Work Text:
Petra ran a calming hand over her pregnant belly and took a long, deep breath before rapping her fist on the Villanuevas' door.
It had been a week since she had told Jane she didn't want to be her friend, a week spent agonizing over her split-second decision. Her morning sickness had worsened as a result and the added anxiety of her mother's murder of Ivan had kept her in her room, ashamed, sick, and guilty. Most of those feelings in relation to Jane.
Petra had never expected Jane to become so important to her, and now after she had ruined their chance to be friends, she hoped that maybe she had become important enough to Jane for Jane to consider giving her another chance.
Xiomara opened the door and her eyes immediately seemed to see through Petra, judging yet calm -- and, perhaps, more than a little curious. Petra took another fortifying breath and was about to ask for Jane when Jane's own voice sounded from the hallway.
"Mom, who's at the door?" Petra panicked momentarily, suddenly unprepared to face Jane, and Xiomara, unexpectedly, shut the door just enough to block Jane's view.
"It's no one, honey, don't worry about it," Xiomara said, and Petra looked at her in surprise.
"Okay, Mom," Jane said, voice slightly unsure but accepting her mother's word, "I'll be in my room. Let me know if Dad drops by, yeah? I need to talk to him about something." Jane's departing footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, and Petra let out the breath she'd been holding when, finally, Jane's door shut behind her.
There was a small, tense moment of silence before Xiomara opened the door again, and Petra stepped through the threshold, making sure to close the door quietly behind her, and followed Xiomara into the small kitchen.
Petra sat at the chair she had taken during Thanksgiving and Xiomara pulled out the chair across from her to sit down as well.
"I take it Jane didn't know you were stopping by," Xiomara said slowly into the silence. Petra shook her head, smiling sadly, but said nothing. Xiomara sighed and folded her hands together on the table, leaning forward. "What are you doing here, Petra?" she asked. "Jane told us what happened, y'know, and she's not the only one who isn't very fond of you right now."
Petra leaned back in her chair and met Xiomara's frank stare. Swallowing, she said instead, "Why did you invite me in?"
Xiomara rolled her eyes. "I guess I'll answer your question first, then," she said sarcastically, then paused, before saying carefully, "I guess I just don't get it. You don't seem like a very... friendly person, Petra, no offense, and when you asked Jane out, especially considering your history, it was obviously a big gesture coming from you. And then you, what? Decided you didn't want to be friends anymore? Or was it a sham from the beginning, another scheme?" Xiomara shook her head and her hands tightened, whitening before relaxing. "I guess I'm just... curious about your side of the story."
Petra ran her hands anxiously over her belly, pulling silky, white fabric to rest over her stomach without folding, and focused on not vomiting from nerves -- and morning sickness.
Taking another breath, and mentally thanking Lamaze classes for helping her breathe during situations of stress other than her twins' looming birth, Petra spoke. "I guess it doesn't make much sense, does it?" she chuckled ruefully. "And honestly, I can't make it make more sense, despite how much I wish I could. I --" Petra took another breath, "-- don't really know what got into me. I've been really stressed, what with the Marbella and the pregnancy and -- my mother." Petra tried to stick as close to the truth as she could. "Milos has been trying to come back into my life recently... I guess I thought I needed to push Jane away."
"And now you're here," Xiomara prompted after a brief silence.
"To see if she'll forgive me," Petra finished.
"Maybe she would," a female voice interrupted, "if you apologized to her yourself."
Petra froze, and glancing at Xiomara, noticed that she had froze as well.
Jane stepped into the kitchen from where she had been listening, unnoticed and silent, from the hallway. Petra hadn't heard her open her door or walk down the hallway.
"Jane," Xiomara began, but Petra shook her head, bracing the table to help herself stand up and turning to face Jane . Xiomara quietly excused herself from the room, leaving Jane and Petra alone in the kitchen to talk.
There was silence for a moment, and then Jane said, "So, it was you at the door earlier." It wasn't a question. "I recognized your car from the window."
"Jane," Petra faltered. Another deep breath, this time through her nose. "I'm sorry."
Jane looked at her for a long moment and it seemed a century passed before she sighed deeply and said, "I know, Petra."
She went around the table and sat down in the chair her mom had vacated. Petra, unsure, sat back down as well, clasping her hands together on the table top. Several, not quite uncomfortable moments passed in silence before Jane finally said, "I don't understand."
"That's what your mother said," Petra replied, stilted.
"No," Jane said firmly, "I don't understand why you would push me away. I told you Petra, I kinda care about you."
"In a 'I don't want you to marry a psychopath way'?" Petra quoted wryly.
"In a 'I don't want anything bad to happen to you and I want you to be happy' kind of way." Petra flinched almost imperceptibly when Jane reached across the table and rested her hand comfortably above Petra's own. "It's funny because I never would have thought we would become friends and that I would care about you. But I do. More than 2%, I promise."
"So we're friends?" Petra asked casually, trying, probably unsuccessfully, to keep the hope from her voice. Jane didn't move her hand from Petra's.
"We're definitely getting there, Petra," Jane said warmly, "but instead of pushing me away, maybe we can talk about it next time? That's something friends do sometimes, y'know."
Jane smiled and rubbed her thumb over Petra's hand reassuringly, almost absently.
Petra smiled back and said, "I'm definitely starting to."