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Quite frankly, that idea did not seem like the best idea at all. In no capacity did it seem like the best idea. Nor could she properly reconcile this option as the 'right' thing, because it was not an idea that suited all of them.

It especially did not suit her.

She watched him collect the gloves from the drawer, and watched him as he moved to leave the room, and watched him with a tiny spark of hope when he turned around again, and watched as his return was not for her.

"What do you mean." There was no inflection to indicate that she was asking a question; if anything, she sounded a bit out of sync with reality. Mostly present, minorly distant, somewhere closer to neutral than positive, but not negative. "What do you mean: 'always'?"

For all of the many attempts made to force Robert away from what he was doing so he might pay attention to her instead, that had not intentionally been one of them. He'd stated that adjustments were required, and she intended to attempt them as necessary, but in the meantime...it was uncomfortable. It was unsettling, and she didn't understand. Comfort returned as soon as he scooped her up and kept his arms around her, but comprehension was still a bit beyond her. She savored his affection, responding at first with only: "Yes."

The list that followed the header of 'Why I Want To Be A Mommy' had accrued a rather startling number of reasons from the list's inception to now. For the majority of her life, having just one reason on this list would have been fairly shocking; now she had enough to categorize, to sift and sort through, find major and minor and most significant. But there had been one incontestably critical motivator that caused all of this to start, and that was where she began.

"You." All indicators suggested that leaving her answer at this would have been both accurate and efficient, but he had asked for reasons. Plural. "The primary reason is you. I never entertained the notion before we became us. I had no desire to be a mother, but I became aware of your desire to be a father. I wanted--I needed to be the one to fulfill it for you. We were granted visions of universes in which I was able to. I saw that we were happy, and that we were a family."

Her feet had been anxiously moving without her awareness of the small actions, and Peter seemed to think that it looked like a game. When he reached to repeatedly bat at her toe like an awkward, splayed-fingered cat, she took notice then, and began to pay enough attention to provide him with the game he thought he had discovered.

"I want to make a family with you. I have established my own selections for my family, but it's a separate fulfillment." Peter curiously approached one toe with his mouth, a string of drool already prepared, and she shrunk back against Robert with vague horror, but didn't stop 'playing' nonetheless. "I want for us to create a family together. I want to provide all that I can of the family you hoped for. I want for us to be able to correctly refer to a child as ours. I want to raise our child alongside you. I want to the the mother of your child, and for you to be the father of mine, so we might have the most happy, normal life possible in our position. So there will be no room for wishes or regrets that distract us from the perfection of our reality."

One of her arms reached backwards, curling towards him.

"I suppose, then...I should amend my answer to 'no'." When her fingers were buried within his hair, her elbow came to rest against his shoulder. "I don't want to be a mommy, and I never wanted to be a wife. I want to be your counterpart in these roles, and yours alone. I want for us to be both these things and to assume both of these roles together. We're equal partners. I wouldn't want to pursue this alone, nor do I want to do anything without you."

Preliminary results seemed to imply that this was not the correct answer, and Mimsy did her very best to continue through with the appearance that she was (mostly) fine. This was easier to accomplish while facing away from him, so she kept her focus on Peter, cautiously avoiding his very determined efforts for his mouth to meet her toe.

The reassurances were helpful as always - she strongly believed that there was no limit to the amount of times these sorts of things could be reiterated. He seemed to have learned that they served well to establish a foundation in these types of discussions, and that was something to smile about.

"I didn't actually think that you would not be happy if I could not make you a father," she corrected, slow and quiet and more pensive than what was normal for her. "I knew that this was the only thing I could not do, or had not yet done, that could contribute to your happiness."

None of this discredited what followed, however, and she listened very carefully when prompted to examine this from another angle. Doing so was undeniably always her weakest point, and if he could guide her through, the least she could offer was attentiveness.

And he did, as he always did. He built the bridge between their separate worlds of thoughts, and the two didn't feel so separate any more.

"Being your wife made me happy because I'm your wife, yes." Though his laughter had delayed it, her answer was important enough to make known, paired alongside a little laugh of her own as she snuggled against him. Peter, in the meantime, failed at depth perception and faceplanted directly into the bottom of her foot. A moment of temporary confusion followed, but he was otherwise fine.

"Your analogy does make sense to me. You have explained it very well. I think that..." She remembered what she'd done out of fear for exactly this. She remembered and wanted to be better than destruction. "I just need time to grasp the results of this addition, I suppose. I still rely on you to remain in motion, both following your metaphor and in a more literal sense. I can't move without you, and can't sustain his inertia without your influence on me. Nor do I want to."

Idly, she began to pet his hair, fingers brushing affectionately back and forth.

"I already miss you terribly in each second that we are apart." Letting her guard down for the sake of fully relaxing, she closed her eyes and exhaled into a sigh. "I'm not certain that I can change that. I don't want to either. Must I?"

And squirm she did, with her ever-attractive snort of laughter, barely containing herself long enough to be lifted off of the bed and out of a dangerous proximity to the newest Morris addition. Face scrunched up with laughter, she didn't catch the reason that Peter was squealing with his own childish giggling; it was fortunate that Robert had at least taken enough note to know not to be worried.

"In that case, we are either right to miss each other so much--" A pause to catch her breath, hardly able to work through the reflexive urge to laugh again. "--or we are both in a tremendous amount of trouble. Outlaws of Inordinate Affection. And we will not slow down, nor will we stop. No one will catch us. We're unstoppable because we love each other so much."

This wasn't really a new game for her, per se. Just new labels and some slight adjustments to the rules.

"I think that your solution is very good, and that it suits all of our interests. I'm quite glad that you thought of it!" This was the best idea, she resolved, pleased that he had reconsidered. It encouraged her into motion again, and she was quick to collect a blanket that was suitably baby-sized, spreading it out on the bedside before reaching to move Peter onto it.

"Everybody wins," she repeated as she carefully settled him onto his back. And with his tiny hands in hers, she clapped with the most gentle enthusiasm possible to achieve, because he had to learn.

"Congratulations!"