Breathing Easy

[Mortimer Skeeter]

Even his mother couldn't argue with that. Well, one day Father and Archie might surprise them all!

For all their lightheartedness, he could his mother suddenly getting emotional somewhere, somehow - he was a little worried for a moment, given all that had happened, that she had been unwell, that something might be wrong. But she was still smiling, too, so Morty had to conclude that this was just the sort of thing mothers did.

"I don't plan to, just yet, never fear," Morty replied, still grinning. Girls were one thing, but marriage was certain to stay a distant concept for the time being, whether his mother was looking forward to weddings and having daughters-in-law or worried about life decisions he or her other sons might make. (Let Barney deal with that struggle first.) "You needn't worry about me," he reiterated, about that, or about anything. He was very well, and might have shrugged her off teasingly to prove so.

But he was truly relieved to see her in full health once more - and no one was currently here to witness this - so he did not duck out of the hug, could not entirely begrudge it. "Don't you wear yourself out until you're entirely better," he returned, on a topic he was more worried about.

  

[Martha Skeeter]

The terrible thing was that of all her sons Morty – his brush with this sickness aside – was probably the child she worried the least about all things considered. Archie was still in mourning, Tony was so far away, Barney was… Barnabas. Thompson never seemed to smile about anything and Tamsin was more and more baffling to her every day. But Mortimer, with his cheerful manner and ability to move through life with good fortune, gave her the least worry.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to worry about him just a little bit more, even if he was quite right about how tired she was becoming. She had shaken off the illness but wasn’t able to bounce back quite as quickly as Morty apparently had – oh to have the benefits of youth once again!

“I always worry about you,” she replied, exaggerating only slightly. “But you’re right of course, the very last thing I want is to feel as rotten as I did before. Your father avoided it entirely of course and, well you know what he’s like darling, laughter isn’t exactly his speciality at the best of time, but he was quite solicitous to begin with.”

Shaking her head with amused exasperation at her husband’s predictable ways she finally released Morty, taking a step back to avoid any desire to cuddle him until he burst. Instead she took a seat and reached for the teapot.

“I don’t think he’d forgive me becoming ill again so soon!”

  

[Mortimer Skeeter]

He rolled his eyes a little at the stalemate; a mother would always worry, and it seemed there was nothing to be said that could convince one otherwise.

He chuckled a little at his father's good fortune for missing it, for as funny as it might have been to see the man lighten up so against his character, the plague really had been no laughing matter, and people seemed to be suffering much worse than their own family had so far.

"No, he wouldn't," Morty proclaimed, once he'd been released, entirely sure of that. For all they'd been laughing at his father and his parents' younger, more in-love selves, Morty didn't doubt Maxwell felt quite as keenly as he had apparently used to, and must have been truly concerned about Martha. Morty only wished his father was easier to get along with so he might've been more of a help, been able to say something; but his mother had always been the easier one to talk to.

"None of us would forgive that." Morty added seriously, taking a leaf out of his father's book for that.

  

[Martha Skeeter]

Smiling softly to herself as she stirred sugar in her tea – usually she didn’t allow herself the indulgence but she was still ill so even Max would understand the weakness! – Martha silently thanked any deity she could think of that her family had survived intact this time. And apparently had retained the same charmingly stubborn streak that Max, and she herself but she didn’t usually acknowledge that, had passed on to them!

Seriousness had never suited her though and it certainly didn’t suit this particular son; though her heart was warmed by his words she soon found herself smiling and eventually laughing – thankfully of her own volition rather than from any illness.

“Thank you darling,” looking up fondly she sunk back into the chair. “Now, drink your tea before it goes cold. I’m your poor sick mother and you have to do as you’re told.”