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“Daddy?”
“What is it baby girl?”
“What happens to us after we die?”
“What’s brought this on sweetheart?”
“One of the boys at school found a dead mouse. We gave it a funeral at recess.”
“Well that’s very sweet of you.”
“Am I gonna die daddy?”
“Oh no baby, not any time soon. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Really?”
“Of course. That’s what family does. We look out for each other.”
“Do you think the mouse had a family? Do they miss him?”
“I’m sure they do baby girl. But I know they’re so happy that you gave him a proper send off.”
Waking up from a nightmare, Boothill realizes, is far better than waking up from a memory of what he has lost.
Really, he should have expected this. He knew what the date was, and he still neglected to say anything about it to Argenti before they both turned in for the night. One would think that five years would be long enough to dull the ache of loss, but each year when this time rolled around, he couldn’t help but feel the same sharp pain that consumed him when he ran home to find the earth scorched with cannon fire.
Birthdays hurt more than death days, he muses. That’s something they don’t tell you about losing a child. Death days are a cruel finality, yes, but birthdays, they’re everything that could have been. Another year where she should have been shaking him awake with the widest grin on her face, begging to open presents and dig into her cake. Another year where she should have been safe in his arms.
As Boothill sits hunched over on the couch with his head in his hands, he is struck by just how cold space is compared to the warm fields of his home planet. The silence of the night is only broken by the soft hum of the One and Only’s life support systems, so when the sliding door to the bedroom hisses open, the sound rings through the ship.
“A nightmare?” Argenti asks, gentle. Always so gentle. It makes Boothill want to die from the inadequacy he feels.
“Something like that. More like a memory.”
Argenti hums and sits down next to him. “Something sad?”
“Worse,” Boothill chuckles despite himself. “Something I’d give anything to get back.”
The knight doesn’t say anything, just pulls Boothill in close and lets him settle into his lap. The memory of all the galaxy ranger lost begins to wrap around him once again like a dark shawl, and his chest tightens.
“I haven’t told you much.” Boothill lets in a shuddering breath. “About before.”
“No,” Argenti agrees. He cards a gentle hand through Boothill’s hair, rubbing gentle pressure against his scalp. “But you should never feel obligated to tell me anything you are uncomfortable with.”
“It’s not—” Boothill cuts himself off. His throat burns hot with a sensation that he has long become used to around this time of year.
Argenti—bless him—doesn’t say anything, just keeps up his steady rhythm of soothing pets as Boothill fights off a fresh wave of tears.
After a long moment, he finally whispers, “I had a daughter.”
The hand in his hair pauses, and Boothill freezes up at the lack of sensation. Against his will, he feels his eyes begin to sting again. Hardly a second passes before the fingers on his scalp resume their movement and Argenti is pressing soft kisses to the top of his head while shushing him. Only then did Boothill realize that he had begun to cry.
“I had a family,” the admission falls from his lips like a prayer. “I had a family, and they loved me,” he sobs. “I loved them.”
There’s nothing stopping the tears that pour out of him, and Argenti doesn’t try to get him to stop crying. He just holds him, patient as a saint, as years of pent-up grief comes tumbling out of Boothill’s body like a raging tidal wave.
“She was so little when I first found her. Just the tiniest thing.”
Argenti pulls his hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the back of his knuckles. “I would give anything to have met her.”
Boothill smiles despite the tears that continue to prick at his eyes. “She would have loved you. She would have loved to have another daddy.” His own sobs stop him again. “Fudge, I’m sorry. I just—”
“No,” Argenti whispers. He presses a kiss to Boothill’s forehead, and when he pulls back, he has tears in his own eyes. “Don’t apologize my love.”
“I didn’t even get to bury them."
“I’m so sorry darling.” Argenti pulls him in closer. “I’m so incredibly sorry. I should have been there for you. I should have been there for you all.”
“Hey,” Boothill reaches out to squeeze his hand, “what happened on my planet is not on you, you hear? You were on the other side of the galaxy helping some other poor planet. You couldn’t have known.”
“If I had known you then, I would have done anything to stop them,” the knight promises.
“I know you would.”
The pair sits there in silence for a long moment, Boothill working the tears out of his system and Argenti running comforting hands anywhere they can reach. After a moment, Argenti readjusts them so he can hold the galaxy ranger from behind and hook his chin over his shoulder. Boothill relishes in the feeling of his lovers warm breath on his neck.
When he is situated, Argenti presses a kiss against his shoulder. “Tell me about her?”
Boothill smiles. “She was a daddy’s girl. And by the Aeons she had a set of lungs on her. She would have been quite the singer.” He leans his head back against Argenti’s, seeking comfort in the warmth of him. “She’d tuck herself up against my chest while I’d play the guitar and she’d try her best to sing along with me. It was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He chuckles as he tells his lover about the way her little fists would tap against the back of his guitar and distort the sound.
He’d give anything to hear that music again.
“Today would have been her eighth birthday,” Boothill says after a while.
“Oh, darling.” Argenti sighs and tucks him closer into his chest.”Would you like to light a candle for her?”
The idea makes Boothill smile, and he relaxes back into the knights body. “That’s a real sweet idea, sugar. Maybe later? You’ve got me all comfortable now.”
A soft kiss is pressed against the column of his throat. “Of course my love. For now, relax and let me keep you safe.”
For what must be hours, they sit there together; Boothill sharing stories about his family, and Argenti listening with a soft smile. By the time the ships lights come back on to indicate the beginning of a new day, they are curled up on the couch together and dozing off once more.
This, Boothill thinks, may not be a replacement, but it is something good.
And it is.