{TUA One-Shots}

A Mother's Love

Description: Grace Hargreeves loves her children.

...

Five Hargreeves was only four years old when he found himself creeping through the drafty mansion, the creaky floors cold against his bare feet. He eventually found his way to Grace's sitting area, peeking nervously around the corner. He absently chewed on his fingers, his newly erupted teeth still painful as they worked their way into place.

Grace wasn't charging, she was just sitting down and enjoying the paintings, silently dreaming of all the places she could go or take the children one day. She caught sight of Five almost immediately, a gentle smile pulling at her red lips as she turned to look at him. She motioned for him to come sit and he did, albeit a little anxiously because he knew he wasn't supposed to be up.

"Bedtime was at 10:30 PM, what are you still doing awake, dear?" She asked gently, her hand carding lightly through his soft hair.

Five seemed to struggle with the answer, his hands fidgeting in his lap and his baby teeth tugging on his lip. "I—" he began but cut off, his breaths a little uneven.

"I can't sleep," he eventually managed to get out, his voice sounding small even for him. "I was in bed but then I started thinking about training tomorrow and—and—" his voice fizzled out, shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

"I see," Grace said quietly, a note of understanding in her tone.

A beat of silence passed.

"Do you know what I think always helps when you can't sleep?"

Five turned his head at that and looked at her curiously, doe eyes wide and imploring in the soft light.

"Hot chocolate," she spoke with a smile and Five immediately lit up.

However, he quickly deflated. "But I thought I wasn't supposed to have sugar after 8:00..." He sounded sad as he tugged at the hem of his shirt and twisted it around his finger.

"It'll be our little secret," she replied with a wink.

Five beamed as he launched himself into her arms.

Grace laughed and picked him up before making her way to the kitchen. She set to work preparing the hot chocolate, all the while keeping him balanced on her hip. He laid his head on her shoulder a few times, a quiet yawn escaping his chest.

Once finished, she took him back to bed and tucked him in, laying his spaceship blanket out on top of his comforter as he settled in with the steaming mug of cocoa. Grace sat down in the chair next to his bed and watched as he leaned over the mug and blew on it, his breath making ripples in the milk.

"Can—can you tell me the story?" Five asked after a moment, a thin ring of chocolate smeared on his upper lip. "The one about the baby monkey that went to space?"

"Of course," Grace answered fondly before diving right into the story that she wasn't entirely sure how she knew.

It wasn't long before Five's mug was empty and he was slumped back against his pillows. Grace took the cup from his loose grip and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. She simply sat on the edge of his bed for a moment or two, lightly combing his hair with her fingers.

She kissed him goodnight, painfully unaware that there would come a day very soon when she could no longer do that. There would be no more secret mugs of cocoa, no more special bedtime stories, and no more of the endearingly rambunctious little boy that she had come to love so.

Little does she know, she will stand at the mantlepiece, look at his portrait, and gently trace the outlines of his face. Her circuits will all but ache and she will silently anguish over the fact that she is incapable of weeping for the little one that she has lost. She will keep his room in pristine condition, always waiting for him to return. Sometimes, at night, she will sit silently and hug the little blanket that he used to love so much to her chest, wishing that it was him instead.

Then one day, one day when Reginald Hargreeves is gone and her circuits are not what they used to be, Grace will see him again. He will look exactly like he did the day he left. She won't care how much older he claims to be or how many people he says he's killed or anything else for that matter. All that she will know is that her little boy is finally home again.

She will take his face in her hands and look at him for a moment, wiping away the tear that he'll deny ever having shed. Then, she will pull him in for a long-overdue hug.

He won't fight it.