Work Text:
“Turn that music down!”
“Yep, that’s… that’s my mum…” She laughs, partly out of awkwardness because of course they’d both rock up and stop the party but also… Shit . The thought is interrupted as her mum’s hand (her actual mum) grips her by the elbow and turns her around. Face all stern and DS Swain-like.
Except.
Except there was a flicker of something just there, just behind the eyes and she’s not sure what it is and has no time to decipher it before her mum is giving her that look and saying “Home, now.”
She’d be stupid to ignore that command so she grabs her stuff, hands the keys to the factory over and makes to leave with minimal fuss. There’s a brush of fingers at her wrist that makes her turn and it’s Carla, concern in her eyes, one eyebrow raised, mouthing “You okay, kid?”
She nods and turns sharply. It’s all a bit too soon for that. She needs time and space to think. Maybe she imagined it? She’s had a lot to drink, after all.
Later, in the dimness of the flat, she pulls her knees up to her chest and releases a shaky breath. She’s replayed the moment over and over in her head and she can’t deny it. It happened. The words were said.
Not only that. The words were said and they’d heard. Both of them.
It feels like a betrayal and confusion and acceptance all at once.
She doesn’t want to forget Becky. She never could. That woman carried her. Raised her, taught her how to tie her shoe laces, inspired her love of fashion.
A rogue tear escapes and she brushes it away hastily. She’s sick of crying. It seems like she’s done nothing else in these last three or so years.
Three or so?
That stings.
She used to know exactly how long it had been down to the minute. But lately… Lately she’s lost count and now she has to actively think about the time and the date and work her way back from there. She shouldn’t be forgetting that. It’s too important. She grips her legs more tightly, pulling them stiflingly close so it’s hard to breathe normally. Her breaths come in shaking gasps now and she can hear it now.
Them. The pair of them. Outside her room and debating which one it should be to come in and comfort her.
She doesn’t even know which one she wants herself.
In the past she’d have known straight away. Becky, always Becky. Becky was better at emotions than Lisa. It wasn’t Lisa’s fault, she knew that. Becky was just better at those things.
But Becky isn’t here now and instead her choice should be Lisa. She’s gotten better at the whole feelings things. A bit anyway.
Part of her wants it to be Carla though. And that just makes things even more confusing in her head.
“Lise, she’s crying…” Carla’s voice is soft, laced with concern.
She has no right to be hovering outside Betsy’s room, she knows that. She’s not her mum.
But she’d said it .
It was probably just a slip of the tongue, too much alcohol and the knowledge that if Carla was there then so would Lisa.
Maybe that’s what she’d meant by it. If Carla’s here then so’s my mum.
It hadn’t sounded like that. Hadn’t felt like that when the words had found their way to her ears.
She should have pretended she didn’t hear it. Should have just let it slide but that little jolt of what was it? Surprise? Shock?
Happiness?
Lisa had heard it too. She’d seen it in the way her body had very briefly stiffened, the small glint of something that wasn’t her usual easy smile as they left the party.
It had all faded to the background when they’d gone to check on the party. DS Swain mode activated as soon as they’d seen the state of the place.
But they were back now and Betsy was crying in her room and Lisa was just sitting there .
“Lise, did you hear me?”
At last Lisa looks up and her eyes are shining and it fucking breaks Carla to see her like that. They’re not tears. Not yet. They’ve not fallen and she can tell that Lisa is fighting for her life not to let them.
She crosses the room to her, not sure if she should embrace her or sit across from her or just leave the room entirely because what the hell do you do when your partner’s daughter calls you ‘mum’ unexpectedly??
She’d managed to brush the words off, her focus on checking out the factory and making sure Carla was safe. The comfort of slipping into DS Swain like putting on armour against anything that might threaten to break her.
But they’re back home now and the thoughts are back and DS Swain can’t stay forever. She’s learned that over the last few months. DS Swain used to be her go to coping mechanism. You can’t fall apart if you’re in that mode. Walls up, emotions locked away.
The thing is though… DS Swain is just a survival mechanism. It’s not living, it’s just existing.
And it turns out, that despite all she’s been through, she really does want to live .
Carla has shown her that. She’s been the breath of air that’s sent her gasping back into the world.
She’s been good for Betsy too, she knows that. With her around, Betsy has mellowed. Her angry outbursts less violent, tempered by Carla’s calming influence. Her refusal to accept any teenage bullshit, something that Betsy’s never encountered before.
Carla isn’t hard on Betsy. If anything, she’s softer than Lisa is. But she knows when to put her foot down, to call Betsy on her nonsense, and when to treat her like an adult or an equal. She knows Betsy respects that, has come to admire Carla in her own way.
She didn’t realise it had become more than that though. That somehow, slowly, creepingly, Betsy had come to view Carla as another mum.
She’s equal parts happy and sad.
Happy because this means she really accepts hers and Carla’s relationship. That means more than the world to her. To have that backing to a relationship that she fought so hard to not go into at the start, only to have fallen head first for the feisty factory owner. She could never have taken that leap without Betsy’s backing. No, if Betsy had reacted badly she knows she would have walked away. She nearly did at the start too.
But Carla had got Betsy on side. Obviously it was Carla’s doing. Betsy’s like her, stubborn, unmoving. She wouldn’t have changed her mind on the relationship without some intervention from the brunette.
She doesn’t want Betsy forgetting Becky though. She’s sure she won’t but when she heard those words leave Betsy’s mouth without hesitation…
“Lise, did you hear me?”
And there she is, bright and beautiful and wonderful Carla. She loves her. She knows that, has done for some time. She’d asked her to bloody marry her not that long ago, after all.
She can see the hesitation in Carla’s stance. Arms crossed, hovering between seats, concern and worry etched on to every line of her face. She opens up her arms, beckoning Carla in, and is relieved when Carla folds herself into her embrace.
“I don’t want to replace her, you know?” Carla’s words are quiet, husky.
The tears that have been threatening to fall finally break free in a silent flood and she holds Carla tighter to her.
Carla’s been brave enough to say the words that she’s only ever thought.
“I don’t want to replace her…” Carla says again, her voice quivering slightly. “But I wouldn’t be upset if she did want to call me ‘mum’, one day down the line.”
It comes out like a secret that wasn’t meant to be shared quite so soon. She can feel Carla trying to pull back from the words so she just holds her tighter, pressing a soft kiss into her hair.
And she's thinking to herself, properly thinking. Maybe she wouldn't be upset if that's what Betsy wanted too, one day.
“You should go talk to her.” She says, finally emerging from Lisa’s embrace. “She needs her mum.”
Lisa raises an eyebrow at that. And Carla winces a little. Yes, Betsy has said the words but she’s still not sure she actually meant them. Even if she did, it’s too soon to be swooping into that role. Too fresh a wound.
“You know what I mean, Lise. It should be you.”
“She might want you though.”
“Lisa…” There’s a hint of fear in her voice. She wants to. She does. But what if that’s not what Betsy wants and this screws everything up?
They’re still outside her door. They’re not talking now but she knows they’re still there. Probably doing that thing where they silently argue it out with their facial expressions.
The sobs have subsided but she’s still hurting and she still wants that interaction.
Should she call out for one of them? Which one?
Both of them?
Would that be too much?
Would it not be enough?
Before she knows it she’s moving to the door and she can hear the pair of them trying to make it look like they weren’t hovering. The door swings open and she’s caught them trying to make their escape and instead they're stuck in the too small hallway.
It brings a watery smile to her face and she reaches out a hand, surprised to find that she is in fact reaching for Carla whilst looking at Lisa.
Lisa gives her a small nod that says, whatever, whoever, you want, and gives Carla a nudge towards her daughter.
Carla’s arms wrap around her and all of a sudden it makes sense why Ryan calls her ‘Aunty Koala’. The woman gives excellent hugs. Soft and comforting. Just the right level of tightness to make you feel safe.
They don’t say anything. Not immediately. They just stand there in an embrace that says more than words ever could.
“You’re not her.” she says, her words slow and measured. She doesn't want them to come out as hurtful. “But I don’t want you to be her.”
“I know.”
A comforting squeeze followed by a silence that stretches on and on and on.
“I won’t call you it all the time but… Would it be alright if… If maybe sometimes I do?”