The Bargain Chapter 7: The Recovery, a harvest moon fanfic

Hey world, how are you all doing today?

So this chapter is a bit different, as about half of it is from Celia's POV. You will notice a POV change every time there is a break that looks like this:

-o-o-o-

One more thing, I'm working on revising some of the earlier chapters, so those may be updated in the near future. The storyline will remain exactly the way it is, so if you have already read the earlier chapters, then you don't have to bother to go back and read them, as they won't be too much different.

Other than that, another huge thanks to everyone who has been reading my little story. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or any of its characters/settings/anything no matter how awesome it may be.

The sun had barely risen above the horizon before I left Vesta's farm the next morning.

Yes, that meant that I had received less than two hours of sleep that night.

Yes, that also meant that I was ready to thoroughly strangle a kitten if it were to cross me that day.

I had received the worst amount of sleep I could possibly get; I was tired enough to be incredibly irritable, though at the same time, awake enough to be irritated by everything I saw. If I had received any less sleep, I would have simply been walking around as though I were a zombie fresh out of its grave. I remembered experiencing that sensation the previous spring, and it had not been a feeling I was fond of.

When I caught myself feeling the urge to smash my glass bottles of milk into the still-marshy ground, I decided that a little coffee would possibly be helpful that morning. So after a few deep, cleansing breaths of air, I managed to finish my milkman route (with no broken bottles, I was proud to say) and stopped briefly at the Inner Inn before going home.

The lobby of the inn was bright, spacious, and practically screamed the word "WELCOME!" Whicker chairs and cozy leather couches were placed throughout the space along with a simple wooden coffee table. There were luxurious paintings and exquisite potted plants distributed generously along the walls of the room; according to Ruby, they gave the inn an air of sophistication. However, when compared to the scuffed wooden floors, cracking ceilings, and the fraying branches on the aged whicker chairs, I found that the Inner Inn did not quite have the five-star quality that Ruby gave it credit for. Still though, when I found myself lounging in front of the warm brick fireplace with a strong cup of black coffee, there was little that could have possibly made the moment better.

On a chilly fall morning such as that one, it was typical that the lobby was abuzz with locals from throughout the Valley. Gossip and rumors were spread like wildfire; after all, when you lived in such a small Valley, everyone knew everything about everybody. With this kept in mind, I was not surprised in the slightest to hear the hot topic of the day; Phantom Thief Skye's latest heist.

"He was at Vesta's farm last night!"

"I heard he took every bag of seed they owned,"

"Well, I heard that he shot Marlin through the heart with a shotgun from point-blank range!"

"You idiot! The poor boy would have been dead on the spot if that had happened!"

"I heard that Celia fell in love with the Phantom at first sight and that they had quite a wild night. My money's on that she'll be giving birth to his twins in the next nine months! Ha-ha!"

The last one caused me to have a spit-take in shock and disbelief. As I delicately dabbed at my now coffee-stained shirt, I wondered just how bored the people of the Valley must have been to believe and spread such rumors.

"You know, I heard that Holly poisons our milk every morning. I made sure not to drink mine this today…"

"She is quite the bitter one; I bet she tortures her animals!"

"What?!"

"No way!"

With that, I quickly took my leave. When high on gossip, the Valley dwellers could be quite irrational and rather frightening. I did not want to find myself being harassed with drabble-filled, incoherent questions.

It was 8:30am when I found myself walking down the muddied pathway home.

My boots were still caked with dried mud and dirt from the operation the previous night. Still, I felt my body sink into the earth ever-so-slightly with every step I took. The violent storm from the night before had clearly left its mark on Forget-Me-Not Valley. Branches, stones, and fallen trees littered pathways and fields alike for as far as my eyes could see. The clouds still contained a look of menacing gray as they hovered in the sky. I could see gloom in the future of that day, simply from a glance at my surroundings.

I had only been to my farm once so far, and that was only to grab my wagon and milk from inside the barn. Even though at the time I had been delusional with frustration at the world, I was surprised that I had not noticed something was wrong.

My door was gone.

"AHH!" I shouted in a mix of shock, frustration, and mild confusion at the sight of my open house. The mere thought of how much a door would cost me cause me to let out a large groan. I was not a necessarily poor person, but had always found myself to be very conservative with my earnings. I had been putting off replacing my front door for several reasons; firstly because it would cut into my budget, secondly because, well, frankly I was just lazy. Gathering myself together, I meandered up to my old cabin.

However, the surprise that I experienced outside was nothing compared to what awaited me inside. After entering the awkwardly empty doorway, what I found made my eyes widen in shock. For a while I only stood still, stunned, with my mouth gaping open.

I found myself only able to manage saying three words.

"Oh hell no…"

-o-o-o-

"Celia?"

Was someone calling my name? Or is it all a dream; a terrible, terrible dream? I felt a strong hand firmly grasp my shoulder. The hand then began to shake me gently; whoever was calling my name was attempting to wake me.

"Celia, come on, it's after eight,"

My eyes flickered open rather unwillingly. Auntie Vesta was up and dressed for the day; I finally figured out that it was her who was calling me. I rubbed my eyes in a small attempt to get the drowsiness and fatigue out of them. Frowning, the sleepiness finally hit me, and I found that I was very tired. My vision was still blurred from sleep, but it was easy to see that I was in my house. However, a look of confusion entered my face when I realized that I was in the common room. This struck me as odd, as that was not where I normally slept. I also noticed that I was leaning over. I attempted to sit up straight, though my back and neck protested wildly with a series of audible cracks and aches. When I eventually managed to stand up, I found that I had been sitting on a stool all night, and that I had been leaning over on…

…Marlin.

I felt a sob escape my throat.

This was not a terrible dream.

It was a horrible stroke of reality.

At my apparently predictable reaction, Vesta only let out a sigh. Even her normal ready-to-take-on-the-world demeanor had been struck down today, and replaced by one of silent sorrow.

"Celia," she told me, "I need you to stay here and keep close tabs on Marlin today, alright?"

"But Auntie," I began to protest; this was extremely unlike her, "What about you? What about the fields? You can't manage them on your own…"

"I'll be fine on my own for a day or two," She reassured me. Auntie's voice however, was like stone; firm and cold. "Just take care of Marlin, we don't know what to expect."

"You pay me to work in those fields,"

"This is your work today, Celia!" Vesta's tone rose to a frightening level. I flinched and felt myself take a few steps backward, letting several strands of my mangled brown hair fall in front of my eyes.

"Auntie…" I began. I was scared, scared of everything, too scared to say anything more.

"He's my brother you know," Auntie Vesta proceeded to the doorway to begin her work. Her voice had fallen almost to a whisper. Somehow, the change frightened me more than her angry tone only moments before, "Please… take care of him."

The moment the door closed behind her, tears began rolling down my cheeks. My knees collided with the hardwood floor as I began to fall forward. I placed my hands in front of me for support, bringing me to a crawling position. I felt so incredibly small; the position seemed suitable for me.

I could only watch as my tears fell one by one onto the wood below me. They each made a splash, one by one, like raindrops in a storm.

Everything was wrong.

-o-o-o-

I was barely able to take another step forward into my own home.

In the middle of my house stood a humble dining table, the thing that had brought me into such shock was who was seated at it. Head down on the rustic dining surface, a man in a black undershirt and purple pants was at my table, inside of my house. His lengthy silver hair covered not only his head and face, but also his arms, which seemed to serve as a pillow for the man, and the nearby area surrounding him.

I cautiously stepped towards the man; after some brief observations, I came to the obvious conclusion that he was out cold, unconscious. The Phantom Thief Skye had passed out at my dining table.

Gently lifting up his hair, I found what I had expected, but did not want to see. The wound that Marlin had made on the side of his head was still open. Blood had hardened along part of the surface of the gaping sore, but not all of it. It continued to bleed; I figured that the gash was even deeper than it appeared. The warm red liquid had fallen along and drenched the majority of his face, hair, and neck, along with the surface of my table.

At the nauseating sight, I pulled back uneasily, leaning on the table for support. Looking down at my hand, however, I found a piece of parchment contently placed beside it. I took the off-white paper and read it in the dim light of the house.

To whomever it may concern,

Last night, not only did I come out of my heist unsuccessful, but I was also left with a rather unpleasant souvenir. Due to my current living conditions, I am not only afraid that I have very few supplies to treat such a wound, but I am certain that it would fall to infection in one way or another.

Though I hate to ask anyone for favors, I am in need of urgent care, and there are very few people whom I can trust at all. At this point I will have likely fallen unconscious to pain, so I apologize for not being here to convince you one way or another. However, though I would much prefer you to try and nurse my condition, I realize how simple it would be for you to simply leave me for dead.

It is your choice.

Good luck,

Phantom Thief Skye

The man really did not have to be so dramatic.

While my chest was filled with warmth at the thought of being trusted by Skye, it made me flinch to think about having to take care of his gaping wound. I groaned, pulled my sleeves up, and proceeded to gather the necessary supplies spread throughout my house. First thing was first; I had to clean him up.

I dampened a clean cloth from the kitchen and returned to the unconscious Phantom. Pulling his hair back, I began by gently dabbing the affected area. However, this evolved into almost violently scrubbing the blood stains off of the rest of his upper torso, leaving raw areas of red skin where the blood traces use to lie. Sighing, I realized that long before I finished Skye's little sponge bath I had come to a conclusion-

If anyone else had fallen unconscious at my dining table, I would have likely considered leaving them for dead.

-o-o-o-

Even though it was going on two in the afternoon, I still appeared as if I had just woken up.

It was unlike me to put so little effort into my appearance, but then again, everything seemed off today.

I watched the slow rise and fall of Marlin's chest; it was soothing, seeing something so regular. Sadly, it only took a glance at his ghostly pale face to remember why I was so worried again.

The creamy bedspread was askew from where I had slept the previous night. After straightening it, I considered leaving the man's bed briefly to put myself together a little. However, after a fit of coughing escaped his chest, I clutched my metal stool in diligence; I was not leaving his side.

I tucked Marlin in further under the covers and made sure the heat pack on his forehead still contained warmth. While doing so, I froze; my heart had begun to beat quickly as my hand brushed unintentionally against his hair. For the first time that day, I smiled. My cheeks grew warm as a blush spread across my face. I gently placed my hand on his head, playfully fingering with Marlin's thick black curls. The simple sensation filled me with such indescribable happiness.

I loved it.

I loved him.

My heart burned with passion as my hand left Marlin's hair. He was so close to me; lying in a bed only inches away, but still he was too far away. I could not bear to see him like this. Reaching under the covers, I found one of his large, callused hands. It was eerily cold; the sheer feeling of it chilled my entire body and froze my soul.

"Here," I told Marlin, whether he was listening or not, "I'll warm your hands up for you."

I firmly held his hand with both of my own.

"…Because I love you, and as long as I'm holding your hand, you'll never be able to leave me,"

My eyes began to fill up with tears even at the thought of losing him.

"If you can't hold on, I'll hold on for you,"

A single drop crawled down my cheek as I held onto Marlin's hand with all of the strength I could muster.

"Please… Don't go…"

-o-o-o-

Night had fallen over Forget-Me-Not Valley.

Throughout the day I had tended to the unconscious Skye's wound. I gauzed, wrapped, re-gauzed, and re-wrapped, and even surrendered my bed to the passed-out man so that he would not end up sleeping in a dining room chair. Aside from taking care of the animals and my daily chores, I had not left my house at all.

I had fallen asleep in my spare cot on the floor of my house that night. Skye had been tucked in firmly and I was finally ready to let him sleep. However, the night did not go so smoothly.

"AHHH!"

I awoke with a start at the sudden noise. It was a shout; one in fear. Without moving my body, I shifted my eyes up to the bed lying parallel to my cot; Skye was sitting up straight looking ahead of him like a deer in headlights. His breathing came heavily, and from what I could see, sweat poured down his face and saturated his clothing. I found that the Phantom had not shouted because of the unfamiliar surroundings, but because of something else; something that only he had seen.

A nightmare?

Fully conscious for the first time since who-knows-when, the Phantom blinked rapidly and took in his surroundings. Letting out a sigh, he smiled slightly; his sweat-streaked face and body relaxed when he realized where he was. Slowly, aware of the pain he felt from his tightly gauzed, wrapped, and medicated wound, he sunk back down into the bed and closed his eyes.

However, I remained unconvinced, and as I found out, for good reason. Every time a sound broke out in the night, Skye's eyes shot open, as though he were preparing to flee. Whether the sound was natural or foreign to the night, loud or soft, his eyes would flicker open on cue. The sounds could have been those that only a thief's ears could hear, or they could have even been ones he only imagined he heard, but regardless, normally less than ten minutes would pass before the Phantom's eyes would find themselves open once again.

No wonder the man was so tired…

This cycle continued for hours on end. I was never sure if he caught me observing him or not, but either way, nothing changed. Eventually, my eyelids grew too heavy to manage, and I fell into a deep sleep of my own.

-o-o-o-

One lantern continued to flicker on a small wooden night stand.

Midnight had come and gone. I found myself on my knees by Marlin's bedside, still firmly grasping his hand. I had watched time go by second by second for that entire day. I had witnessed every medical technique I knew or had heard of fail. Dr. Hardy had even come by; after a brief examination, however, he claimed that there was nothing he could do. What I was left with was hope, and only enough strength to feebly hold the man's hand.

My hands were shaking with weakness at such a late hour. It was all I could do to keep my eyes from closing, but I knew that was not an option. I leaned over and placed my head on Marlin's chest, resting my neck and back. My eyes turned down to observe the simple bedspread as I smiled, and simply listened to his heart beat.

tha-dump

I intertwined my fingers with Marlin's. The relaxing beat of his heart caused my eyelids to grow heavier and heavier.

tha-dump

In a massive state of drowsiness, my eyes flew open. What had I just heard?

tha-…I

Love you,

Celia… tha-dump

I jumped to my feet and clasped my hands around his. The stool I had been sitting on fell to the ground in a noisy collision and it rolled merrily away towards Vesta's bed. My eyes were wide in shock as I placed my ear directly on his chest.

tha-dump

"Please, say it again," I begged in a whisper.

tha-dump

"Please…"

tha-dump

"I love you, Celia."

Frantically I looked to the source of the words. Marlin's eyes were half-open drowsily as they locked with my own. Mine, however, began to overflow with tears once again. This time, they were tears of pure joy. A painful grin stretched across his face as I threw my arms around him and began sobbing uncontrollably into his shoulder. Through it all, he took my hand in his, and told me exactly what I needed to hear.

"Don't worry, I'll never let go of you."

-o-o-o-

The next morning I awoke to find my bed empty and neatly made. It was as though the Phantom Thief had never been there at all.

As I continued my daily tasks, it took me a while before I noticed that all of my aspirin, gauze, bandages, and disinfecting ointment had mysteriously vanished. I threw a fist against the wall of my house in frustration, even though I knew the action would solve nothing.

Phantom Thief Skye…

It was not until even later that I discovered that he had had the last say in our meeting. As I sat down to eat at my little table, I found yet another piece of parchment left on the chair Skye had fallen unconscious in. I let out a sigh as I already knew who it was from, but after I read the note, I could not help but laugh. I laughed uncontrollably out of happiness, out of joy, and out of love for a man who had come to mean more to me than almost anything else. Even in laughter, I pulled the paper up to the light once again, and with a blush on my face and a feeling of pure giddiness in my heart, I read its contents out loud for the world to hear.

"Thank you."