Cht 3

Bloom

Slowly peeling the now cold towel from Root's forehead, Root stirs. Seeing this, Gen leans further in, "morning, Mom" as she sits on Shaw's side of the bed. Shaw having long since vacated it for her shift.

Eyes still closed, not quit able to manage to wake herself due to her fatigue, Root smiles in response instead, not used to seeing Gen's softness. Like Shaw, though Gen's softer side was rare, it only made the moment even sweeter when it surfaced.

Spotting the clock on the bedside table, Gen leans in again, "I'm off to class now, I'll see you later," she whispers, and pecks Root on the cheek, before grabbing the cold face towel and shaking the bed as she jumps off it. On her way to the door, Gen makes a quick stop in the en suite bathroom to throw the face towel into the sink, and then leaves.

Creak... Click... Woof... As Gen leaves the apartment, and Bear at the front door.

Quiet...

...

Peeking into their room, Shaw spots Root sleeping soundly. After 72 hours of particularly bad morning sickness, restlessness and news of Gen's mother, it wasn't a surprise Root was fast asleep, even as the sun is only beginning to drop from the horizon outside.

Shaw wanders in and to her wardrobe, changing from her professional wear to her usual tank top, and dark jean leggings.

After back to back 18 hour shifts herself, Shaw was relieved that her work day was finally over, as she places a hand on the back of her neck and stretches out. Satisfied now that she was in something more comfortable, and tomorrow was a day off, Shaw crawls onto the bed, sitting as she watches Root sleep.

Spotting the empty flask and mug on the bedside table, a smile glimmers over Shaw.

Watching for a little while longer, Shaw draws the blankets further up Root's body, tucking her in and kissing her on the head. Fulfilled, Shaw takes the flask and mug, and leaves the room.

Gen opens the apartment door, returning from her class, and spots Shaw, snap...

Shaw looks up and spots Gen as she continues to walk from the balcony through the living room towards the kitchen, passing Gen on the way. When Shaw reaches the breakfast bar, she places the flower planter on the table.

'Of course!... Why didn't I think of that before?' As Gen continues, snap, snap, snap, photos of Shaw, who at this point had stopped what she was doing and was looking at Gen with her usual Shaw stoic face. It wasn't like Gen had not seen Shaw make tea before, what had changed? But Gen was unforthcoming and only continues to snap her photos, only stopping as Shaw continues to stand still, unmoving. Gen lowers her camera with one hand and motions with her other for Shaw to continue what she is doing.

Shaw doesn't move, still sceptical of Gen.

As they both dance a mini stand off, Gen resorts to pouting until Shaw relents, and continues again.

Now plucking the heads of the camomile flowers, Shaw spots Gen smile, again, from behind her camera. Snap, snap... Though faint, it was the first time in days since Finch's visit. Placing the now plucked flower heads into a large stainless steel sieve, Shaw begins to shake out the dirt from it.

Satisfied the flower heads are clean, Shaw puts down the sieve and opens a tray of the dehydrator, which is sitting close by on the counter top, and replenishes the empty tray with the freshly plucked and clean flower heads. Placing a mesh lining over the freshly plucked flowers, Shaw closes the dehydrator tray and grabs the kettle from the hob.

All the while Gen is taking photos of Shaw, snap, snap, Shaw having already forgotten about Gen.

Spark, Shaw switches on the gas hob, and leaves the kettle to boil. Grabbing the steel sieve, Shaw cleans it and places it back on the dish rack to let it dry before taking the flower planter back out onto the balcony. Leaving it there to plant more seeds later.

Taking a couple of breaths of fresh air, and stretching out again, Shaw strides back to the kitchen, thud, thud, as Shaw grabs the tea pot, strainer and mugs from the cupboard. Opening another cupboard, Shaw grabs the honey. Honey specially purchased from a local rooftop bee keeper, fresh.

As Shaw looks down at her utensils and ingredients while still waiting for the kettle to boil, 'I'm missing something'... Shaw opens another dehydrator tray and takes some of the already dried camomile flower heads and places it into the strainer.

'Ah!' as Shaw moves to the fridge and back, some ginger now in her hand. Chop, chop, chop, as Shaw slices the ginger into small thin slices, finishing just as the kettle whistles as it finally boils. Putting down the knife and turning off the hob, Shaw removes the kettle and fills the tea pot with the boiled water.

Placing the kettle back down, Shaw continues by scoping the sliced ginger into the tea pot, and then grabs a spoon, scooping two generous servings of honey into the pot before placing the spoon into the pot, stirring the honey into the ginger water. As Shaw watches what's left of the honey on the spoon also dissolve into the hot water, she grabs the strainer and replaces the spoon with the strainer and tea pot lid. Smiling, Shaw completes her camomile tea. Snap...

Letting it brew for a few minutes, Shaw then pours out three mugs, and turns to hand one, snap, to Gen.

Looking at Shaw's face, Gen drops her camera onto her chest and grins at Shaw before taking the mug. Shaw takes the other two and the three head to the bedroom, where they greet Root with the tea, to help with the nausea. That, and it was dinner time...

Waking up to a flask and mug by the bedside, it was fast becoming the comforting norm for Root to see Shaw make tea for her, as her eyes also land expectantly, on a photo album, placed next to her on the empty side of the bed.

Smiling to herself, Root picks up the flask and pours the tea into the mug, the steam still drifting from it as it lands in the mug. Placing the flask back, Root picks up the beautifully bounded paper album, and opens it. 'Just Tea,' she reads on the first page. The words were drawn in coloured pen and neatly decorated with instant snap shot styled rectangular photos around the words.

Tilting her head in affection, Root continues to flick through the hobby craft altered album, exposing herself to photos of the sunset behind the camomile plants on the porch, Shaw tending to the planter, Shaw cooking, Shaw and Bear taking a run to the rooftop bee hive keeper to both look at the bees and purchase fresh honey. A shot of the dancing shadows of the camomile flowers across the living room floor. Some sneaky shots of Root gazing at Shaw as she prepares the tea, angled shots of the ginger and honey, as well as the kettle, different tea pots, cups and mugs. Gen had laid out each photo and page into a fun presentation.

Sipping on the tea, as Root turns each page of the album, it just added more sweetness than any honey in the tea ever would, and it helped Root's morning sickness fade more quickly that day. Turning to the final pages of the album, the words 'Just Tea, Extraordinarily Ordinary' was drawn across the two pages. On one of the pages, a simple dulled and fuzzy snap shot of Root, gazing at Shaw while between them Gen is hugging Shaw while Shaw looks down at Gen. In the foreground corner of the same photo is Bear's butt, clearly having knocked the tripod over as the camera took that photo. Next to this family photo was the baby scan of her little brother, followed by a sticker with an American and Russian flag. A fresh camomile flower is tapped next to it. To one corner a DIY pocket is created into the album, and within the pocket was the Order of Lenin. While on the opposite page, a baby photo of Gen with her Mama and Dedushka stuck onto it. A drawing of a beautiful firey red orange firebird covering the rest of this entire page. Also on it is a fresh rose flower tapped next to it.

Past, Russia:

Running out from their small stone house and down the short garden path to the end, the toddler stops and kneels on the grass.

"You see Gen, this is camomile," as Gen looks eagerly to her mother, who is also kneeling in front of the flower beds. "We can eat them, make tea with them, smell them, use them for decoration. See how it cheers up the garden, don't you think?" As Oksana turns to her daughter smiling and offering her a small spade.

Gen takes the spade and looks again at the flower bed full of camomile and chrysanthemum. Nearby were roses, with long large green spiky stalks. Emulating her mother, Gen scopes some compost and lays it on top of the already prepared flower bed. Then taking some camomile seeds, Gen pushes the seeds into the compost, then drags her spade over the compost again, smoothing it out. Satisfied, Gen looks to her mother.

Laughing lightly, "now remember to look after these precious National flowers. Though you can find them everywhere in Russia, it doesn't mean it's not unique, or unwanted. For centuries we have been using these precious flowers for medicational purposes, and they can grow in the cold, and adapt to the heat. Though they are small, they are resilient, have many uses, beautiful and versatile." Oksana finishes by taking the watering cannister and water the flower bed.

Gen was too young to understand the full meaning of her mother's words that day, but by instinct, she never once felt unwanted.