Time of the Month

"Elsie, did you hear me?"

The young woman's blonde head snapped up with a jolt, blinking at her Life Partner. Frankly, she hadn't been paying attention to a word he'd said. Not since they'd woken up that morning. That awful, long-dreaded morning, which had come far too soon.

"Yeah," she lied, shaking out her long, uncombed tresses, her fingernails drumming nervously on her coffee mug. "Sorry, Alan... What were we talking about?"

Alan's golden eyes softened with a deep sigh, filling with pity and a touch of frustration. Without warning, his large, onyx hand slid across the table and wrapped around hers, squeezing her pale, much smaller hand gently.

"I was talking about our monthly Tribute... which is due today. We have to come up with a good one. Otherwise-"

"I know," Elsie sighed. Without conscious thought she laid her head down, resting her cheek on the back of his powerful hand. Listening to the sound of his lifeblood running through it. The last thing she wanted in the world was to lose him. Her soulmate. The only person in existence who made her happy. The only person who understood.

But the price of the Tribute was unspeakable. Unthinkable.

"What if we just give money this year?" she mused, thinking aloud more than anything else. "I've got my ring... and my mother's diamond necklace. surely we could get a lot for them."

Alan's nostrils flared with another deep sigh. "Elsie, the new decree is very specific," he said, "material items are no longer considered viable Tributes. The Goddess demands a real sacrifice."

Both Life Partners grew quiet then, either too pensive or too frightened to suggest any other potential Tributes. Elsie knew which was the case for her, of course. But Alan... he was always difficult to read at times like these. She never knew what lay behind that facade of stone when he was deep in thought. He always seemed so calm. So level-headed and intelligent. It was one of the reasons she loved him so much.

"What about Mittens?" he finally offered, his Adam's apple rolling with a hard, dry swallow. "She's pretty old now. It would probably be a mercy."

Elsie sat up again immediately, sliding her chair back until it hit the wall behind her. "I've raised that cat from a six-week-old kitten," she balked, "She's been with me since I was fourteen! I-I can't just-!"

Her teeth sank into her own tongue, cutting herself off short. The pain was justified, and welcome. A small price to pay to prevent her from saying anything else she might regret.

"No," she murmured, forcing herself to calm down, "Not Mittens. There has to be something else. Anything else. If we just keep thinking-"

"Well, we can't think all day," Alan argued softly, "Whatever Tribute we're sending has to be prepped and ready for collection before sunset."

Elsie took a few more slow, deep breaths, scooting her chair close to the table again. Her hand found Alan's on its own, their fingers meshing together like laces on a boot. "I'm trying my best," she muttered, playing the piano on his knuckles while she thought. "I know: my sister said she and Maurice were getting a calf this month. They're expensive, but there's still time for us to-"

"I don't think so," Alan mused, sandwiching her hand between both his. "It's a good idea, El, but it's not personal enough. I mean, how attached can you get to a calf that's sacrificed the same day you got it?"

"Well, we're running out of time and options," Elsie snapped, yanking her hand free with a scowl. "If we keep Mittens, and we can't get a calf or anything else before sunset, then all we have left is-!"

A gasp burst from Elsie's throat, drawn out by the baby monitor crackling on the table between them. Her train of thought was immediately derailed by the sound of her newborn sons wailing, which she rose from the table out of instinct to answer. Within a minute, she was upstairs in the nursery, leaning over their shared crib. And Alan wasn't far behind.

"Aww, it's okay, Sweetie Pies," she cooed, "Mama's here."

Without even thinking about it, she picked up the older twin, Tom, as soon as she saw him. By the time she had the fussing infant nestled against the side of her neck, Alan had his little brother, Tim, in an almost identical hold. When those warm, golden eyes locked on hers, they were full of nothing but pain. For the first time ever, he allowed her to see what he was thinking... and she immediately wished he hadn't.

"No," she murmured, backing away from her Life Partner in horror, "Alan, we can't! N-Not our babies!"

"I don't like it any more than you do," he insisted, "...but it makes sense, doesn't it? You were the first to complain when we found out it was twins. And raising two babies at once is difficult at best. Think of how we'll be blessed for offering such a Tribute! We might be excused from it for years. Besides..." he shifted Tim to his other shoulder, wrapping his hand around her waist tenderly, "...we can always have another."

Elsie's delicate frame shook violently, tears of disgust and outrage brimming in her deep-set lilac eyes. "You're talking about your sons," she hissed, "my babies! Even if I agreed to this, how would you possibly expect me to choose which one to keep?!"

Alan's eyes lowered to the infant whimpering against her neck, growing cold and unreadable once more. "You already have," he said, his tone soft but harsh. "Deny it all you want, El... but I've seen it from the day they were born. You like Tommy more. There's no shame in favoritism. It makes things easier."

"Easier?!" It took all Elsie's restraint not to slap Alan. "For who?! I might not have wanted twins at first, but I've learned to adapt! I can't imagine life without either of my boys!"

"Can you imagine life without me?"

Elsie's breath hitched, her eyes and jaw opening wide. He'd said it so calmly, but the anguish in his eyes was plain as day. Losing one of her babies was too horrible to think about. Still, it wasn't as horrible as the idea of losing their father. Her best friend. The love of her life.

She'd broken down in his arms before she was even fully aware of it. Whispering, "I'm sorry," over and over again through her tears until the words lost all meaning. When she had cried her eyes dry, she finally felt the silken-soft furry body brushing against her calf. With one last sniffle, she automatically looked down. Her lips still trembling at the gentle, frost-ringed green eyes staring back up at her.

As calmly as she could, she returned Tom to the crib and picked up Mittens. Holding her exactly the same way that she'd cradled her infant son. She watched Alan lay Tim next to his brother as she scratched and kissed the cat's thick calico fur. Trying her hardest not to start crying again. Then, with a deep exhale, she passed Mittens over to Alan with a solemn, heartbroken nod.

"Make it quick," she whispered, "...but be careful with her. Please?"

Alan echoed Elsie's nod, pulling her into a lingering kiss afterward. "You know I will," he murmured, "I love you, Elsie... and I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," she sniffed. "Bye, Mittens. I hope the Goddess will be happy, and bless us well."