Lydia

A week and a half after their heartfelt conversation, and Lydia now stood at the bank of the river further down from where the colony was located, her mind in a complete disarray as she stared blankly out across the water.

Cornelia had just been buried a few hours ago, having been laid to rest among the roots of one of the giant redwood trees surrounding the colony, in a beautiful, tranquil clearing not far from where Lydia currently stood.

It had been Caesar who had chosen his wife's final resting place, having combed through the surrounding area of the colony to find the perfect spot. One that would reflect everything he had loved and appreciated about his late wife. Her peace, spirit and the feeling of home that was to be found in her embrace. He had told Lydia as much when she had dared to inquire about it.

She thought the clearing he had ended up choosing was nothing short of beautiful.

The sunlight filtered down between the redwoods' needles, casting all sorts of green and golden nuances across the ground and against the huge, reddish-brown trunks, and all around were moss-covered logs and roots snaking their way among bright, green ferns, their leaves dripping with morning dew.

It was just the sort of place Cornelia would have loved. Calm, peaceful and in the very heart of the wild forest the apes loved so much.

Lydia bowed down to pick up a somewhat flat stone by her feet, among the hundreds of others littering the bank of the river, and turned it between her fingers a couple of times before she threw it across the water's surface, the stone skipping a couple of times before it finally disappeared into the slow-moving, murky current.

The funeral itself had been a beautiful spectacle as well, very much fitting the setting in which it took place. The entire colony had come to pay their respects, swarming the clearing from the ground and far up into the giant trees surrounding it, observing in complete silence as the burial was conducted.

Lydia had stood a bit back from the ceremony, quietly taking in the scene before her as she grieved the loss of her old friend. Orion had been beside her, his large, elongated hand wrapped comfortingly around hers. On Orion's other side Malcolm and his family had stood, sadness clear on their faces as well. They had developed a close bond with the Royal Ape Family over the past month and a half and had desperately wanted to help Cornelia to the very end – they had been honoured when Caesar had asked them to be present for the ceremony.

Honestly, Lydia had thought it only fitting, given all they had done for the apes – they had as much a right to be here as anyone else.

Maurice was the one conducting the whole thing, directing the apes carrying the body forward and placing Cornelia's crown of branches atop her head as she was laid to rest. Caesar had put Maurice in charge of orchestrating the ceremony, knowing that his best and oldest friend would ensure Cornelia got a proper farewell. The sorrow was clear on the orangutan's large, dark face, though his demeanour had been sombre and dignified as he performed his duty as an elder member of the Ape Council. Caesar could have found no one better suited for the task, in Lydia's humble opinion.

Tinker and Rocket had been standing at the forefront of the ceremony. Being the Ape Queen's closest friend and Caesar's second in command respectively, this came as no surprise, and neither did the fact that Tinker had been sobbing quietly into Rockets shoulder as he held her, devastated by her friend's passing.

Rocket had not cried, Lydia didn't think she'd ever seen him doing so, even at Ash's funeral, which had led her to believe that she and the balding ape male had much the same approach to grief – letting it out in private, that is. Still, he held his mate in a comforting embrace, hooting ever so quietly to soothe her, pain clear in his features all the same.

Not being able to focus for too long on Tinker's subdued sobs, lest she begin to cry herself, Lydia had scanned crowd in general, taking note of every single individual present in and around the clearing, on the ground and in the trees. Most of the present apes' faces were set into expressions of deep sorrow and quiet contemplation – Cornelia had been a beloved queen, the matriarch of the tribe and a caring, selfless individual, and many among the apes had fond memories of her gentle guidance.

Of course, there had also been those looking on with stoic calmness, their faces etched in stone as they stood back from the ceremony. Those were apes like Red, Gray and Flint, all former followers of Koba and none of them truly welcome at the Ape Queen's burial. The only reason they had even been there in the first place was because Caesar had deigned to give them a second chance, true to his nature, even if Lydia thought it was a mistake to even let them stay in the colony. So far, nothing had happened, though she suspected the time hadn't been opportune for them to attempt anything – she didn't trust any of them as far as she could throw them after what had happened, and if Caesar wasn't going to keep an eye on them, at least Lydia would.

As of this moment, Caesar had in no way been capable of taking care of possible strife within the colony anyway. He had been thoroughly occupied with being there for his sons, as well as dealing with his own grief – a precarious balancing act that Lydia knew all too well herself by now. The loss of Roy was still a deep, open wound within her heart, aching and ever-present, even as she went about her daily tasks. It made it hard for her to truly be there for Orion, especially in the immediate aftermath of Koba's betrayal, even if her adoptive son had been exceptionally strong for her in this time.

She was just happy he had his friends to lean on, Blue Eyes, Lake, Ivy and all the other young apes who had been there for him in a way Lydia hadn't been able to.

Now, it would seem that Blue Eyes himself would be the one needing that same support and, knowing her son, Lydia had no doubt Orion would provide it.

He knew all too well what it was like, after all, to lose a parent.

Speaking of Blue Eyes, he had been standing at the forefront of the ceremony, holding his little brother in his arms while putting up a sorrowful but dignified front, when in reality, Lydia knew for a fact he was completely shattered by the loss of his mother, and probably didn't want to have his grief displayed in front of the entire colony like this. He would most likely have been much more comfortable with a private, small ceremony, like the ones Roy or Ash had had for their burials.

It couldn't be helped, though. Blue Eyes was the Ape Prince and heir to Caesar's throne and as such, he was required to take an active part in this – whether he wanted to or not.

Cornelius, the poor, sweet child, had been clinging to his brother and looking around at the spectacle with wide, uncertain eyes, quite unaccustomed to the sheer number of apes around him. At the sight of his mother being carried forward on the stretcher made of branches and covered in fine pelts, he had whimpered and hooted confusedly, trying to get out of his brother's grip and get to her, though he had calmed down at the gentle touch of his father's hand against his back.

Lydia's heart had bled for the little ape child then. He was much too young to lose his mother and even though he probably wouldn't remember this at all once he got older, he was already old enough in this moment to understand that something wasn't right.

As for the Ape King himself, Lydia noted that he acted with all the poise and dignity expected of him, standing with his arm around his eldest son's shoulders, back straight and lips set in a thin line as usual.

His eyes, however… They had revealed a deep pain within him, a shattered and broken look shining through as he followed his wife's funeral.

The Ape Queen had been brought forward slowly by the females who had prepared her for the ceremony, decorating her as well as the stretcher she had been placed upon with wildflowers of varying colours, though predominantly white ones, braided together into thin garlands. Cornelia's brow had been painted with the signature red line of the Royal Ape Family, but her face had otherwise been left untouched, leaving her feminine, tranquil features bare for all to see.

That's when Lydia had felt the tears rolling down her cheeks, as the sun's rays fell through the treetops into the clearing, coating everything in their warm, almost divine glow as the Ape Queen, her long-time friend and the very reason she was even here to begin with, was brought forward to her final resting place.

She hated how she couldn't hold them back, even though she knew there was no better moment to let them fall. She just didn't want anyone to see…

And when Maurice had caught her eye, himself with a look of deep mourning on his dark face, it was all Lydia could do to stifle the whimper caught in her throat.

Orion noticed it, she knew immediately he did when he squeezed her hand ever so slightly in comfort, but otherwise, he gave no outward signs that he had noticed, which Lydia had been very grateful for.

They had carried Cornelia slowly through the parting crowd of apes, who had all bowed their heads in respect for their late queen. Then, they had lowered her into the grave that had been dug out between two large, protruding roots of one of the redwood trees, and covered it with a finely woven net of branches and fern leaves.

On top of the net and around the grave itself, the females carrying Cornelia forward had then placed several small bouquets of flowers, each and every one of them carefully made by other females in the colony.

It was a spectacular sight as the sunlight broke through the treetops onto the petals and Lydia couldn't help but think that the Ape Queen would have loved to see it for herself.

Another whimper struggled its way up through her throat, but this time Lydia managed to fight it before it had a chance to spill forth.

After Maurice had finished signing words of praise and fond memory of the Ape Queen, Caesar had let go of his eldest son, reluctantly, Lydia had noted, and stepped forward to the tree Cornelia's remains had been buried beneath. With a primitive stone dagger in hand, he had carved the Royal Ape Family's symbol upon the tree's trunk on the area which had been stripped bare of its ragged bark.

He had started with the circle and then went on to the four inverted curves inside it, slicing deeply and with great precision into the wood, so that no one might forget exactly who lies there. The Ape King had worn a look of regal restraint as he did so, though even from a distance, Lydia had seen the rigidness of his muscles as he went about his task.

The only sounds to be heard as the apes' leader completed his work were those of the forest. Birds chirping, wind rustling the tree's needles and leaves, critters scurrying to and fro.

Once the carving had been made, Caesar had beckoned his sons forward, and Blue Eyes stepped up to his father, still with little Cornelius clinging to his chest.

Together, they had dipped their hands into a bowl of white war paint, which they then used to cover the freshly carved trunk, making the deeply cut crevices in the wood stand out even more.

The whole ceremony had ended with the Ape King and his sons facing the crowd, signing their sincere thanks to all who had attended, as well as some last, praising words about Cornelia and her achievements as a wife, a mother and a queen.

And a friend…. Lydia had thought sadly, wiping the tears away with her sleeve before anyone else could see…

She was pretty sure Caesar had seen too, though. Their eyes had met as he had turned to address the crowd with his sons and if anything, the Ape King's face had seemed even more haggard and sorrowful then.

When everything was said and done, the apes had dispersed quietly to go about their tasks – like they would any other day.

That was what had seemed so strange to Lydia. How life just seemed to go on once it was all over. It had been the same with Roy's funeral and with Ash's too. It seemed almost cruel that life would not let people, parents, children, siblings and friends, dwell on their loved ones' passing for more than just the brief duration of a commemorative ceremony before it was back to normal. Almost as if nothing had happened.

As if something important wasn't missing.

It made Lydia's chest ache just thinking about it. Made her damn it all to hell, even.

And it made the tears she had tried so desperately to suppress finally slip down her cheeks.

She picked up another more or less flattened rock and skipped that across the water as well. This one only jumped two times before submerging with a soft, undignified 'plop', which would have been comical if not for Lydia's current state of mind.

She almost wished it would rain. Pour down as thunder clapped above the forest, the wind viciously tearing and ripping at everything that stood in its way. At least then, the nature around her would have matched the storm inside her, a whirlpool of pain, sorrow and hopelessness swirling within her gut.

Instead the sun shone brightly down onto the forest, birds chirping as the river flowed calmly past and a gentle breeze rustled trees' leaves pleasantly.

It just didn't fit. Nothing seemed to fit.

Suddenly, a soft, curious-sounding rumble reached her ears and Lydia, startled at being broken out of her sorrowful reverie, came face to face with Maurice, standing only about ten feet away from her and staring at her with pitying, green eyes.

No… not pity. Worry, Lydia reminded herself, thinking of the words Caesar had spoken to her that day in the city when they had been alone in the abandoned barber shop.

Yes, it was worry which emanated from the old orangutan as he regarded her, his green eyes kind and gentle.


Maurice

Maurice had been standing at the edge of the woods, quietly observing the human woman down by the river as she skipped rock after rock across the water, each throw sloppier and angrier as time went on. He didn't even think she was aware that she was doing it, her body language rigid and her movements choppy as she picked up the rocks from the riverbank.

Truth be told, it was Orion who had first made him aware that something was seriously up with Lydia. The young ape had been concerned for his mother for quite some time now but had put off telling Maurice due to everything else that had been going on recently. The war with the soldiers, building a new home for the apes, Cornelia's sickness and the fact that the adolescent was still quietly dealing with his own sorrow at the loss of his father – there had been enough for the young ape to think about, that's for sure.

It had now been a couple of weeks since Orion first approached Maurice about the human woman's troubles and originally, the aging orangutan had wanted to do something about this sooner. But then Cornelia's sickness hard worsened drastically, just as the soldiers down in the city had made their first full-blown attack on the apes further down in the woods.

Maurice was, even though he knew it couldn't be helped, ashamed to say that he had had to push his good friend's troubles down on his priority list while helping Caesar planning out everything. They all had been forced to push emotional matters aside, honestly. Even Lydia herself.

But enough was enough. The tears he had seen trailing down her cheeks during the ceremony had prompted the ape to act.

Even someone as strong as Lydia would break under continued strain like this, with no one to share her pain with now that Roy was gone.

At least that was what Orion had told him was the problem, and Maurice was inclined to believe it.

Despite their close friendship, Lydia had rarely been keen on sharing her sadness when it struck her, choosing instead to change the subject or not say anything at all when the topic did occur.

It hadn't struck Maurice as a problem before, mostly due to the fact that she always put up such a tough front. Lydia had rarely seemed like someone who would need to depend on someone – but she obviously had, and now that someone was gone…

It was quite clear that she did not intend to turn to her son and start to burden him with her troubles, which was understandable enough even to Maurice, who didn't have any children of his own. Still, it was not healthy to keep everything bottled up inside, that was as obvious to an ape as it was to a human and from what Maurice could understand on the adolescent ape, that was exactly what Lydia was doing right now.

It just wouldn't do – especially not now, what with everything that was going on. The members of the colony would need each other to rely on, now more so than ever before.

So, since Caesar already had his hands full as it was, Maurice had taken it upon himself to help their long-time human friend – whether she wanted his help or not.

He had made his way quietly down to the river from the edge of the forest, more so out of habit than an actual need to be silent. True to his species, Maurice always moved about without making much of a ruckus, though when he released a soft rumble to alert Lydia to his presence, he almost wished he had been clumsier making his way down the rocky bank.

She looked rather startled at his sudden appearance and coupled with the tears steadily streaming down her dark-rimmed eyes as she spun around to face him, she made for a truly harrowing sight indeed.

Lydia hurriedly wiped her eyes with the back of her gloved hand as she spoke.

"Oh! Maurice! I-I didn't hear you… You really shouldn't sneak up on me like that…" She spoke, stammering and her voice breaking ever so slightly towards the end of her sentence. "Did you… uh, want something?"

Maurice rumbled a second time, deeper in his throat, in a rather unimpressed manner at her attempt at hiding her state of mind. Was she seriously going to try this, even with tears still visible in her eyes and her mouth twisted into a strained frown?

This one was going to be a tough nut to crack.

"Wanted to talk." The red-haired ape signed carefully, his eyes full of meaning as they caught hers. "About how you are."

At that, she seemed to tense up ever so slightly, staring at the ape in front of her with a guarded expression.

"Really, Maurice? There's no need for that, honestly. I'll be fine. It's Caesar and Blue Eyes you should worry about, really. They just lost a wife and mother." She replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Maurice was having none of it.

"And you and I lost a dear friend. Don't act like it does not affect you as much as it does me, or anyone else, Lydia." The orangutan signed, gently but firmly at the human woman in front of him.

He didn't like talking like this to Lydia, who he knew to be a very capable woman in all other matters, as well as a very close friend of his. Maurice hoped that he didn't come off sounding like he was reprimanding an errant ape child, for that truly wasn't his intention.

He only wanted her to share her pain with him, as he felt he could with her.

He only wanted to make sure she would be okay.

She didn't seem convinced by his words, though her face did grow softer as she replied.

"It's not like it doesn't affect me. I just deal with it differently, Maurice."

It was a poor excuse, and she even seemed to know it herself as she said it. True, people, both humans and apes, dealt with grief differently, but even so, it was still important to do it in a healthy manner that didn't leave you even more miserable.

Which was exactly what Lydia was doing to herself right now. Making herself miserable.

"By not sleeping in the night for weeks? Tears only when no one is looking? Pretending you're not hurting inside?" The aging ape challenged simply, a brow raised softly at the human in front of him.

Her deep blue eyes widened a fraction at his words and her arms fell limply down to her sides as she stared at him with an unreadable expression on her pale face.

Perhaps he had crossed a line?

Perhaps he had misjudged the strength of their friendship?

Perhaps she truly did want to be left alone?

"H-how did you…?" She didn't finish her sentence, letting it hang in the air for him to discern as her expression turned into one of confusion.

"Orion worries." Maurice answered gravely, grunting sadly as he signed his words.

Finally, Lydia released a dejected sigh as her shoulders slumped, seemingly in defeat.

"He went to you about it, didn't he?" She asked quietly. Maurice nodded his huge head in confirmation.

She didn't seem angry or hurt, perhaps disappointed, though Maurice sensed that this was directed more towards herself than at her adoptive son. He was only trying to help, after all, and Lydia seemed to realise this as well.

"He came to me some time ago. Said he knew you could not share your pain with him. Said he knew now that losing Roy had left you alone with your emotions. He worries much for you because of this but knows he can do nothing because you try to protect him…" Maurice explained carefully, doing his best to make it clear that Orion had not been ratting out on her, but had done what he did out of love for his mother.

As he finished his explanation, something significant seemed to change in Lydia's expression. Her mouth fell slightly agape as she released a shaky exhale before she reached a fist up to her mouth, stifling a broken sob when tears welled up in her eyes.

"Oh, Maurice… What am I even doing to my little boy?!"

The question was followed by barely-suppressed whimpers as Lydia began to cry in earnest, bringing up her other hand to shield her mouth.

"H-He knew I couldn't share my pain? Oh, what kind of mother am I?!"

Maurice hooted gently at her, stepping closer to put a comforting hand on her upper arm. He hadn't meant for her to take it this way, thinking she had somehow been mistreating Orion by attempting to shield him from her sorrow – he supposed it was a natural thing for any parent to do, really.

He managed to regain Lydia's attention with a gentle shake of her arm and motioned for her to sit down with him on a nearby old log on the stony riverbank. She followed him without question, still with tears streaming freely down her face.

Once they had sat down, Maurice turned to the human woman by his side, an imploring look in his eyes.

"You are a good mother. The best Orion could wish for. He knows this too. That is why he wanted to help you. Please, don't ever doubt yourself like that, Lydia."

Maurice had been signing his words slowly and carefully, making completely sure that Lydia saw every gesture even as tears blurred her vision. He wanted to make this absolutely clear to her – there was nothing wrong with her as a mother, nothing at all. In fact, Maurice was certain that she couldn't have done a better job, even if she had been an ape and not a human.

"Listen carefully, Lydia. Orion is a smart, young ape. He sees your pain but knows you don't wish to burden him. That is why he came to me for help. He knows you need to share this with someone, not just keep it inside."

Lydia was still sobbing softly as the elderly ape signed but nodded nonetheless at his words. It was surreal seeing her like this, so damaged and fragile-looking as her defensive walls and tough façade came crumbling down. Maurice was quite unaccustomed to having anyone, especially females, crying like this and having to comfort them and with Lydia, the scenario seemed doubly bizarre for the orangutan.

Still, he would do his best to be there for her – for her own and for Orion's sake.

"I know, I know, Maurice… It's just, I-I don't know how to do that with anyone else…" The human woman spoke once she had calmed herself somewhat and her sobs had died down a bit, turning into quiet sniffles instead.

"Ever since I f-found them, it was always… it was always R-Roy who I could share everything with… I never thought I'd ever need anyone else to listen… A-and now that I do, I just don't know how to go about it anymore."

It was obvious that this was something that frustrated her greatly, more so than Maurice had anticipated, really.

Then again, he could understand her dilemma.

For the better part of six years, Lydia had had one person she had always gone to when things got rough and this had made it easy for everyone else to assume that she was just emotionally tougher. That she was someone who was emotionally self-sufficient – a solid rock others could lean against and rely on when the world just seemed all wrong.

In truth, she was just as susceptible to the pain life dealt as anyone else, maybe doubly so, due to her difficulty in sharing this pain with others.

Orion had been right to approach him about this, Maurice thought as he put his hands up to sign.

"You must relearn this. It is not good to keep everything inside, even Caesar, stubborn as he is, knows this to be true."

The orangutan smirked ever so slightly as he signed these words to her and despite her sniffling, she did manage to smile softly in return, laughing quietly as she wiped her reddened eyes.

"And I assume you're volunteering to help me relearn, huh?" Her tone wasn't mocking or disbelieving, but teasing and light-hearted as the wet trails dried on her cheeks.

"Not only me. Caesar, Rocket, Tinker, Luca – they will all help, if you will let them. You are part of apes, and apes should help each other." Maurice signed resolutely, watching Lydia sucking in her lip as she processed what he had said.

"Roy and Cornelia would want this too…" He made sure to add, even if he knew it might be a low blow at the moment, when she had already bawled her eyes out once – still, he deemed it necessary to make sure he got his point across. A bit of extra motivation wouldn't hurt, and Lydia had always struck him as a woman who did not give up once her mind was set on something.

He just hoped he could set her mind onto this.

To his relief, after a short while, Lydia sighed softly and nodded her assent, locking eyes with the large, red ape.

"Alright, Maurice, I… I'll give it a shot. I promise."

They sat there for the rest of the afternoon, quietly going over what had happened in the last few months and how it had made each of them feel. There had been tears, there had been cursing and there had been consoling embraces.

In the end, despite her red eyes and soft sniffles, Lydia had seemed in a much more balanced state of mind than Maurice had seen her in for weeks and while he knew it would take a lot more than one afternoon of talking, he was certain Lydia would get better with time.

And if he was completely honest with himself, the elder orangutan felt a whole lot better as well.