Love Is A Battlefield (Alan Wilder x Martin Gore)

3: Mercy In You

Three days later, March 28th, 1:06am, the bedroom:

All was quiet. The white noise that punctured the silence was muffled by the pitter-patter of raindrops on the Wilder roof. The family slept at ease and it was only when the rain began to quiet that the white noise too faded away.

But something was keeping Esme awake. She had an unfamiliar feeling in her stomach. As though a herd of butterflies were racing around inside of her. It was unlike any other feeling she had ever felt and she couldn't decipher what exactly it was. She didn't feel frightened, nor anxious. But she just couldn't seem to fall asleep, so she made the decision to slip herself out from under her covers and tiptoe along the passageway in the direction of her parents' bedroom.

Upon entering, she was met with complete darkness and an inability to see anything aside from the moon that was visibly peeking through the cracked curtains. Her bare feet made no sound against the carpet as she began slowly infiltrating further and further into the room, eventually reaching the left, window side, where she noticed a familiar sight of profound blonde curls. She knew who they belonged to and so she let her hand sink into the duvet, shaking it gently as an attempt to wake up Martin.

It worked. Rolling over, Martin drowsily rubbed his eye with one hand and used the other to switch on the lamp.

"Are you alright, Esme, baby?" He asked softly.

"I'm sowwy, Papa. I didn't wannuh wake you up." His daughter shrugged back.

"No need to worry, sweetheart; what's up?" He assured her and asked a second time.

"I can't sleep. My tummy,"

"What about it?" Martin continued to inquire as he lifted her onto the bed.

"It feels funny. Like it's tickling me." She tried to explain the feeling, although it was of great difficulty because she had never had to explain such feeling before.

"Does it hurt or anything?"

"No... It just feels weally funny." She rubbed her stomach in response.

"Well, that's good that it doesn't hurt. Uhh," Martin stopped and thought.

Esme was a happy girl. His happy girl. Outgoing and sociable just like him, unlike her sister who was more timid and introverted, just like Alan.

"I think you might be just feeling lots of excitement and it's gone to your tummy." He finally said. "It's nothing to be worried about. It's happened to Papa and Daddy too, especially before going onto one of those big stages. People say it feels like butterflies - isn't that funny?" The two of them shared a giggle.

"But... I don't actually have butterflies in my tummy, do I, Papa?" Esme's face fell to one of concern.

"Ohh, of course not!" She was assured again. "It just feels similar to how it would if you decided to have butterflies for tea." Her father made her laugh to ease her worry.

"Eurgh, butterflies would taste yucky!"

"They sure would. And you'd better not get any ideas, little miss." He gave her a humorous glare before lifting her back off of the bed. "Right, darling, Papa's gonna get you back to bed now - it's very very late and you need your beauty sleep. Uncle Dave will be here in the morning to help us pack everything in the car; we've got to be up on time for him."

"Okay, Papa..." Esme was beginning to become drowsy herself.

Letting out a yawn and giving a stretch, she allowed her father to take her into his arms. He carried her back to she and Poppi's bedroom, placing her into bed and pulling her turquoise, penguin printed duvet covers over her. As soon as her head came into contact with her pillow, she was instantly fast asleep.

~~~~~
Seven hours later, 8:35am, the dining room:

Martin hurried around their house interior, trying to ensure nothing would be forgotten when they were to leave for the airport in the early afternoon. Meanwhile, his daughters and husband sat at the dining room table eating their breakfast. As she took mouthfuls of cereal, Poppi examined the contents of her passport. She had never seen its inside before.

"Daddy, who is this a photo of?" She asked, pushing the book towards her father so he could look.

The photograph visible looked like an infant of only five or six months, thus Poppi was confused as to who it was.

"That's you, Poppet!" Alan replied, floodgates of memories of a time when his eldest daughter was that petite opening.

"Don't be silly, Daddy!" His daughter laughed back. "Looks nothing like me! She doesn't have much hair, and look at all this!" She ran both hands through her long, thick, curly hair.

"I know, darling, but it's not often that babies do have much hair. Daddy had none when he was a baby." He chuckled, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose. "See, the name underneath says Miss Poppi L. Wilder. Date of photograph capture, 17/05/1987. That little baby is definitely you."

Poppi took the passport back and looked at her past self. She smiled, looking into her own eyes. The same brown sugar eyes that still belonged to her in the present. The baby in the photograph did look like her after all.

It was whilst Esme was looking at her own passport with Alan that a knock sounded off in the porch area.

"That'll be Uncle Dave, girls!" Martin called out, going to answer the door.

He entered the dining room accompanied by Dave within brief minutes. Both girls had finished eating and had the same idea of rushing over to him and hugging him tightly.

"Hi, my gorgeous girlies." He giggled, lovingly rubbing their backs.

"Uncl' Dave, we get aire-plane today!" Esme beamed excitedly, twiddling her fingers in her uncle's long hair.

The same feeling remained in her stomach but, now that she knew what it was, it no longer bothered her.

"We are indeed, Mae-Mae! I see you've both just finished your breakfast."

"Papa says we can't travel on empty stomachs." Poppi replied whilst wiping her mouth clean of leftover milk residue and smiling at Martin.

"Papa's right about that. You shouldn't be like me and skip breakfast all the time." Dave's cheeks blushed in slight embarrassment.

"Alright, girls, your dad's gonna get you both dressed whilst Uncle Dave and I start packing the car. That'll leave you with some time to play before we leave later. How's that sound?" Martin quickly changed the subject, giggling and patting Dave's shoulder.

"Sounds good to me!" Poppi nodded her head with a pearly white smile, and her younger sister nodded in agreement.

They then rushed upstairs to their bedroom at a speed too fast for their father to keep up with, humming and giggling.

"Here we go again," Alan murmured to himself as he made his way up the stairs.

It was only just beginning.