Febuwhump Day 18: Forced To Watch
Word Count: 1213
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: T
Characters: Sig Curtis, Izumi Curtis
Warning: Miscarriage
Summary: Sig wants to help Izumi through this. He wants to walk this path together. But she's shut him out, and all he can do is watch.
Notes: Sig needs more recognition. That was his baby too, and then his wife that nearly killed herself trying to bring their baby back.
Forced to Watch
Sig glanced at Izumi as she worked on preparing the meat. Even though they were side by side, working in the same place, it was if there was a barrier between them. It hadn't existed before. Before, working like this would have been relaxing, even if they were working. But that was Before. And their world was now divided into "Before" and "Now." "Life before the death of their child" and "Life now that their child was dead."
Sig glanced at Izumi again. She was working, but there was no life in her hands, no light in her eyes. She was doing tasks, but she wasn't really here with him. Sig knew that Izumi was grieving. This was exceptionally hard on her. She had spent months trying to keep her body as healthy as possible, talking to their son, glowing with happiness for their unborn child. There had been no words to describe the joy and love that Sig could see on her face, even if he hadn't been a man of few words.
He had shared in that joy with her. He had found great joy in putting his hand on Izumi's stomach, and feeling their son move. He had loved talking to their son, hoping that he would know his father's voice when he was born. At night, he loved to snuggle Izumi close, with her belly between them, as if they were cradling their child between them. He had already loved their child so fiercely before it was even born.
And then that night had come. It was too early. The baby had already been less active than normal. The doctors said that there was nothing that could have been done. Izumi had delivered a stillborn child, a boy, their son, and their world had shattered.
He could still hear her cries from that night. Izumi had wailed in despair, cradling their stillborn infant to her. There had been no words to her grief that night, and Sig didn't think any words would have worked anyway. Sig himself had been in shock. He had held their stillborn son for only a few moments, but it was imprinted on his memory forever. His hands still shook when he thought about it.
And somewhere in there, the barrier had formed.
Sig took a deep breath to calm himself back down and glanced at Izumi again. She was listless as she sat on her stool and cut the meat. Outside they could hear children playing, and he could see her shoulders hunch. His heart ached. That could have been their boy. In just a few short years, it could have been their boy out there, running around.
The grief slammed into Sig like a truck, as it did from time to time, and he had to put his knife down so he wouldn't slip. He swallowed hard, trying to keep himself under control, and he looked back at Izumi. She had stopped as well, but her hands were gripping the counter so hard they were turning white. Sig couldn't take it. He walked over to her.
"Izumi—" he reached for her, hoping that she would accept him this time.
"I'm fine," she said, turning her head away from him, rejecting him again. "I—I'm just going to back into the house."
She got up, and hurriedly left, and Sig was left alone in the shop again. His shoulders drooped, and he leaned again the wall. There had to be something he could do. He hated this! He was being forced to watch his wife grieve their son through this invisible barrier and there was nothing he could do about it!
He slammed his fist into the wall and let himself sink to the floor. There had to be something he could do. Something. He couldn't help his son. He had failed him. But there had to be something he could do to help his wife, at least.
He covered his face with his hand and bowed his head. What could he do?
Ultimately, all he could do was watch and wait. He called the doctor for advice the next day. The doctor was sympathetic to him, and told him to hang in there, that this wasn't abnormal for grieving. It didn't make Sig feel any better, but at least he knew there was a chance that the barrier would go away one day. So, he watched and waited, and doted on Izumi's needs for the next week and half.
Something shifted during this, although he wasn't sure what. She had been spending a lot of time in her study, throwing herself into her alchemy books. Something in there had lit a spark in her eyes again, and, although he had a sense of foreboding, Sig hoped it was something good for her.
That hope was dashed to pieces, though, when he heard her scream. He was with a customer in the shop, when her scream pierced the air. He immediately abandoned the customer, instead, racing upstairs to Izumi's study. It felt like something foul was coming from it, and fear filled Sig. He reached for the door, but it was locked. That didn't matter to him. He leaned into it, busting the door open, and looked on in wide-eyed terror.
A large alchemy circle was on the floor, something was in the middle of it, and Izumi was on the ground coughing. Blood fell from her lips, a large amount of it, and he rushed to her side.
"Izumi!"
He picked her up, heart thudding in his chest. No. No, he can't lose her too!
But she was conscious, and twisted in his grip, reaching towards—
Sig's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment it felt like he couldn't breathe. Izumi cried out, and then, when the realization hit her, she started sobbing hysterically. Sig kept a hold of her, staring in disbelief at what she had done.
That was—that was their son. That was the remains of him, in the center of the circle. He was—she had tried to—she had failed to—
Anger burned through him, hot and fiery, and something he was wholly unused to. For a red-hot moment he wanted to squeeze Izumi and shake her hard and demand to know what she thought she was doing, how she could have done something this reprehensible to their son-!
-and then the rest of his brain kicked in and processed what was going on. There was no life in that circle. Izumi was sobbing hysterically and still coughing up blood. And he was the only one here capable of doing anything.
He cradled his wife to himself and, for the first time since the stillbirth, she returned his grasp. She clung to his shirt and sobbed, and it was as if the barrier that had been there had vanished.
Suddenly, Sig couldn't stand to be in this room anymore. He carefully picked up Izumi and rushed her out of there. He was going to take her to see a doctor. And then he'd deal with whatever else he had to. But at least this time, if felt like he would no longer be forced to watch Izumi grieve, but to grieve with her.