Chapter Text
1992
“Slipping through my fingers all the time, I try to capture every minute; the feeling in it, slipping through my fingers all the time. Do I really see what’s in her mind? Each time I think I’m close to knowing she keeps on growing. Slipping through my fingers all the time.” -Slipping Through My Fingers,
ABBA
Maeve’s first day of school was a bit of a mess.
It started off well; Joe made her favourite breakfast (pancakes and strawberries) and she was bouncing in her chair, excitedly babbling about all the new things she was going to learn. She nagged Freddie rotten to do her hair up with her favourite pink ribbons and Jim was of the opinion that she was the prettiest little girl ever born. He may have been a bit biased.
Still, there was no denying she was adorable; small for her age with long black hair in a mess of tight waves and curls; olive skin (though paler than Freddie’s own) with rosy cheeks and big brown eyes, a smile just like Jim’s. She was currently wearing her school uniform with pride and her hair was held high with the pink ribbons.
It wasn’t until they had to leave her at her classroom that things got...emotional.
“Okay, darling, have a great day!” Freddie said brightly, though Jim could see his smile was strained. He held their daughter’s hands tightly and she beamed up at them both. It wasn’t until Freddie went to pull back that Maeve’s smile slipped. He could practically see the light bulb above her head flash to life as realisation crashed upon her: her dads were leaving. She was, for the first time ever, facing the day alone. No Freddie or Jim, no Joe or Phoebe; no Roger, Brian or Deacy; no Mary, no Anita, no Veronica. No grandparents and no Kashmira. Not even Miami would be with her.
She looked at the room full of strangers, looked at her parents and promptly burst into tears.
She wasn’t the only child crying, she wasn’t even crying that hard (one little boy was hyperventilating), but Freddie freaked out.
Jim was soon the only one not crying. Poor Maeve was sobbing and tears streaked down Freddie’s cheeks as he tried in vain to calm her down. The sight of Freddie crying only made things worse.
“I can’t go to school!” she wailed, looking at Jim beseechingly. “Papa’s crying, see? I have to stay home!”
“I’m fine,” Freddie lied, knuckling his eyes.
“I made you cry, I have to be grounded,” Maeve insisted. “Then I can stay home.”
“Sweetheart, you have to go to school.” Jim knelt down, broad hands on her skinny shoulders. “It’s the law.”
“The law’s dumb then.” She crossed her arms, pouting, stubbornly pretending she wasn’t crying. It was enough to rip Jim’s heart to shreds, but someone had to be responsible and that someone was clearly not his husband, who looked more than a little tempted to just bring Maeve home.
“The law is pretty silly,” Jim said with a smile. “But you have to follow it, Maevie-baby.”
“You do,” Freddie agreed (albeit reluctantly). He brushed a stray strand of her hair back, straightening one of the ribbons. “But think about it, darling, you’ll make lots of new friends, yes? And you get to learn a lot.” A smirk crossed his face. “This school has a library for you to go to.”
That did it: her eyes lit up, the tears ceased.
“Library?” she repeated.
Jim nodded solemnly “Library,” he agreed.
She scrubbed at her eyes, peering into the classroom again. That poor hyperventilating little guy was still going. Some others were still crying, but for the most part the kids were rushing around happily, finding desks to sit at and peering around them curiously, talking a mile a minute.
Maeve’s face went from a pout to a determined little frown, tiny fists clenched. She nodded, seemingly to herself, head suddenly held high.
It was adorably hilarious how much she looked like Freddie when you tried to change his mind about...well about anything really.
“I’ve got this!” she loudly declared, one of Joe’s favourite things to say to her- “You’ve got this!”
Freddie smothered his laughter in his hands. Jim grinned, pulling her into a hug.
“You got this,” he agreed. Maeve grinned up at him, arms around his neck. She moved on to hug Freddie and with one more wave she ran into the classroom.
“I think I’m going to cry again,” Freddie admitted.
Jim helped him to his feet, an arm around his shoulder. “Well it’s home time for us at least,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Once they were in the car it finally hit Jim: no Maeve for a whole day. None of her giggles, none of her drawings, none of her incessant questions, no Maeve chasing after the cats, no Maeve wanting to call Mary, no Maeve trying to help in the garden or play Freddie’s piano... No Maeve.
“Jim?” Freddie was peering up at him and it washed over Jim once again how his husband and daughter had the exact same eyes.
That did it: he burst into tears.