Sentinel

Fire Emblem: Awakening (c) Nintendo.

Note: Set just a little after Support Conversation S.

Barely registering the dying shriek of the Risen, he reminded himself that the most vital thing was not to panic.

Lissa was already there, her magic glowing towards the prone figure on the ground. He could see Brady and Owain sprinting towards them, and a twinge of annoyance spiked within him. Everyone had positions to maintain, and though he understood the deep worry that fuelled their thundering steps, such lack of discipline could get more people hurt.

Frederick would most likely reprimand them later, after the knight recovered from scolding his lord who'd almost left his own post in alarm. From his vantage point, everyone else in the area had also noticed the incident - heads had turned in concern, and enquiring shouts crossed the battlefield over the clashes of steel and flesh.

From above the fighters, coasting past the smoke and smog rising from where magic had struck their targets, Minerva swooped down to take care of a few Risen while he buried his trusty axe into more enemies. The wyvern circled Lissa, Owain and Brady, ensuring nothing could come closer while the healing took place.

All the while, he kept one sharp ear out for some sign of recovery. When too many minutes passed without any form of good news, he edged Minerva closer, tightening the circle. Lissa and Brady working together was probably more than efficient, but larger wounds always took more time.

Finally, magic achieved its goal, heralded by Owain's cry of joy. Lissa's patient slowly sat up, and began to rise unsteadily. The others supported her as best they could, helping her to the back of the line. There would be no more fighting on that end.

He watched the four of them go a safe distance then bid Minerva wheel further right. He'd rid himself of the shuddering in his arms by hacking into more Risen.

.

"Really, I'm fine."

Lissa shook her head. "That hit you took could have knocked out a man the size of Gregor." She grinned slightly. "Well, I know that's not a good comparison when you've bested the likes of Lon'qu but, this isn't a simple gash or bruising. And healing magic works best when combined with as much rest as possible."

When the other sighed, Lissa laughed. "Be patient, niece! It's only one night. You can go back to peeling potatoes and polishing armour tomorrow!"

Lucina smiled from where she lay against the thin mattress, bandages wound around her neck and along her arms. More had been plastered to her ribs, where they secured poultices firmly against her skin. They would further aid the healing process.

"Very well. I won't cross your will, Aunt Lissa."

Lissa patted her head gently. "And Chrom's will too. He saw the way you fell." She raised a finger. "And before you think you disappointed him by not defeating a gigantic brute who would have probably killed someone with any less able swordsmanship than you, the only thing he's upset about - apart from you being injured - is him not being able to get the one who hurt you!"

"Then who did?"

Lissa tucked the covers round Lucina one last time before getting to her feet. "Cherche, probably. Or maybe Gerome? I know I saw a Minerva come flying in right after you fell, but by that time I was busy trying to stop your bleeding." She smiled brightly. "Give your father a break tonight and rest, alright Lucina?"

Lucina's brows furrowed again. "I didn't mean to trouble him-"

She'd forgotten this girl took most things too seriously. Lissa grinned reassuringly. "It was a joke, Lucina. You trouble no one. Goodnight now."

"Thank you, Aunt Lissa. Goodnight." She watched the healer leave with a smile and a wave. As the tent flap closed with soft rustles, she sighed, flexing her fingers since they were the only things that didn't exactly hurt at present. Her aunt was right of course. Healing magic was well and good but it would be more effectively augmented with rest. As a soldier, it was her duty to recover as soon as possible so she could continue helping the others.

Another sigh was released when she thought of all the people she'd worried. Father had come in, all restrained anxiety, and ordered no more movement from her until the next day. Mother had been with him, carrying with her comforting words (despite the apprehension in her face), a handful of bright yellow, five-petal blossoms, and a scent she'd gotten from Stahl, who kept them on hand for the soldiers who'd taken hard knocks in battle. Lucina had to admit, the gentle fragrance wafting slowly into the air relaxed her nerves.

Severa, Cynthia, Noire and Nah had all come to help her get clean – buckets of warm water and wiping cloth – since she couldn't quite move without wincing. From them, she learned that Sir Frederick had taken Brady and Owain aside to lecture them on maintaining their posts at all times, even though he understood their feelings. Later, the duo had dropped by for a few minutes to check on her, waving away her profound apologies for getting them into trouble.

Laurent, Inigo and Morgan had visited too, the latter two with bright honeysuckles. Where they'd found such flowers, she hadn't a clue nor would they tell her. What Inigo did say however, with an accompanying wink, was that they figured she would rather someone else bring her those daisies she liked so much. Even Laurent had grinned a little when Morgan teased her for blushing.

Yet so far, no daisies had arrived, and their designated bearer hadn't either.

Admittedly, she felt some measure of surprise (she'd decided it was mostly that) at not seeing him.

Perhaps he didn't know she'd been injured. She wasn't sure where he'd been as he usually kept a general eye on things from the air, unless specifically assigned to pair up with another fighter. If she recalled correctly, today had been one of those free agent days. He could have been on the other side of the battlefield, ignorant of all that had occurred.

It was just as well, she thought dreamily, breathing in slowly and closing her eyes as she breathed out. Gerome was among those who never looked it, but worried far too deeply for others. She didn't want his sleep disrupted by more needless disquiet.

His face – the dark eyes behind the mask – was the last thing she saw in her thoughts before sleep enfolded her.

.

He had a faint thought that this was probably trespassing.

But after the day's duties – he may have been a lone wolf but he also had to help gather firewood and sharpen swords in the armoury – he'd been inadvertently pulled by Laurent into a discussion of battle tactics and strategies. Considering how Virion, Robin, Frederick, Chrom, Sully, Miriel, Say'ri and Gregor had been involved in that talk, it was a long while before Gerome could excuse himself without offense. (Much as he still disliked getting too involved, Lucina's last invitation to a war meeting had disconcerted his state of mind. For her sake, he'd sat and listened although he didn't feel like he'd contributed much beyond a question or two. Still, Robin had looked amused at one point.) There hadn't been time to visit until now.

His tread was light as he lifted the canvas flap and stepped quietly inside the medical tent. He spotted her immediately even in the darkness, a lone figure who made little movement as she breathed slowly. There was a mild sweet aroma in the air – he was glad to smell it. It would help her sleep.

He made his way over to her cot. His frown hardened to see her bandaged neck and when she shifted slightly, more bandages were revealed beneath her tunic. But her face was calm as she slept, with her lips parted just slightly and dark blue locks of hair lying over her cheeks.

It was a far cry from this afternoon, when the fiend had struck her down. He'd seen her expression crumple in quick succession, from shock to pain to unconsciousness, as her body hit the ground before he could catch her. The only thing he could do was send Minerva diving, lashing out swiftly with one swing of his axe's sharp blade, and one purposeful (furious) stab downwards into the attacker's flesh. By then, Lissa was already crouched over her niece and there was nothing else he could do. He'd needed to keep guard for the others still fighting as well. He couldn't stop, much less dismount.

She was so still now, apart from her breathing. And she didn't seem to dream. He wasn't surprised at that – she must have been exhausted.

One gloved hand stretched out. It trembled from the control he was exerting. (He'd decided it was that.) There was an inexplicable need to reassure himself that she was as fine as she looked. Yet he didn't want to take her hand for fear of waking her. So he grazed her knuckles with his fingertips, resting them gingerly along the ridges.

There was a sudden throb, an ache, somewhere in his chest. He must have pulled a muscle at some point and hadn't realised.

(If he didn't lie, he wouldn't be able to stand.)

Like a statue in the dark, he stood silently watching over her, fingers barely touching her hand. He wondered if she could still love him after this, when he hadn't been there to save her on the field, when he couldn't even come to see her until it was too late when she was wounded.

The other hand by his side clenched into a taut fist. He was being ridiculous. As long as she was alive, it was fine. The worst that could happen was not the renunciation of her love for him, but her death. That was the worst thing she could do to him. That was the only way she could ever break his spirits. She hadn't done that today.

No thanks to you.

He hoped she was warm beneath those covers. The shivering going through his spine told him the night was growing cold.

(If he didn't lie, he wouldn't be able to breathe.)

Under his breath, he murmured, "I'm sorry."

She made no reply.

Gerome stayed there long enough to slide his hand over hers, covering it fully for a moment, before withdrawing. He left as unseen and as silently as he'd come.

.

Dawn brought sunlight, chirps of forest birds and new energy into Lucina's limbs. She blinked her eyes open slowly, stretched out her legs as gently as she could and smiled at the lack of pain. The poultices, healing magic and a full night's rest had done its work.

When she flexed her fingers to test them out, she blinked at the sudden texture, and appearance, of a lone daisy tucked loosely in the crook of her thumb and index finger. Had she fallen asleep with a flower in hand? Yet, when she looked up near her cot, the honeysuckles remained as Morgan had placed them the day before. Besides, the flowers were nothing alike in shape, size or colour.

Lucina stared at the white flower for a while. Then she smiled, somewhat helplessly.

I'm sorry. You must have worried so much.

She sat up, pleased to note that she could move at her normal speed again. She'd have to hurry and wash so she could go meet Gerome before breakfast, if only to reassure him that she was as good as new.

.

End.

A/N: This was originally a response to a shipping meme: 'what would they do if the other was hurt?' And I thought about it, and realised neither Lucina nor Gerome probably would have much choice about how they can react, specially in the middle of battle where they've been trained to be disciplined and not to pull stupid stunts in a panic.

I think Gerome is infinitely practical, responsible and will always do his job even if he gives mostly everyone attitude about it. Alas, pragmatism does not automatically translate into being romantic. Thank goodness Lucina is understanding enough.

(What do you mean I relate to characters who can't put their feelings into words easily.)

EDIT 20 July: Thank you to Kender (Tiquismiquis) for pointing out something that helped shape this into a more coherent tale!