A/N: Hi! After over a year on this site, I finally decided to take a crack at writing myself. So here is my first attempt at fanfiction. I only ever watched the 4kids version of seasons 1-3 of Winx Club, so I'm going off that canon but I'm incorporating my own backstories, ideas and random babble for my personal enjoyment and hopefully your reading pleasure.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except a cute little dog named Daisy. Enjoy!
Peace
This was it. He was dying.
He lay on the cot, hooked to the IV and god knows what other machines. A thin blanket draped over his body, scarcely providing enough warmth to combat against the chilly winter morning. His still-keen ears took in the shrieking winds swirling beyond the confines of his sterile hospital room. The sound was harsh to most, and yet strangely it comforted him. Even the howling whirlwinds were an improvement to the usual pin drop silence of Room 204.
Although today there was another sound to compete with the snowy gusts outdoors. He opened his tired eyes briefly. Yes, she was still there. The corner of his mouth raised almost imperceptibly upwards, but quickly returned to its weary frown. Even after all they had been through, even after the innumerable times he had hurt her ... she had still come the moment she had heard. And now she was slumped uncomfortably in the wooden chair near his bed, failing miserably to contain the barrage of tears pouring down her pale cheeks. The crying, soft as it tried to be, pained him to the point that he'd rather sit in silence for the rest of eternity than hear it for another second. All it reminded him of was his failures, his failures to fulfill his duties to her.
The door opened and two men entered. One took his place next to the girl, his rough, calloused hand enveloping her much smaller one protectively. The other man, the doctor, approached him with a clipboard and a calm but somber expression. "I have your results, Ho-Boe. I'm very sorry, but ..."
The rest of the doctor's words melted away. Ho-Boe didn't need to hear them. Everyone knew that alcohol was a poison that killed slowly, and now after years of abuse his time was up. He knew he was dying, so who gave a damn about the specifics? Instead, he focused on the raven-haired girl's renewed sobs. Her face was buried in the muscular chest of the burgundy-haired boy, whose free hand rubbed her small back soothingly, if slightly awkwardly. A fresh wave of guilt washed over Ho-Boe as he took in the scene.
He remembered their last encounter, when he had broken her trust in him yet again. He knew this time had particularly stung. He had promised her he was going to be clean, that he was finally sobering up after years of trying. But then there was the concert at Red Fountain, where he had watched her sing that song. The night was still young when alcohol's siren song had lured him in once again, and with that came the same consequences.
"…and so I'm afraid the prognosis is not good for your liver. I'd advise you to get your affairs in order as soon as possible, for the sake of your loved ones." Doctor Galen finally finished his medical babble and looked hesitantly at his patient. Ho-Boe looked pretty unfazed for a man who was just told that his body was shutting down and he had mere days to live. The doctor decided that perhaps the man just needed time to process his prognosis alone. He cleared his throat and murmured, "I'm sorry I couldn't bring you better news. If you'll excuse me." He had just reached the door when a voice emerged from behind him.
"Hey Doc, can we talk real quick?"
It was Musa, the patient's daughter. Dr. Galen felt a surge of sympathy as he regarded the young woman who approached him. In her last year of high school at Alfea, and instead of enjoying her time with her friends, she was about to lose her second parent at only 19 years old (1). She had been a constant presence at her father's bedside for the better part of a week. Musa's strength was admired by all the hospital nurses, but Galen knew better. While her steady voice gave the illusion of calm, her red eyes betrayed her grief and lack of sleep; the musical fairy was clearly at the end of her rope. Galen knew he would have to choose his words carefully.
"Of course, Miss Musa. Come, let us speak outside and give your father some rest." He held open the door and gestured for the fairy to pass ahead of him. Behind her, Musa's boyfriend rose as well, towering above his tiny girlfriend. He moved to follow her when he was halted by a raspy command.
"Wait, lad, I need to talk to you."
Riven paused and locked eyes with Musa. She turned in surprise towards Ho-Boe, who had suddenly snapped out of his reverie and now stared intently at Riven. After regarding her father for a few seconds, Musa nodded. "I'll be right outside, Riven." She then walked out the door still held open by Doctor Galen.
In the hallway, Musa absentmindedly stared at a holiday poster on the drab sea-green wall. Doctor Galen remained silent, waiting patiently.
"So there's really no way you can save him?" she whispered, still looking at the poster. Her knuckles were white.
Galen sighed. "Unfortunately, Musa, there's nothing we can do. The damage to his liver is too great."
Musa took a deep breath, continuing to avoid Galen's eyes. He now focused on the poster himself. It depicted a family, laughing together around a festively decorated evergreen tree. Galen again felt great pity for the girl in front of him.
"He still has a little time. Perhaps you can have one last happy holiday together."
At this, the petite fairy gave a rueful laugh. "Having one last happy holiday together implies that we had happy holidays together before Doc. And you know that's not true."
The doctor sighed again. As the local physician of Cadenza, the small planet in the Harmonic Nebula where Musa and her father lived after the latter was disowned by the Royal Family of Cantabile for marrying a commoner, Galen had watched Ho-Boe's tragic decline into constant drunken grief following the death of his beloved wife firsthand.
"I know it hasn't been easy for you, child." Galen almost laughed. Talk about an understatement. Musa gave him a look as well.
"He promised he would quit, Doc. And I believed him. It was stupid, but I believed him. I wanted him to get better so badly, so we could finally…" she trailed off, overcome with emotion.
"It's okay to get things off your chest, Musa," the doctor pressed gently.
"So we could finally fulfill Mom's last wish, and be a family together. But I messed up big time, and now that'll never happen."
Musa turned her back to the doctor as she broke down again, trying to hide the waterfall of tears cascading down her pale cheeks. Galen decided to hell with professionalism for a few minutes, and placed a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder.
"It wasn't your fault, Musa. People had already seen him around the bars in Bel Canto. He was already about to fall off the bandwagon."
The young fairy spun around, looking Galen straight in the eye. "Well then I pushed him off the damn wagon, didn't I? Maybe if I didn't sing 'Magic in My Heart,' he'd be clean now and none of this past year would have ever happened."
Galen matched her gaze evenly. "I'm not denying that your performance didn't trigger some unhappy memories for him." Musa groaned in response. "But that doesn't excuse his actions after the Nightingale Festival. That was months after the concert, yet he still behaved deplorably."
Pain filled those azure eyes yet again. "I know that. Why do you think we haven't spoken in a year?"
"Then pardon my candor, but why are you here? Why come back to a man who has done you nothing but harm for 16 years?" Galen couldn't hide the anger in his voice. As a medical man, he knew he shouldn't bring emotion into the hospital. But as a man of principle, a longtime friend and a father himself, he couldn't help but feel anger at his patient. Ho-Boe's drunken rages had brought a lot of pain, both emotional and otherwise, to his daughter, the effects of which Galen had seen firsthand. The doctor had thus been astounded to see Musa faithfully sitting at her father's bedside, especially after she had sworn to never speak to him again after the Nightingale Festival incident.
Taken aback by the usually composed doctor's outburst, Musa dropped her gaze and turned back towards the holiday poster. She fixated on the depiction of a little girl being swung in the air by a laughing man, both being watched adoringly by a woman.
"He's my dad for a reason. My mother saw something good in him. She trusted him with her heart. I always thought if I tried hard enough, I could find that goodness again. I could have my dad again." Musa halted, her voice breaking. "But now it's too late. I know he'll always blame me for … for what happened to Mom."
"Lily made her choice Musa," a now slightly ashamed Dr. Galen protested. "She understood the health risks of carrying you to term, and she decided you were worth it." The doctor wanted to continue, but he realized that his words were falling on deaf ears.
"He gave up everything for her. She was his whole world, Doc. To him, I took her away, and nothing I did after could ever change that," the musical fairy whispered.
Galen fell silent. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew there was a tragic truth behind the teenager's words.
"Why wasn't I good enough for him, Doc?"
Galen could do nothing but look sadly at the teary musical fairy before him. "I'm so sorry Musa."
"What do you want?" Riven growled, standing across from the bed wearily. It had been a long week, made even longer by the sleepless nights he had spent trying to comfort his distraught girlfriend. And Musa's crying so much for what? For this asshole? The hotheaded hero shook his head. He supposed he should have more sympathy for a dying man, but after what he had recently found out about Musa's relationship with her father, Riven wasn't in the mood for soothing bedside manner.
Ho-Boe observed him quietly, irritating Riven further.
"If you have something to say, spit it out. Otherwise, I'm out of here." He turned towards the door.
"You seem different than when I first met you. You were so … eager before."
Eager?! Riven looked back, a dangerous glint in his violet eyes. The bastard's mocking me. "Yeah well, I know who you are now. I know how much you hurt her," he retorted sharply.
Ho-Boe stayed silent, as if considering the merits of Riven's accusation. His navy blue eyes, so like his daughter's, looked tired. Riven noticed that they lacked all of the joy he usually found in Musa's eyes. A joy he hadn't seen since they got to this damn hospital. He scowled at the thought. The young man was about to snap again when Ho-Boe opened finally his mouth.
"You're right. I did hurt her."
Riven gaped slightly, then quickly returned to his scornful expression. Didn't expect the old bastard to admit it. "I should have left you to Stormy," he muttered bitterly.
Ho-Boe ignored the sneering boy as he continued. "I'll admit I'll never be in the running for 'Father of the Year.' After Lily died, I didn't know what to do with myself, much less with my daughter."
"So that's your excuse?" Riven countered, a complete lack of sympathy in his voice. He knew how devastated Ho-Boe and Musa had been by the death of Matlin (nicknamed Lily because of her love for the flower). But that didn't justify the years of abuse which Ho-Boe had inflicted on Musa as a result. Although Riven had grown up on the streets and thus witnessed and even partaken in all sorts of criminal activities, even he had a line for right and wrong. And now he knew that Ho-Boe had crossed that line.
"I know what I've done is wrong. My money was going to my bar tabs instead of paying for our groceries. I was stumbling about at all hours of the night, and Musa suffered for it. But without Lily, my life lost all meaning. What was I supposed to do?"
Riven's scowl deepened. "You're Musa's dad! You were supposed to be there for her! And instead you put your filthy hands on her!" Riven was fuming as he remembered Musa's tears when she confessed that her father repeatedly hit her. He remembered the scar that ran jaggedly down her arm as he had hugged her. He even remembered wanting to beat the crap out of the man who had harmed the girl he loved. Hell, he still wanted to do that, but Musa had forbidden it. "You don't deserve to have her here, you pathetic son of a bitch!" Well, she hadn't forbidden cursing the guy out.
"But you deserve her? I seem to recall hearing about your little dalliances with some witch. How are you any better than me for Musa?" Ho-Boe coolly retorted.
Riven's violet eyes flashed with pure rage. The older man had clearly struck a nerve, as the hero's face took on a furious red that rivaled his hair. Ho-Boe prepared for the worst, having heard of the young man's infamous temper, but now it was Riven who surprised him. The former dropped his gaze, and when he spoke his voice was quiet. "You're right. I don't deserve her. I was an ass to her three years ago. Getting involved with those witches was the worst thing I've ever done." He then looked up, his voice becoming more confident. "But even though we both hurt her, I'm still better than you."
"And how do you figure that?" Ho-Boe's voice still had that maddeningly nonchalant tone, but his eyes were intently focused on the still-fuming Specialist as he awaited a reply.
"Because unlike you, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret what I did to her. People usually don't give me second chances, but she did, god knows why. And I'm not going to mess that up, not again. I'm going to marry her and spend the rest of my life doing whatever it takes to make her happy."
Riven froze suddenly. The emotionally-challenged hero realized he had verbalized his innermost feelings and desires, and to Ho-Boe of all people. It seemed getting Riven's guard down ran in the family. He then noticed that Ho-Boe was still watching him and glared back defiantly, as if daring the older man to challenge his words.
However, if Riven was expecting a reaction, he was sorely disappointed. "I see. Did you want my blessing?" Ho-Boe inquired casually. He maintained his unruffled demeanor, but a cooler head than Riven's would have noticed the satisfaction in Ho-Boe's eyes.
Riven's trademark scowl returned in full force. "I don't need your blessing. You lost that privilege the first time you put your hand on her."
At that comment, Ho-Boe's face fell. It was as if the man had finally realized the gravity of his actions. Time and time again, he had not only hurt his daughter but devastated and abandoned her. Ho-Boe had wasted the numerous chances Musa had given him, and now he had to face the consequences. And that started with being out of Musa's life in her times of joy, just as he had been in her times of sorrow.
Riven decided he had had enough of this lovely bonding session and turned to leave and find Musa. He was just approaching the door when Ho-Boe spoke for the last time.
"Take care of her, Riven. Don't fail her like I did," Ho-Boe whispered. Violet eyes locked with navy ones, and for the first time Riven felt sorry for his would-be father-in-law. He of all people knew how hard it was to try to escape one's demons; Riven had a full laundry list's worth of them. But he at least, no matter how hard he had once tried to push them away, had his friends, his teachers, and especially his girlfriend to rely on for support. Ho-Boe had lost everyone but his daughter, and a year ago even Musa had surrendered to his constant rejections of her, leaving the man alone with his inner demons. While Riven wasn't planning on forgiving Ho-Boe, he could feel pity for someone who had lost a battle the young hero had come so close to losing himself.
"I won't." He nodded slightly at Ho-Boe and finally exited the sickroom.
All was quiet in Room 204. Unbearable for a musician, Ho-Boe thought ruefully, but necessary.
A few days had passed since Dr. Galen had confirmed that Ho-Boe's death was imminent. After his conversation with Riven, the details of which the stubborn Specialist refused to divulge despite Musa's questioning, Ho-Boe shut himself completely from the outside world as his body shut down. He felt himself weakening rapidly as his organs began to fail. The already-slight man's physique withered to waifish proportions. He stopped eating almost entirely. Tubes hung off his body, fighting to keep alive a man whose heart had given up a long time ago.
One person who was clearly trying not to give up was Musa. The young songstress had taken Dr. Galen's words to heart, which Ho-Boe had overheard thanks to his sonar-like hearing, and it was evidently now Musa's goal to make final happy memories with her father despite their past differences. But the former composer wasn't making it easy by ignoring all of her attempts at holiday cheer.
He had laid quietly in his cot when Musa had walked in earlier in the day, bearing three bags worth of holiday treats with the intentions of having a small wintertide feast. The musical fairy had distributed the sweets amongst the other patients in his hallway, to their immense pleasure. Ho-Boe himself only partook in a small pudding after ten minutes of his daughter's pleading, and that was only because he had caught sight of Riven's pointedly murderous expression behind her.
Pudding aside, Ho-Boe had maintained his silent exile. It was unbearable, yes, but necessary. Musa might be willing to overlook the past, but she had always had a capacity to forgive that he could never quite fathom. It was one of her better qualities, one that the former musician had shamefully exploited in the past and one he had feared others may similarly exploit in the future, although his conversation with the boy had assuaged those concerns. He wondered where she had picked it up, as it was certainly not from him. Hadn't that always been his own problem, an inability to let go of the past? But it was not about him anymore. For once, he had to think of his child's best interests.
Outside Room 204, the sounds of the holiday party continued in full force. Musa and the nurses had decorated the common room with cheerful wreaths and started a roaring fire to combat the chilly air. Laughter filled the usually sterile hallway, helping many in the hospital to forget their troubles for the evening. The former composer remained in his cot, wincing slightly as he took in the caroling of his fellow terminal patients. It seemed the eggnog was encouraging yet another warbling encore.
Despite the melee, he also overheard Musa playing the common room's piano in accompaniment of the sorry excuse that his fellow residents considered singing. She really did play beautifully; he could hear her hands gliding smoothly over the keys as she sang along with the partygoers. Memories started to enter Ho-Boe's mind of another girl who had once played with such joyful ease, but he quickly squashed them. It was for this very reason he had once forbidden his daughter from playing music – not that she had listened. The former musician suddenly felt a strong desire for a drink, but resisted the urge. He couldn't give in, not yet anyways. Ho-Boe then realized that the piano's jolly melody had stopped. Sadly for his ears, the wretched screeching of Madame Castafiore (2) from two doors down had only gotten louder.
At that moment, the door swung open, revealing Musa. The musical fairy had actually enjoyed the past few hours playing piano for the carolers. Yes, some of them had no idea how to carry a tune, but getting lost in the music was just what she needed to lift her spirits (a few quick kisses under the mistletoe from Riven hadn't hurt either). Now if only she could get Ho-Boe to join the party, then perhaps one day Musa would have that happy holiday memory to cherish as Dr. Galen had advised.
"Come outside, Daddy. Everyone's having such a good time, and you'll feel better if you get out of this damn room."
Ho-Boe merely looked back at her. "I'm fine in here, baby girl."
"But Daddy-"
"I'm not leaving, Musa. Go back to the party if you want to."
Despite the obvious rejection, Musa wasn't ready to give up so easily. "Okay, then let's get the party goin' in here. If you aren't into caroling, how 'bout some classics? Like the Hex Pistols or the Pixie Chicks (3)? Or even Stevie Wander, I know you loved his records back in the-"
"No music, Musa! You should know better by now." Ho-Boe interrupted, speaking in clipped tones. At his harsh words, Musa's face fell, making Ho-Boe feel slightly ashamed. He knew what she was trying to do, and he felt like an ass for crushing her good intentions. But even now, after 16 years, it was still too painful. For him, music had died with Lily.
"I just wanted to cheer you up, Daddy. You don't have to snap at me," Musa said quietly. She could tell her father was avoiding eye contact with her, further frustrating the young fairy. Why does he have to be so bloody difficult? Musa shook her head, and her voice took on a stronger tone. "Look Daddy, we need to talk."
Ho-Boe finally looked at her. "I thought you never wanted to speak to me again."
Musa sighed. "I know I said that," she said evenly. "But-"
"Or even see me again."
"Yes, but-"
"I thought you hated me, baby girl."
"Would you just let me talk for a second?!" Musa finally exploded, unable to keep her cool demeanor.
Ho-Boe stared back at her impassively. "Talk then."
The petite fairy took a deep breath. Despite her usual prowess for constructing a verse, Musa was struggling to find the right words to start the conversation she desperately wanted to have. At the last second, she switched gears, her courage failing her.
"What's the deal with you and Riven the other day? What was that about?"
"I expect you'll find out soon enough," Ho-Boe answered coolly. He looked out the window, noting the darkness beyond the confines of the fluorescent-lit room. "It's getting late, so if that's all…"
"I…" Musa hesitated. This was not going well. Her father was clearly unwilling to speak openly with her. Musa considered walking away. After all, why bring up the past now, at the very end? But at the same time, the young fairy just couldn't let these words go unspoken. "Actually no, no it's not. We need to talk this out, Dad."
Ho-Boe closed his eyes. "Don't, Musa."
"I can't just forget about it. What you did was totally wack, and I never even got a sorry."
The former composer stiffened. "I repeat, it was you who cut off all contact with me over the last year. How was I supposed to explain my side?"
A frown crossed Musa's face, but before she could reply, her father delivered the crushing blow. "You never gave me a chance."
"I never gave you a chance?"
Musa's pretty face looked pained as she struggled to calm herself. She didn't want one of her last conversations with her father to turn into yet another screaming match. But she couldn't help it. "Do you even feel bad for what you did last year? You hurt me, you lied to me, you-"
"I didn't lie," the former musician interrupted through clenched teeth. He too was trying, and failing, to stay calm.
"What?!"
"I said I didn't lie to you about my sobriety."
Musa laughed harshly. "Oh my bad, I didn't know stumbling in at 3AM, piss drunk, made you the poster boy of soberness!"
"You don't understand." Ho-Boe maintained coldly. "I was sober. I was trying. Then I saw you at the festival. Singing and dancing in your mother's dress…" Did she not understand what that visual had done to him?
The musical fairy couldn't believe her ears. "Are you seriously blaming me for what happened that night?" Musa was incredulous, furious and most of all, hurt. She knew how he felt for years regarding her supposed role in his alcoholism, but it still crushed her when he vocalized it himself. Especially after she considered their supposedly genuine heart-to-heart two years ago following the hostage crisis with Stormy, when the composer had assured his daughter that she was mistaken. "I can't believe I ever fell for your bullshit," the young fairy groaned.
"Have some respect for your elders, baby girl," Ho-Boe growled.
"Respect? For you? After all the crap you put me through?" Mentally, the raven-haired girl was kicking herself. This was not how the conversation was supposed to go. She had come into Room 204 to finally reconcile with her father. To put their differences in the past and get some closure, some mental peace. But this was too much.
"So why'd you come back, baby girl? Why not just cut your losses?" Ho-Boe retorted sharply.
"I came back because all Mom ever wanted was for us to be a family!" Musa shouted. "She wanted us to be happy together! But I was never good enough for you!"
Ho-Boe was silent.
"I tried so hard Dad! To be the strong one for both of us! To give you a reason to keep this family together, even without Mom. But dammit, nothing I did was enough for you, was it?"
Musa looked down at the floor, shutting her eyes to try to regain control of herself. The musical fairy wanted to scream. All of her frustrations were boiling over, overcoming the emotional girl who had survived for years by playing it cool and putting up a tough front. But now, it was all coming out – every disappointment, every fury, every heartbroken truth that she had concealed away while trying to be the family's pillar of strength.
After a moment, she looked back at the ailing man. "And now it's too late," Musa said. Her voice was soft now. "You're dying, Mom's gone and I'll have to live with the fact that I couldn't fulfill my own mother's last wish for the rest of my life. I… I failed her."
Ho-Boe remained silent, seemingly unmoved to Musa's despair. Why was she still putting herself through hell for this man? Many people had told her to cut ties with her father long before the Nightingale incident, but she just couldn't. Perhaps it was because she had tried for so long to convince herself (or maybe more accurately delude herself) that deep down in his heart, her father did care for her in even the smallest possible way. But even on his deathbed, it appeared that Ho-Boe could never accept Musa as anything other than a cheap lookalike of her mother.
Yet while Musa was struggling to maintain her composure, little did she know that internally the dying man was cursing himself for causing his daughter pain yet again. He could almost laugh at the situation. Here he had thought isolating himself from Musa was the best course of action to finally give her some peace from him. But then she insisted on having a conversation to get 'closure,' and he had relented in his attempts to push her away from him. And now it was ending as it always did – crashing and burning.
When it became clear that she wouldn't take no for an answer, Ho-Boe had wanted to finally clarify his behavior prior to the Nightingale Festival. While his actions had been despicable, Musa had broken off all communication with him because she was convinced that he had broken his promise to sober up long before that horrible night. To try to explain himself a year ago had been useless; everything was still too fresh for both of them. But tonight, he had decided to try again, against his better judgement.
He wanted to tell her. Tell her that he had truly meant to keep his promise last time. Swear to her that while there had been some stumbling blocks after the Red Fountain concert, he hadn't touched a bottle in the months coming up to the festival. Admit to her, honestly and humbly, how he had been so confident in himself when he had gone to the festival to see her dance, and how ashamed he was when he saw the results of his loss of self-control.
For once, he was prepared to accept responsibility for his actions. But most unluckily, Musa's hot-temper seemed to be one of the few traits she hadn't inherited from her mother and instead shared with him. His words had had the opposite of his desired effect. It seemed all he could do successfully as a parent was hurt the person he was supposed to love the most. After Lily's death, his life would forever be defined as a series of failures to his child. But that couldn't continue. Not anymore.
As Ho-Boe stayed quiet, Musa became even more devastated. However, her tough front had returned in the lingering silence. "You don't even care, do you? Everyone's right, I never should have come. I stuck by you for so many years for Mom's sake, but I can't do this anymore. I'm done."
Musa stormed out of the room, eyes blazing as the door banged shut behind her. She turned the corner blindly, before coming to a halt in front of the cheery holiday poster. Glistening navy orbs took in the joyful family, before once again settling on the smiling mother. Her heart hurt even more. "I'm sorry Mom," she whispered. "I tried, I tried so hard. But I just can't do it anymore." The musical fairy then slumped down against the wall, her head in her hands.
Inside the sickroom, Ho-Boe stared at the slammed door before giving a deep sigh. "You're right, baby girl. You were always the strong one. You're better off without me."
He then slowly sat up before struggling to adjust his frail body out of the cot. Taking timid steps after days of continuous immobility, Ho-Boe staggered over to a small overnight valise. Musa had brought the bag containing a few essentials when he had first been admitted to the hospital. He had not previously had an opportunity to open it as he was under the constant observation of the nurses. But at the moment, those same nurses were distracted by the off-key caroling of the other terminal patients. He would never have another chance.
The musician moved quickly. Sifting through the contents, he bypassed the clothing and other items his daughter had carefully packed for him in favor of the bottom of the bag. His fingers ran against the inseam until he found the zipper, so tiny it was indistinguishable to all but the most discerning eyes. Pulling away the zipper revealed the precious secret cargo of the valise – a stainless steel flask filled to the brim with whiskey.
Ho-Boe next took stock of his bedside table. A sizable assortment of pills lay next to a tall glass of water, the day's dosage of medications to preserve his pathetic state of health. Ignoring the water, the composer swept all of the pills into his hand and settled himself once again in his cot. He picked out a tablet from the pile at random and placed it in his mouth. He then raised the flask to his lips before halting. A final toast seemed fitting, but at the moment only four words filled his mind.
"I'm sorry, baby girl."
Ho-Boe took a big swig out of the flask, wincing from the burning sensation of the alcohol as it guided the pill down his dry throat. But he had to continue. The musician took another pill, followed by another generous gulp of whiskey. The contents of the flask were disappearing quickly.
The heart rate monitor gave a beep, but Ho-Boe ignored its warning as he forced the amber liquid down his throat. His head was throbbing as the mixture of alcohol and medication began to take effect inside of him. The monitor beeped again. Ho-Boe's navy eyes started to water, but the composer's hazy mind struggled to distinguish whether the tears were a result of his intoxication or his sorrow.
Soon. It would all be over soon.
"Quick, get the doctor!"
The heart rate machine was beeping wildly as the patient thrashed in his bed. His eyes were rolling, his arms were flailing and his breathing was shallow. His heart rate was elevated and beads of sweat streaked down his grey face.
"What's going on?" Dr. Galen charged into the room, closely followed by Musa and Riven. He took one look at his patient and immediately began barking orders.
"I need preliminary assessment and sedation spells, stat!"
"Prelim's already done and sedation's no good. His receptors are completely impaired." A nearby nurse quickly replied, passing Galen a hastily filled in assessment chart.
"130 BPM and rising." Another medic reported.
"Then move on him! We have to get his heart rate down, now!"
The rest of the doctor's commands faded away as Musa stared at her father in shock. He had seemed so detached just hours before, and now he was jerking around frantically. Musa had seen her father in a bad way many times before, but never like this. This was a million times worse than any drunken frenzy.
Ho-Boe continued to thrash violently. Nurses swarmed the bed trying to aid the struggling man, but to little effect. Even restraining him enough to begin treatment was a challenge. And despite the former composer's typically excellent hearing, none of their words seemed to be having any effect on calming him down.
"Musa, go to him. Maybe seeing you will help him," Dr. Galen instructed.
Musa approached the bed cautiously. Although some of the burlier nurses had managed to hold down Ho-Boe's arms, he was still struggling viciously. It seemed as though the man had lost his mind. Riven stood nearby, ready to intervene the second Musa's safety appeared to be compromised.
"Daddy, please. Please let us help you," Musa pleaded. Ho-Boe's pained expression remained unchanged. As she watched him, Ho-Boe's hand suddenly jerked and a loud clang was heard. Riven looked down and his expression hardened. He picked up the now-empty flask.
"Looks like the old man still had his secret stash."
Galen took the flask from the burgundy-haired hero and quickly examined it. "No wonder he's reacting like this. The alcohol mixed with the drugs he's taking is a toxic combination. His body is in shock, and he was already so weak. At this point, I don't think there's anything we can do."
Musa continued looking down sadly at her rapidly deteriorating father. "Oh Daddy, what have you done?"
At the sound of her voice, Ho-Boe's eyes darted around agitatedly before fixating blindly on Musa's azure eyes. The eyes that sparkled like another pair of eyes he had fallen in love with all those years ago.
"Lily," Ho-Boe gasped through his labored breathing. His arms suddenly stopped their ferocious struggle and fell limply to his sides.
Riven's head snapped up at the nickname. He opened his mouth, but a look from Dr. Galen quickly shut up the blunt hero. The doctor observed his patient carefully. He then silently indicated for his staff to leave the room and prodded the young man out before he could protest, leaving the two Harmonic Nebulites alone.
The pair stayed in silence for some moments. Musa's eyes never left her father's face.
"Lily, my darling. We're together again," Ho-Boe continued hoarsely, still transfixed on those navy orbs.
His left hand raised shakily from his side, slowly extending towards the raven-haired girl in front of him. Musa instinctively raised her own hand towards her father. The motion caused the sleeve of her baggy sweatshirt to slide back, exposing a distinctive, silvery scar on her pale skin.
Ho-Boe's hand froze. His eyes traced the mark, much of which still remained hidden under her sleeve, and then looked back up. He blinked uncertainly. Memories flooded into his intoxicated mind from a year ago. The Nightingale Festival, the alcohol-fueled argument, the smashing sound of glass (4). Suddenly, a consciousness appeared in his expression as his mind fought through the haze.
"Musa…"
"I'm here, Daddy."
And so she was. Once again he had upset her, yet once again she was faithfully at his side. His mind harkened back to a few days before, when he had overheard her crying to Dr. Galen. Oh gods, I've been such a fool. Ho-Boe felt himself slipping further. He had to tell her, tell her before it was too late.
"I was the one that failed her, baby girl, not you."
Musa opened her mouth to respond, but Ho-Boe stopped her. He knew this was his only chance.
"You were more than good enough. You always have been. I wish I had realized that sooner." He paused, struggling to find the right words as he gazed intently into his daughter's eyes. "My only wish now is… is that you find people who can give you the love you deserve."
Musa searched her father's face. He was more haggard-looking than she had ever seen before, illness making him appear much older than his years. His pasty skin still carried the beads of sweat from his prior twitching fit. Yet looking at her father, Musa was strongly reminded of the handsome young man she had seen in the old photographs with her mother.
Musa's heart felt lighter for the first time in years. Memories with her childhood crew, the Winx Club, Riven and the other Red Fountain boys flashed through her mind, causing a faint smile to appear on the musical fairy's face. "I have."
A weak smile appeared on the composer's face. "That's my girl."
Once more, Ho-Boe reached out to take Musa's hand into his own. His fingertips brushed hers, and she could feel his declining heartbeat. As their hands joined together, Ho-Boe's weary eyes closed. His hand dropped slowly into the bed, still interlocked with his daughter's.
Behind her, the heart rate machine flat-lined. At the shrill sound, Dr. Galen entered the room once more. One look at his patient was enough to confirm what Musa already knew. "I'm sorry Musa, but he's gone."
Musa looked quietly at her father, then at the hand that was still lightly clutching her own. A tear escaped as she leaned in and gently kissed his grizzled cheek. She then removed her hand from his and left Room 204.
Out in the hallway, Musa's composure broke, but Riven was waiting. He took his girlfriend into his arms and held her tightly before lightly resting his forehead onto her own. The couple stood in silence, arms wrapped around each other. After a while, Riven broke the stillness to place a reassuring kiss on Musa's forehead. He then tilted the fairy's face up towards him, and tenderly wiped the tears from her eyes. "He's with her, Pixie. He's okay now."
Musa blinked in surprise at her boyfriend's sudden sentimentality, but nodded. She looked through the open doorway, where her father still lay. "He's okay now," she agreed softly. "We both are." She then returned herself to the soothing warmth of Riven's arms.
After 16 years, Ho-Boe was at peace. And so, finally, was Musa.
A/N: And that's a wrap on the first fic folks. Hope you enjoyed it!
(1) I don't think it's specified exactly when Musa's mother died except that she was little, so I'm going with age 3. And then based on the Winx books I had as a kid, people in Magix started high school at 16, so as a senior Musa is 19. Riven's 20 and graduated from Red Fountain at this point. I'm actually working out a Winx story set 10 years after the girls graduate right now, so if I ever put that up on here you can see where I think each Winx girl and Specialist goes in the future.
(2) For any fellow fans of The Adventures of Tintin out there, Madame Castafiore gets her name from the Milanese Nightingale herself – Bianca Castafiore aka Captain Haddock's living nightmare. Although the Nightingale Festival itself is more inspired by the song from Cinderella and the idea of the immortality of the nightingale's song. I feel like songbirds would be idolized in a musical realm like the Harmonic Nebula.
(3) I love a good pun, the cornier the better. The show had some solid ones – for example, Wizhari, Vanity Fairy, Spella McCartney, etc. But my favorite 4kids pun has to be wi-atch/witching instead of bi-atch/bitching.
(4) I've left some stuff like the Nightingale incident vague in this story to motivate me to explain them in others. Musa is my favorite of the girls, and I have another backstory about her in mind which I want to write but keep pushing back. Tbh, it's so much easier to think up new ideas than actually put pen to paper (or in this case fingers to keys) and knock something out.
So like I mentioned above, I'm generally following the 4kids canon for my stories, which means the Winx Club went to high school (not college) at Alfea and amongst other things met the loves of their lives there. Yes, I understand the idea of everyone finding their soulmate in high school is unrealistic, but it's a kids' cartoon about a group of fairies juggling teenage girl problems with the fate of the magical universe so I think we can let a few things slide in the grand scheme of things.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everybody!