Author's Note: I'm not the first to write a shower scene. I get it. But really, what would Ignis do after several days laying in a bed unconscious, wounded and sick? He'd want to clean up. So a shower seems logical. It also offers something else: solitude.
This story is a companion piece to my story, Momenits. I finally like that title. I'm not sold on the one for this story. I may change them if the right inspiration (or suggestion) comes my way.
Revalations
by Philippe de la Matraque
Alone. He needed to be alone. It wasn't that Ignis didn't appreciate the support Gladio and especially Prompto were giving him. It was just that he'd had years of practice keeping his expressions neutral in stressful situations. He tamped down excessive emotions on a regular basis.
This, however, was an exceptional change from the norm. And it threatened everything he knew.
Ignis nodded as Prompto explained the layout of the bathroom. But he also called on memory. "Be very careful with the burns," Prompto reminded him. "Are you sure you don't need help?"
"I will manage," Ignis replied, his voice steady and assured, though inside his pulse was beginning to race.
"Okay, I put your clean clothes right inside the door," Prompto said. "If you need anything-"
"I will call out," Ignis finished for him. "Thank you."
The door between them shut and Ignis was finally, truly alone. He felt sore all over and weakened such that his whole body felt heavy. It seemed to take a lot of strength just to move his arms. It tired him quickly, so he sat down on the toilet lid to remove the pajamas someone had dressed him in. At least he had been unconscious for that.
Undressed, he stood in front of the sink, trying desperately to see his reflection in the mirror he remembered was there. He braced himself on the counter as his arms began to shake. He was blind.
He didn't know how to be blind. How would he get himself from place to place, feed himself food he couldn't see? He'd never drive again, never cook. Never read. He felt like he was drowning. He was hyperventilating.
Ignis turned and slid down the vanity until he was reclined against it. He cupped his hands over his mouth until he could breathe again.
How would he follow Noct and keep him safe? How could he sew on a loose button, or even tell night from day? How could he possibly fight monsters, creatures, daemons, or MTs?
He knew, of course, that many blind people led decent, fulfilling lives. But they knew how. Either they were born to it or they had occupational therapy to teach them coping techniques. A great many probably had likely changed careers to one suited better to their disabilities. But he didn't want a career change, and there was no time for occupational therapy. How could he walk away from Noctis after he'd seen what he'd seen?
Noctis was going to die. Ignis played that vision over in his head, looking for a way out, some loophole that meant the world could be saved without a sacrifice of that magnitude. But the voice had apparently anticipated such hopefulness. Three times, it had emphasized the point: The Chosen King would die.
There was a knock on the door. "You alright in there?" Prompto's voice. Was he standing ready just outside the door?
"I'm fine," Ignis lied. But he reached forward and caught the wall of the tub. He used it to pull himself up enough to slip into it. His body took over, using muscle memory to turn knobs, check the temperature. He let the water run down his back, careful not to let it hit his face. Every little drop stung when it landed near his left eye. His left eyelid. His left socket. How to describe it now that he had no eye there?
You chose this, he reminded himself. You protected Noct in the only way left to you.
But did I? he argued back. Even knowing the cost, I would make the same choice to protect him. But was he really in danger?
Ardyn had had many opportunities in the past. And he certainly could have killed Noctis after the ring's power had left him. But he hadn't. Just a flippant, "Well, that's enough for one day." He'd manipulated the whole thing. Ignis had been played 'like a fiddle,' as the saying goes. He was hurt and blinded for nothing.
Each of these revelations alone were hard enough to withstand, but they had hit him all at once. He was blind. Blinded for nothing. Noct would die.
It was too much to bear. Ignis's shoulders began to shake and he let himself collapse again to a seated position. The sound of the shower muffled the sounds of his weeping, and he ignored the sting of tears on his burns. Noct was lost. He was lost. He'd failed his sworn duty and he'd never be the same.
He stayed like that until he was all cried out and the water was getting cold. Then Ignis steeled himself. He locked away the enormous sense of loss and steadied his expression. He turned off the water, dried himself with the towel hanging beside the tub and began to dress. It wasn't the first time he'd dressed in the dark. He sat down as he did so, only standing to pull up his pants and fasten them. He was immensely tired. Socks were a little tricky, but the heel bunched up if it was on the top or sides of the foot, so he straightened them without too much trouble. Muscle memory worked again as he combed his hair. He could only hope it looked decent.
He opened the door and heard footsteps coming toward him. "How do you feel?" Prompto asked as he took hold of Ignis's elbow.
"Tired," Ignis told him. It was true. There was just so much more than that.
"I can take you back to rest," Prompto offered.
Ignis asked him instead, "Where's Noct?"
"He's still sleeping," Prompto replied.
"Isn't there a chair in his room?" Ignis tried again. "I can rest there."
"Oh, okay." Prompto led him forward and Ignis played a memory of walking through this suite at the Leville. They turned left and Prompto led him to a high-backed chair. "The bed is right behind you," he said. "Let us know if he wakes up."
Ignis just nodded and he listened as Prompto's footsteps led away and to the left. Ignis was, in effect alone again. Three thoughts dominated his ruminations. He was blind. Blinded for nothing. Noct would die.