympathetic. Had she not been so desperate to put on a show of calm for her daughter, a brutal tongue lashing would have been in order. Sometimes holding back barbs was one of the hardest parts of parenting.
“NO-O-OO!” Isla hollered.
“Isla, I need you to use your words for me,” Michelle said loudly, as clear as she could manage over the continued noise. “Darling, I can’t understand when you’re screaming.”
The toddler continued to struggle.
“Look at me-- look at me! Look at Mommy, Isla….” She managed to get eye contact for a moment-- progress. “Sweetheart, can you take a big breath in?” She demonstrated, exaggerated for effect.
To Michelle’s sheer relief, Isla stopped screeching for long enough to take in a big gulp of air.
“That’s my girl! Aaand… breathe out.”
Isla did, but her tiny face immediately crumpled all over again.
“One more time for Mommy! Big breath in….”
As Isla calmed herself, that wildness in her eyes slowly flickered out, the more familiar sweet, happy toddler resurfacing from beneath it. Her hair was unkempt and falling out of her sparkling hair-clips, her cheeks were red and streaked with tears, but she was Michelle’s beloved baby peeking out from the hysteria.
“Well done, Isla! That’s it… that’s it….”
Isla’s sobs subsiding, she looked up into her mother’s face with a loud hiccough. “I want-- that-- hic-- one…. All a people getting toys. Why not that one, Mommy?”
“There’s a toy you want to show me?”
“Put a in a twoy for home.”
Michelle carefully remained calm, knowing just how easy it would be for the disgruntled toddler to tip back over the edge. But she sure as hell wasn’t putting any big sparkly toys in the trolley for home, no matter how bad of a migraine she might be risking. “Sweetheart, it’s very close to Christmas, do you know that? That’s why so many people are here buying toys.”
“We buy toys!”
“When we’re doing, our Christmas shopping, it’s even more fun to find special things for other people who we love.”
Isla took a sharp inhale, clearly gearing up for another lung-busting shriek.
Oh, no you don’t….
“Isla, why don’t you show me the really cool thing you found, and then we can see if you can find something extra special to wrap up and hide for Mama? What do you think Mama would like?”
“Pesent for Mama?” Isla queried, visibly rolling the concept over in her mind, weighing up whether it was an interesting enough prospect to ditch her tantrum to pursue. “For unna a twee?”
“That’s right.” Michelle replied, far more brightly than should have been possible for someone a hair’s breadth away from bursting into tears herself.
Fucking hell, child, don’t you make me have a breakdown in the middle of a goddamn Walmart. I am this close….
And then, as if by miracle, the storm passed and Isla stood up, bounced on the spot and smiled.
What. The fuck. Did I just perform an exorcism right now? Sure, no one witnesses that bit, just the screaming meltdown.
But rather than voicing her bemusement, Michelle held out her hand, immediately taken by her little Isla, now grinning from ear to ear even as tear streaks still lined her face.
Isla looked up at her, all puffy eyes and smiles. “Mommy we find dowfins for Mama!”
“That’s a really good idea, Isla, we’ll see what we can find with dolphins-- Mama would really like that.”
So, it wasn’t exactly going to be a quick and easy shopping trip. If it meant the tantrums could be kept at bay, Michelle would take it but honestly… it would be the dolphin-treasure-hunting detours that she knew she’d hang onto forever. But she’d be damned if she wouldn’t remember that exorcising trick as well.
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USA, 2031
“Well,” Quinn said with an exhale as she sat down beside her mother, “it’s not come back, baby’s fine, and the doctor is pretty convinced I’m not sick at all.”
“Oh, Quinnie, thank goodness!” Fiona Kelly took her daughter in her arms and held her. “I knew, but… god, the places your mind goes to….”
Quinn knew those places all too well. She’d been ‘cured’ before, only to have her symptoms return. How could she possibly reassure her mother that it was different now, that what happened on La Huerta had permanently taken any trace of the condition from her body, when she herself felt utter dread every time she developed the smallest sniffle? She should have known morning sickness would be a nightmare for her.
“I’m just… ‘burnt at both ends’ is what the doctor called it. I told her everything I had on my plate and she looked at me like I was mad! I known Michelle tells me I take on too much, but I just tend to, you know, laugh it off. As if she can talk!”
“It’s hardly surprising, sweetpea. I remember the first time-- when we thought that experimental treatment had worked-- you spent every day trying to cram as much in as you possibly could in case the chance to do those things would never come again.”
Isla came skipping into the room, draped in a very pink, very sparkly number, something put together enthusiastically from her mountain of dress-ups. “Grandma, do you like my dress?”
Fiona beamed at the little girl. “It’s very pretty, Isla. Can you give us a twirl?”
As if that even needed asking. Isla turned in a flourishing pirouette, laughing. That tinkling laugh warmed Quinn’s heart and her soul. It was confronting to see just what innocence she’d have had when she herself was that age… before everything changed. It made it all the more precious. Yes, she’d taken on a lot, but nothing would come before making sure her little daughter had the easy, carefree childhood she hadn’t had. The kind she’d seen on television. In the kids playing in the streets on their bicycles-- with friends.
“I guess I never saw the things I have on my plate as ‘work’; it’s things I love. And I suppose that was enough until I went and put a pregnancy into the equation.”
Isla leaned up against her mother’s knees and looked up at Fiona. “Do you know the little, little baby in Mama’s tummy? It’s my brother or my sister.”
“I know!” Fiona gushed. “It’s very exciting. The baby in Mama’s tummy is going to be my grandbaby, so then I’ll have two! Isn’t that lucky!”
“I want it to be called ‘Pie’,” Isla said, deadly serious. “Pie is good. Spessolly the one we had when Bà came to our house for dinner.”
“I guess… ‘Pie Nguyen-Kelly’ has a unique kind of ring to it. We’ll have to talk to Mummy about that,” Quinn said diplomatically, trying not to laugh at the thought of the look on Michelle’s face should such a name be proposed. “But we have lots of time still. We’re probably going to think of lots of really nice names before we all decide together.”
Now, Isla was all but climbing into Quinn’s lap, nuzzling up like a puppy wanting pats. “I think the baby should be called ‘Pie’ or ‘Glitter’… or ‘Cuddles’.”
Quinn squeezed her and kissed her hair. The giggles were exactly what she needed after the doctor’s visit… and being given the realisation that something had to give. It would not be Isla. Already, Quinn had found herself being uncharacteristically sharp with the headstrong little girl, and it left her feeling sick with guilt even after apologies were said.
Fiona met her daughter’s eye, knowing. “You’ve poured so much into the foundation; no one would think ill of you taking a step back to have some more ‘mom time’. Besides… I think we both know your dad would absolutely throw himself into keeping things ticking over.”
“Yeah… I do know that,” Quinn said, and she found herself sniffing back tears.
“Mama, are you sad? Do you need to be kissed better?” Isla contorted herself so that she was fully bent over, twisted to look up into her mother’s face.
Baby, you are an actual angel.
“Don’t you worry-- Mama’s just fine,” Quinn reassured. “I’ve just realised that I have all the time in the world to do all the things I want to do. I’m going to have more fun and be less worried--”
“--and put your feet up and relax once in a while,” Fiona added for her. “For your own good, and Michelle’s, and Isla’s… and baby Cuddles.”
Isla’s eyes grew wide. “You think we should call it ‘Cuddles’?”
Fiona chuckled. “It’s got my vote so far. We’re a cuddly family!” She squeezed Quinn’s knee. “The foundation, ‘For Goodness’ Cake’, this little lady, and a pregnancy? Darling, you’re so very special, but you’re not a superhero.”
If only she knew…. But this was now, and Quinn had to admit the truth. Time to come up for air… and trust that she wasn’t fighting a ticking clock.
“I think Mama’s a superhero!” Isla loudly announced.
And that, Quinn knew, was the reason why.
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USA, February 2027
It was so easy. Easier than either of them had braced themselves for. Isla took her carefully measured amount of formula, burped on cue, and was now sleeping soundly in her bassinet while her mothers looked on, entranced.
Michelle rested her head on Quinn’s shoulder. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel so much at once. I’m so full of love right now, but the sadness is just… just stifling.” She sniffed. “I’m just so damn grateful Jen got to hold her. What a piss-poor consolation! But she almost didn’t even have that. It’s just fucking bullshit.”
Quinn looked at the tiny child in the crib, a little life already touched by Rotterdam’s, watching the rise and fall of her chest. They already knew that Isla didn’t have the condition, for Jen had insisted on screening in utero before deciding to go ahead with the pregnancy. Quinn understood completely, even as questions of ‘what if’s were stirred up in her. Isla couldn’t be shielded from what she’d lost though, and it sent an ache down to Quinn’s heart. How was it fair that the Island’s Heart had let her live, while others suffered and died of the same condition? This little angel might be sleeping soundly beside her real mother right now….
“I feel ashamed for being happy to have her, because I can’t separate it from how we have her,” Quinn said. “It really is just… love. Bittersweet and absolutely enormous. It reminds me-- this is going to sound stupid--” she added apologetically, but Michelle gestured for her to go on. “It reminds me of when the Island Heart was influencing me-- not when I was fully possessed-- but when there was something so strong, I could feel it filling me up from top to toe, and every inch of me could feel it. This love is like that. And that,” she chuckled softly, “kinda reminds me of our wedding day, only that was so much easier, no conflict, just pure joy.”
Michelle nodded, thoughtful. The poor child wouldn’t be looked on as something bittersweet forever, would she? Jen had no regrets, had been so proud of the little bundle of baby that had been placed in her arms, she reminded herself, so maybe everyone else would be able to look at things in a similar way. In time.
“Chellie…?” Quinn breathed. “How the hell do I ever tell her that something from beyond this world saved me, but couldn’t save her real mom?” The ‘r’ word slipped out before she could help it and she felt Michelle wince beside her. “God, sorry! I know I shouldn’t say that. We’re her moms too… I’m just so scared. It’s the most selfish thing; worrying that she’ll wish she didn’t have us at all, and she had Jen instead. I had the whole pregnancy to work through those stupid worries, but it turns out they’re not going anywhere.”
Michelle gave her wife a sympathetic look. She got it. She might not have the guilt Quinn felt over being cured, but she sure knew a thing or two about dreading that she’d be a let down to the daughter she already loved as her own.
“I think… worrying that she’ll resent us comes with the territory.” She reached into the crib and gently stroked the baby’s fine hair. “It absolutely breaks my heart that she’ll never meet her other mom, who loved her so much. I can’t see how that won’t be tough on her.”
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USA, 2034
Seven-year-old Isla sat at the kitchen bar, playing despondently with the last remnants of her breakfast. She knew her Mama, Quinn, had been keeping a close eye on her, noticing that she hadn’t quite been herself. Isla didn’t want her mom to worry. So, she braved the question. A big one. Perhaps the scariest of them all.
“Mama?” Isla asked quietly, her sparkling eyes slightly glazed over. “I- I’ve been thinking. And… wondering a bit.”
“Yeah? You do seem like you’ve been lost in thought these past couple of days. Has something been troubling you?”
Quinn nudged very gently, balancing out the need to show genuine interest in what was on her daughter’s mind, with the need to make sure no pressure was being exerted. She seemed to have a knack for it; Isla had always been very forthcoming-- sharing everything from troubles with her math homework, to social drama from the schoolyard, to those big worries about whether Mama might get sick with Rotterdam’s again and die just like Tummy Mom Jen did.
Isla looked down into her bowl as she spoke. “You and Mom… do you… do you think you would love me more if I was your own actual kid? Like… like Conor is.”
“Isla…,” Quinn said gently, and she came around the counter to put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Come sit down with me on the couch.”
They sat down together, little Isla hunched over herself, perched at the edge of the seat, while Quinn kept an arm around her, never letting the reassuring touch slip.
“You’re my daughter, sweetheart. You’re Mom’s daughter. Baby, you are our actual kid.”
“But-- but I’m not!”
“Y-you know love… it doesn’t really care about things like how you’re related. I love you for all the time we’ve spent together-- all the times you see I’m sad and you grab me a tissue and snuggle me until I’m smiling again. I’m really, really lucky you know. I have you, and I have Mr Con. I was just as excited to meet you as I was to meet him-- and just as nervous! I wanted to get everything right, and make you feel happy, and make you feel just how much I loved you. And from the moment you were born… I just love you so much it feels my heart isn’t even big enough to hold it all.”
Isla snuggled in, sniffling. “I’m sorry….”
“Darling, it’s okay! It’s natural to worry about things like that. You probably don’t know this, but Mom used to be worried that Conor wouldn’t love her as much as he loves me, because they weren’t related either.”
“What? But Conor loves Mom! He thinks Mom’s the best thing ever! I think he wants to be just like her when he grows up.”
“Exactly. These worries we have… they’re normal to have, but it doesn’t mean what we’re worried about is true at all.”
“So… so I didn’t hurt your feelings? I know you love me, I just wondered… if it was different, you know?”
“Of course not, angel.” Quinn kissed the top of Isla’s head with a loud ‘mwah!’. “It’s my job to put those little fears to rest-- you don’t deserve to have those worries hurting you, okay? You’re my special girl. The specialest.”
“That’s not even a word, Mama!”
Quinn squeezed her tightly, tight enough that there could never be any doubt of the love there. “Doesn’t matter, it’s still what you are!” She gave Isla another big kiss, and stroked her rosy cheek. “Tummy Mom Jen wold have said so too. She loved you so much, babe. Even when she was very sick, and very scared, knowing she was bringing you into the world made her feel brave.”
Isla looked up at her mom, big eyes watery. “It’s not fair that she died. I wish I could meet her. And give her her Mother’s Day card in person instead of putting it in the fire to go to heaven. We would be a really nice family.”
“We really would be. She’d be as proud of you as me and Mom are-- actually, I’m sure she is, wherever she’s looking down from.”
Sniffing, Isla gave a slow nod of the head. Quinn gently rubbed her arm, comforting her.
“Hey-- I wanted to bake some special cupcakes for Mom to celebrate this new job. Do you think you could help me out with the decorating? You do always manage to get them just the right amount of sparkly.”
The edge of Isla’s mouth twitched, a smile threatening to burst forth. That was a cheering-up activity if ever she heard of one. “W-we… um, we could decorate them like brains and stethoscopes, ‘cause Mom’s a brain doctor.”
“Not glittery-sparkly decorations? Are you trying something new, Isla?”
“I can make brain and doctor cupcakes glittery-sparkly. So they’re extra special for Mom. Do you think she’d like that?”
“Sweetie, she’d love that.”
Little Conor’s ears must have been burning, for he came toddling over from the rug on across the room where he’d been playing with building blocks, eyes wide.
“We a making steffyscup cakes?”
“We sure are, kiddo!” Quinn said, standing up and scooping her small son into her arms. At only three, Conor could only do so much to help in the kitchen, but there was no way she’d have him miss out on cupcake fun. Cupcake fun was her specialty. “I’m gonna need you each to pick out a really yummy flavour, something you think Mom will like.”
“I fink mud.”
“That’s gross! Mama! Mom does not like mud.”
“Okay, how about chocolate for Con?” Quinn could have burst out laughing at the look on Conor’s face; he clearly hadn’t considered that chocolate might have been rather yummier, but he was very suggestible to the idea. “And what do you think, La-la? It can be anything you like, even if it means we need a quick run to the shops.”
Still needy, Isla clasped Quinn’s hand and buried her face against her. “I want them sprinkles and glitter and strawberry,” she mumbled. “Really pretty for Mommy so she knows we love her.”
While Conor ran to grab his shoes, eager as he was to get some sweet treats happening, Isla hung back, still hugging Quinn’s waist.
Quinn crouched down to talk to her little girl and spoke to her softly.
“Isla? I’ve been thinking, sweetheart. It’s been a little while since we took you to Tummy Mom Jen’s grave… do you think you might like to go sometime to talk to her?”
“I would really, really, really like that, Mama,” Isla replied, a little muffled by her thumb and finger in her mouth-- a nervous habit. “Can we… can we go with Mommy, too? I want all my moms at the same time.”
Quinn cradled Isla’s head and kissed her. “Of course, baby. And you’ll always have us.”
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San Trobida, 2036
Isla absolutely loved it there. ‘The Star of San Trobida’. It wasn’t the biggest holiday resort she’d ever stayed at, nor the fanciest, but it was the only one she knew that had forests up the walls and roofs outside and a beach and two pools and-- this was probably the best bit-- some of her La Huerta family around the place. She’d had to write about the family holiday to San Trobida for school, which had been pretty fun. Aleister was excited to be interviewed by her about the hotel and all its innovations in sustainability, and how it was helping put the small country on the international tourism map after years of civil war. Isla had interviewed Estela was well. She hadn’t gushed on nearly so much, but Isla got the impression she too was very, very proud of what Catalyst International had achieved.
So, when the nine-year-old woke up on the morning of her birthday-- and the last before they returned to their usual accommodation at the Hall’s place in Valle Brava-- she realised she wasn’t quite done with documenting her adventures. Did New Year’s resolutions only count at the beginning of the calendar year, or did birthdays count as a new year? Because she had a plan to start something fun.
“If I kept writing about our holiday-- not just the five-hundred words Mrs Mason wanted-- could I, like, print it off to keep? And then I could keep writing about all the exciting things we do all year!”
“That’s a really nice idea, Isla,” Quinn said brightly from the ensuite, where she was brushing her hair.
Michelle took a little longer to perk up of a morning, certainly before anything caffeinated had been administered, but she gave her daughter a warm-- if tired-- smile. “You really enjoyed that little piece of homework didn’t you?”
“It didn’t even feel like homework, which was weird,” Isla said. “Writing is kinda fun when you can write about stuff you care about. I wanted to do a travel journal for ages, but most of our holidays are to places that are too secret.”
“I know, baby,” Quinn said, sticking her head around the door frame. “But if you want to write about La Huerta, you can always keep a journal in our house over there? We can keep important things secret and still have fun, yeah?”
That gave Isla another idea. “If I write a load of stuff about going to San Trobida, I could take a few copies to La Huerta to give to my friends, like Talauet, and Zhaali, and Ashala. They can’t go and visit different places like this on their own!”
She jabbered excitedly, legs swinging off the side of the plush hotel bed, confident that her mothers were hanging on her every word. “And I know they can read English pretty well, but it would be nicer I think if Diego could help me out with translating into Vaanti-- and I could put photos with it and everything! Is it okay if I use the family tablet to write it all and to take pictures? I swear I won’t like… drop it in the sea or something.”
Quinn felt her heart swell at the passion in her daughter’s voice. “Just make sure it’s got the heavy duty case on. We all know it’ll end up in Conor’s hands at some point--”
“--and he’ll definitely drop it?” Isla finished, clearly knowing her younger brother’s points of weakness.
“He will definitely drop it,” Michelle attested, not bothering to hide a shudder. She loved her boy to absolute pieces, but that didn’t mean his tendency to crash through life wasn’t exhausting at times. She fished the tablet-- already sporting a few dings-- from the bedside drawer. “While we’re here, why don’t you start with taking some pictures of the hotel?”
Isla jauntily crawled up the bed on all fours, then knelt up to put her arms around Michelle. “D’you wanna be in the pictures?”
“Not until I’ve fixed my hair, thank you,” she replied, wicked-fast, making her daughter giggle.
“Okay! I think you’re always beautiful, but you can say when you think you’re beautiful enough for pictures.”
Quinn caught Michelle’s eye, her gaze brimming with adoration. It still made Michelle’s stomach flip, make her feel her strongest self. Actually-- why not capture these moments, messy and real as they were? This was her little girl’s ninth birthday, and these moments would never be had again.
“Screw it!” she said, and again, her giggly girl laughed, light and free. “If my bed hair’s on this holiday with us, it gets to be in the photos. We’d better grab Conor, though-- his PB&J face needs to be captured as well!”
Perfect was them like this, open and honest… a family.
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USA, February 2027
“Have you looked at your phone in a while?” Michelle called from the lounge. “Mine’s just about blowing up with messages. Zahra says, ‘congrats, happy for us, but not to take that as any sign that she wants to babysit ‘it’’. Aaaand separate text from Craig asking to babysit if we ever need it. Yeah, don’t think that’s happening.”
Quinn burst out laughing. It was wonderfully grounding to hear from their friends. This whole rollercoaster of hospitals, adoption, loss, and bringing home the baby left her feeling as though she was existing in a whole different world to everyone around her. While only Michelle was in the thick of it with her, the outpouring from family no matter how far away left her knowing that they weren’t going through it all alone. She joined Michelle and sat down beside her on the sofa.
“Poor Craig,” she chuckled. “I think he might just have to wait until bubba’s old enough to not be a Zahra repellent. I’m pretty sure she’ll want to hold a baby when hell freezes over.”
“Nice long text from Taylor, as if we’d expect anything else….”
Quinn took the phone and read, soon finding her face aching with a smile.
‘Don’t worry, not gonna try and get a conversation out of you-- just dropping a line to let you all (!) know that we’re thinking of you and we love you. Liv has been asking about baby Isla all day! Anyway, we’ve sent you an Uber Eats gift card for the likely event that you’re too exhausted to even think about cooking. Check your emails! I think Stel sent it to Michelle’s but not sure. Love you guys SO MUCH, over the moon for you and can’t wait to meet your gorgeous girl. Just know that we can be right there if you need anything at all, okay? Also, don’t freak out about replying to this long message-- just enjoy a good meal and we’ll hear from you when we hear from you. Massive hugs and congratulations! T & E & L xx’
“Aw, that’s really sweet!” she said. “Not gonna lie, I’m this close to crying from relief that we don’t have to cook….”
“Oh my god, hard same!” Michelle exclaimed. “You would think med school would prepare you for tired, but nooooo, apparently there are depths of exhaustion I hadn’t plumbed yet. Different emotions I guess.” She selected another message. “Raj is crazy excited to get back into experimenting with baby purees.”
Then she read aloud the message from Sean and her eyes grew misty.
‘Hey guys, had to send you my massive congratulations. Isla is gorgeous, and no matter how hard things feel right now, she’s so damn lucky to be growing up with you two as moms. After all the talking about it for so long, it’s crazy to think she’s really coming home with you! I know it’s hard to reach out when you’re exhausted, but don’t you ever forget that I’m here for anything you need-- we all are. You are both absolutely amazing.’
Michelle wiped her face. “Wow. That one really hit me. I guess… after everything we went through, it means a lot.” She looked up to Quinn’s smiling eyes. “I’m gonna have to save all these. Pretty sure we’re gonna need to remember this feeling when things get tough.”
“Yes,” Quinn said, and she leaned in and softly kissed her wife’s lips. “And we’re gonna need to remember that we’re not doing this alone. Isla may not know it yet, but she’s got a big family who love her to pieces.”
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USA, 2038
Isla cried and cried and cried. Her slight body shook even as she buried it in Michelle’s arms… whatever comfort she gleaned didn’t take away the hurt like a knife to her chest.
White hot anger surged through Michelle’s body, engulfing her from head to toe. She knew this kind of ugliness all too well-- how utterly naiive to even dare hope that Isla might get through her childhood without being made a victim. What could she even do to help but be there for her?
Quinn came back to them on the couch, having seen that Conor was happy playing away in a sea of Legos on his bedroom floor. It was just as well, for Isla needed support. Of course, Quinn knew that kids could be cruel, but having been so socially deprived had made it a somewhat distant concept. Here and now, looking upon her sweet girl, all dressed up for a party after saving up for a new outfit specially, and so proud of the jewellery she’d spent hours hand-crafting as a gift for her best friend, only to be told-- texted of all things-- that she wasn’t invited after all, her spot taken by the popular new girl in their year… it was shocking, and it damn near broke Quinn’s heart.
“That’s it, my darling,” she cooed, rubbing a hand gently on Isla’s shaking arm. “You just cry it all out, okay? We’ve got you.”
She glanced up and met her wife’s eye. Michelle looked ready to punch someone. It wasn’t often Quinn felt that kind of anger, but with her daughter sobbing in her arms… she got it. What anger wouldn’t do, though, was help Isla.
Michelle, clearly taking great efforts to not let her fury affect Isla, rubbed her arm. “Hey… we know we can’t make up for what you’re missing out on, and that sucks. What we can do, babe, is give you a special night in; you choose the movies, you choose the snacks, and manicures are on me.”
Isla sniffed, her face crumpled. “But I don’t any friends. H-how sad do I have to be to have a party on my own?”
Quinn kissed her temple. “You’ve got us. And… hey!-- how about we see if Liv’s free? Friends still count as friends even if you’re hanging out down a video call.”
It didn’t seem likely to Isla that anyone would want to go out their way to keep her company when she felt like absolute crap, but she nodded, humouring her mom’s well-intentioned desire to make her feel better. But then, not a half hour later, she was talking to her special friend all the way in San Trobida.
“You don’t have to hang out with me if you don’t want to,” Isla said softly, apologetic, unaware that her shattered confidence and self-worth on full display brought her listening mothers close to tears. “It’s okay….”
On the tablet screen, Liv simply looked baffled. This wasn’t the self-important rather pushy Isla that she knew. “What? As if! We haven’t talked in ages. And, well, if you’ve had a shit time of it, I’m not letting you go until you feel at least a little better. You’ve bullied me into feeling happy enough times not for me to return the favour, you know.”
Isla’s lip quivered. “Thanks.”
“Do, uh,” Liv ventured, a little unsure, “do you want to talk about it?”
Isla hugged herself. “Not really, I’ll only start crying again and my face is puffy enough already.”
“Bet your Mom’s got something for that.”
“Yeah. Best part of being a sad sack is that Mom’ll break out the fanciest face cream to make me feel better. I know I don’t even need to use lotions or anything yet, but it makes me feel confident like Mom.” Even talking about it did something to perk Isla up. Her moms were going to spoil her rotten until she was feeling herself again; games and cupcakes and pampering would be the remedies of choice. “Well… basically,” she said, feeling braver, “what happened was Paisley ditched me for Alison again. Only this time it’s for her actual birthday party… that she invited me to months ago. So… so I pretty much don’t have any real friends.” Isla’s lip wobbled dangerously, and the lump in her throat was choking. She gave in, and the tears came once more. “I-it’s not fair! I never did-did anything to her except be her friend.”
“Oh, La, that really sucks. I’m so sorry. I wish I could just give you the biggest hug right now!”
Isla whimpered. “I wish you could too.” She trembled as she sat there. “Alison says it’s because I’m a-- because I’m bossy.” She couldn’t bring herself to repeat exactly what Alison had called her.
“But you’re good bossy,” Liv argued. “Whenever I hurt myself, you never leave me the hell alone until I get patched up. You barge in and take over whatever the twins are doing because you’re older and you want to make sure they know how to do things properly so they stay safe. And when everyone was first learning Erin’s new pronouns you gave the filthiest looks when anyone got it wrong. Fair sure it caught on so quick partly because everyone cared so much, and partly because no one wanted to incur your wrath. E felt so good to know you had her back-- you know you’ve always been one of her idols, right?”
Isla’s cheeks had gone quite pink. She scoffed, looking at her hands. “It doesn’t seem like anyone outside my La Huerta friends see it that way….”
“Then they’re dumbasses, and they’re missing out.”
“Yeah, but I’m missing out too. You try and survive middle school with no friends-- it’s bullshit!”
Even through the screen, the empathy in Liv’s face shone through. “I know. It really is horrible, and you don’t deserve any of it. I’ve been there… a lot. If you ever need to vent, you can throw me a message any time. Or even just to talk about any old crap. Don’t even worry about bothering me, okay? I always like to hear from you.”
“...Yeah?” Isla asked, uncharacteristically meek. Liv was a good deal older than her-- nearly fifteen and a real teenager-- and didn’t really need to waste her time with what must seem to her like a little kid. But Liv never let her feel like just a little kid, and right now, it was exactly what she needed.
“Yeah! I’m actually not doing too bad for friends here now, but I don’t have anyone who I’m really close to other than Reggie. I’ve always been a little on the outside. And yeah, it’s kinda shit, but it also makes the people who matter really stand out. You’ve always been one of them.”
Isla smiled and smiled, blushing from her cheeks to her ears to the back of her neck. “You’ll always be my friend too, Livi.” She took a shuddering exhale, a breath she didn’t realise she was holding, and knew she was fine. Somehow, the hurt in her heart was dulled. “Hey, do you wanna watch a movie with me? Do you like Labyrinth? It’s one of Mama’s favourites from when she was little and needed cheering up… and David Bowie in those tights cracks me up.”
“Ohmygod, yeeessss!” Liv cried. “As long as you don’t mind Mama Tay showing up in the background and singing along like the total dork she is. Oh! Oh, oh! We can get Reggie and the twins in on this too! Reggie’s a total nerdface… he’ll spend the whole time just studying the mechanics of the puppets and crapping on about the pain-staking detail. Anyway-- I can call them if you like?”
Actually… that sounded rather wonderful. Paisley could keep her shitty stuck-up party; Isla had better things to do and better friends to give her time. And by the sound of her mom’s car rolling up back in the driveway after a quick supply run, a bitchin’ pedicure soon to be had.
__________________________
USA, February 2027
A cry from the crib wrenched Quinn and Michelle from a too-brief kiss and embrace.
Quinn smiled against her wife’s lips. “I’ll take diaper duty if you get a bottle prepared?”
“Sounds like a deal.” Michelle kissed her once more, a quick peck before Isla’s cry grew louder, sharper. “Take turns?”
Quinn laughed softly. “That’s a plan!”
She went to little Isla and took her in her arms, hushing her and gently rocking her. Those whimpers were like a pull to her very heart, not unlike the feeling she had when tethered to the Island Heart. How Isla came to be in her care was irrelevant to it; she felt the love of a mother, and it was beautiful and all-encompassing.
As Quinn brought Isla out to the changing table and undid her diaper, she called out to Michelle; “We’ve got a lot of pee in here, but no poops! Did you catch the time for your records?”
“Thanks, babe!” Came the reply. “Yep, already got that sleep logged!”
One day in and Michelle was already big on tracking and managing ‘wake windows’, getting the very beginnings of a routine in place. Quinn went along with it, though she would have been perfectly happy keeping things a little more relaxed; if structure helped Michelle cope with the chaos that came with parenting a new baby, she’d take her lead.
She brought a clean and happy Isla through to Michelle and they all snuggled up together on the couch. Quinn passed the baby on and felt her heart swell as she watched Michelle feed her.
Michelle looked up and met Quinn’s warm smile. “This is terrifying. But… we’ve got this.” She gave a little laugh. “I’ll have to tell you when my year out’s done whether babies are better or worse for the stress levels than a medicine residency.”
Quinn chuckled appreciatively and leaned in close to kiss Michelle, feeling their sweet daughter safely nestled between them.
Yeah. We’ve got this. Little baby girl, you’d better brace yourself, because there’s gonna be a lot of love coming your way.
_________________________
Dark rings circled Jen’s eyes, even more noticeable now as her face hollowed. That deep tiredness, though, couldn’t hide the bright spark in her eyes when Quinn and Michelle sat down at her bedside with the news that they’d picked out a name for her approval.
“Right now,” Quinn said, nervous, for already she’d found herself attached to the name, “we’re pretty sure we want to go with ‘Isla Quy’. If you like it.”
“That’s pretty. I’m assuming ‘Quy’ is Vietnamese?”
Michelle nodded. “It means ‘precious’. My family has a tradition of using a Vietnamese name as a middle; I really wanted to carry that on. So, Isla Quy Nguyen-Kelly.”
Jen beamed. “I really, really like that. Our baby Isla.” She groaned, leaning into the pillow. “That helps. Her having a name. I’m glad you freaking finally decided on something; I was beginning to think I’d die with a nameless baby.”
“Not on our watch,” Michelle said. “You’re her mom; a name to call her is the least we can give you.”
For a little while, Jen was quiet, exhausted from even the exertion of a small happy thrill. It was bullshit.
“You wouldn’t believe the looks I get,” she said darkly, her voice a croak. “People don’t know what to say to a dying girl. Throw in a baby bump? I’m not sure what’s worse, the condescending pity or the scathing judgement.”
“They just don’t have a clue,” Quinn said. She’d seen those looks; they made her stomach clench. What people couldn’t understand, they’d sneer at; safe and detached, and condescending.
“Nah, they don’t. I mean, look at me. Deathbed at twenty. You’d think the world might have owed me something good, something that might make my shit-show of a life worthwhile? That’s what Isla is. Can’t I have that? My little girl living, laughing, loved and happy, long after I’m worm-food in the ground.”
“And she will be, you know. So, so loved.”
“You don’t expect kids to happen, not with Rotterdam’s. If it can’t be my miracle, I’m glad she’ll be yours. In a small way, it feels like I’m winning. Got to take those small victories.”
She rested a hand tenderly on her belly. It was likely she’d never know her child, but knowing the baby’s name made the little one so much more solid, real to her. The movements in her body were not some trick of an illness; they were Isla Quy Nguyen-Kelly.
As victories went, Isla wasn’t even a small one; she was everything.
To describe this fic in a single word: "D'awwwwww!"
To describe this fic in many words:
“So, what happens next? I’m guessing we sit down with Jen and have a conversation between the three of us.”
I am intrigued already! It's been a while since I read your Catalyst Family post, so any details about Isla will be quite new to me!
No, it wasn’t ‘trapped at the end of the world, everyone else is dead’ level, but bringing home your first child-- and one born in deeply emotional circumstances-- was certainly… a lot.
Well, that's certainly quite the comparison! Love the way you worded this, btw...
any visits would solely be by invitation, specifically if help was needed. No one, not even an eager Craig, was fool enough to come barging in when Michelle had put her foot down.
I have the best mental image of Craig arguing with Michelle about being allowed to come see! Unstoppable force meets immovable object, anyone?
She’d half expected some wrench to be thrown into their plans at the last minute-- some long-lost relative of the birth-mother show up and demand custody of the baby, or some adoption official swoop in and insist the baby would be better off in care. Or even a yeti take the baby as her own.
I mean, after La Huerta, even that last one isn't that implausible...
Isla’s birth mother, Jen, always to be acknowledged as one of three mothers as important of either of the remaining two, was dead. The strain of labour proved more than her frail body could handle, and Rotterdam’s took her after a lifetime of courageous fighting.
Oh. Wow. I definitely did not see that coming. I can't imagine that will be easy on Michelle or Quinn... or Isla herself, for that matter.
The scream reverberated all around her. It was everywhere, and it was everything. Years of medical training, of dealing with uncooperative patients, had prepared Michelle for this moment.
Brace yourself, Michelle... parenthood is coming.
And then, as if by miracle, the storm passed and Isla stood up, bounced on the spot and smiled.
What. The fuck. Did I just perform an exorcism right now? Sure, no one witnesses that bit, just the screaming meltdown.
Well, that's a talent I think every parent on Earth would like to learn! I just love the description of it as an "exorcism." XD
“Oh, Quinnie, thank goodness!” Fiona Kelly took her daughter in her arms and held her. “I knew, but… god, the places your mind goes to….”
Took me far too long to realize Fiona was Quinn's mother. Even though you explicitly stated it several times. Methinks my brain might just be a little slow tonight...
“I want it to be called ‘Pie’,” Isla said, deadly serious. “Pie is good. Spessolly the one we had when Bà came to our house for dinner.”
“I guess… ‘Pie Nguyen-Kelly’ has a unique kind of ring to it. We’ll have to talk to Mummy about that,” Quinn said diplomatically, trying not to laugh at the thought of the look on Michelle’s face should such a name be proposed.
OMG. I can only imagine Michelle's reaction! Bahahaha!
“The foundation, ‘For Goodness’ Cake’, this little lady, and a pregnancy? Darling, you’re so very special, but you’re not a superhero.”
If only she knew…. But this was now, and Quinn had to admit the truth. Time to come up for air… and trust that she wasn’t fighting a ticking clock.
“I think Mama’s a superhero!” Isla loudly announced.
And that, Quinn knew, was the reason why.
D'awwww. Again.
Isla couldn’t be shielded from what she’d lost though, and it sent an ache down to Quinn’s heart. How was it fair that the Island’s Heart had let her live, while others suffered and died of the same condition? This little angel might be sleeping soundly beside her real mother right now….
Nope. Quinn, you stop that guilty talk right now, you hear me? Right now! You and Michelle and Isla deserve happiness, dammit!
Isla looked down into her bowl as she spoke. “You and Mom… do you… do you think you would love me more if I was your own actual kid? Like… like Conor is.”
And now my heart is breaking. :( Isla, you shouldn't even need to ask that question! Both your mothers love you just as much as anyone, I'm certain!
She gave Isla another big kiss, and stroked her rosy cheek. “Tummy Mom Jen wold have said so too. She loved you so much, babe. Even when she was very sick, and very scared, knowing she was bringing you into the world made her feel brave.”
Isla looked up at her mom, big eyes watery. “It’s not fair that she died. I wish I could meet her. And give her her Mother’s Day card in person instead of putting it in the fire to go to heaven. We would be a really nice family.”
“We really would be. She’d be as proud of you as me and Mom are-- actually, I’m sure she is, wherever she’s looking down from.”
Alright, who's cutting onions in here? Because my eyes are watering something awful...
Aleister was excited to be interviewed by her about the hotel and all its innovations in sustainability, and how it was helping put the small country on the international tourism map after years of civil war. Isla had interviewed Estela was well. She hadn’t gushed on nearly so much, but Isla got the impression she too was very, very proud of what Catalyst International had achieved.
ESTELA!!!! ...Sorry, I just see the name and get excited. What can I say? *shrugs*
She jabbered excitedly, legs swinging off the side of the plush hotel bed, confident that her mothers were hanging on her every word. “And I know they can read English pretty well, but it would be nicer I think if Diego could help me out with translating into Vaanti-- and I could put photos with it and everything! Is it okay if I use the family tablet to write it all and to take pictures? I swear I won’t like… drop it in the sea or something.”
I love this so, so much. Just the idea of little Isla learning the Vaanti language well enough to help Diego translate her writings, it's so adorable and perfect!
Zahra says, ‘congrats, happy for us, but not to take that as any sign that she wants to babysit ‘it’’. Aaaand separate text from Craig asking to babysit if we ever need it. Yeah, don’t think that’s happening.”
XDDDDDDDD. That is all.
‘Don’t worry, not gonna try and get a conversation out of you-- just dropping a line to let you all (!) know that we’re thinking of you and we love you. Liv has been asking about baby Isla all day! Anyway, we’ve sent you an Uber Eats gift card for the likely event that you’re too exhausted to even think about cooking. Check your emails! I think Stel sent it to Michelle’s but not sure. Love you guys SO MUCH, over the moon for you and can’t wait to meet your gorgeous girl. Just know that we can be right there if you need anything at all, okay? Also, don’t freak out about replying to this long message-- just enjoy a good meal and we’ll hear from you when we hear from you. Massive hugs and congratulations! T & E & L xx’
“Aw, that’s really sweet!” she said. “Not gonna lie, I’m this close to crying from relief that we don’t have to cook….”
TAYSTELA!!! ...Sorry, I just see them and get excited. Again.
Isla sniffed, her face crumpled. “But I don’t any friends. H-how sad do I have to be to have a party on my own?”
Quinn kissed her temple. “You’ve got us. And… hey!-- how about we see if Liv’s free? Friends still count as friends even if you’re hanging out down a video call.”
Brilliant idea, Quinn. See, Isla? Your moms and the whole big Catalyst family all love you, no matter what happens!
“You don’t have to hang out with me if you don’t want to,” Isla said softly, apologetic, unaware that her shattered confidence and self-worth on full display brought her listening mothers close to tears. “It’s okay….”
On the tablet screen, Liv simply looked baffled. This wasn’t the self-important rather pushy Isla that she knew. “What? As if! We haven’t talked in ages. And, well, if you’ve had a shit time of it, I’m not letting you go until you feel at least a little better. You’ve bullied me into feeling happy enough times not for me to return the favour, you know.”
That's Liv, all right. I really, really love this whole interaction between the two of them! It's such a fun dynamic to read (and probably also to write, I'd imagine!)
“Thanks, babe!” Came the reply. “Yep, already got that sleep logged!”
She rested a hand tenderly on her belly. It was likely she’d never know her child, but knowing the baby’s name made the little one so much more solid, real to her. The movements in her body were not some trick of an illness; they were Isla Quy Nguyen-Kelly.
As victories went, Isla wasn’t even a small one; she was everything.
And now I'm sad-smiling; the perfect way to end this wonderful and emotional look into the story of little Isla. This was a lot of fun to read! I really love all the little details you've put into both Michelle and Quinn's reactions to becoming new mothers, as well as the flash-forwards to Isla (and especially her interactions with Liv! That was fun 😁)
As much as I will always encourage more Taystela content, I wouldn't mind another fic or two (or ten, haha) looking into the life of the Quinnchelle family! Keep up the amazing work!
