Nicole would never admit it, but she cried herself to sleep after Game One.
Waverly knew.
It'd been a good night, actually. Wynonna had gone to the arena to snag Nicole's jersey from the equipment room and they'd planned to have a little watch party for the game, just the three of them since everyone else had jobs to do. After much hounding from Dolls, Wynonna snapped a photo of Nicole in her jersey, propped up in her bed with a smile plastered across her face and two thumbs up. The image (which Waverly instantly noticed was photoshopped to hide the NSFW imagery on Nicole's cast) was posted on the Devils' Instagram account just before the game, with the caption:
"Extra support from one of our own tonight. Glad to see our shining star, Nicole Haught, on the mend. #GoDevils."
The Devils donned small circular patches on their shoulders with the number 15 on them, and all of them had kind words to say of Nicole in the media prior to puck drop.
The three watched the game intently on the small screen in Nicole's room, snacking on the subpar hospital food. They whooped and cheered and booed and yelled at the refs in all the right places, Nicole and Wynonna occasionally making comments about the plays they would've made if they were in the game. The team played well, though Waverly could tell their game style was different since it was missing a large part of its point production. Shae dazzled as always, but it was Vic and Shan combining for a goal apiece that pushed the home team across the finish line for a 2-0 victory to take the important series lead. Doctors and nurses meandered in and out throughout the course of the game under the guise of routine checks, but really they'd wanted to catch a glimpse of the excitement.
It was pretty much a forgone conclusion that the Earps, or at the very least Waverly, would spend be spending the night in Nicole's room most nights, and the night of game one had been no exception. Wynonna skipped out about an hour after the game with an excitement that both Waverly and her girlfriend knew meant she'd be meeting up with Doc.
Waverly would've enjoyed the alone time, if not for the fact that Nicole was so visibly exhausted. The redhead was like an infant these days, needing a nap every few hours and being tired even after waking up from them. She knew it took a lot of energy, recovering from the injuries her girlfriend had sustained, but wished that they could just fast forward to the part where Nicole was good as new again (or that she could go back in time and make sure the incident never even happened in the first place).
She herself wasn't all that tired, but when Nicole started yawning more and more frequently, Waverly suggested that they turn in for the night. She rolled herself over on the cot and closed her eyes, with the initial intention of giving Nicole the quiet she needed to relax and fall asleep, but eventually she found herself floating along the edge of consciousness. She was this close to falling asleep when she heard the heart-wrenching sniffles and concealed sobs, a telltale sign that Nicole was crying. By the time Waverly was lucid enough to get up to try and console her girlfriend, the sobs became hiccups before evening out into steady breathing, and then Nicole was asleep.
But, as Nicole found some semblance of peace in her slumber, Waverly was wide awake. She ran her thumb along the redhead's knuckles, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she slept. Waverly had caught herself doing it on one occasion, and knows it was a little creepy to watch Nicole sleep like that, but for her, it was just a reassurance that she was breathing—that she was alive. She hadn't realized how much she feared for Nicole's life until Nicole finally did wake up. She knew that they were very much at the beginning of this journey, and tonight's moment was empirical evidence of that. Nicole was as stubborn as they came, and played off everything that had happened to her, putting on a smile and trying to keep up with Wynonna's snark. She'd pretend everything was okay, for the sake of others (or maybe to trick herself), and didn't want anyone to see her pain. Waverly knew that Nicole had only allowed herself to cry because she thought the younger woman was asleep, and the thought only made her heart clench tighter. All she wanted was for Nicole to get through this, healthy and happy, and she really hoped that Nicole would let her lift some of the burden of her pain.
Waverly fell asleep with Nicole's hand in hers, listening to the sound of her breathing, her own falling into sync with the redhead's.
Waverly loved the ICU nurses, especially once Nicole had woken up, but she'd been more than ecstatic when the redhead was moved to a regular patient room on Sunday afternoon. She knew that meant Nicole was one step closer to being able to go home, and chalked it up under little victories. Nicole was mostly in good spirits when she was awake, and as far as Waverly knew, the crying was a one-time thing.
Nicole dealt with a mostly constant headache, and tended to have trouble focusing (more so when she was tired), but those were expected symptoms of her concussion. They saw Dr. Valdez less frequently once Nicole was out of the ICU, but Waverly made sure to raise her concerns when she did see the woman. Dr. Valdez assured her that as she healed, Nicole would become less and less tired, and her attention span should return to normal as her brain recovered. Dr. Del Rey had been to see Nicole a couple times, informing all present that Nicole's leg was in a fragile state and could not bear weight for five weeks at the very least.
Tuesday afternoon, a nurse (who neither of them liked as much as Joria), came in to work with Nicole. She'd told them that the best thing for Nicole's recovery was to get moving-slowly at first, and with limitations, but moving still. Nicole was hesitant to have Waverly there for the first few sessions, but by Friday evening, she had regained enough strength to graduate to crutches (arm crutches so as not to aggravate her rib injuries).
Waverly beamed when Nicole had returned from her session, slightly sweaty and out of breath, but a smile on her face to already be on the road to recovery. She knew the woman to be something of an overachiever, which inevitably meant that whatever timetable the doctors gave her for recovery, Nicole would try to beat it like it was some sort of race.
She woke before Nicole did on Saturday morning, the sun barely peeking through the curtains as she played with the loose strands of red hair that had fallen out of the loosely tied bun on Nicole's head. The redhead slept peacefully, allowing Waverly to take her in for what had to be the millionth time in the span of almost two weeks, but she'd always managed to find something new that she hadn't noticed before. Like how there was a tiny little freckle right in the center of her hairline that Waverly couldn't explain for the life of her why she found it so adorable. Or the faded scar under Nicole's eye that she'd always assumed was some sort of hockey injury, but when she'd asked Nicole about it, Nicole's cheeks turned as red as her hair as she recounted the events leading up to running into a jungle gym in the first grade because she'd been chasing a girl across the playground. (Waverly laughed even harder when Nicole said "In retrospect, I guess I should've known I was gay—I was always trying to get her attention and telling her how pretty I thought the bows in her hair were).
Dr. Valdez entered the room quietly, presumably doing her morning checks, looking pleasantly surprised to see Waverly was up.
"Good morning," she greeted just above a whisper, not wanting to disturb Nicole's sleep. Waverly returned the same greeting, sitting herself up more properly now that there was company. "I was actually hoping to talk to you."
"Yes, of course. What about?" She asked, looking at the doctor, her tone putting Waverly at ease—it didn't sound like bad news, which was good.
"Nicole is progressing well, and we think she'll be set to be discharged soon," Dr. Valdez told her, and she'd barely been able to suppress the joyful squeal at the news. She wanted nothing more than to go home and not have to see Nicole in a hospital bed ever again. But the way Dr. Valdez paused made Waverly think that it wasn't going to be that simple.
"Why do I get the feeling there's an ellipsis at the end of that sentence?"
"The plan is to have her discharged by tomorrow afternoon, maybe the evening…but," there it was, "I need to know if she has the support system to get her through the road ahead."
"Yes. Of course," Waverly assured, knowing that she and Wynonna would be there for her (and Doc and the Jeremy-Robin duo and Frick and Frack—a nickname given to Powers and Finning by Nedley, who Waverly knew would also be there to support Nicole).
Dr. Valdez fixed her with a serious look.
"Alright, because it's going to be a long, tough road. Her recovery will only be as successful as the support system she has. It's not going to be easy. On any of you."
Waverly looked at Nicole, still asleep and peaceful. She'd been in such good spirits as of late that Waverly almost forgot about Nicole crying herself to sleep just a week beforehand. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to playing nurse and taking care of Nicole for once—the older woman always putting Waverly before herself. But, at the same time, her heart ached at the thought that things would probably get worse before they got better, that some days, no number of kisses from her girlfriend or inappropriate jokes from Wynonna would make Nicole's pain away.
She nodded in understanding toward Dr. Valdez. The doctor explained in a little more detail the needs and restrictions Nicole would have, the list medications she'd need to take, referrals to physical therapists and so on and so forth, assuring Waverly that she'd have a whole portfolio of information to take home. (She'd make herself a nice binder for all the information once she was settled in at home).
It only dawned on her after Dr. Valdez excused herself that Nicole wouldn't be able to stay in her apartment, her third floor (no elevator) apartment, with her injuries, and that she'd essentially have to move into the homestead—not that Waverly was complaining. It had been a long time coming; Nicole had been staying the night there with increasing frequency anyway.
Nicole started to stir just under an hour later, sleepy eyes matching a sleepy smile as she found Waverly.
"Every time I wake up to that face, my first thought is that I must've died and gone to heaven." Nicole said, voice husky with sleep, making Waverly blush the way Nicole did so often and with so much ease it was like it was second nature. "You," she took Waverly's hand, pressing a kiss to the knuckles, "are an angel—my angel."
"Well, your angel has some exciting news."
Nicole perked up, looking like an expectant child on Christmas.
"What is it?"
"Guess who's going home tomorrow!"
Nicole Rayleigh Haught was officially the worst patient in the world.
Waverly had known it would be no walk in the park, but Jesus, she didn't ever think she'd have to physically restrain Nicole to the bed (and not in the fun way). For someone who slept close to sixteen hours a day for the last two weeks, Nicole was surprisingly full of energy, and it drove Waverly crazy.
When Nicole was discharged on Sunday afternoon, Waverly thought they were off to a good start when Nicole only argued with her for five minutes about being wheeled out of the hospital before giving in and agreeing. (She was even sure she heard Nicole grumble under her breath that maybe Waverly was right, and she couldn't actually walk out on her own). That thought was quickly disproven when they went to Nicole's apartment and the redhead demanded that she climb the stairs herself to grab Calamity Jane and pack the things she'd need for her stay at the homestead. Waverly left Nicole in the backseat of the Jeep, pouting like a toddler, with Wynonna to make sure she stayed put. Nicole grumbled and complained about how independent she was, and how she could take care of herself for the entirety of the ride between her apartment to the pharmacy to get her medications filled and all the way to the homestead. Luckily for Waverly, her very cute, very childish girlfriend's argument had tired her out, and she hadn't had the energy to do much else than crash in Wynonna's bed on the first floor of the homestead.
Nicole was up with the sun on Monday morning, her groaning telling Waverly that she'd had an especially bad headache. She was quick to put on her nurse hat and bring Nicole the medication Dr. Valdez had explained to her should help the pain. Nicole let Waverly dote on her, and lay in bed with her, taking in the comforts of finally being out of the hospital. But, dependent, patient Nicole was so needy, Waverly quickly noticed. It started with the pillows not being fluffy enough, and then after Waverly had spent more than an appropriate amount of time fluffing the pillows, they were too fluffy for Princess Haught. And then, Queen Nicole the First was hungry, and nagged and complained until Waverly brought her a sandwich. By the time Waverly returned with her lunch, Nicole turned up her nose at it, saying that she wasn't hungry anymore. Waverly knew that her medications would have an impact on her appetite, and she felt a little guilty about the way she was angry at Nicole for making her spend time on food that she wouldn't eat. The worst part was the way Nicole kept trying to get up to get things, especially when Waverly was out of the room. They weren't even things she needed, just things she saw around the room that had caught her eye (which changed quite frequently with her diminished attention span). Sometime just before one o'clock, Waverly was so done with policing Nicole and telling her to lay back down that she was more than considering handcuffing the woman to the bed to get her to stay put. She'd even figured the incessant jokes from Wynonna would be tolerable if it meant that Nicole would just stay in bed like the doctor told her to.
Thankfully, Nicole slept much of the afternoon so that she could be awake to watch Game Six between the Devils and the Rangers. That quiet time allowed Waverly to sit down and color code a big red binder with phone numbers and lists of medications and schedules and the like. Puck drop was an hour earlier than normal since the game was being played in Prince Albert, which Waverly thought was good, since she doubted Nicole would be able to stay awake long enough to watch it all the way through if it didn't. Especially when the game went into double overtime. The Rangers, down in the series 3-2 and on the brink of elimination, made it abundantly clear that they weren't going to be taken down easily. Beside her, Nicole was increasingly succumbing to her exhaustion, but fighting it in hopes of seeing one of her teammates netting the game-winning goal that would send the Devils to the Western Conference Finals. Every so often, Waverly would catch Nicole's eyelids drooping closed, her head bobbing back up quickly, catching herself falling asleep. She found it exceedingly adorable.
(Nicole passed out immediately following the scoring of the Rangers' goal).
By Tuesday morning, it was more than evident to Waverly that Nicole was done with letting people take care of her. For the first time in a long time, Nicole was up before Waverly, trying to go about her daily business as if she weren't recuperating from an injury that had her confined to a hospital bed for just about two weeks. The result was a lot of clumsy clattering coming from the kitchen. Growing up with Wynonna had taught Waverly to sleep through a variety of loud clanging and banging around the homestead, so by the time she was bothered enough by the ruckus Nicole was causing, the redhead was more than frustrated.
"Baby, what're you doing?" She asked with a smile and a soft chuckle standing in the doorway surveying the scene—the countertop a mess, Nicole having knocked over the box of pancake mix, the white powder messily covering the surface; the redhead leaning on her good leg and the crutch, trying to hop her way around, looking for something in the cabinets above the counter, working up a sweat and awkwardly banging into things as she did. Nicole turned around at the sound of her voice, blowing hair out of her face.
"Oh, good morning," she said, though Waverly could hear just how winded Nicole was from the simple acts. Nicole looked around, grabbing what she had been searching for, holding up a frying pan when she turned back to Waverly, "breakfast."
"I can see that," Waverly chuckled, taking a step in, to see that the pancake mix had spilt onto the floor as well.
"Sorry about the mess," Nicole said sheepishly, weakly. "I'll clean it up after I finish cooking."
"Nicole Haught, you will do no such thing."
"I got it, look," Nicole, in an attempt to prove her point, tried to bend over to pick up the box on the floor, grimacing before she even got halfway.
Waverly stepped over to her girlfriend to stop her before she hurt herself, not wanting her to aggravate an injury or topple over because she got dizzy.
"Nicole, baby, it's fine," she placed her hand on her shoulder to steady the taller woman. From the closer proximity, she could see just how shaky on her feet Nicole really was, meaning she'd probably been exerting herself too much for longer than Waverly thought.
"No, no, I made a mess," she sucked in a sharp breath as she winced, "I'll clean it."
"That is something you will not be doing, missy," Waverly bossed, pulling out a kitchen chair. "Now sit down, please."
"Waves, I'm fine, promise. I'm making breakfast."
"Nicole, you're shaking, and in pain," she said firmly, pointing out the obvious. "Sit down before you make it worse." When Nicole went to protest again, Waverly stood in front of her, arms crossed, eyebrow arched in warning, an admonishing aura about her. Nicole took it, albeit unhappily, as a warning not to fuck with the smaller woman, and allowed Waverly to guide her to sit in the chair. "Have you taken your meds yet?"
"No," Nicole answered, and then looked down at her hands, "they're upstairs."
Waverly didn't miss the way that Nicole probably would've ended the sentence saying that she couldn't get upstairs, but looked embarrassed to admit she was unable to do something so simple as climbing the stairs. She nodded in understanding, jogging up to get them, returning to fill a glass with water and handing Nicole the pills. There were far too many, with names that were far too long for her to remember what each one was called. (She'd have to make herself a chart for the binder to remember the names instead of referring to them as "the little pink one" or "the white oblong one").
"Thank you," Nicole said after gulping down the water. "I'm sorry, I don't want to be a burden."
"You," Waverly pressed her lips to the crown of Nicole's head, "could never be a burden to me."
"These are things I should be able to do myself. I mean, I should be able to walk upstairs or make pancakes for my girlfriend without making a mess. I wanted to do something nice—I know I was a lot yesterday."
Admittedly, Nicole was a little much the day before, and Waverly appreciated the attempted apology, but knew in the grand scheme of things it wasn't something Nicole should've had to be sorry about.
"Nicole, there's no need to apologize for needing help," Waverly told her, though Nicole looked less like she was listening and more so preoccupied with the mess on the floor. "Hey, it's alright, really," she grabbed Nicole gently by the cheeks to get her attention, "we can make Wynonna clean it up."
After a lot of phone calls, and sneakily assessing Nicole, Waverly had a surprise for the redhead.
Game seven against the Rangers was in Purgatory on Wednesday night, and after convincing Dr. Valdez that Nicole was good—her pain was at a tolerable level, she didn't have a fever, etc—and assuring her that she would personally make sure Nicole didn't overexert herself, the doctor gave her blessing for Nicole to attend the game in person. Waverly called Nedley to tell him the news, and the normally stoic coach seemed excited even through the phone. They'd make a small hoopla about her attendance at the game, and Nedley hoped it would provide an extra spark for the team who found themselves playing in yet another crucial Game Seven.
Almost like she was the mother of a preschooler, when Nicole was fighting Waverly on taking a nap (through constant yawning), she'd had no choice but to tell her the surprise—essentially bribing her to take a nap with the promise of getting to see her friends. After all, if Nicole didn't sleep now, Waverly knew she'd be too tired to stay awake at the game.
Nicole awoke from her nap with the excitement of a child on a snow day. She sat up in the bed as quickly as she could and put on her jersey, all but bouncing in anticipation of going to the game. Waverly smiled at the bursts of energy Nicole had lately, preferring them to the excruciating 24-plus hours where Nicole was in an unconscious limbo.
"This is incredible," Nicole beamed as they stood in line to get popcorn for the game. "I don't know the last time I've actually been to a hockey game—to watch, I mean, I'm usually playing."
"While I must say I do love watching you play, it is nice to have you with me to watch the game."
"You don't miss your numbers and your score charts?" Nicole teased as the line inched forward.
"Well, maybe a little bit," Waverly conceded.
"You're not worried that Tucker Gardner's ruining the stellar scorekeeping of this team?"
"Hmm," she frowned, "well now I am."
"Relax baby, I'm joking—though I know for a fact nobody could do that job better than you do it."
"You flatter me, Miss Haught," Waverly batted her eyelashes and pressed her hand to her chest in adoration.
Once they reached the front of the line, Waverly ordered them a large popcorn and two bottles of water, not bothering to order Wynonna anything—one, because Waverly wouldn't be able to carry everything for all three of them and two, because Wynonna was a grown woman and could do so herself.
"Hey, you're Nicole Haught," the girl at the register, a high school age volunteer with vaguely familiar features, pointed out. It didn't take a genius to pick Nicole out of a crowd right now, what with her crutches and her braced and casted leg.
"Yeah, last I checked at least," Nicole chuckled.
"I'm Rachel," the cashier said, as if that were supposed to mean anything to either of them. "Rachel Valdez. My mom was your doctor, right? Dr. Gloria Valdez?"
That was where the vaguely familiar features came from then. Now that she thought of it, Waverly recalled Dr. Valdez mentioning a daughter who happened to be volunteering at the Devils games.
"Yeah, she was. Best doctor I've ever had." Nicole smiled at the girl.
"She's alright," Rachel shrugged, handing Waverly her change. "Well, I think your whole situation was a real backpack of balls, dude."
"You can say that again. But I'm doing better—hope to be back soon."
"You better, this team clearly needs you," Rachel said matter-of-factly, "should've wiped the floor with this team, but here we are in Game Seven."
"Yeah, I guess," Nicole said, sensing the aggravation of the line being held up, "well, it was nice meeting you, Rachel."
As they walked to their seats, the pair remarked about how much Rachel reminded them of Wynonna, even through just a short interaction—the direct way she spoke, the general disinterest for the task at hand, the tiptoeing of the fine line between following the rules and breaking them (wearing her uniform shirt underneath a fringe leather jacket, which coincidentally also reminded them of Wynonna).
Dolls had allowed them into the player box for the game, which Waverly appreciated. They were great seats, and away from the crazy general crowd of fanatic Purgatorians, and the space allowed Nicole to put her leg up and rest, which had been one of Dr. Valdez' stipulations for her attendance at the game. By the time 7 pm rolled around, Perry came onto the microphone and a cameraman found his way into their box.
"Ladies and gentlemen let's all join in a round of applause in welcoming Purgatory Blue Devils center, Nicole Haught, back to the Wyatt Earp Memorial Coliseum," Perry's voice boomed as Nicole waved to the crowd and the camera, the image playing on the big screen for all to see. The crowd erupted in cheers and Waverly spotted Vic, Shan and Shae on the bench standing and pumping their fists in excitement at Nicole's presence. Once the applause died down, Perry called for everyone to rise for the anthem so that the game could begin.
Wynonna joined them after puck drop, telling them that Dolls had been left in charge of the door in her place tonight. Waverly supposed he was glad not to have to babysit Bunny Loblaw tonight, the woman notably absent from the game, still recovering with her jaw wired shut.
The Game Seven energy was just as present as it had been two weeks ago, and the return of an injured teammate appeared to have spurred the Devils on, striking first as Shae danced through the defense before dishing a pass across the ice that landed softly on Jenna's stick and was one-timed into the net. Nicole, though unable to stand for the goal celebration, cheered as loudly as her injured body would allow her, and Wynonna sounded her air horn to make up for it.
By the end of period number two, the Devils were up 2-0, thanks to a penalty shot goal scored by MacKinnon, the third line center who'd been having herself an impressive series. The cherry on top was a shorthanded empty net goal scored by Miller from inside her own crease with just over a minute left in the third and the Rangers in desperation mode.
Waverly was certain that the crowd hadn't quieted down for even one second from the first puck drop to the final horn when it became official that the Devils would be moving on to the Conference Final. She'd found herself peeking over at Nicole from time to time, making sure that her headache or her body wasn't too much. She knew Nicole would never tell her, especially when this was the first real outing she'd had since her injury, and she'd have to check on the woman herself. The redhead looked appropriately tired, but didn't show any real signs of pain, which Waverly counted as a victory.
Nicole fell asleep in the backseat of the Jeep on the drive back to the homestead, exhausted from the day, and Waverly pats herself on the back a little smugly knowing she was right to make Nicole take a nap before the game. Waking Nicole once she pulled up to the home was easier than waking Wynonna in the morning, but not by much—both girls had sleeping like the dead in common. Both Waverly and Nicole did little else than snuggle into the bed once they got inside, finding a comfortable position to sleep while being careful not to jostle Nicole's injuries. Waverly fell asleep pretty much immediately after her head hitting the pillow.
It had been a good day; felt like another step in the right direction on the road to Nicole's recovery.
She felt like absolute garbage (mainly because she'd been completely unaware it had happened) when she woke Thursday morning to see tear tracks faintly streaking down Nicole's face.