The last note of the lullaby perished and Varian was dead to the world.
It wasn't logical or rational but Quirin couldn't bring himself to let go. Gently he rocked the child in his arms back and forth. Holding him close was all he could do. Varian's body was light as a feather, but at the same time, the old soldier wasn't sure if he would be strong enough to carry the both of them.
He had listened to Varian's gruesome tale - every word a struggle, each sentence a battle tearing at barely healed wounds. In the midst of the fight, Quirin wondered if Varian could even remember what peace felt like. His bedtime story was such a horrid one. One of his own making.
With blood on his hands and thoughts caged by fear, his son had dragged on, revealing a truth Quirin wasn't able to stomach. What had happened, what he'd done, how far he strayed. It was terrifying and a cruel voice whispered: He'll do it all again for you.
Inside him raged a hurricane - shock, anger, disappointment. They threatened to overwhelm him, however, one glance at the tormented soul in his arms and he knew what needed to be done. He took them all - all the frustration, all the anguish and misery, and buried them deep in the darkest corner of his very being, locking them away to haunt him later. Right now was neither the time nor the place to waver. He would remain steady while the world around them crumbled. He could fall apart later.
Patiently he'd waited for Varian to finish, his exhaustion apparent in every gesture. And when he did, when Varian finally broke, when he couldn't keep the shards together anymore, Quirin used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the sorrow rolling over his cheeks. A drop in the ocean and a splinter in his heart.
"It seems to me that you've punished yourself enough."
The surprise with which the child had reacted was the final nail in his coffin. Something snapped and made way for a pain he'd never known before. He had failed him so often.
Quirin breathed the softest of kisses against his son's forehead. "Good night," he said, lovingly tugging him in. It'd been a long day.
Quenching out the light, he picked up the little ball of fur that had curled up next to them. Absentmindedly he ruffled the fuzzy, gray spot behind Ruddiger's ear as he carried him downstairs. He too had fallen asleep as they faced time together.
"Off you go." Fondly he placed the drowsy Raccoon outside. At the confused, almost scandalized look of the tiny creature a hint of a smile crossed his lips.
"You're home now," he chuckled, affectionately petting its head. "Tomorrow you two can play again." Varian needed his rest - they all did. He shut the door and the melody of little paws clawing at wood followed him for a couple of moments before it got absorbed into the moon's lonesome dirge of an evening shrouded by warmth and darkness.
"A year," Quirin muttered to no one.
The hours passed slowly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged his temple. Perhaps he should go to - a scream burst through the night.
"Varian!" With instincts skyrocketing, Quirin forced himself into action.
The boy was right where he'd left him. Washed with sweat, he tossed and turned in his bed. White sheets tangled around his small frame, his breath heavy and forced.
Behind closed lids, Varian's eyes twitched rapidly. Quirin winced at the ugly mask of agony that was branded onto his son's features. An endless stream of tears poured down his face as his cries echoed on, getting louder and more desperate by the second. Wave after wave was ripped from his throat, crashing against the silence without ever being pulled back.
"Varian, what's wrong?" Quirin inched forward.
He didn't answer. With each stuttering breath, Varian's chest rose and fell faster. Between dream and reality, his screams continued, coughing and hacking till he was completely hoarse.
"Please, stop," Quirin begged in vain. The child was inconsolable, he couldn't reach him.
Varian's trashing got erratic, and filling his lungs with air became a task he gradually started to fail. Panic spread through the soldier's veins. Something had to be done. Quirin squared his shoulders.
"Calm down son," he commanded with all his authority.
Nothing, just tears and screams. Quirin put his hands on his shoulders, offering comfort while demanding attention. Beneath his fingers, rampaged the wild beat of Varian's heart pounding against hot skin. He needed to stop Varian before he could hurt himself further.
"Varian, you have to wake up," he tried. No reaction. He tightened his grip. To his horror, the action backfired spectacularly. Varian's whole body seized, his eyes snapped open and Quirin wished they hadn't. There was no light in them, no recognition, just emptiness. It pulled the rug right from under his feet and now Quirin was falling too. He'd seen the same look a lifetime ago. There was nothing he could do to save her. Pathetic. Why was he so pathetic?
Something shattered. The body below twisted violently, calling for help. Way too late Quirin realized Varian's frantic struggle to get away from, from him, from the looming shadow above. There was no difference between being held and hold down for Varian any longer. His breath grew shorter and shorter as the torture went on.
"No. ," Varian pleaded, voice cracking on every syllable. If hell exists it was right there in his head. He began to hyperventilate.
Immediately Quirin let go. He watched Varian struggle to put some distance between them. He couldn't help, couldn't stand it. He took a traitorous step back and then another.
Varian's coughing turned into choking.
What should he do? Paralyzed by fear his hands clutched at the doorframe. Before he could make up his mind a gray shadow rushed past him. Soaring through the air Ruddiger jumped into Varian's lap. He was a mess, tousled by mud and dirt, though his black eyes gleamed determined as if it was a matter of life and death.
Varian kept shaking, but the resolve of his little fiend shone brightly. Standing on his hind legs his small paws reached up, scratching along the wet lines of Varian's face. Eager sounds of cooing and chittering followed. They drowned out the distraught sobs erupting from the child. Reflexive, Varian clung to him, his tears soiling the rodent's fur even more. Ruddiger didn't care and neither did Varian as his fingers began mindlessly tracing its pattern.
Ruddiger pressed his cold nose against the gape of his neck and Varian blinked. Sluggishly he looked down.
"Ruddiger?" He asked by some miracle. His voice seemed disoriented and light-years away, but a part of him still managed to pick up on the distress of his friend - oblivious to his own.
Ruddiger pawed at his chest again, and Varian buried his face in his soft fur. " … 's okay. I got ya," he reassured. His frown smoothed and his breath evened out as he slowly relaxed.
The raccoon purred, claiming his rightful place at Varian's side. Finally, the boy collapsed around the rodent. In the emptiness of his room, they both sank back into their nest of pillows and blankets.
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.
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AN: Sing me a lullaby and tell me a story. Credit where credit is due: "It seems to me that you've punished yourself enough, Varian." by vaguenotion ('Like Blood From A Stone'; chapter 5; go check the fanfic out, it's amazing!) Next: Generosity and Silence
