Sunshine

Of Grief and Housecats

Izumi Curtis had suffered under a darkened cloud of guilt for many years. Her troubles went far beyond those of a woman saddened by infertility and wounded by the grief of birthing a still child. She was scarred by experiences more horrid and terrifying than the two experiences that were known to scar the strongest of women for life. Her child died, yes, but even the cold feeling of holding a still and lifeless child in her arms was better than the outcome of her grief driven alchemy. Watching a bloody mass of skin and bones writhe in the center of the circle that was supposed to resurrect her child made her heart burn colder than the death before her. Her darling boy was lost to her--once to death, and now to Truth.

Truth, she discovered, was more horrifying than death itself.

After her sacrosanct encounter with the universe she resigned herself to her fate. Izumi Curtis would be forever broken and childless.

Several years past. Izumi and Sig found some normalcy and emotional equilibrium as they threw themselves into building up the meat shop. Sig made a promise on the day their shop opened: they would find another way to have children in their lives. They didn't know what that meant yet--an adoption, a foster child, or maybe even a school for young alchemists. None of those dreams had come true as of yet. The pitter patter of small feet on the wooden floors was usually a stray cat who came in with the latest meat shipment. Of all the things Izumi had looked forward to in the experience of having a child, hearing that sound was one of them. It was a sound that signified life, but now it was a trigger for her horror. Izumi had to adopt a strict no-stray policy after she started having nightmares where her child rose up out of the alchemic circle and walked into her bedroom crying "Mama, why". Sig thought that having the little felines around would be a comfort. No. They would not replace the hole in their lives with stray cats. Even if she could see that Sig was subconsciously trying to find an outlet for his paternal affections, Izumi would not budge. He was the only reason she had let the stray situation go on for so long (and possibly dropped a few table scraps out the kitchen window in response to a particularly pathetic mewl).

So, when she was roused from her sleep by what sounded like a muffled whimper, she expected to hear the sounds of Sig dutifully shooing away yet another stray. But Sig was laying next to her, still sound asleep. Izumi sighed and turned to her side, away from the window. The stray would go away on its own, and if it didn't, Sig would take care of it. Izumi's eyelids drooped. Her consciousness faded into a landscape of troubled dreams. As she was pulled into sleep, sillouettes of felines began to come into focus all around her. She was standing in the center of a crowd of them. They looked up at her with their big yellow eyes, mewling hungrily.

"I won't feed you, you know." she scolded them. The cat's eyes seemed to grow larger and the mewling turned into wails. Izumi scoffed. "You're pathetic. Grow some backbone you pussies. There's food in the next shop over--" she stopped and sucked in a shocked breath as the cats' wails and whimpers morphed into a child's cry.

She froze at the sound. There was hunger, sadness, and even biting anger in that cry.

"Izumi"

The cry cut through her and held her soul in place. Logically, she knew it was a dream. These were a bunch of goddamn stray cats! She felt a weight settle in her arms. There were no more cats now, but children: wailing, crying, and screaming as they reached towards her.

"Izumi"

But as she looked down towards the child that appeared in her arms, she knew that he would be still and silent... just as he was every time, in every dream.

"IZUMI"

"AAGH!" Izumi flailed violently as she jerked up in bed, whacking her husband across the face with a solid "THWACK" Breathing heavily, she whispered the usual reassurances to herself; she was awake... it wasn't real.

Sig let out a grunt andrubbed his nose, turning towards his wife with an anxious expression on his face.

"Izumi..." he began.

"Yeah, Sig, I know. I just had another baby dream and overreacted. Sorry if I..." But before she could continue Sig put his large hand gently on her shoulder. "No, Izumi." Izumi blinked at her husband. His tone was urgent, almost pleading.

"What, Sig? Did I do something else?" she searched his eyes, genuinley confused at his tone. "Did I scream or--"

"No, Izumi." Sig turned his head towards the window "Do you hear it?"

Izumi was becoming more puzzled by her husband's uncharacteristically desperate voice and flighty expressions. She was not a woman who enjoyed guessing games. Izumi Curtis did not tolerate subtlety. She was about to rebuke his ambiguity when his anxious look seemed to border panic. Sig Curtis was rarely ever anxious, rarely ever vague, and certainly never panicked. So, what could...?

The piercing cry of a child broke through her irritation. Images of blood, grief, anger, and pain sent a shock of adrenaline through her.

"No. It can't be."