A/N: So again, this was meant to be a very quick one-shot experimenting with how Skulduggery were react to Valkyrie crying, and well, it is still a one-shot...just a tad longer than I intended. Nonetheless, I had a fantastic time writing it, even if it got a little long. (Oh, how I amuse myself so. It's almost pathetic how much I laugh at my own jokes. Almost.) I polished it all up, and I'm really quite impressed with myself. I hope you are, too. If not, no need to tell me. I'd prefer to live in my delusional land where I'm a mind-blowing, hysterical author...(Kidding. Toss me all your constructive critiques – I like to grow.)
And yes, this is a tag to Kingdom of the Wicked. So, naturally, there will be spoilers.
Disclaimer: Why is it I always forget the disclaimer? Perhaps it is because I don't like to be reminded of what isn't mine. Like Skulduggery Pleasant, its world, and all of its remarkable characters.
It was like the hiccups.
Exasperating, embarrassing, and no matter how hard she focused she simply could not predict when it was going to escape her lips. It was a peculiar noise, something her pillow could not muffle, something the muggy night air breathing through the open window could not mute. Some might call it a whimper, but not Valkyrie Cain, because Valkyrie Cain did not whimper.
It had started an hour ago. The moment she and Skulduggery got home from the Sanctuary, she had bid him goodnight and climbed into bed with the intention of sleeping off the horrors of the day. Sleep, upon hearing this, had laughed heartily in her face before flitting away, leaving her swamped in a mess of conflicting thoughts with which to deal. It was as she lay alone with her combative emotions that the irregular spasms of the peculiar noise had commenced.
And they just. Wouldn't. Stop.
As if to emphasize this, another noise, sharp and high-pitched, clawed at her throat. She pushed it back down and swallowed thickly. It really was a good thing that Skulduggery was so difficult to wake in his meditative state because Valkyrie had no clue how loud she was being, and she didn't fancy trying to explain to him why she—
A sound derailed her train of thought. A soft knock at her door.
"Valkyrie, are you awake?" came the deep velvet voice of, at this precise moment, the world's most ill-timed skeleton alive (and probably the only one, at that).
Valkyrie stifled a sigh. With all of the times that she had saved it, couldn't the world afford to be a little less spiteful towards her? Was that so much to ask? "Yeah," she answered reluctantly. "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing of importance." Skulduggery's reply was subdued by the solid door between them. "I was just wondering — and I understand that this is going to sound like an odd question — but you don't happen to be stabbing a puppy with a metal fork in there, do you?"
Valkyrie blinked. Then blinked again. "Can't say that I am," she said with as much nonchalance as one could manage after such a comment. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, there's been this increasingly annoying whimper echoing through the house, and it seems to be originating from your room," Skulduggery explained, and Valkyrie's stomach squirmed uncomfortably.
He had unusually good hearing to boast about for someone with no ears.
"And your first thought is that I'm in here stabbing a cute little puppy with a fork? What kind of twisted person do you think I am?" Valkyrie retorted crossly.
"A very pretty one," Skulduggery pacified. "My apologies, I didn't mean to imply that you enjoy the torture of small, powerless puppies. You're much too compassionate for that sort of thing."
"You bet your Bentley I am," Valkyrie growled. "Now, if it were kittens we were talking about…demonic little furballs are a perfectly legitimate target for my more destructive tendanc—" she winced inwardly as that irrepressible noise (it really was beginning to sound like a whimper) choked her words.
A beat of silence followed.
"Valkyrie," Skulduggery began cautiously, "you don't happen to be making a pitiful whimpering sound like a puppy being stabbed with a fork?"
Valkyrie hesitated. "No," she said eventually, and even she thought her voice sounded feeble.
"I don't wish to alarm you, but I'm coming in."
"What? No don't—"
But the door was already creaking open, and Skulduggery's well-tailored being stepped through. The shroud of shadows in her room dampened the glaring pallor of his skull, but Valkyrie could still make it out. A rush of calm eased some of the tension in her mind as he walked towards her. Tall, fearless Skulduggery. He paused a few feet from her bed and crossed his arms, surveying her with the air of one in deep contemplation.
"You're shaking," he observed, and Valkyrie frowned.
"No, I'm not."
"I can see it from here."
"Must be a trick of the light."
"A very shaky light."
Valkyrie glowered and sat up in bed, glancing down at her muscled arms. They were sort of trembling. How strange.
Skulduggery closed the distance between him and the bed and sat down by her feet. Sensing the invitation, Valkyrie crawled out from under her sheets and took her place beside him, legs swinging over the ledge. "You were awfully quiet on the ride home tonight," he murmured. "Understandable of course, after all we went through, but I can tell it's more than that. You're worried."
Valkyrie made to answer, but, annoyingly, another whimper closed off her words. Clearing her throat with a sheepish laugh, she tried again. "I'm not worried. I honestly have no idea why I'm shaking. Can't help it, really. Must be all that adrenaline."
Skulduggery's head tilted towards her, and she met his eyeless gaze evenly.
"There's no shame in admitting you're scared, Valkyrie," he told her gently, and Valkyrie looked away.
Was that what this was? Valkyrie dealt with fear on a daily basis, but there was a colossal difference between feeling fear and being scared. And it had been such a very long time since she was scared. But this jarring sensation that rattled her core…could it be terror pure and simple? She couldn't be sure. In fact, she didn't want to know.
"War is a terrible thing," Skulduggery continued softly, "something I never ever wanted you to see. But should it be the path that the Sanctuaries decide to take…we'll make it. Together. So long as we don't lose our heads, we'll make it to the other side."
"I have no doubt about that, Skulduggery. You and me could take on the world and survive, but as who?" She gave a short, bitter laugh. "We may go into this war as Valkyrie Cain and Skulduggery Pleasant, but when we walk off the battlefield, who's to say we won't leave as Darquesse and Lord Vile?"
His eerie silence made her shiver.
"Just go," she muttered, tears pricking her eyes. "Go meditate. I'll try not to be so loud."
"Valkyrie..." he said soothingly, his gloved hand reaching to catch the careless tear trickling down her cheek. She smacked his hand away and wiped the tearstain with the back of her hand.
"There's no shame in crying, either," he informed her, ignoring her smite. "It's actually quite liberating."
"Chock full of wisdom today, are we?"
"I am very wise," Skulduggery agreed, straightening his tie importantly. "And I'm rarely wrong."
Valkyrie nodded. "I'll cry when you leave, I promise."
Skulduggery's head tilted tersely. "I haven't earned the right to see you cry?"
Valkyrie actually laughed a little at how offended he sounded. "Don't be ridiculous. Out of all the people in the universe, you've definitely earned the right to see me cry."
"Then why is that never the case?"
Valkyrie pondered this, frowning thoughtfully. "To be honest, I just don't want to put you in an awkward position. Let's face it, you'd be dead-awful at comforting a hysterical teenage girl."
"I beg your pardon?" Skulduggery sounded dangerously close to spluttering. "I believe I've comforted you, and quite successfully I might add, on many occasions."
"Sure you have. But was I crying during any of them?" Valkyrie raised an eyebrow with perfect precision, daring him to contradict her.
He opened his jaw to retort but faltered, his vacillation reinforcing her point. "No."
"Then there you have it. You're a bad shoulder to cry on. But don't take it to heart, I still love you." She brushed her head affectionately against his shoulder.
"A punishment I deserve, I suppose," Skulduggery sighed morosely, and Valkyrie didn't dither in head-butting his jaw. He chuckled, masking pained undertones, and wrapped a lithe arm around her shoulders.
"I have a feeling I'd have a knack for it, you know," Skulduggery added after a moment of silence. "Comforting hysterical teenage girls, that is. I have a knack for most things I try."
Valkyrie snorted incredulously. "And I have a feeling you're deluding yourself."
"I'm far too clever to delude myself."
"I rest my case."
"Valkyrie, you should know that I'm taking this brave face you're hiding behind as a personal insult to our partnership." The humor was fading from his tone.
Valkyrie bristled despite herself. "So what?" she snapped. "Would you rather I got snot-tears all over your suit?"
"If you allow me the chance to switch into one of my less preferred suit jackets, then yes," Skulduggery replied smoothly.
Valkyrie should have laughed, should have derived the moment of its potential for seriousness. Instead her bottom lip quivered, and she dropped her gaze to her hands. Skulduggery's arm around her tightened.
"I know you're afraid." His voice was close by her ear.
She would have kept her head down out of sheer principle, but gently, ever so gently, he lifted her stubborn chin with two gloved fingerips.
They stared unswervingly at each other.
Condensation filled her eyes at an alarming rate, and Valkyrie reflected that having a staring contest with a skeleton was utterly, utterly pointless as she watched his skull blur.
"Let me see you cry."
The tears threatened to spill, but she bit her lip, bit it so hard she tasted blood, and fractionally shook her head.
Skulduggery's fingers fell from her chin, and he paused before nodding with acceptance. "You need your rest," he told her quietly and got up from her bed in one graceful motion. His footsteps echoed hollowly against the wooden floor, and a tear slipped down her cheek without permission. Valkyrie shook her head again and brushed it away.
His slender hand was on the doorknob. She breathed deeply, but tears were now cascading down her cheeks with abandon.
He turned his head to offer a final farewell, and a sob broke the night.
Skulduggery jolted like he'd been electrocuted, and hastened over to her. Valkyrie pulled her knees up to her chin, feeling like her insides were shredding to pieces as she gave into the tears. She waited for Skulduggery to pull her into a hug, to hold her close and quell her sobs, but he just stood there, a statue with its jaw hanging slightly ajar.
He came to life again with an abrupt cough and said, quite awkwardly, "Erm. Right. Yes. This is the part where I lie to you and tell you everything is going to be okay, correct?"
Valkyrie looked up at him through her haze of tears, eyes wide in astonishment at his blatant lack of tact. Then she caved in on herself, sobbing harder.
"Perhaps not then," Skulduggery muttered, eye sockets roaming the room desperately for a solution to the sniffling conundrum in front of him. His shrewd gaze zeroed in on an object, and he snatched it up triumphantly.
"Would you like a tissue?" he asked kindly, holding out the tissue box and sounding exceptionally pleased with himself, like he'd just solved the problem.
Valkyrie's unbelieving gape morphed into a glare, and she lashed out, her fist colliding with the tissue box, sending it spinning across the room. Skulduggery took a defensive step backwards.
"Um, how about a glass of water?" he tried, and if Valkyrie didn't know any better, she'd have thought he sounded panicked. "Keep you hydrated. That'd be very considerate of me. Hysterical girls like consideration."
Valkyrie shook her head adamantly.
"It appears I may have overstated my skill in this matter," Skulduggery murmured feverishly to himself. He looked so very flustered that Valkyrie almost laughed through her racking sobs. Skulduggery glanced worriedly at her, his shoulders slumping a notch. Then he conceded to commit an act most undignified.
He started pacing.
Valkyrie stared. The floodgates inside her froze up with shock. The world itself seemed to halt, its gravitational pull momentarily taut with restraint. Here was the magnificent Skulduggery Pleasant, the dead-alive detective that made the most hardened criminals cringe at the mention of his name, pacing the floor, hands locked behind his back, steps jerky and unmeasured, looking for all the world like a helpless man in a helpless situation. The tears were still spilling endlessly down her cheeks, but now Valkyrie convulsed with some strange mutation of laughter and crying. Skulduggery stopped pacing and looked at her.
"No. Stop that," he commanded with an authoritative wag of his finger. "The cheering up bit where I make you laugh comes at the end. That much I know for certain."
Her spastic, snuffling giggles persisted, and Skulduggery sighed, kneeling down beside her, one bony hand on her knee. "Valkyrie, dear, I seem to have misplaced the first part in comforting hysterical teenage girls. You wouldn't happen to know it, would you?"
She rolled her eyes at him, contemplating the depths of his hopelessness, and nodded, tears splashing onto his glove.
"Would you be so kind as to impart this vital piece of information?"
"Hug," Valkyrie demanded, holding her arms out expectantly.
"Of course!" Skulduggery exclaimed, snapping his fingers, and she imagined a light bulb blinking over his head. "Physical affection. How silly of me."
And without further ado, he stooped down and wrapped her up in his arms with a rare tenderness. Valkyrie reciprocated the hug, her tears melting away, but mainly because she had already cried herself out, no thanks to the idiotic skeleton she called her best friend.
"You're such a goon," Valkyrie whispered, shaking her head against his sternum.
"And yet here I am, comforting a hysterical teenage girl with unbelievable finesse. Did I not tell you that I would have a knack for it?" Skulduggery gloated, patting her back smugly.
Valkyrie withheld comment, choosing instead to enjoy the moment. She memorized every detail, from Skulduggery's hand wandering through her hair, to the way her flesh and blood body molded perfectly against his skeletal frame. She held onto every sensation, every heartbeat, every touch, and hid them away in her heart.
A war was coming, after all. Memories like this were the only thing that would keep the darkness at bay.
Author's Advice 2016-Of all the lessons I've learned from writing fanfiction, Tears, Don't Fall has taught me the most valuable one. Truly, the test of good writing. Are you ready? Here it is: write what you as a reader want to read. Do you ever look over your own work, not to edit or critique, but simply to enjoy the images that pop into your head from the strings of sentences crafted by your own fingers? Can you read your stories and laugh at the humor, thrill at the fight scenes, lose yourself in your own writing? Can you forget who the author is and delight in the world and the characters, the interactions and plot? In other words, if you hadn't written this story, would you still read it?
Every once in a while, when I'm in a nostalgic Skulduggery mood, I'll sit down and peruse my hoard of Skulduggery Pleasant fanfiction, and Tears, Don't Fall will always be in the pile. I'll read it, smile, giggle, cherish the warm feelings bubbling up inside, remember what inspired it, and stalwartly ignore all the parts I would do differently now with three more years of writing under my belt. I just love reading it!
This isn't a call to arrogance in our own writing abilities but a call to quality work. As an author, I want to be held to the same standard I adore in my favorite books. If I lace up my reader shoes and find I can't enjoy my own writing for enjoyment's sake, how can I ask anyone else to do the same?