Disclaimer: I own nothing of the characters or the show, and if you try to sue me, you'll get little more than a few books and a lip gloss.
Spoilers: Little bit for Sour Balls, but then I think everyone's seen that by now…
Summery: 'I don't want to be your Mother.' I'm a recently converted Grace/Karen shipper, so here's my take on Karen's thoughts during the ends scene of Sour Balls.
'If that's not being a Mother, then I don't know what is'
But I don't want to be your Mother, can't you see that? I had a chance to be Mason and Olivia's Mother; I've been Jack's Mother for years, but I never wanted to be yours. You smile at me, like your intended compliment hasn't shattered the last of my dreams, and I know that you want something from me, some recognition that we're okay again, that this latest hurt won't come between us, and I think I smile back at you, but if I do it's only small, because when you turn to fiddle with your bag, it doesn't take long for it to fall.
You say something about my Step-kids and I know that this time I respond in the way I always do, as if I know nothing about the children I lived with for most of their lives.
I look away from your eyes as you correct me, and I don't even remember what passes from my lips this time. I don't even know if you're still talking to me; the sound of the last of my heart freezing over is too loud in my ears. I may sound too dramatic to you, and you'd only laugh at me and say I'd drunk too much, but don't you see that I haven't, and that that is the problem? I don't drink like I used to, but you haven't noticed. Maybe you have but don't care. No that wouldn't be like you, you would at least want to know why. Sure I'm always with a glass in hand, but do you ever catch the scent of alcohol on me anymore? And haven't you noticed how my mouth smells like mint after I've popped my pills? Surely you've noticed how much everything affects me now. How, without my shield of drug induced haze, I actually know what you're saying. That's why you hurt me, not for the words, I'm still not truly convinced you weren't right, but because you didn't expect them to hurt me. You didn't care how mean they sounded, how painful they could be. Jack told me once, that he'd said something similar to Will and I'm sure you were told too so you knew how those words could hurt, and yet you didn't even try to be subtle, didn't try to 'spare my feelings', maybe you really didn't believe I had any.
You're looking at me now, and I know I should probably make a joke, criticise your hair, something other than staring into my full glass. And eventually I will, I'll moan that your top hurts my eyes, that your hair could use a new head, and you'll smile in that blank way, and everything will be back to normal. For you.
I've forgiven you for what you said, how could I not, you looked so guilty, and I hate when you're not happy. But it'll take some time for me to get over the way you see me. Did you know that I hadn't drunk for almost four months before today? Except for the wine you and Will provided for me, and even that usually found its way down the sink. But I know I'll drink more when I leave here, because I don't know any other way to deal with this. I was never taught how to overcome loses, the only other way I know is to just leave it all behind and move on, move away. But I don't want to lose you completely, and I'm…comfortable here in New York.
Your right that I care about you, that no matter if I'm hurting from some callous remark flung carelessly over your shoulder, I'll still do anything I can to make you happy, even if that means accepting the role you've given me in your life.
I do love you Grace. But I've never wanted to be your Mother.
Hope you liked! Do let me know what you thought, but please no flaming, I'm scared of fire!