The Royal Scandal | Prince William |

This Distance Between Us

March 10, 2018

The wheelchair is something to get used to. The doctors say it's unsafe for her to walk, another fall could mean risk of miscarrying or preterm labor.

She doesn't loathe it per say, but it's a near thing. The feeling of being trapped is overwhelming even though she's not. She can stand and fight the aching pain dancing over her legs if she really wants. But it's a long way from the person she used to be, the ballerina who did the impossible. It's not weakness that she feels, just more of that hazy fatigue that's become her constant friend.

Her engagements lessen, and William is around more to help with the kids, so it should be reprieve that she feels. Instead dread continues to circle.

There's something wrong with me, she wants to say, but the words never come. In their place silent tears run from her eyes in the shadow of the night. She doesn't feel normal, she's used to the pain, but her body feels foreign. This baby has invaded her in ways Mia and PJ never did.

Jaclyn growls as the edge of her wheel catches the embellished trim of Clarence House, and she has to push off the wall to right herself. The chair pivots, shifting stiffly over the carpet, and there at the end of the hall is Meghan.

She smiles, but it's not her ready for cameras smile Jaclyn's used to. "Jac," her voice tightens ever so slightly. So the dress incident has not been forgotten. "I'm glad to see you're better."

"Mostly, I'll be much better once I have this little one in my arms."

In response Meghan hums, and dances stiffly from foot to foot, but never moves to make way for Jaclyn to pass. The air grows tight, and Jaclyn clutches at the tires until she can feel tracks forming in her skin. Their eyes flick towards each other, they smile with a brief quirk of their lips, and then turn away.

"I'm sorry," Meghan finally releases, collapsing softly against the wall nearly into a painting of Queen Adelaide. "I shouldn't have bothered you so much. I was just so stressed, and then when you didn't show up I was crying-"

"You cried?" Jaclyn asks, and she doesn't mean for it to come out so shocked.

"Well... a little. There's just so much to do."

She knows the feeling, and suddenly she slouches, softer than before, but smaller too. It's an unnerving feeling, scratching at her skin so she's ever so slightly squirming. Still, did she not panic over the slightest of things at the beginning too? Doesn't she occasionally do it still? She didn't need to turn off her phone, she could've helped.

"I'm sorry too. I should've told Marion to take her, I just wasn't thinking."

Meghan perks up, her smile slightly easier. "It's okay, I get it, baby brain and all."

She laughs, but Jaclyn gapes letting her words settle over her with their meaning. She knows Meghan's teasing, sees that shameless playfulness in her eyes and her lifted shoulders, but it's hollowing. Hollowing to be told that she's not in control of her emotions and thoughts, to be reduced down to her impulsive hormones which take the blame for her worst actions. 

The baby shifts, magiclly spreading in both directions until she feels like her stomach will rip open.

"I'm curious, if it's alright to ask, why you guys keep having kids."

Her jaw falls from its soft relaxed opening all the way down, and again she's reeling trying to catch up with the mental gymnastics they're partaking in. "I guess I just wanted more kids."

"Oh." Meghan says it like she's been delivered the shock of her life, like Jaclyn's answer isn't enough for what she goes through. Maybe it's not for everyone else, but it is for her and isn't that what matters?