FINALLY!!!! Sorry for the outburst, but wow... Holy crap, Trip. I went through so many emotions reading that. I can't imagine what it was like for you to write it. Bravo, my dear. Truly. That was lovely and sad and heart-wrenching all at once. And I like the song too.
I knew it would be a chapter to put a smile on the face of Frannah shippers.
But really, if it's even half as emotional for you as it was for me, then I think I did my job.
Not all love stories are fairy tales, and indeed theirs was a twisted, broken path. Franco may have thought he loved Pansy, at one point. He might have felt something for Carmen, or maybe even the Knack sisters, but it was all a placebo...and by the time he figured it out the woman he truly loved was in the arms of another man. Not to say that it was all wrong. That Lily came out of Franco's relationship with Pansy was itself a wonderful thing, and there is no doubt that Hannah made a very lonely old man very happy in his last days, even if Tay didn't survive long enough to meet his son. But in the end, true love really did prevail...and it is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
Bravo. Simply bravo.
On a logistical note, you really did cut it close with Hannah, didn't you? By the time they could Try for Baby you had a window of what, two days before Grim came for Tay? That's just...wow.
And I'll have you know that, thanks to you, Mister Bayless is now on the top of my list of favorite sims. Darn you, Trip. 
I think that their struggle makes the end result much more worth reading about. They even kept me on my toes! I wanted them to end up together, but it took them until the end to agree.
I still count my blessings with how I managed to get a nooboo out of Hannah in that time frame! Similar luck came into play when it came to making Hannah herself; Harwood was 90 when she was conceived. It's a sad family trend.
That was incredibly beautiful and raw, after everything they went through. I love the depth and ins and outs of their relationship, how it isn't the typical happy ever after. Stunning.
I also just have to say that Lily is a gorgeous teenager. It'll be interesting to see how her story plays out.
Reliving all of their ups and downs made for quite an emotional writing experience. I'm glad you liked it!
Lily was as interesting as a sculptor could be, which doesn't really say much.
Oooh, I'm rather torn by this. On one hand, I'm so happy that Hannah and Franco have worked things out and can finally be together, but on the other I've grown quite attached to Tay and was looking forward to him and Hannah being resurrected at the end of the dynasty together. Ah well, I'll have to wait and see how it ends. I hope the Waverlys (and mortals) are happy whatever happens. 
And I agree that Lily is a gorgeous teenager. I absolutely love her everyday look; the Mohawk and the orange shirt are wonderful on her.
While I grew attached to Tay while writing this, while playing the game, he was mostly just a way for Hannah to gross out Franco and get a nooboo out of the deal. So my plan was always for Franco to realize that Hannah was his true love, whether while she lived or after resurrecting her. I do have an...unusual plan for resurrecting the mortals, and I honestly don't know how I'll fit Tay into it.
She was a fun teen to makeover! Helps that she has a face that works with short hair.
Chapter 42: Phoenix
“Looks like it’s time. You know, for that thing I have to do,” Franco said to Hannah. He still couldn’t take his eyes off her, from her wet eyes to her messed-up hair, and the large round bump under her shirt.
“I guess you should go home with me. I’m not leaving you alone again,” he said.
“I’d just cling to the back windshield if you forgot me.”
Franco took the driver’s seat, possibly a bad idea. He almost drove them off the bridge leading to Puddlewick Drive and all the mansions, while looking at Hannah instead of the road. Without any driving duties, she safely kept her eyes on Franco the whole time. No words, just her big blue eyes still not dry, and filled with admiration for the man in the driver’s seat.
He let her off by the front door, unable to go for a few seconds without latching on to her for a hug. He squeezed her as close as he could squeeze her, one arm around the back of her shoulders, the other around her lower back. For a few minutes, Franco held her close just to feel the sound of her breathing, confirming that she survived the worst part of her life.
“It’s going to be hard to be in the basement for an hour without you,” he said, “My mum doesn’t really suffice, you know?”
“I think I’ll live,” Hannah said, as she slowly let go of him. “I really did survive the worst.”
“And now you should take the time to take care of yourself. A nice hot bath, a nap, ice cream in the freezer, have it all if you want. Your focus should be on you now. And the little one too.”
He gave her a peck on the cheek before walking to the shed in the backyard.
Annette waited while dressed in her best, from her gloves to her heels, while Franco was down to his casual sweatervest.
“I thought you’d appreciate the effort,” said Annette.
“It’s not like you needed to,” Franco said, “I don’t even have a tie on.”
“Tie or not, your old mum’s getting impatient. I’m not eating this stuff alone again if I can help it. And I have work today, so get yourself downstairs. We’ll meet up down there. I have it all planned out!”
Franco opened the door to the dark shed. Aside from a couple of tiny windows, it was extremely dark, even as the bright autumn sun lit up every other corner of Twinbrook. Nothing was kept in the shed, except for spiral stairs down to the basement and whatever was down there.
What turned out to be down there were quite a few reflections of Franco. Young and fat, old and fat, and often dressed in something nice. Just the way he liked it.
“So this is what she likes,” he muttered to himself.
“And Shark needs to get on that teen sculpture,” he said, as he passed by Lily’s gallery.
“Yeah, they’ll all spend a lot of their time marveling at the art,” Annette said when Franco met her, one more set of stairs down. “It’s all nice, but I know how nice it is.”
“Geez, how long was I down there for?” he asked.
“An hour! Are you really that conceited? Looking at yourself six times.”
“What can I say? I make for a good statue.”
“I hope your ex-wife makes for a good statue too.” She pointed to one of the ice sculptures in front of them; Pansy in her younger days, in skinny jeans and a cropped jacket, posed pointing up to the ceiling, as if she discovered something revolutionary.
“I mean, Shark did a good job with her,” he said, “And I’m fine with her statue down here. She’s the mother to my daughter. I bet Lily will appreciate it when she’s down here with us.”
“But I think there’s one I like a lot better,” he continued.
“You are maturing, aren’t you? Anyways, the ambrosia is in the replicators. The buttons should speak for themselves.”
Although he accidentally synthesized an empty plate at first, Franco pressed the right buttons, from the arrow keys to select a meal to figuring out the difference between “Replicate” and “Nuke From Memory.”
Annette kept the head of the table clear for him.
Who didn’t want to feel like a king, after all?
“Doesn’t it taste like dirty socks?” she asked, “I just don’t want you to get turned off to it. The stuff’s an acquired taste.”
“It’s made from the most expensive ingredients on the market. I’m enjoying it for that reason alone!” He didn’t cringe once at the smell of deathfish, made worse by sitting in the replicator for quite a while. A small amount of research told him that deathfish were as expensive as their eggs. Annette didn’t have the heart to tell him that she got them for free.
He ate every bite with contentment, savoring the silky life fruit pulp, the smooth custard base that almost fell through his fork, and Annette’s secret spice blend. All while Annette’s face tensed up when she chewed, still unsure of the taste after all those years.
“Alright kid,” she said, rising from her seat in a rush of rainbows, “It’s your turn.”
“Just do the dishes,” he said, with his trademark scowl. Annette sat back down in defiance. The rainbows still engulfed him regardless, rejuvenating his digestive system, and eliminating maybe one wrinkle from his face. The whole thing felt insignificant, actually, as if he was cheated out of the deal.
“I know it feels like nothing,” Annette said, “But one or two hundred years from now, you’ll thank me. We might be old, but it’s better than the alternative!”
“Yeah, I’ll smile then.”
“But as I said, you’re here. It’s a smooth, kinda boring ride for the next few centuries. You’re up for it, right?” She looked her son in the eye, just for a split second. He still scowled, more than even his father could manage.
“I don’t want you to be miserable,” she continued, “We’re here for eternity and it’s not worth it if I have to look at you being grouchy all the time. If something’s wrong, let’s fix it before a century passes, okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said, “Grouchy is who I am. I’m feeling...well, I think things are going pretty well for me.”
“That’s great. No regrets now?”
He looked down the hall, right at the statue of Hannah and the commanding tenseness captured in her face with that pose, her delicate jawline, and even her lush eyelashes that were replicated in the statue.
“Not at all.”
Annette heard a car honk its horn, even two floors underground. “Looks like I’m out. Glad to hear that things went right for the two of you. I was rooting for you guys all along.”
Franco made his way to surface a little more slowly, perhaps appreciating the wallpaper, or slowed down and sapped of energy after a sleepless night. When he got inside the house, two chainsaws still buzzed, but kids’ music played on the stereo, and Pansy was curled up in a fetal position on the couch, with her head resting on the arm.
“Is this something we can talk about?” he asked her.
“Just time catching up with me.”
“Anything I can help with? Look, I’m always here for you to vent to. I don’t mind it. Honest.”
She stood up, approaching her ex-husband. Pansy’s brows were slightly furrowed, but only a little bit. In fact, she came off as deadpan. Her mouth forced itself into a slight frown.
“Notzo’s dead.” She then climbed the stairs and went to bed early.
Franco would have offered her a comforting hand if she wanted it, but he opened the door to Pansy’s bedroom (really Julian’s, but he got used to not sleeping), to see her really asleep, with the blanket pulled over her head.
“Good-night,” he whispered, but she didn’t wake up from it. He made a mental note to ask Annette to grill some hamburgers with lettuce and mango salsa, Pansy’s favorite toppings, just to cheer her up a bit. However, someone waited for him a few rooms over.
Hannah was awake. She didn’t take a hot bath and downed only half a pint of cookie dough ice cream, but she had a fulfilling nap in Franco’s bed, even in spite of her preference for softer mattresses (Franco liked them firm). When he sat down on the bed and fluffed his pillow, Hannah relaxed on top of the covers, with her hands folded on top of her belly and her eyes flirtatiously following Franco.
“I had a good nap, but I probably would have slept better with you,” she said, “Ready for a good night?”
“Ready for this one and plenty of others,” he said.
He put his arm around her, over her shoulder, while she rested her head on his shoulder. She used her free arm to hug Franco around his chubby waist, her other hand entirely occupied by his fingers and all the fat padding them.
“I missed moments like this,” she said, “I always liked the way you felt. Really soft and cuddly and, well, kind of dreamy!” She laughed a bit, almost out of embarrassment. “I shouldn’t be ashamed of it. I mean, where would you be without a woman who liked big men? Your mum couldn’t keep her hands off your dad, could she?”
“Oh believe me, I know.” He still remembered walking in on them skinny-dipping, or breaking the shower by being rough together, “Strange how you go from a little twig of a man to me in the space of a few hours.”
“I’m just that open-minded.”
“Are you open-minded about something else?” he asked, slyly winking at her. “You might look like you’re ready to pop, but we can still get under the covers.”
“I’d rather sleep first. Plus, nothing wrong a bit of morning woohoo tomorrow, right?” Hannah turned over on her left side, pulling the covers up and sinking into the soft, hardly-used pillow on her side. Franco came back into the bedroom after a few minutes, in his bathrobe. After losing a night of sleep, he couldn’t blame Hannah for wanting it. He still got close to her, though, lying down on his left side too and pressing himself right up against her back. He found her right hand and clutched on to it.
“It’s easy to fall asleep with you,” she said, with a yawn, “Like sleeping on a cloud.”
“Looks like this will work out after all,” he said. For an hour or two, Hannah fell asleep and woke up intermittently. Franco got in and out of bed intermittently all the while. A snack before bedtime, then being surprised by prom night being that night and escorting Lily out the door to the limo rented for her and her only. He finally returned, ready to sleep, to a somewhat-awake Hannah.
“You know, it’s my birthday today,” she said, in a low, tired tone. “I’m a little scared now.”
“Why?” asked Franco.
“Wonder what it means for the nooboo.”
She soon found out. She sprung out of bed very suddenly, seized up by pain and pressure in her abdomen.
“Okay, no more wondering!” she exclaimed.
“Franco, just help me!”
He panicked. Considering that he missed his own daughter’s birth, he never witnessed one and devolved into senseless panic and fear when it came time for his stepson to be born.
All the noise woke Pansy up, much to her chagrin. Or so she thought that was what woke her up.
She always thought that her dad’s name was a little odd. Phoenix Prudence; why the mythology theme? But death and instant rebirth marked his life, taking his wife during childbirth and leaving him with newborn Pansy in return. Once she learned the story, Pansy understood a little more, even though the name was likely a coincidence, and misplaced, because he didn't die or get reborn.
Of course, she knew that Hannah was pregnant. The new nooboo supplies and the sonogram picture hanging from a magnet on the fridge told the story without Hannah actually needing to.
Death. Rebirth. Pansy remembered, finally, that she was 90 at the time. And Notzo was the same age as her.
“I’d think this is crap, but in all honesty, I’m ready,” she said, once the whole situation was made clear.
Franco heard something, even though he was six feet away from a screaming, laboring Hannah. He walked to Pansy’s room, where he heard the noises coming from. It sounded like a spectral vacuum or spiritual white noise, deafeningly loud and enough to be heard over Hannah and from a few rooms over.
“Crap, not tonight,” he said, holding back a tear.
Grim, unusually cordial, opened the door to the bedroom. “Ms. Prudence, I made sure not to be late.”
“Let’s do this in the next room, Grimmy,” she said, “I’m gonna say what I need to in private.” However, she failed to realize that the walls were pretty flimsy for a such a big house. Franco heard it all.
“Just be kind! It’s been a hard life. No infernal toilets or whatever nasty things you have down there for me, okay?” Pansy was on her knees before the one in the black robes.
“I wasn’t planning on it. I’ve been watching. You were a great police officer, an excellent mother, a good girlfriend. Why should we let Notzo wait much longer? He’s been waiting since noon.”
“Well," she said, hanging her head down and laughing a bit, "I guess I’ll just dive in.”
Franco went out to place her tombstone that night. Grim left her with the big obelisk that matched the other three in the family plot. After heaving the hunk of stone down to its location, he tried to rush home in order to help bring his stepson into the world.
But before he could get in the police cruiser, Hannah had that covered by herself.
In a rush of sparkles and rainbows, and with a big push, Hannah held up a gurgling little boy, with ruddy skin and his father’s indigo eyes.
“Goodness, you’re a cutie,” she said to him, choked to a whisper again.
She held him close to her bosom. Her little package of joy, reaching out at her loose strands of hair with perfect little hands.
“Hey there Hephaestus. I’m...oh my god, you're just amazing. That's all.”
Word Count for this chapter:
2,430Word Count so far:
61,198Hephaestus was named in honor of a sim from a very old game. The original Hephaestus was an ex-IF (made over to look unique, of course), and my first inventor. In Greek mythology, Hephaestus is the god of craftsman, blacksmiths, and other related things, including sculptors, and what else would I use a new mortal kid for?
Considering that Hephaestus is also described as malformed or even ugly, it made a bit of cruel sense to name a Bayless kid after him.
(Though, aside from the comment about his eye color, the genes Hephaestus got will be under wraps until he's a toddler. Horrible or hunky, what will he be?)
